#jane storm x male reader

[fandomnerd9602]

Y/N walks into the lab…

Y/N: Reed can you make me some fireproof clothing?

Reed: why? Can’t stand getting close to Jane?

Y/N: no the opposite

Reed: huh?

Y/N: she keeps burning my clothing on purpose

Jane walks thru and gives Y/N a sly wink…

Jane: see you tonight hot stuff

For @jacelion

[kingluffy5]

Playing Detectives Pt 1 (Wednesday x Male Reader)

Y/N Barron is a student attending Nevermore Academy, he befriends new student Wednesday Addams as they uncover mysteries and stop monsters and murderers.

I used to be able to say that I have the weirdest family ever and for it to be honest, that was until I met her, she showed up out of nowhere and took the entire school by storm, and she took that title from me. I was eventually able to reclaim the title. But I’m getting ahead of myself, now buckle up and hold onto your butts.

— — —

I go to Nevermore Academy, a school for outcasts and weirdos, I am one of the most popular among students, Y/N Barron, I am popular because of my family, the Barron family, we are rich and we are powerful mages. My grandfather Tim Barron practically revolutionized the Glyph and Rune systems. Everyday I have to deal with some random students I have never talked to try and act like we are friends, they only care about my family. Don’t get me wrong I have friends, Enid the Nevermore gossip queen and Ajax a guy who is too stoned to care about my family.

At the moment I am trying to read about alchemy when Enid comes up to me.

“Y/N did you hear about the new student, she’s going to be my roomie,” Enid told me excitedly.

“Weren’t you the same person who told me she murdered a student at her old school,” I replied looking up from my book. Enid is a werewolf, although she can’t fully wolf out, she can only extend her nails into claws. She was one of the few people who was my friend for the sake of me and not my family, although with a rep as the school gossip it did take me a while to actually trust her as a friend.

“Well either way I’m happy to finally have someone to bunk with,” She responded, she always looks on the bright side, “She is arriving today and Weems asked me to get you to help me show her around,”

“And I have to help why?”

“Well the Barron family is the school’s largest donators,” She explained, “She also felt that someone with your knowledge of the school and the surrounding area would be able to help,”

“Yay,” I said sarcastically.

— — —

We head up to Enid’s room at Ophelia hall, I show Ms Thornhill the pass Enid gave me from Principle Weems. We wait there for a few minutes for her new roommate.

Eventually Weems walks in with two adults and possibly one of the simultaneously most gothic and most beautiful girls I have ever seen.

Enid runs up and greets her new roommate who we learn is named Wednesday Addams.

“And this young man is Y/N Barron,” Weems said as she introduced me.

“Ah I likely know your parents, they would be?” Mrs. Addams asked.

“Oscar and Maxine Barron,” I replied

“Ah Maxine, don’t you remember her Larissa, such a kindred spirit, she had such a way with words, I’m glad that she and Oscar are still together,” She said fondly, “and how is the rest of your family, Gomez I remember you were close friends with Oscar and his brothers, and is Jane doing all right,”

“They are all good Mrs. Addams, Uncle Francis had a few kids but is still unmarried, same with Uncle Toji”

“Y/N, Enid, would you two be able to show Wednesday around the school and take her to get her uniform and supplies,” Weems asked

“Sure,” we agreed.

— — —

Enid was showing Wednesday around, I’m hanging around too but not really paying attention, while she is beautiful I am just waiting for the moment she tries to be my friend just to get to know my family.

Eventually we get to the quad and Ajax walks up to us, “You Enid you will never believe the dirt I just dug up on your new roommate, she eats human flesh, right off the bone,” he clearly did not see Wednesday.

Enid stepped aside to reveal Wednesday who tells Ajax he’s wrong, and that she feeds her victims to her pets, I have to admit that I found that pretty funny.

Me and Enid keep walking around with Wednesday who gets her things, eventually Enid left to go gossip around school leaving me and Wednesday together.

“Before you ask me about family I should tell you that is one way to get me to never talk to you again,” I inform her.

“Why would I care who your family is or for that matter you are?” she said, I couldn’t tell whether or not she was genuinely asking or she was insulting me but I feel like it was the second one.

“You actually don’t care about them do you?” I asked pleasantly surprised.

“Can you believe it?” She said sarcastically.

“So did you actually kill someone at your old school?” I asked now slightly curious about her

“No I dropped some piranhas into a pool with a imbecile, he lost a testicle, if anything I am disappointed that it wasn’t more.” She answers honestly, “What happened to your eye,” She asks intrigued referring to the scar across my eye which causes it to be pale and cloudy.

“Got into a fight, should’ve seen the other guy,” I said sarcastically, “see you around Addams,” I say ending this revealing conversation.

— — —

I was eating lunch with some of my family, my brothers Jason and Jack, my sister Amelia, and my cousin Gwen, we are the ones who go to Nevermore, the rest have graduated. Jason is factual and thinks purely on logic, Jack is sarcastic and jokey, funnily enough they are twins, Amelia is caring and kind, the three of them are younger than me, Jack and Jason one year and Amelia three years, Gwen is my age and is a gossip which makes her and Enid good friends.

“You got therapy again tomorrow right?” Jason asked.

“Yup,” I responded.

“So you hear about the new girl, she killed some guys at her old school,” Amelia said trying to steer the conversation away from the awkward direction it was heading too.

“Nah, she didn’t do that, she just dropped piranhas into a school pool,” I answer.

“And you say that like it is a normal thing to do,” Jack said.

“Hey I saw you talking with her earlier, do you like her?” Gwen said suggestively.

“I don’t know yet, she’s attractive and I find her funny but I have no idea what she is like, I know that she doesn’t care about our family status so that is nice,” I reveal honestly. They all stare at me shocked, I never was interested in someone romantically before so their reaction was understandable.

“I thought you were Aroace,” Jack said confused.

“Well this was fun,” I say getting up to leave.

— — —

Me, Gwen, Enid, and Ajax were in our fencing class, me and Gwen were sparring, the only person in the class who could give me a decent challenge, other then Gwen, was Bianca Barclay, queen bee of Nevermore, we mostly keep our distance from each other.

The doors open to reveal Wednesday clad in black fencing gear walking in the middle of sparring sessions up to Bianca and Rowan’s, Rowan was roommates with Xavier, both were more people I didn’t really talk to, Rowan was bullied a lot so I felt bad for him and whenever I see it happen I kick their asses, but we don’t really have that much in common. Xavier is the tortured artist of Nevermore and Bianca’s ex boyfriend, his dad is some famous psychic so we have something in common but we just don’t get along.

Bianca wins their match after Rowan falls to the ground he complains that she tripped him but the coach acknowledged that it was a fair play.

“Maybe if you spent more time practicing instead of whining you would suck less, seriously coach when are we going to start getting some serious competition?” Bianca asked.

“Do you really want a replay of what happened the last time we sparred,” I said referring to the time I beat her in a match, she gave me a look that said that I was pissing her off but that she would stop. Our staring contest was interrupted when Wednesday challenged Bianca to a match, I was excited to see what she could do and Gwen wanted to see if she could be a first eye witness to something that would explode the Nevermore gossip sphere.

The two started as everyone gathered to watch, Wednesday won the first point while Bianca won the second. “For the final round I invoke military challenge, no masks, no tips, winner draws first blood,” Wednesday challenges. Bianca agrees and the two duel for the win, they spin around a little their blades clash, eventually Bianca nicks Wednesday’s forehead winning the match.

“At least your face finally got the splash of color it so desperately needed,” Bianca trash talks.

“Xavier please take Wednesday to the nurse,” the coach asks.

— — —

“So Y/N at our last session we were talking about how you use apathy as a defense mechanism to avoid talking about anything personal to those close to you,” Dr. Kinbott references.

“Yeah I believe that was mentioned,” I said sitting in the couch facing the doc.

“Y/N we can’t keep continuing doing this where you don’t meet me half way, you have to put in some effort if you want to solve any of these issues your going through,” she informs me.

“I know, it’s just that I spent so many years not telling anyone about anything,” I reveal.

“Why don’t we talk about that, you spent years keeping everything inside so by now you feel that you need to keep it all in, did I hit the mark?” She asks.

“Maybe, I still don’t see why my parents arranged for this, I can diagnose myself, on top of what you just said I also don’t tell people because I don’t want to feel like a burden to those close to me.” I vent

“Well to answer why your parents pay for therapy sessions, last Christmas you had a nervous breakdown and drop kicked a twelve year old after you argued over a video game,” Kinbott answers.

“First of all I would say less of a full nervous and more of a small panic attack, secondly the spoiled brat was insulting me when he only wanted it for myself and I was getting it for one of my brothers,” I defend myself.

“Have you had any more panic attacks since then?” She asks.

“Ugh,” I groan as I lean back.

— — —

After the session I walked around town a little, seeing as I was wearing the Nevermore uniform the townspeople were giving me dirty looks and glares, the normies never liked outcasts. Eventually I looped back around to Dr. Kinbott’s office, it is there that I bumped into one Wednesday Addams who is seemingly shawshanking from Dr. Kinbott’s.

“Ms. Addams” I greet as we both walk away from the office.

“Y/N, did Weems enlist you to spy on me?” she accused.

“Believe it or not I am here of my own free will, it seems that you can’t say the same though,” I say acknowledging her daring escape in broad daylight.

“I am leaving this ridiculous school behind, but not before a decent cup of coffee,” she said as we entered the weathervane.

“Trying to leave without saying goodbye, hurtful Addams,” we walk up to the barista who over the years I’ve learned is named Tyler, son of Sheriff Galpin, the sheriff never liked me or my family because we are “chaotic psychopaths”. Tyler is attempting to fix the espresso machine and it isn’t until it blows another gasket that he finally notices us.

“Holy crap,” he says startled.

Wednesday orders a quad over ice but Tyler says that since the espresso machine is broken they only have drip, “But drip is for people who hate themselves and know that their lives have no real meaning,” we all look over to a costumer who was about to pour some drip into his mug but put’s both down. Wednesday then fixes the espresso machine and then asks Tyler for a ride to the train station which he agrees to do after his shift is over. While we wait me and Wednesday sit in a booth.

“So why don’t you want to stay at Nevermore?” I question.

“I thought I explained that when you and Enid were showing me around,” she pointed out.

“I have trouble paying attention to the things people say, it’s not that I have adhd or something, I just don’t care what they say,” I remark.

“Understandable, my parents sent me here and they are trying to turn me into a version of them,” she explains.

“Hm, personally I would either become better then they ever were or become nothing like them to spite them,” I say.

We were then interrupted by a group of guys dressed in pilgrim costumes, “What are a couple of Nevermore freaks doing out in the wild, this is our booth,”

“Why are you dressed as religious fanatics?” Wednesday asks.

“We’re Pilgrims,” one of the informs us.

“Same thing,” I say.

“Potato Pah-tah-toe,” Wednesday says at the same time.

“We work at Pilgrim World,” one of them says flipping over a flyer, starting to get pissed. The two of us look at it, frankly, a little confused as to why an entire theme park to murders.

“It takes a special kind of stupid to devote an entire amusement park to zealots responsible for mass murder,” she retorts, I can’t help but laugh.

“My dad owns Pilgrim World, are you calling him stupid?” He asks.

“If the buckle shoe fits,”

“Hey guys, backoff,” Tyler suggests.

“Hey stay out of this Galpin!” One of them yells.

“Yeah stay out of this,” Wednesday says as we both get up.

“So tell me, freak, you ever been with a normie?” He asked.

“Never found one that can handle me,” She responded, “Boo,”

We start fighting them, she uses Kung Fu techniques while I use a few kickboxing moves, we make quick work of them when Tyler asks us where we learned them, Wednesday from her Uncle who was a prisoner in a Tibetan Monastery, me from my older sister who did some fights for fun. The fun ends when the Sheriff walks in.

“Ah, Jesus, what did you do this time Barron,” He asks me looking around at the unconscious teenagers.

“Hey I resent these baseless accusations, besides your being sexist, she could have done this just as easily as I could have,” I say.

“So your saying that you had no hand in this,” He retorts giving an exhausted look that only my family could give him.

“Ok I kicked those two in the crotch, and broke that one’s nose,” I admit.

“They were harassing them and they put them in their place,” Tyler defended us.

“Apologies Sheriff, this one slipped away from me, and I see you were involved as well Mr. Barron, well come along Ms. Addams and you too Mr. Barron,” Principal Weems told us.

“Wait a minute, hang on, you’re an Addams? Don’t tell me Gomez Addams is your father?” The Sheriff asked spooked, causing Wednesday to nod, “That man belongs behind bars for murder, guessin’ the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, I’m gonna keep my eye on you.”

Weems ushers us out and to the shuttle back to Nevermore.

— — —

The ride back mostly consisted of Weems chewing us out, Wednesday questioning her for information, and some guy crashed on the side of the road and Wednesday knowing how he died. Once we got back we went our separate ways, Wednesday to Ophelia hall and me to my room Othello Hall.

Later that night while feeding my pets, my raven named Odin, my octopus named Sashimi, and my Axolotl named Gravity, I heard Paint it Black by The Rolling Stones on the cello, I honestly liked that version better.

At the moment I’m studying for some of my classes when I hear a knock at my window, I turn and see a severed hand at the window. I let him in and he shows me a note on his palm saying “call me” and shows Enid’s number, I didn’t realize she gained an appendage as an assistant. I grabbed my phone and FaceTimed Enid to be met by Wednesday looking as pale and dead as ever.

“Wednesday, that means that this five fingered fellow must be yours,” I say.

“That’s Thing,” She informs me.

“Well why would you be calling me at this late hour?” I inquire.

“I have a plan to escape this educational penitentiary and I would like your assistance,” She reveals.

“Sure,” I say, mostly just happy that something exciting is happening in this place.

— — —

Me, Enid, and Wednesday met together at the Harvest Day Festival to enact her plan and to say our goodbyes. Enid and Wednesday bid farewell as we wait for Tyler to get ready, Wednesday went to darts while I did a water gun. Xavier went over to Wednesday to chat her up, sucks for him because she made it completely obvious that she was not interested. Eventually Tyler came over and I reunited with Wednesday, she sent the panda she won over to Weems setting the plan in motion, after the initial distraction I would cause a bigger one luring the rest of them away from Wednesday and make sure no one follows them while Tyler drives her to the station.

“In case I don’t see you again Addams, it’s been real,” I say as I go off to cause a distraction.

I wonder what I should do turn off the ferris wheel trapping people on their, small explosion in the distance, my thoughts are interrupted when a few of the guys me and Wednesday beat up show up in the crowd with bats looking a little angry as they walk towards me. I run away from them, because as cocky and god complexed as I am when it comes to idiots like these, I don’t have any of my stuff with me and I am not going to be able to fight them when they have metal bats and we are surrounded by outcast hating normies. Eventually I run into Tyler and Wednesday who likely have had a similar experience by the looks on their face.

“Let me guess Normies with bats?” I say.

“Yeah, you?” Wednesday asks.

“Yeah,” I say when Rowan bumps into Wednesday causing her to have what appears to be a psychic vision. When she comes to she looks over at Rowan, who is going into the woods, and runs after him, I follow quickly leaving Tyler behind.

We catch up to him, “Rowan wait!” Wednesday yells, whatever she’s seen it must have been bad for him.

“What do you want? Why are you following me?” He questions.

“I don’t have time to explain but you are in great danger,” She reveals to which he just starts laughing.

“I think you got it backwards,” He says then uses his psychic powers to push us back into trees, “You’re the ones in danger,”

“What are you doing?” Wednesday asks in shock.

“Saving everyone from you. I have to kill you,” He responds.

“The gargoyle, that was you?” Wednesday realizes as I just wonder what gargoyle.

“Yeah,”

“It’s always the quiet ones,”

Rowan then sends a page up to us and unfolds it revealing a drawing of a boy and girl who look like the two of us, “The girl in the picture, that’s you, and the boy is you Y/N,”

“You want to kill us over some picture?” I say shocked.

“My mother drew that picture 25 years ago when she was a student at Nevermore. She was a powerful seer, told me about it before she died.” He revealed

“Rowan put us down,” Wednesday tries to tell him.

“No! My mother said it was my destiny to stop this girl and boy if they ever came to Nevermore, because she will destroy the school in everyone in it,” He yells

“Rowan,” Me and Wednesday try to talk to him as he tries to kill us.

Then we all heard a growl as a monster leapt out and started tearing into Rowan’s gut, it then looked back at us and then ran off. We crawled over to Rowan who was obviously dead when the page flew down. We both grabbed at it but when we touched hands her head flew back and she had another vision like the one with Rowan, when she came to she looked at me with a look of slight fear, concern, and pity in there. As I question what she saw she gets up to leave and I follow suit.

— — —

We were now each in our own dorm rooms, we told Bianca about Rowan and told her to tell someone and went back to Nevermore, I now have many things to think about, what was up with Rowan’s prophecy and would we really destroy the school, what was the monster that killed him and what was it’s motive, and lastly what is it that Wednesday saw in my future that worried her, well at least I can’t say that this semester will be as boring as the last one.

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝐀 𝐖𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐅𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞

welcome to the land of fairytales, where desires you never knew you had will come true. thank you @georgiapeach30513 & @royalsweetteaa for helping me with this.

18+ only please, do not copy, repost or translate my work. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

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𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

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!warning! these fics will include inter-species relations, size differences, innocent kink, age gaps and dark content.

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𝐅𝐢𝐜𝐬:

𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒂 𝒃𝒂𝒅 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒚 - pairing: prince ransom drysdale x princess reader

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𝒎𝒂𝒚𝒃𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒅 𝒘𝒂𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕 - pairing: prince frank adler x mermaid reader

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𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒆𝒈𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒆'𝒍𝒍 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 - pairing: street rat lloyd hansen x princess reader

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𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒈𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒔 𝒔𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒓 - pairing: prince lance tucker x maid reader

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𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒚 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒔 - pairing: beast ari levinson, beast logan howlett, beast geralt of rivia x princess reader

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𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒘𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒑𝒐𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒎𝒆𝒏 - pairing: bossy clark kent, sleazy johnny storm, dirty curtis everett, brawny steve rogers, cranky bucky barnes, tipsy dean winchester, horny sam wilson x witch/princess reader

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𝒃𝒂𝒎𝒃𝒊 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒑𝒊𝒅 𝒅𝒐𝒆 - pairing: hunter lee bodecker x shifter reader

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𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂 𝒘𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒅 - pairing: mad hatter jefferson x dreamer reader 

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𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒚𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝒓𝒐𝒂𝒅 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂 𝒉𝒐𝒆 - pairing: scarecrow jake wyler, tin-man rick grimes, cowardly lion jake jensen, oz andy barber x lost reader

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𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒏’𝒕 𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒑𝒊𝒅 𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕 - pairing: hansel steve kemp, male gretel nick fowler x witch reader

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𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒓, 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒅 - pairing: big bad wolf luke danes x little red riding hood reader

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𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒍𝒖𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒔 - pairing: tarzan tangerine x jane reader

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𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒊𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒆 - pairing: giant august walker x female jack reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒆𝒓𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒘𝒂𝒔𝒏’𝒕 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅 - pairing: captain hook negan, captain hook jack sparrow x tinkerbell reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝒕𝒐𝒐 𝒉𝒐𝒕, 𝒕𝒐𝒐 𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒅, 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 - pairing: alpha bear ari levinson, alpha bear henry cavill, alpha bear lee bodecker x goldilocks reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒔𝒘𝒂𝒏 - pairing: prince steve rogers x princess/swan hybrid reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝒐𝒉, 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒅𝒖𝒎𝒃 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔… 𝒅𝒐𝒏’𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘, 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒅𝒔 - pairing: mermaid jennifer check, mermaid rosalie hale, mermaid jane smith x clueless reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝒋𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒚 𝒘𝒂𝒔𝒏’𝒕 𝒂𝒏 𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒘 - pairing: mufasa ari levinson x scar sergei kravinoff (kraven the hunter) x lioness reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

[letterstotheflre]

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐔𝐒 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐒 || 𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐍 & 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐘 𝐂𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐀𝐌

summary: when you and chrissy save a pirate from drowning, you get him to show you what humans do for fun. [pirate!eddie x mermaid!reader x mermaid!chrissy]

cw: slight manipulation from u n chrissy, reader is mentioned to have long hair so she can cover her chest, smut || 18+ only [ft. threesome, oral sex (m receiver), handjob, cum play, monster fucking (technically?? u n chrissy are the monsters lol), beach sex, reader n chrissy are very innocent but somehow two whores?? who knew u could be both]

a/n: this was super fun to write ngl. please lmk what u think!!

“Isn’t he kinda… cute?” Chrissy asks you, eyes glued to the man laying on the shore between your bodies.

You look down at him, taking in his soft cheeks and his nicely shaped nose. You trace the bridge of it with a finger, leaving his skin dewy with droplets of sea water, and drift your gaze down to his plush lips. Under the slight bluish tint they have from being underwater for too long, you can still make out their natural pink colour.

In the back of your mind, you wonder if they’d feel as soft as Chrissy’s lips do on yours.

“Yeah," you hum, now tracing his cupid’s bow. “He’s pretty.”

She twirls one strand of his hair around her finger. “And his hair! It’s almost as long as Jane’s now that she’s back.”

The mention of Jane brings back the memory of the captain that kept her for years for his twisted experiments on your people and reminds you what exactly lays between you and Chrissy. You recoil your hand back and grab her wrist. “He’s a human, Chrissy. We shouldn’t have helped him.”

Her delicate features contort into a confused frown. “But he was drowning. He would’ve died if we hadn’t pulled him out!”

Maybe he should’ve, is what you’re about to say when the man starts coughing. The coughs wreck his body and water spills from his lips, his eyes slowly fluttering open but narrowing quickly from the glare of the sun. He tries to get up, using his elbows as leverage, but another cough throws him back down.

“Take it easy,” Chrissy tells him, shielding him from the sun with her body. His eyes widen at the sight of her, grow even wider when he realises she isn’t alone and sees you next to her. “You had a nasty fall.”

“Wha– What’s going on?” His voice is hoarse from the abuse his vocal chords suffered and the lack of proper air in his lungs. “Who are you?”

“I’m Chrissy, and this is–”

“Chrissy! Don’t tell him our names!” You scold.

She rolls her eyes at your overprotectiveness. “He’s not going to do anything. He can barely stand.”

You scowl at her. “You can be so careless. It’s a wonder you still have your tail on.”

“Tail?” The man's baffled voice breaks up your argument. He glances to the side and sees both of your tails wagging in the air– Chrissy’s baby blue scales and your purple ones shimmering under the golden light. “Woah! What the fuck?!”

“See? He hasn’t got a clue what we are. He’s not going to kidnap us or whatever dark fantasy you’ve created in your mind– anyway!” She changes the subject before you can tell her that you don’t have fantasies about a human male kidnapping you. She turns to him and smiles sweetly. “What’s your name?”

The long haired man looks between the two of you, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “Ed– Eddie. Eddie Munson.”

“Eddie,” she tastes the name on her tongue. “That’s pretty. What happened to you? You’re pretty far from home.”

“I, uh, my ship got wrecked.” He gulps when you narrow your eyes at him in suspicion. Your mother had warned you of human men and the lies they would tell you to get you to trust them and this one sounded very familiar. “There was a storm and– and a wave flipped us over. My friends– shit,” he wipes his face with his hands, clearly distressed. Your heart softens ever so slightly. “I have to find them.”

He tries to get up again but you place a hand on his chest and he freezes. He stares at you, brown eyes pulling you in like a current. “I’m sorry about your friends but you shouldn’t go anywhere yet. You’re still hurt,” you point to his arm where a deep gash seeps blood down to his forearm.

“Fuck,” he swears. He looks down at himself and rips a piece of the cloth he’s wearing over his torso with a low grunt that makes your scales tingle. He wraps it around the wound, hissing when it presses against the gash and baring his teeth. He struggles to tie a knot, yet you and Chrissy are mesmerized as you watch him work.

“What’s that?” You ask him once he’s done.

“What’s– Oh, this? It’s a dressing. To keep the wound from infecting.”

“No, I mean the… things you put on your body.” He points to his chest to make sure you’re asking what he thinks you’re asking. “Yeah, those. They don’t seem very comfortable.”

“You don’t know what these are?” He looks at your bodies and realises that neither you or Chrissy is wearing anything to cover your chests, only your long hair keeping some of your modesty. Blood rushes to his cheeks and you giggle at how pink he suddenly is.

He seems to be speaking to himself when he mumbles, “Oh, wow. No, no, of course you don’t know. You’re mermaids. Very pretty and n-naked mermaids.” He clears his throat and blinks awkwardly, looking away to pretend he wasn’t ogling at you. “They– They’re clothes. This is, um, a shirt. And these are pants,” he explains, pointing to his chest and legs.

“And that thing under your pants?” You point to his groin where a bulge strains against the thin black fabric. “Is that where you keep your shells?”

Eddie gets even redder. “That’s, um…” He seems at a loss of words, mouth opening and closing without making any sound.

“Oh, we love collecting shells! Can we see?” Chrissy eagerly leans forward and unties the knot that keeps his pants tied together, lowering them quickly without waiting for Eddie’s answer. Instead of the clatter of shells you were expecting, something long and thick hits Eddie’s stomach. “Oh, that’s… not a shell.”

“What even is it?” You tilt your head to the side and reach your hand towards it. You’re about to touch it when Eddie’s fingers wrap around your wrist tightly, stopping your movements.

He almost cowers from the deadly glare you’re giving him for touching you so roughly. “Sorry, sorry.” He takes a deep breath, avoiding eye contact. “That’s, uh, that’s my cock.”

“Cock?” Eddie closes his eyes when he hears Chrissy’s sweet voice say such a filthy word. His cock twitches. “Oh my Poseidon, it moved,” she whispers to you in awe.

“What is it for?” You ask him.

“For fucking.” That one answer came out naturally for him but when he sees your confused stares he scrambles his brain for a word you would understand. “Uh… mating. For mating and… playing.”

“How do you play with it? It seems rather… stiff.”

Eddie plays with a strand of his hair, trying to cover some of his burning face with it. “You touch it. With your hand. Or you– you put it inside a woman. Or man.”

You stare at his cock– long and thick and as pink as his lips, with a tip that’s a slightly darker hue than the rest of it. There’s a thick tuft of curls at the base and two round sacks hanging heavy from it. You can’t help but want to squeeze them.

You lick your lips and look back at Chrissy who’s doing the same as you. Ogling. Her eyes are dark with need, the same look she gets when you two are left alone for more than a couple of minutes– especially on a full moon.

Before you can pay attention to the warning voice of your mother that echoes in your ears, you ask, “Can we play with it?”

Eddie swallows harshly. “I don’t think–”

“Please?” Chrissy asks, pouting her lips, her voice taking in the sultry tone the elder mermaids spend years teaching you. Her tail flicks yours and you copy her, rounding out your narrowed eyes and looking at him pleadingly. “We don’t know if we’ll ever see a human again. We just want to know what it feels like.”

Eddie seems to debate with himself for a few seconds, only the sounds of the crashing waves breaking the silence. Your voices and your eyes have him in a trance and, completely ignoring all the warnings he heard about mermaids, he nods, wet hair swinging with the sharp movements. “Yeah, okay. Knock yourselves out.”

You and Chrissy giggle happily and wrap a hand each around him, tails wiggling in excitement. You twist them around, getting a feel of the velvety skin and the ridges of the veins that lead towards the head, watching amazed as Eddie’s cock grows more stiff, becoming heavy in your palms.

“What’s happening? Why is it getting so hard?”

Eddie takes a deep breath to ground himself, nostrils flaring. “Cause I’m turned on.”

“Turned on?”

“You’re making me feel really good,” he rephrases through clenched teeth. Your hands are incredibly smooth as you hold him, probably from the slick film coating them to protect them from the abrasion of the salt in the water. He exhales a shaky gasp of pleasure when you slowly glide them up and down, his stomach flexing. 

You bite your lip and look up at him. “And how do we make you feel more good?”

“He’s been looking at your tits a lot,” Chrissy pipes up before Eddie can answer. There’s mischief in her blue eyes as she pulls your hair away from your chest, revealing your breasts completely. Eddie’s mouth falls wide open. “Do they ‘turn you on’, Eddie? Go ahead, touch them,” she encourages him.

You sigh when his hand cups your breast and kneads the fat gently, thumb flicking your hard nipple. Eddie watches your expressions carefully. When you arch forward into his touch and tighten your hand around, making him groan, he twists your nipple, earning himself a sweet moan from you. 

“Aren’t they soft? They also feel really good in my mouth, Eddie.” Chrissy smirks, moving her own strawberry blonde hair out of the way so Eddie can touch hers as well.

“Holy shit.” His mind conjures up a filthy image– the two of you under the water, hands slowly down your bodies and mouths kissing every inch of skin they could, eyes rolling back once you sucked on the others breasts. His hips buck up. “You two– you play together?”

“Mhm. All the time.”

“Oh my God.” His grip on your tits tightens. He keeps tilting his hips up, moaning softly as he fucks your hands. Something that has a pearly sheen starts to leak out of his slit and drip down his shaft, making your fingers sticky. “Yeah, lick it up, sweetheart. C’mon,” he groans when Chrissy asks if she can taste them.

She slides her tongue over your knuckles and catches the first drops that fell, eyes widening at the salty flavour. She hums appreciatively and leans down for more. “That’s nice. D’you want a taste?” She asks you.

You nod enthusiastically and her fingers gently grab your chin, tilting your head towards her so she can dribble the white substance into your mouth. “S’good,” you breathe out. 

Eddie slams a hand on the sand, eyes hazy with lust as he watches the two of you share his precum and enjoy it. None of the women back home had ever done something like that, not even some of the whores his friends brought back to the ship on the odd nights they stayed in a popular town’s port. 

You keep stroking his cock as you kiss, focusing more on the upper part of his shaft since your hand is on top of Chrissy’s. You gently squeeze the head and more precum oozes out. You flick your tongue over his slit and give it back to Chrissy, pecking her lips sweetly when she swallows it down. 

Eddie groans when you do it again. “Like that. Just like that. You’re doing so good. G-Give it a little kiss– oh fuck.” 

His eyes roll back when you kiss his tip, soft lips peppering little kisses all around it. Chrissy copies you, letting go of him so she has more flesh to kiss and slobber all over. Your eyes meet as you lick him, your happiness clear in your gazes.

She takes your hand and guides you down to the two soft sacks that caught your eye before, adding the smallest pressure to the back of your hand so you cup his balls and squeeze them with care.

Eddie moans loudly and throws his head back on the sand. “Oh my God. Oh my God. You’re– Jesus H Christ.” He gasps in surprise when Chrissy wraps her warm mouth around his dick and you kitten lick his fuzzy balls. “Oh, you’re gonna kill me.”

He lets go of your chest and the sand so he can add pressure to the back of both of your heads, keeping you stuck to his groin. Carefully, he thrusts his hips up, slowly fucking Chrissy’s untrained throat and making her gag. 

The lewd sounds make you squirm in place, the musky scent of Eddie’s hairs that tickle your nose doing little to calm you down. You’re desperate for some relief but it’s not a full moon yet– you have no legs to spread for him. So you whine needily around his balls, eyebrows scrunching up in desperation. 

Eddie shushes you, scratching your scalp with the tips of his fingers to help you calm down. “You’re okay, you’re okay,” he coos. “J-Just a little more and you’ll make me cum so fucking hard. Gonna fill your girlfriend’s throat and make her share it with you, since you liked my cum so much. You want that?”

You look at Chrissy and see the tears springing in her lower waterline from the abuse her throat is suffering, some of them already falling down her rosy cheeks. With your thumb, you brush them away and offer her a reassuring smile, one that she struggles to reciprocate with Eddie stretching her lips wide but you’re able to tell she’s enjoying herself nevertheless. 

You hum in agreement and lave your tongue over his balls, feeling them twitch in your mouth. His moans grow louder and louder, thighs trembling and hips thrusting wildly. “Shit, I’m gonna– Oh, fuck, I’m cumming. I’m cumming,” he grunts and pushes Chrissy down completely until her nose is flush with his base.

True to his word, he slowly peels you off him and, with a hold on the back of your necks, guides your mouths together. Chrissy is smiling as she merges your lips in a heady kiss, your tongue sliding around hers so you can scoop up any leftovers that she didn’t swallow for herself, spit dribbling down the corners of your mouths and to your chests.

When his grip on your necks slackens, Chrissy tiredly rests her head on your shoulder. You blink slowly and pet the top of her hair, kissing her temple.

“You’ll come back for us, right?” she asks Eddie with a hoarse voice.

Eddie licks his lips and looks down at the pair of you, memorising the image of two beautiful mermaids looking at him with needy and wanting eyes. What kind of pirate would he be if he didn’t collect his treasure?

He brushes your cheekbones with his thumb, your eyes fluttering shut at the gentle touch. “Yeah. Yeah, I will.”

[theyraylovehate]

Wheel of Fan Fiction Masterlist

Smut 🔥

Fluff 🌸

Angst 💧

*This is like brand new so most of the characters won't have anything just yet*

•Stranger things

-Billy Hargrove

-Steve Harrington

-Eddie Munson

-Robin Buckley (Fem/NB only)

-Argyle

-Johnathan Byers

-Nancy Wheeler

-Jim Hopper

-Joyce Byers

-001/Henry

-Will Byers (No smut)

-Mike Wheeler (No smut)

-Max Mayfield (No smut)

Hateful Cuddling - Female reader 🌸

-Dustin Henderson (No smut)

-Lucas Sinclair (No smut)

-Eleven (Jane) Hopper (No smut)

•Marvel

-Iron Man/Tony Stark

-Captian America/Steve Rogers

-Black Widow/Natasha Romanoff

-Hawkeye/Clint Barton

-Hulk/Bruce Banner

-Thor

-Loki

-Winter Soldier/Bucky Barnes

-Black Panther/T'challa

-Doctor Strange/Steven Strange

-Scarlet Witch/Wanda Maximoff

-Quicksilver/Pietro Maximoff

-Starlord/Peter Quill

-Gamora

-Spiderman/Peter Parker

-Falcon/Sam Wilson

-War Machine/James Rhodes

-Valkyrie (Fem/NB only)

•X-Men

-Professor X/Charles Xavier

-Magneto/Erik Lensherr

-Wolverine/James Howlett

-Quicksilver/Peter Maximoff

-Rogue

-Jean Grey

-Storm/Ororo Munroe

-Cyclops/Scott Summers

-Mystique/Raven

-Beast/Henry "Hank" McCoy

-Nightcrawler/Kurt Wagner

-Havok/Alexander Summers

•DC/Young Justice

-Batman/Bruce Wayne

-Superman/Clark Kent

-The Flash/Barry Allen

-Aquaman/Authur Curry

-Cyborg/Victor Stone

-Joker/Jack Oswald White

-Harley Quinn/Harleen Quinzel

-Wonder Woman/Diana Prince

-DeadShot/Floyd Lawton

-Kid Flash/Wally West

-Nightwing (Robin #1)/ Dick Grayson

-Red Hood (Robin #2)/ Jason Todd

-Robin (#3)/ Tim Drake

-Beast Boy/Garfield Logan

-Superboy/Johnathan "Jon" Kent

-Artemis/Artemis Crock

-Red Arrow/Roy Harper

-Green Arrow/Oliver Queen

-Black Canary/Dinah Lance

-Miss Martian/Megan Morse

-Aqualad/Kaldur'ahm

•Umbrella Academy

-Luther Hargreeves (#1)

-Diego Hargreeves (#2)

-Allison Hargreeves (#3)

-Klaus Hargreeves (#4)

-Five Hargreeves (#5)

-Ben Hargreeves (#6)

-Viktor Hargreeves (#7)

-Marcus Hargreeves (#1)

-Fei Hargreeves (#3)

-Alphonso Hargreeves (#4)

-Sloan Hargreeves (#5)

-Jayme Hargreeves (#6)

-Lila Aryu

-The Handler

•Harry Potter

-Harry Potter

-Ron Weasley

-Hermione Granger

-Fred Weasley

-George Weasley

-Ginny Weasley

-Draco Malfoy

-Sirius Black (Older)

-Cedric Diggory

-Oliver Wood

-Neville Longbottom

-Luna Lovegood

-Remus Lupin (Older)

-Nymphadora Tonks

-Lucious Malfoy (Older)

-Narcissa Malfoy (Older)

-Severus Snape (Older)

-Bill Weasley

-Charlie Weasley

•Marauders

-James Potter

Friendly Love - Male reader 🌸

-Lily Evans

-Sirius Black

-Remus Lupin

-Severus Snape

-Regulus Black

-Lusious Malfoy

-Narcissa Black

-Peter Pettigrew

•Greek Mythology

-Zeus

-Hades

-Posideon

-Apollo

-Hera

-Persephone

-Ares

-Athena

-Demeter

-Aphrodite

-Artemis

-Dionysus

-Hermes

•Divergent

-Beatrice "Tris" Prior

-Caleb Prior

-Eric

-Peter

-Christina

-Will

-Tobias "Four"

-Zeke

Zip line of Love - Nonbinary Reader (Requested) 🌸

-Uriah

•Star Wars

-Anakin Skywalker

-Luke Skywalker

-Leia Organa

-Han Solo

-Obi-Wan Kenobi

-Kylo Ren

•Supernatural

-Dean Winchester

-Sam Winchester

-Castiel

-Crowley

-Lucifer

-Rowena MacLeod

-Gabriel

-Charlie Bradbury (Fem/NB only)

-Chuck Shurley

-Jody Mills

-Ellen Harvelle

-Kevin Tran

•The Walking Dead

-Rick Grimes

-Daryl Dixon

-Glenn Rhee

-Carl Grimes

-Maggie Greene

-Negan

-Michonne

-Shane Walsh

-Rosita Espinosa

-Carol Peletier

-Paul "Jesus" Monroe

-Abraham Ford

‐Tara Chambler (Fem/NB only)

-Enid

-Ezekiel

-Aaron (Masc/NB only)

•The Walking Dead Game

-Clementine

-Lee

-Kenny

-Luke

-Javier

-Gabriel

-Kate

-Louis

-Omar

-Ruby

-Mitch

-Marlon

-Violet (Fem/NB only)

IT (2017)

-Richie Tozier

-Beverly Marsh

-Eddie Kaspbrak

-Bill Denbrough

-Stanley Uris

-Ben Hanscom

-Henry Bowers

-Mike Hanlon

-Patrick Hockstetter

-Victor Criss

-Belch Huggins

•Desendants

-Mal

-Evie

-Ben

-Jay

-Jane

-Chad

-Doug

-Lonnie

-Carlos

-Uma

-Harry Hook

-Gil

•Maze Runner

-Newt

-Minho

-Gally

-Teresa

-Alby

-Chuck

-Brenda

-Aris

-Thomas

-Frypan

-Jorge

[friendly-neighbourhood-spiderm4n]

I forking loved your last Will Byers x Male reader! Thank you so much! I seriously can’t get enough of this idea XD. Could you plz do more headcannons possibly about what school life is like (but no Homophobia like just pretend there is no such thing as it? I really hate hearing about it🥲), how they deal with there size difference as couples and how you think they would have met? (With the same trope, Will Byers x Big! Scary! Himbo! Male reader with demon powers) 😁😘 Thx!

A/N - Send more requests, it means I don’t have to think of original ideas lol. This applies to everybody, btw.

>Cali favourites power couple. Angelina actually didn’t pick on Will because of you. She only saw you as the terrifying, hunk of meat that is Will Byers boyfriend.

>The rest of her friend group try to stay away from Will, mainly worried that he would something to you and you’d react violently.

>Actually is why they started walking away from El in Episode 1 after they destroyed her diorama. He still told you when you got to Cali the next day.

>Angela regretted it at the Rink’O’Mania. Because El slammed a roller skate into her face. It was well deserved tho-

>Mainly cause you told her to stand up for herself, and use violence if only deemed necessary. You totally weren’t quoting your parents/guardian.

>But, before all this, no one kind of believed him when he said he had a boyfriend as cool as you.

>Part of the reason he started to get bullied again.

>Then he brought you to school cause a storm had once stopped all the airplanes from going where they needed to go.

>Everyone starred at you as you walked into the school. Especially the girls. And I’m sorry for all the Gays, but manny were attracted to you.

>On the plus side(?), a few guys were attracted to you.

>The first person that came up to was oddly enough, Angela.

>”Hi! Are you new to this school? I can give you a tour if so.” Her voice was so annoying, in a very sad and pathetic attempt to sound soft and sweet.

>”Im only here for the day, cause my boyfriend Will and his sister, Jane go here.”

>”Byers?” Her faces dropped. ‘Cute and sweet’ facade gone and only judgement left.

>You almost punched her, cause she called Will a loser.

>El saw you and ran up to you, making sure you didn’t get yourself arrested.

>”Y/N! I thought you were going back to Hawkins today?”

>”Mrs. Byers says that all flights are still delayed. Until Thursday, so I figured I would come and surprise Will. By the way, I’m staying until next weekend.”

>El pulled you away, having successfully distracted you. She took you to Will, who was on the art classroom.

>When he saw you, he looked very surprised.

>After that, when people saw they still stared but minded their business better.

>You have gotten in trouble for being on school property. Mainly cause they thought you were like 27.

>Didn’t help your case when you told them you dating a student of the school. Will and Johnathan struggled to tell the cops that you were hardly 16.

>Imma just say it was lucky that you hadn’t forgotten your ID, cause I bet you usually do.

>No one knows of your Demon powers, because if they did, you would probably be put on death row.

>The school kinda gave up telling you to not come into school property during Wills lunch time, you always forgot anyway.

>Argyle thinks you’re ‘tubular.’ You asked Will what that meant and he couldn’t even help you there, he too, had never heard that word.

>Besides Angela being a bitch, everyone else is pretty cool about you and some even attracted to you.<3

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

All You Had To Do Was Stay (S.R.) SMUT (18+)

Summary: All Spencer and Reader, full-time foes, part-time drinking partners, and one time hookup, had to do was stay.

Pairing: Grad School Spencer Reid x Grad School Reader (she/her)

CW: Smut 18+ (oral male receiving, unprotected sexual intercourse, fully consenting sex with tipsy), sad ending (but their will be a part two!)

Note: Thank you to @reidsbookclub for giving me such an amazing idea! There will be a part two, so please stay tuned for that! I will be writing that really soon because I absolutely hate a sad ending with it comes to Spencer Reid.

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All You Had To Do Was Stay

She’s not even sure what prompted her to show up here, of all places. The rain slammed against her as she raised her hand to knock on his door. The other was occupied by a bottle of tequila. She felt the hairs on her arm stand up straight in the cool fall air. Her body swayed, not from the liquor that she clutched like a lifeline, but from the chaos that brewed, not unlike the storm raging behind her, in her mind. 

Spencer must have peered through the little hole on his side of the door because he didn’t look surprised that she was there. He looked, instead, almost like he expected this to happen. Spencer, glancing her up and down, ushered her in without question, a testament to some silent language they’ve both become fluent in in the last couple of months. 

Y/N held up the tequila bottle, the liquor splashing haphazardly in the confines of the glass container. “You got glasses, Reid?”

“Something like that.” Spencer replied. “And maybe something for you to change into. You’re soaked.”

“You know this is starting to sound like some awful porno.” Y/N joked, but her tone remained deadpan. Spencer couldn’t decipher if she was kidding or not, so he continued to look at her with a hesitant expression.

“What are you here for, Y/N?” Spencer said, sounding like he was about to send her on her way. Their relationship was tricky to understand, much like the dry cracks Y/N would make, most at her expense, but occasionally at Spencer’s as well. He supposed that he liked it. It kept him on his toes and there hasn’t been many people to do that. Like ever. 

“To get drunk.” 

“And you couldn’t do that by yourself?” Spencer asked, turning to face her. “I mean, I’m more than happy to drink your booze, Y/N.” 

“I hate sad drinking alone. Besides, you’re like the only person on Earth who gets me. And, you better not repeat this to anyone, but hell, Spencer. I think I’m going to miss you.” 

She unscrewed the cap to the tequila and took a swig, “And you better not get an ego from this.” “Noted.” Spencer replied, his eyes glittering like molten caramel and his lips curling up into a charismatic smirk. “And please let me get you some clothes.” 

She decided to relent. As Spencer disappeared into what Y/N presumed was his bedroom, she took in Spencer’s apartment. It was small, like her’s. With a tiny, hardly able to be considered a hallway hallway that led to the equally tiny kitchen and living room. Spencer’s walls were lined with bookshelves, again like her apartment. He had too many books and not enough space to contain the pages and pages of literature. He owned Virginia Woolf, Kazuo Ishiago, E.E. Cummings, Jane Austen, Ocatvia Butler, Leo Tolstoy, Maya Angelou. The spines weren’t crisp and neat, but worn and weathered. She wondered if Spencer favored second hand books. If he enjoyed holding something in his hands that exchanged hands time and time again, filled with stories outside the boundaries of the margins. 

“Find something you like?” Spencer asked. He leaned against the doorframe, clearly interested in her interest in his bookshelf. 

“Sure. I mean, so would a pretentious freshman Literature major. But, I have to say Spencer, the excessive amount of Russian Literature is quite revealing.” 

Spencer’s once charismatic smirk cracked. She could see the fault, like the crack in the Earth when an earthquake struck. Spencer's smile was just as powerful as that, yet she decided to ignore the warmth that flooded her neck and ears. It contrasted the chill that lingered from the rain. 

“You can psychoanalyze me after you get changed. And over that bottle of tequila you’re hoarding from me,” Spencer offered the clothes. It was a pair of flannel pajamas and a gray T-Shirt. “Sorry about the coffee stain. It’s rather pesky and will not come out.” 

Y/N smiled, trading the tequila for the warm clothes, and walked into Spencer’s bedroom. She turned before she closed the door, a smile full to the brim of wicked mirth plastered to her face, “Oh please, you won’t even know what hit you. I’m quite ruthless when it comes to psychoanalyzing people based on their book tastes.” 

Spencer did not reply, instead, he winked. His were that molten caramel that threatened to vaporize her insides and his lips a perfect, plush pink. He brought the bottle to his lips, sipping slowly as she dipped into the bedroom. Everything, it seemed, with Spencer and her was a competition. 

The bottle was hardly empty. Both Spencer and Y/N turned out to be complete lightweights. Perhaps it was their rather intense commitment to academia that forced them to forget that they were, in fact, in their early twenties. Though, when it came down to it, Y/N didn’t know much about Spencer, she knew enough to recognize certain elements of herself in him. 

Even in his own bedroom, which arguably is more intimate than someone’s bookshelf, though Y/N would argue that sentiment. Spencer’s bed was made neatly with crisp white sheets peeking out at the top and a cream colored quilt tucked in at the sides. There were more books in here, some stuffed into a small rolling cart, others laying freely in messy stacks on the floor. 

Spencer’s shirt smelled like him, making her wonder if the shirt was freshly washed or worn by him once or twice before he bequeathed it to her. The scent of pine and bergamot tickled her nose and was accentuated by the sweetness of strawberries and vanilla. It was bewitching and elegant. And made her feel if she closed her eyes, she’d be transported to some mythical forest living in a quaint cream-colored Tudor with dark green ivy sneaking up the sides. 

“So you’re going to miss me?” Spencer said, his crooked smile peeking out from the rim of the bottle. Neither of them made a suggestion for a glass, settling for swapping swigs from the bottle. 

Y/N rolled her eyes. She felt the ferocity of a thousand suns against her face, her neck, hell, even her toes. Spencer looked at her, truly looked at her, like he was able to read her mind with a single glance. Y/N felt as if she was a fly under a microscope, but she didn’t hate the feeling. Instead she wondered if this was what it was like to feel understood. 

“Fine. I’m going to miss you.” Y/N relented. “Please know it’s against every bone in my body.” 

She took the bottle from Spencer. Hardly anything was missing, but she still felt the familiar lightness in her body. It was as if she was simultaneously light as a balloon with the ability to flit through the air unbothered by human worries of gravity and weight. Yet, as Spencer’s hand rested against the flannel-pants covered knee, it was like her body weighed tons. His warm hand made her feel grounded. The liquor burned her throat, like the fire Spencer's hand burned against her knee. 

“You don’t have to lie to me, Y/N.” Spencer said. He sounded the most honest she ever heard him. His voice wavered slightly. Maybe it was the drink or maybe it was how her leg brushed up against his. They sat on the floor, criss-cross with their backs against Spencer’s sofa, sharing the bottle of tequila. The clear liquid sloshed energetically slightly below the narrow neck of the bottle. 

“I’m not. I’m going to miss…,” Y/N gestured between herself and Spencer, unsure exactly what lied in that fateful, desolate place known as No-Man’s Land, “whatever this is. Whatever we have is.” She settled on, hoping that it was ambiguous enough to not scare him off, yet direct enough for him to know exactly what she meant. 

Hell, Y/N wasn’t even sure she knew what she meant. 

Spencer turned, his warm hand leaving her knee. A sudden coldness flooded the spot on her leg that he kept warm and an ache throbbed in her chest. He faced her, their knees, again, so close that even the smallest particle imaginable couldn’t sandwich itself between them. 

He took another swig, their fingers brushing against each other when he grabbed the bottle from her grip. She felt her heart swore again and was eager to get the bottle in her grip again. Spencer grimaced, still a naive drinker, as the alcohol washed down his throat. His lips were so pink and glistened with booze. 

“Truth or dare.” Spencer said. He sat the bottle down in that lost land, that No-Man’s Land, that lay between them. 

“Truth.” Y/N chose, her eyes flickering to Spencer’s eyes. The warm lamps lit his face with a golden hue, yet it cast midnight shadows on his sharpened cheekbones and sloped nose. 

“What’s the most embarrassing book on your shelf right now?” 

Y/N considered the question, “Well, I take issue with the reasoning that books can be embarrassing in the first place. But probably my copy of The Virgin Suicides that I totally missed the point of back in middle school. God, I read that book way too young,” 

“That explains a lot.” Spencer said. He took his glasses off, wiping the lens carefully with his shirt. Y/N watched as his thumb rubbed around and around, clearing the smudges off the lens. She felt her face flush and it grew down to her neck as thoughts of Spencer’s hands flooded her waking thoughts. 

“From the man that has like twenty-three copies of Medieval love poems that his mother gave him. Freak–y” Y/N teased, enunciating the ‘y’ in freaky. Spencer’s cheeks blushed and his tongue snuck out to wet his bottom lip. She felt herself grow distracted by the sight. Flustered, she instructed Spencer to take his pick: truth or dare. 

“Truth.” 

“What’s your most embarrassing book on your bookshelf?” Y/N challenged, nefarious grin only increasing Spencer’s blush-tinged cheeks. 

“I thought you rejected the very idea of books prompting embarrassment, Y/N.” Spencer countered, taking yet another swig. He was clearly hiding something. 

Y/N shrugged her shoulders, “Well, you can always choose dare if you’d like. But just know I very well might have you recite those love poems to Professor Wallis in the corridor tomorrow morning.” 

“Fine.” Spencer spat, he twisted his fingers together, as if the thought of revealing his most embarrassing book was physically taxing. “It’s Delta Of Venus.” 

Y/N laughed somewhere between wickedly and gleefully. She leaned forward, simply having to get closer to Spencer to believe that his confession was true. 

“You mean to tell me that you like dirty books?” she asked, her teasing smile turning up at

the corners of her mouth.

“Why is that such an interesting revelation?” Spencer countered, his voice threatening on anger, “Is it so shocking to think that I’m…I’m just as sexual as you are, as anyone our age? Plus those books do provide rather good tips.” 

Embarrassment flooded Y/N’s face as Spencer’s face contoured from anger to annoyance.

“I know you think I’m not–you know, like the people you date. I’m awkward. And stiff and, fuck, I do have love poems from my mother. But that doesn’t mean I’m not–” 

“You think of me sexually?” Y/N blurted, the words spurred on by the flow of liquor that passed between them. 

Spencer’s eyes nearly bulged out of his eye sockets. Y/N almost heard his mind at work, attempting to free himself from this sticky predicament he found himself in. “I mean, well, statistically–” 

“No more stats, Spence. Just answer my question. Do you think of me when you read those books? Do you think it’s my hand touching you? Making you feel so good you have to bite down on your lip to keep yourself from moaning?” 

“It’s not your turn.” Spencer replied, carefully dodging the question. “Truth or dare?” he asked, his melted chocolate eyes shimmering like a fractured disco ball in the warm light. 

“Dare.” 

“I dare you to kiss me,” Spencer asked. “You don’t have to, obviously.” Worry colored his flushed face. “If not then we’ll pretend this never happened and we can go back and be colleagues who got drunk together one night and–” 

Spencer’s words ended with a whimper. He felt Y/N’s lips cover his and he rushed to bring his hands to the small of her back. His lips tasted like the cool sweetness of peppermint toothpaste and the bitter sharpness of tequila. Y/N snaked her hands into Spencer’s hair, gripping the low curls that lay neatly at the base of his neck. He whined into the kiss, clearly forgetting to maintain a certain level of resolve. His hands found home on the expanse of her back. It drove him crazy to be feeling the warmth of her skin through a shirt that belonged to him. 

Y/N’s hips ground sharply against Spencer’s desperately searching for enough friction that would bring them both to their knees. She kissed up his neck, uncaring that he’ll have marks in the morning. On the contrary, there was a part of her that wanted to see Spencer’s pink-blushed skin littered with marks of her making. She felt him twitch in his pants, and made enough room in between their two bodies for her to palm his bulge. 

“You okay with this?” Y/N whispered, her teeth nipping along a pulse point at Spencer’s neck. He shuddered, the sound heading south and making Y/N’s heart leap forward. Luckily for her, Spencer’s hands lie willing and ready to catch. 

“Fuck yes,” Spencer cursed, lips searching for supple, soft skin to sink his teeth into, “You’ve got no idea for how long wanted you to touch me.” 

Passion electrified between their bodies as uncertainty and worry threatened to gain footing. 

“Tell me.” Y/N demanded, her voice full of sureness and coolness. She ran her hands up and down Spencer’s sides, settling into his lap. “Tell me how you thought of me, sweet boy.” 

“I thought of you in my bed. Your hair. The smell of your shampoo on my sheets. It’s intoxicating. I thought of making you feel good. Of how you’d taste. How you’d knot your hands in my hair and twist it. Making pain and pleasure seem indiscernible.” 

Spencer’s mouth was on her’s again, this time leading the charge. Relentlessly, Spencer’s teeth nipped and tugged at Y/N’s bottom lip. She whimpered into his mouth, pleasure washing over her body as the thrill of having Spencer close, finally, came to fruition. Her skin was on fire and the only thing that could quell the flames was Spencer’s mouth, Spencer’s mouth on her mouth, Spencer’s mouth on her neck pressing quick kisses that surmounted to her downfall. She felt Spencer’s mouth on other places of her body doing things that she never allowed herself to imagine. 

“Dirty boy.” she chanted, her saccharine voice sweet and divine, but surreptitiously wicked. Y/N continued to palm Spencer through his thin flannel pants, which did not leave much to the imagination. “But I think you can do better than that. I’ll give you a reward if you tell me something really good, sweet pea.” 

Spencer groaned, either at her instructions or at the nickname. She could tell he liked it,

that he liked to be treated delicately and then ruined over and over by the same hand. He watched, eyes ladened with an observant haze, as Y/N sat back on her heels. She shed her shirt, Spencer’s shirt, with trepidation, moving with carefully crafted hesitation. Y/N looked at Spencer like she wanted to devour him. And Spencer’s mouth hung open in half shock, half disbelief as Y/N’s hands pinched and pulled at her breasts. He wanted to feel her fleshy breasts in his hands, how her soft, warm chest would contrast deliciously with the rough, coolness of his. A laugh, full to the brim of playful teasing, slipped from her throat as she watched Spencer realize she wore his shirt without a bra.

“You’re evil.” Spencer moaned, reaching out to touch Y/N’s breasts. She moved, not allowing him the pleasure of touching her, yet. “So fucking evil.” 

Laughing, Y/N bit her lip as she moved across Spencer’s lap. She palmed his now painfully hard erection through his pants, eager to continue teasing him. “Did you ever think about what it would be like to fuck my mouth, Spencer? How warm and tight would it feel? How I’d look up at you, daring you to stare me down.” 

The way she smelled made Spencer dizzy with delight. He wanted to memorize the way her hair smelled after a rainstorm, the way her skin was soft and supple under his fingertips, the way her eyes glittered with challenge. Spencer wanted to memorize everything about her because, deep down, they both knew that this couldn’t last. They built themselves up, yet they were only fated to fall apart. 

Not yet. 

“Yes.” Spencer spat, biting his lip in an attempt to hold in eagerness. Y/N rocked her hips against Spencer before intertwining her fingers with his.

“Get on the couch.” Y/N instructed, tapping Spencer on the knee. Eagerly, Spencer listened. His hair was splayed against his forehead and his eyes glistened with bliss. “That’s my good boy.” 

He sat on his couch with his legs spread and heels digging into the floor. On her knees, Y/N grabbed Spencer by the collar, bringing his lips to her mouth. Spencer smiled into the kiss, as if it was exactly what he should be doing. He brought his hands around her waist, as if to pull her up on the couch with him. But she placed a gentle hand on his wrist, telling him to wait. 

“Sorry, sorry.” Spencer sputtered, fear coursing through his mind. “We don’t have to–”

“No, no not that.” Y/N said, pacifying Spencer’s worry. “I wanted to suck you off.” 

“Oh.” Spencer said, words, for perhaps the first time in his life, failing him. 

“Thought you’d like that idea.” she teased, settling down on her knees. “I’m clean. And on the pill. You’ve had it happen to you before right?” 

“Me too. And well, no.” Spencer confessed. “There haven't been many opportunities for that. I mean. I’m not a virgin. Just not like, experienced,” 

Y/N hummed, silently understanding Spencer’s predicament. “If it’s any consolation, you don’t kiss you like a blowjob virgin.” 

“What does that even mean?” Spencer laughed, rubbing his thumbs against Y/N’s upper arms. It was like it couldn’t not touch her and Y/N wasn’t going to complain about that. 

“No clue,” Y/N confessed. “But in a moment you won’t have to worry about it anymore.” she continued. She pulled down his pants, palming him through his boxers. “That’s it, sweet pea.” 

Spencer groaned, tossing his head back and banging it against the wall. “Oh fuck,” Spencer cursed, closing his eyes in pleasure. 

“Just you wait,” Y/N promised. She rid Spencer of his boxers, leaving him bare to her in his living room. She rubbed her thumb over the tip of his erection, marveling as Spencer shudders at her light touch. Y/N continued to stroke Spencer’s hardness, increasing pressure and tightness as he grew more and more used to the sensation. 

“S-so much better than my hand.” Spencer stuttered, his tongue peeking out from his mouth. His lips were blood red and swollen and totally kissable.

“I bet,” Y/N chuckled with pride. She peppered kisses along Spencer’s bare thighs, grinning as he tightened his grip on the throw blankets on his couch. Finally, after what seemed like hours of painstakingly slow teasing, Y/N finally took him into her mouth. 

Immediately, she enjoyed the feeling of the weight of him in her mouth. Spencer’s whimpers increased tenfold as Y/N’s subtle humming sent vibrations of pleasure throughout his body. She continued to maintain eye contact, daring Spencer to keep her gaze as she bobbed her head up and down his erection. Unsure what to do with his hands, Spencer gripped the soft blanket to his side. Y/N grabbed his hands, bringing them to rest on her head. Guiding him, Y/N encouraged Spencer to bring her head closer to his center. 

He moaned, threading his fingers together behind her head. Y/N slid the tip of her tongue up the underside of his cock. Her ministrations were subtle and light, a barely there sensation that drove him to the brink of pleasure. She felt him throbbing between her lips, a sign that he’s reached climax. 

“God, Y/N.” Spencer cursed, his voice horse with strained pleasure. “If you don’t stop I’m going to come.” 

“I need you to be inside me. Or I think I’m actually going to lose my mind.” Y/N warned, taking Spencer out of her mouth and kissing along his pale hip bones. She left a mark there, a sign that she was here, that she claimed him as her’s, even for just one night.

“Can I taste you? I need to taste you, Y/N.” Spencer pleaded, that strained voice heading straight to her core as he begged for her. 

“After you fuck me,” Y/N promised, and with a sad smile, she said, “We’ve got all the time in the world.” 

Spencer nodded. Even though neither of them knew it was true. 

“Bedroom?” Spencer asked, threading his fingers into Y/N’s hands as he hoisted her up from the floor. 

“Bedroom.” She confirmed. They stumbled into Spencer’s bedroom, with the crisp white sheets and soft cream-colored quilt. The books that lay haphazardly on the floor, longing to be picked up and cracked open. 

Spencer sat on the bed, his back resting against his headboard and Y/N perched in his lip. His hands traveled up, palming at her breasts. She nodded, encouraging him to take her nipple into his mouth. As he kissed and nipped and sucked at her soft chest, Y/N threaded her hands through Spencer’s brown curls. His hair was soft and smelled like tea tree and apple. He kissed every freckle and divet on her body, not leaving a single part of her unloved. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Spencer whispered, “Stunning.” He kissed her collarbones. “Gorgeous.” He kissed the underside of her breasts. “Ravishing.” He kissed each one of her fingers and up her hand and arm until he returned to her face. 

“You’re so beautiful, Spence.” Y/N commented, sandwiching Spencer’s face in between her hands. She kissed his nose, smiling as he laughed and wrinkled his nose. 

He looked absolutely adorable. He slipped off the pajama pants she borrowed, allowing them to lay neglected on the floor. 

The air grew tense. The words swapped, like the liquor that now lay forgotten on the living room floor, had entered a dangerous territory. You didn’t call your academic rival turned goodbye-fuck beautiful. 

Or stunning. Or gorgeous. Or ravishing.  

She leaned in, nipping Spencer’s bottom lip and pulling it as she kissed him. He whimpered into the kiss, losing himself as if he could find himself wrapped up in a tangle of limbs of the one person who’ll be a ghost by morning. 

“Can you feel how wet I made you, sweetheart?” Spencer mumbled, his breath hot against her ear as his hands brought her closer and closer to him. “All for me too,” 

His hands lingered around her thighs. Spencer pressed his fingertips into her soft skin, drawing shapeless shapes over the fabric of her underwear. He grinned as Y/N closed her eyes in pleasure and gripped the hair on the back of his neck. 

“Which means I need to fuck you, right now.” Y/N instructed. Spencer nodded, his breath hitching as their bodies finally met in the middle. 

The moan climbed from Spencer’s throat and spilled into Y/N’s mouth as he placed a searing kiss on her lips. It was downright sinful. She wanted to replay it in her head again and again. She wanted to be the only one to see him lose control like this, to lose himself in the bliss and pleasure that comes from knowing someone intimately. 

“This is incredible,” Spencer observed with a wry chuckle. He nipped at Y/N’s lips, kissing each other had grown to be second nature even if they'd only started doing it an hour ago. 

Y/N hummed in agreement, dragging a finger across the slope of Spencer’s lips. He was perfectly carved, like some imperfect Adonis decked out in warm sweater vests with glitter brown eyes. She dipped her thumb into his mouth and Spencer’s tongue swirled around it. He moaned at the intrusion, something about it entirely too intimate, too sexual, too addictive for a casual hook-up. 

“It is perfect,” Y/N whispered, watching as Spencer took her thumb carefully in her mouth. She gripped his shoulder with her other hand, finding a rhythm to bounce on his dick. Spencer watched as he saw himself appear and disappear, “You fill me up so well, Spencer.” 

“That’s a good girl,” Spencer complimented, kissing her shoulder as he felt her fall back down on her erection, “You’re gonna be a good girl for me and come all over my cock? Hmm?” Spencer asked, the question causing the hair on Y/N’s to stand up. 

“Please, please.” Y/N chanted, continuing to meet Spencer’s thrusts. Spencer’s pointer finger and thumb rubbed quick, calculated circled on her clit. She was at a loss for words, unable to articulate the intense pleasure that built deep inside her belly. 

“You’re so beautiful like this, Y/N.” Spencer encouraged, kissing her sweaty, feverish skin, challenging her to reach climax, “Taking me so well.” 

She felt the fire in her belly burn fiercely. Spencer, the boy that once egged her on with his impish smirks, his infinity for being right, was the one to ruin her. She took his face in her hands as she reached climax, her teeth biting down on his bottom lip. 

“I’m so close.” Spencer moaned into her ear, bringing her so close to him that their bodies were flush against each other. “Where should I—” 

“In me.” Y/N replied, bruising Spencer’s lips in yet another kiss that’s all teeth and all passion, “Fill me up, Spencer. Please, please.” she begged. 

Something resembling euphoria fell between them as they both came down from their high. Spencer’s forehead touched her forehead, but no kisses were shared. They were silent, as if finally understanding that the fling they shared tonight had reached its expiration date. 

Y/N rolled over and Spencer covered her with the cotton blanket that rested at the end of his end. 

“Thank you.” Y/N whispered. Spencer’s hand covered the side of her face, brushing a stray piece of hair from her forehead. Spencer nodded and leaned forward. 

“You’ll stay, right? It’s too late for you to go back to your place. I don’t want you walking home this late.” 

“Sure,” Y/N agreed, “I’ll stay.”

She only wished that this night didn’t have an expiration date. As she fell asleep, with Spencer’s warm hands rested on her waist, she had another wish: that Spencer will remember her, this night, like it was the very first night. 

Silence, except for the pounding of the rain against the windows, fell between them. Usually, silence between two people could be awkward. But this wasn’t that. The silence that festered between Spencer and Y/N was the kind of silence that could lull you to sleep. It was a silence of safety and yearning and tranquility. Y/N rested her head on Spencer’s bare chest, feeling the heat from his skin bouncing off him and landing on her cheek. She wished she could siphon the heat from his body. She felt so cold. 

“I’m going to miss you too.” Spencer confessed. “For the record. And that’s not the tequila or the hormones talking.” 

Y/N chuckled. The laugh twinkled loudly in the silence of the night. “I hope we didn’t end up fucking this up.” That time the silence did become awkward. It was stifled and stiff with things unsaid, filled with fruitless kisses destined to turn to ghostly pecks by morning light, full of stray grazes of hands against bare hips, whispers that glide across the slope of her curves and his collarbone. 

Maybe…maybe all they did have to do was stay, with their limbs so tangled together it was impossible to tell whose hand belonged to who, with their hearts beating together in a quiet, rhythmic dance. 

Maybe….maybe they could, perhaps, simply choose to ignore their mercurial lives, the utter turbulence and strife that came with carving out a space for who you are all that you may become in your early twenties. 

Maybe…maybe they could have each other in the palm of their hand, calling each other babe for the weekend, knowing but never admitting that that night they said goodbye to the warmest bed they've ever known. 

Maybe it was that simple. Maybe all they had to do was stay. 

She wasn’t sure if it was bravery or cowardice that beckoned her away from Spencer and his warm embrace. Y/N kissed Spencer’s forehead praying, to some deity that she didn’t believe in that he wouldn’t wake to see her leave. She slipped on his pants, deciding in an instant that she’d keep the clothes he gave her, maybe to remember him by, maybe to ensure she’d never forget the earthy, yet sweet smell of pine and bergamot and strawberry and vanilla would follow her places that Spencer never could. 

Haunted by the look in his eyes when he caressed her face as she traced the curvature of his lips, she knew she’d mourn, what could have been something really great, for a lifetime. She left it all behind. Walking to her home, the home that wouldn’t be her home for much longer, she felt comfort in the midnight sky that taunted dawn’s morning light. 

- TAGLIST -

@reidslovely @reidsbookclub @spencerreidat3am @fightingdragonswithreid @hotchandspencearedilfs @sadgirlml @spencerslibrary @foxy-eva @paperbackprettyboy @reidselle @alexxavicry @justlivinginadaydream @reidslibrarybook @reidsmilf @mrs-dr-reid @thebloomingeagle @spencerreidsmommy @reid1nspiration

[skinnywalker]

I know this is an odd request, but could you do headcanons for Max x male reader who is actually a time traveller that came through accidentally from the Upside Down, and decided to stay around season 1? Maybe Max and the rest of the party reacting to being shown modern gaming consoles, phones, and the internet? If not that's okay!

:0

Thing are different now part 1

Y/n was not supposed to be here. That was a sold fact but it was much worse now that he'd couldn't find the portal that had gotten him in this small town in the first place.

"Hey kid! What the hell do you think you're doing?! That's private property!!"

"Umm oh. I'm sorry I'm just trying to find my-"

The officer grabbed Y/n by the shoulder and yanked him from the edge of the fence ruining any chance of his escape.

"I don't want to hear your excuses young man. You're parents are going be furious."

He pulled the boy into a police vehicle and slammed the gas. Y/n sat in terror as the car sped into a station.

"You are going to call your parents and tell them what you've being spending your free time doing."

He watched the officer storm from the room and slam the door behind him. Well he was royally fucked.

"Wow, you really pissed off hopper huh?"

He turned to she a pretty red head giving him a all-knowing grin.

"Is that who that guy was? Is he always that mad?"

"Only around kids our age."

She leaned back into her chair letting the pillars of orange hair fall down. Y/n felt a slight blush raise in his cheeks.

"Why?"

"Wow! You really are new! When did you moved here?"

"You won't believe me."

She frowned.

"Why?"

Y/n sat therebiting his lip and twiddling his thumbs.

"I'm.........I'm from the future."

She brush out laughing nearly falling off the chair.

"I'm serious! I can prove it!"

"Really Marty McFly. And what do you have huh?"

Y/n whipped his head around to make sure know could see them. He reached deep into his pocket and pulled out his phone. The girl stop smiling. Her eyes grew massive.

"Wha...what I'd that?!"

"My mobile phone. Look I have some games on it."

She looked like it was a piece of alien technology. Starring at the glowing screen which he had opened to a one on one beat em up.

"This......can't be real. You weren't lying."

"Yeah, I came looking for a girl named Jane."

"I've never heard of her. Are you sure she lives here?"

He nodded, slipping the phone back in his pocket.

"She looks like this."

He pulled the phone free again showing the fadded photo of the girl.

"No. I really have never seen her. That thing can take photos too?!"

"Umm yeah-"

"Hey hey! I want to look at it more!"

"Only if you get me out of this place."

"Deal!"

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

COSMIC - S1:E6; Chapter Six, The Monster - [Pt. 1]

A Will Byers x Male!Reader Series

𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘌𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘠/𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘋𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘌𝘭𝘴𝘦𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘏𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘑𝘰𝘺𝘤𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘣’𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴.

|| 𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ||

Joyce and Hopper sat opposite one another at the kitchen table of the Byers' home. The house was cold and hardly lit, copies of newspaper clippings scattered all around the house. One of the only light sources was a dusty chandelier that hung from the kitchen ceiling above the table and their heads, illuminating the several papers.

"Look, we gotta go through this again." Joyce insisted.

"I told you everything that I saw."

"Oh, gosh," she sighs into her hands. "Tell me again."

"Upstairs or downstairs?" Hopper asked.

"Upstairs."

"There was a laboratory. It was where they must do experiments or something, and then there was... well you see, like I said, I got turned around."

Hopper was currently sharing all he had encountered on his rogue mission at Hawkins National Laboratory. Joyce, all the while was hanging on his every word.

"I told you, it was like, I don't know, it wasn't supposed to exist. That whole area, it was abandoned and... forgotten, like it was all some big mistake. Once I found my way back, I saw that... kid's room. That other kid's room, I mean. Like it was actually used, but it didn't even look like a kid's room, neither of them did. It looked like a prison."

Hopper sighed and rubbed the bottom of his palms into his eyes tiredly, is fingers held the lit cigarette inches away from his face as he did so. "If that even makes sense,"

"Well," Joyce began, trying to get to the bottom of this never ending mystery. "So why would you think it was a kid's room, then?"

"Because, I told you, the size of the bed, there was a drawing, there was a stuffed animal--"

Joyce interrupted the man quickly. "Y-You didn't say there was a drawing."

"Yeah, there was a drawing of a... an adult and a child. It said 'Eleven' on it."

"Was it good?" Joyce pressed.

"It was a kid's drawing, Joyce. It was stick figures."

Joyce had a knowing look on her face as she stood up with a sigh, retrieving a piece of crinkled line paper and slammed it down on the table for Hopper to see.

She pointed to the detailed drawing as she sat back down.

"Wasn't Will." She stated confidently, shakily bringing the cigarette back up to her lips.

Hopper examined the drawing and everything seemed to click. He returned his gaze to the anxious mother. Hopper quickly put out his cigarette in the ashtray and made a beeline for the coffee table.

"Earl..." he muttered, as he made his way into the living room. Joyce, who had abandoned her cigarette, was right on his heels.

"The night that Benny died, Earl said he saw some kid with a shaved head with Benny," Hopper and Joyce took a seat beside one another on the living room couch, Hopper's eyes fixed on the several news clippings splayed along the wooden coffee table. "Now, I pressed him, he said it might be Will, but maybe..."

The man began shifting through the papers, and Joyce spoke up.

"Wait... Maybe, it wasn't?"

Hopper pulled the article he had been looking for and pointed to the fuzzy photograph of the woman in the article.

"Look... this woman, Terry Ives, she claims to have lost her daughter, Jane. She sued Brenner, she sued the government... Now, the claims came to nothing, but what if... I mean, what if this whole time I've been... I've been looking for Will... I've been chasing after some other kid?"

|| 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ||

Everything is a mess.

Will is still missing, the party is falling apart, Mike and Lucas are still angsty messes that won't speak to one another, and now, El left us. She probably thinks I hate her.

'But I don't! I was just scared'

(Ok but like,,,, who else ships El and reader cause damn I've been giving myself feels lately, dang)

'We need to fix this'

I sigh and sit up from my bed and make my my way to Dustin's room.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"I just... I can't believe she didn't come back." Mike sighed.

Dustin and I agreed we needed to talk some sense into the rest of the party. So we got our bikes and made our way to Mike's. Dustin was standing opposite Mike while I currently occupied one of the D&D chairs I had pulled up. Mike was worriedly pacing the floor in front of us.

"She's gotta be close." Dustin offered.

"She said it wasn't safe. She just messed up the compasses because she wanted to protect us. She didn't betray us."

"Mike, calm down."

Mike only ignored Dustin and kept talking, more to himself than anybody it seemed.

"I shouldn't have yelled at her. I never should've done that."

"Mike, this isn't your fault." Dustin said.

"Yeah, it's Lucas'."

"It wasn't his fault, either." Dustin countered softly.

For the first time in what felt like ages, Mike stopped in his tracks. He looked at my brother dumbfounded and took a few steps in his direction. "It wasn't his fault?"

"No."

"So you're saying he wasn't way out of line?"

"Totally, but so were you!"

"What?"

"And so was Eleven."

"That's ridiculous! Y/n, tell him he's being ridiculous!"

Very calmly, I stood up with my arms crossed and stood next to my brother, and sighed, eyes fixed on Mike. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but Dustin is absolutely right."

Mike seemed even more furious. "Oh, give me a break!"

Dustin snapped at these words and stormed up to Mike. "No, Mike, you give me a break! All three of you were being a bunch of little assholes! Y/n and I were the only reasonable ones! But the bottom line is... you pushed first. And you know the rules. You draw first blood..."

"No! No way! I'm not shaking his hand."

"You're shaking his hand." I press, stepping forward.

He was sure to make eye contact with me over Dustin's shoulder as he spoke. "No, I'm not."

So I strode toward him and gave him a slight glare.

"This isn't a discussion. This is the rule of law. Obey or be banished from the party. Do you wanna be banished?" I asked firmly.

Mike crossed his arms and pouted before speaking up meekly. "No."

"Good!" I chirp, my face beaming as if we hadn't just been fighting which seem to only terrify him more.

I all but skipped over to the chair grabbing my coat, Dustin following my actions.

"Where are we going?" Mike asked with a hint of frustration.

"Where do you think?" Dustin asked as he put his arms through the sleeves of his coat.

"We're going to get Lucas." I finished, straightening my jacket then looked back to Mike.

My face softened and I tilted my head slightly. "And then we're gonna find Eleven."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The three of us stood on Lucas's porch and I rang the doorbell. We stood waiting until the door swung open and Lucas stood there glaring at all three of us, but mostly Mike.

"What do you want?" He spit, resting his hands in his pockets.

There was brief silence which was then interrupted by a muffled smack of Dustin hitting Mike in the arm.

Mike sighed softly and looked to Lucas, clearly hating every second of this.

"I drew first blood, so..." he extended his hand for Lucas to shake but Lucas didn't move.

Great. Of course nobody was going to make anything easy. Why would they?

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Somehow I had convinced Lucas to let us all in and now, we all stood in the middle of his living room as he paced silently across the floor considering Mike's offer. He finally stopped and stared at the three of us.

"Okay, I'll shake."

Mike sighed what I barely made out to be a "finally" as he extended his arm out once more. Dustin and I perked up, that was until Lucas continued.

"On one condition. We forget the weirdo and go straight to the gate." He finished, arms crossed defiant.

"Then the deal's off." Mike barked.

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

"No, no, not fine! Guys seriously?" Dustin yelled, as I threw my head back frustrated.

Dustin forced Mike to face him as he spoke. "Do you even remember what happened on the Bloodstone Pass?"

Lucas and Mike shared a confused glance.

Dustin seemed shocked and offended that they had no recollection and continued.

"We couldn't agree on what path to take, so we all split up the party and those trolls took us out one by one. And it all went to shit. And we were all disabled! So we stick together, no matter what!"

"Yeah, I agree. But this is the party, right here in this room."

"El is one of us now."

"Um, no, she's not. Not even close! Never will be. She's a liar, a traitor--"

"She was just trying to keep us safe! She didn't mean to hurt you. It was an accident!"

"An accident?"

"All right, accident or not... admit it, it was a little awesome." Dustin said.

"Awesome?"

"Yeah, she threw you in the air with her mind!"

"I could have been killed!"

"Would everybody just shut up for one second, please!" I snap.

Everybody looks to me, a shocked expression on their faces.

I step forward and begin my long awaited  rant.

"I am sick of your attitude." I point at Lucas. "I am sick of your whining." I point to Mike. "I am sick of all three of you bickering," I gesture to all of them. "I love you guys and I can't thank you enough for taking me in and including me, know that, but GOD I am tired of being stuck listening to you boys argue about every little thing!"

I myself began pacing, my voice continuously rising. "I'm sick of putting up with all your petty arguing when we should be looking for Will only to come home at the end of the day, having found NOTHING and crying my eyes out because the only person who never gave a shit about who started what is missing and probably dead!"

I stopped pacing and looked to the boys who were all silent. I sighed and lowered my voice. "Lucas, you're right. You could have been killed. Which is exactly why we need her. She is more powerful than all of us combined."

"Y/n's right. Do you seriously wanna fight the Demogorgon with your wrist rocket?" Mike said, anger still in his voice. "That's like R2-D2 going to fight Darth Vader. We're no use to Will if we're dead."

Lucas looked torn for a moment, but then he shook his head and pointed at the three of us. There was disappointment in his voice. "If you three wanna waste your time looking for a traitor, go ahead, 'cause I'm not spending my time on her anymore. No way!"

I sighed, putting my face in my hands. Lucas continued.

"I'm going to the gate. I'm going to find Will."

Lucas shoved the boys aside and stormed off, leaving the three of us alone in more ways than one.

[mcustorm]

In Defense of a Black Cyclops

In case my username didn’t make it clear, the single most anticipated visual project for me is the MCU’s interpretation of the X-Men, which hasn’t even been announced yet [officially]. And ladies and gents, I have found your Cyclops:

Good ol’ Alfred Enoch, who we all know from Harry Potter and How to Get Away With Murder. If you’re not familiar with HTGAWM, know that his character goes from the de facto leader of the ragtag (murderers) and most cherished protege of Viola Davis’ Professor X to taking more of a grimdark turn after his girlfriend’s death. Sound at least somewhat familiar?

Enoch also embodies the physicality of the character well, seeing as to how he’s “slim”, 6′4(!!), black, and notoriously lanky. Wait, one of these isn’t like the others.

In general I hate fancasting. Everyone generally picks from the same pool of about 30 actors (Peeps, neither Taron nor Daniel is a good Wolverine choice. Argue with your mother!), and most all of it is based on physicality, except when it absolutely should be (like say, choosing a ~5′10 dark-skinned black woman for Storm).

And I think there’s some malarkey afoot. I think there needs to be some serious consideration on part of fancasters and actual casting agents alike to rethink race when it comes to the [white] X-Men, especially since they’re the X-Men of all teams. So I’ll make the case for a black Cyclops: 

1. There is no quota on Black X-Men: There’s a bug in your ear that’s been whispering lies to you for years, it says something to the effect of “We need a black person on the team for diversity. How bout Storm?” And you’ve gotten complacent. Storm does not have to be the only black person on your X-Men roster.

2. The X-Men represent diversity: Iceman is gay, Cyclops and Prof. X are disabled (sorta), there are plenty of women, oh and everybody except Storm is white. Of the A-List X-Men, there is only *one* POC character. I’d argue that an MCU X-Men needs to champion diversity like never before.

3. The X-Men represent minority struggle while being mostly white: There’s a cognitive dissonance in the metaphor that has always been there, and for the most part, nobody cares. To appeal to the white readers of the 60′s, the X-Men were all initially white. That way, the message of the mutants could be related to the audience with a familiar face. We don’t need to approach the problem that way in 202?

4. Just because that’s the way it’s always been, doesn’t mean that’s the way it should be: The first line of defense. Sorry, that will never be a good justification for literally any idea. It’s time for some more critical thinking.

5. We don’t all want to be Bishop: So say you’re white and you have a kid who for his birthday having a costume party. You’ve bought some X-Men costumes and you want each kid to pick one. 9 white kids and one black kid show up to your house. As the kids deliberate who gets what costume, be it Cyke or Wolvie or whatever, you yell at everybody to “STOP!”, point to the one black kid and tell him “You’re gonna be Bishop. That’s it, end of story!” 

We don’t all want to be Bishop. The black child could have the best Cyclops interpretation within him, but you’ll never know if you don’t let him try. And that’s no different from the Black actors of Hollywood. There’s no reason why all of the black talent should *have* to compete for the role of Bishop or Storm, which I’ve discussed, while Joe Schmo can walk up and audition for literally anybody he wants.          

Jharrel Jerome is 23 and has an Emmy to his name. He needs to be in the MCU in some capacity, period. Stephan James is another. How bout Damson Idris. Ashton Sanders. But no, no, let’s fancast Dacre Montgomery or Ansel or Joe Keery again as [Human Torch, Wolverine, Iceman, Angel, I’ve literally seen it all.]

6. Nobody wants to see the B-team if it comes down to it. The next line of defense from your racebending naysayers after “That’s the way it’s always been!” is “Well, what about Psylocke, Bishop, Forge and Jubilee?” who are otherwise known as B-tier X-Men. The problem is, we’ve got limited time and limited spots.

So since the X-Men is all about wonky metaphors that make half sense, let me give you another: Let’s say somebody approaches you and says “Hey buddy, I got two free concert tickets for ya! You can either see Michael Jackson Sings the Blues, or you can go see Justin Timberlake. Free of charge!”

Now, are you used to MJ singing the blues? No! Do you have a problem with going to see Justin Timberlake? No, he’s fine on a Wednesday! He had that one little diddy we liked that one time. We’d love to see him eventually! But are you gonna say, “fuck that, I’m going to see MJ Sings the Blues” regardless? Hell yes, because that’s still Michael Jackson. He’s gonna give the same amazing performance he always does, it’s just gonna be the blues. And speaking of blues...

7. Black is not Blue, Brown is not Blue: Raise your hand if you’ve ever heard this one: “I don’t care if you’re black, white, purple, or green, I’m going to treat you all the same!” I will not say all have this intention, but some fancasters have noticed that the racial diversity is kinda low within the A-List X-Men, so they oh-so-generously give the following roles to a black or brown person: Iceman, Nightcrawler, Beast. 

Notice the pattern? It’s a microaggression, and it’s bullshit. What these fancasters are implicitly telling you is that, yes the actors will be black or brown, but when the action starts we can ignore that. They’ll be blue by then. In other words, you in fact do care if they’re purple or green. Nobody will cry foul if Dev Patel gets to play Nightcrawler (because that’s a common one I see), but should Anna Diop be Starfire or Michael B. Jordan be Human Torch, I bet there’d be backlash. Oh wait. If that’s you, please stop acting like you actually value diversity. You don’t want to see black or brown skin, period. Unless of course, it’s Storm (refer to point #1).

But wait, there’s more! When brown characters get whitewashed in these movies, it’s crickets! So eventually it’s revealed implicitly that proclaimers of point #4 only care about it one way.

8. Professor X should not be black if you’re not willing to change anyone else: The next line of defense is that some people say the professor should be black, if anybody HAS to be racebent. Something something MLK Jr., Civil Rights or some shit. Number one, I’m not reducing Professor X to being a magical negro for 9 white people (and Storm!) who for all intents and purposes get to have all the action. Number 2, the Professor X/MLK/Magneto/Malcolm X comparison is an oversimplifying disservice to ALL FOUR of those people. I hate that line whenever I see it, please watch a documentary my friends. 

9. The Candidates for Racebending: For me, the A-List X-Men are Cyclops, Jean Grey, Iceman, Angel, Beast, Wolverine, Storm, Gambit, Rogue, Colossus, Nightcrawler, and Kitty Pryde. Now, who should be exempt from the racebending? Storm, she’s our designated minority. Gambit, he’s Cajun and they’re white (generally speaking, that’s a fun bit of research). Wolverine, Colossus, and Nightcrawler, because their nationality/ethnicity was the whole point of the Giant-Size premise in the first place. Angel, because his character embodies a privileged white male. Beast and Iceman, I don’t care one way or another (Point #7).

That leaves Cyclops, Rogue, Jean Grey, and Kitty Pryde. Now Jean Grey is a redhead, and we all know that every time a redhead is racebent people sharpen their pitchforks (Mary Jane, Wally West, Iris West), so I will cede the ground on Jean if only so that my ginger friends can get their rep. Kitty Pryde is Jewish, but Jews of color exist. Rogue is from the South. And Cyclops is, well, just Cyclops. That makes those three characters good options for more diversity. But allow me to make the case for Cyclops, specifically.

10. It’s not just diversity for diversity’s sake: If you had to pick who the main character of the X-Men is supposed to be, most would say Cyclops. And so in a series that highlights racial discrimination in society, it makes sense that our main character be black. While changing Cyclops’ skin color should not change who he is as a character, it *should* recontextualize it. Now, as an eventual increasingly radical leader of the X-Men, Cyclops would evoke real life figures such as Colin Kaepernick or, shall I say, Martin Luther King, Jr.

Not that most X-Men fans and writers truly think about what it means to be black anyways. Storm’s minority status is almost always put through the lens of her being a mutant and not her being a black woman. In other words, you can’t argue that making a character black will fundamentally change his or her character when you haven’t even analyzed the racial context of the black character(s) you already have. Another concept that the MCU X-Men should tackle: intersectionality.

11. Representation matters: I have to say it: Chadwick Boseman’s Black Panther hit different. And now he is tragically gone. At the end of the day, the MCU moving forward is down its most prominent black male superhero. Which has implications beyond just the movies themselves.

The women are in good hands. Shuri, Okoye, and Nakia are badasses in Wakanda, Valkyrie is ruling Asgard, Storm is almost assuredly on the way, RiRi Williams has already been cast, and Monica Rambeau is here and she’s not even at her most glorious yet. That doesn’t even include variable Δ, or the number of characters who can and will be racebent. And I’ll note again that to me, Gamora doesn’t count, because she’s green (#7 really pisses me off because it’s so blatant. I hate it). Of course from a behind the camera perspective we love black women getting work.

The men are a completely different story. Imma just go out and say it, I can’t stand Falcon and War Machine [in the MCU] because they’re not characters, they’re just two of a slew of MCU minority sidekicks who have essentially been at the beck and call of Captain America and Iron Man, respectively. You cannot tell Falcon’s story without mentioning Cap. The reverse is not true. There’s a whole essay that could be and have been written on “Minorities in the MCU, pre-Black Panther”. Remember, there’s a reason BP made so much noise in the first place.

So excluding those two we have, let’s see, M’Baku, Blade, and Fury who aren’t exactly the most superheroic superheroes, Eli Bradley is proooobably coming, I doubt Miles Morales is coming (because he’s just Peter Parker in the MCU), Luke Cage(?) Bishop(??), Sunspot(???), Blue Marvel(????). Not only are they not A-List, I would not put money on any of them being in the MCU any time soon.

Cyclops is thee Captain America of the X-Men. He’s the frontman. He’s the poster boy. He’s the “boy scout”, which in other words means he’s the hero, if there has to be one. It would mean a lot right now, and specifically *right now*, if he were to be black. The MCU needs it. It NEEDS it.

12. The X-Men is the Summers Story: I’ll even make the case that if just one character needs to racebent, then it should be Cyclops, because that of course implies that other related characters need to be black because half of the X-Men universe is in fact a part of the Summers family. 

So now Cable is black. Corsair is black. Havok is black. And one of the most central stories in the X-Men mythos, the Summers family drama, is now a black family drama set in space or the future or where the fuck ever. The concept is boundary pushing. When white families have drama in the media, it gets to be Game of Thrones or Star Wars, while when black families have drama in the media, it has to be black people arguing in a kitchen or living room about their various earthly traumas (I’m @’ing you, Mr. Perry). I mean, that’s all fine and good often times, but I want my black family drama in space, dammit.

And again, this is the X-Men, the series that’s all about *minorities* and their struggle, so again, why not?

Oh, and I’ll even throw out a Havok fancast for you: How bout Jharrel Jerome?

[fandomnerd9602]

Jane Storm x Male Sunspot/Golden Boy Reader

Jane and the reader have the same powers. She have a makeout session that lights up the whole room on fire

Reed extinguishes the last of the flames…

Sue: you’re both reckless

Reed: your combined heat could’ve destroyed the whole building!

Y/N: sorry

Jane: can you blame me? Y/N is so hot!

Y/N: not as hot as you babe

Reed: no funny business until I can synthesize a fireproof room system

Jane: I make no promises

[lovieebby]

White Winged Girl

Sugar Daddy!Henry Cavill x F!Reader (She/her)

Summary: She loves to please and he loves to tease. It's a perfect storm that she doesn’t see.

WC: 700ish

Warnings: 18+!!! entails of oral (male receiving), i guess fluff? nothing more than that rlly

Note: I feel like these will be small drabbles to make into a small series so i can work my way back into making larger fics (and to give my inner slut a story I’ve been itching for)

In the big blue, sad world there was little that made her sad. She was always chipper and happy, over sharing to the people that didn’t care and wearing her heart on her sleeve while she looked into the world with rose tinted glasses. And oh boy, she didn’t want to take them off when the man came giving her all the things she didn’t need.

It didn’t start slow, it happened all so fast before she realized she was wrapped so tightly around Henry’s finger, that she didn’t dare to move. She didn't mind the first few treats he gave her, but there was always a string attached and a big smile on her face as she did everything to please him. Though now she questioned the big man, even when he was up to the chin.

But tonight was their night, almost like the previous ones, so she’d make it worth their while and hold back on her running mind of endless questions.

Her phone rang out in her small room, making her jump as she applied the deep red paint on her pouting lips. It was a short and simple text from Henry, a small warning to be ready shortly before he arrived at her home. She had already been ready, just making a few small adjustments to her lip stain and loosening the straps of her heels. And when he arrived he was pressing his dark maroon suit down while his thick neck cracked under the midnight black turtleneck.

She did a small curtsy, making Henry smirk with a breathless chuckle while he opened the door for her. He spoke a greeting as she placed herself in the passenger seat, letting her plump chest rise to his view as she exaggerated a breath. She looked down to her risen chest and back up through her long eyelashes with hopes to get his attention on her well put together set.

“We’re not doing that tonight,” He sternly told her, letting his finger brush under the seam of her collar, “Teasing gets you nowhere.”

She nodded quickly as her breath caught in her throat, his hands gripping the seat belt and tugging it tight in her lap as a warning to be good. But she kept trying as the big man drove, she fidgeted in her seat, subtly tugged her dress up her lap, all with an innocent glint in her eyes while the bright lights passed the car window. Henry noticed the small advances she made, he knew his little fox was aching for something only he could give and he ate it up.

Watching her try so hard to get his attention made his cock swell as she became flustered. She repeated questions with hesitation, “A-are you mad at me? — Is everything okay?”

He laughed and gave her a mocking pout while he glanced over to see her shrink in her deep blue dress with thin straps. She looked like such a confident woman, yet she acted like a fragile little girl ready to cry herself to sleep. She ached for praise and Henry knew he’d give it to her, but he loved to see her break and have himself build her back up. It made him swell with lust while she begged for reassurance and affection.

“Oh my sweet love, you did nothing wrong.” He cooed, brows drooping down as he petted her soft cheeks with his thumb. “But sweet girls like you listen, yes?”

Her head bobbed so fast under the moving lights, attempting to open her mouth to invite Henry’s thumb. He tsked loudly, moving his cupped hand down to lay lazily on her collarbone, his fingertips grazing her throat.

“Then you know to listen to me when I ask you so nicely not to tease.” His voice was soft and teasing all in itself but snapped to stern with his steely eyes glancing back at her from the road.

His heavy hand stayed there for a while, their breathing both hard, with the exception of hers becoming wobbly with her knee bouncing. She watched him watch the road, the wheels in his pretty mind turning with each second passing before he sighed loudly. Henry moved his hand quickly to his crotch and quickly unbuckled his pants.

“Prove to me you’re good,” He grumbled loudly before entering the large tunnel of the city, “Please me well and I’ll give you what you want.”

She moved before Henry’s hand could launch itself to the back of her head, she leaned down to his manhood and worked fast to remove his large self from his tightening slacks.

Taglist: @hell1129-blog @snowbellexx @summersong69 @kaizet @omgkatinka @hinata7346 @thethirstyarchive @mary-ann84 @agniavateira @shaybabbby @oddsnendsfanfics @cavillshmavill @fun-with-jane @radaofrivia @iloveyouyen @jessevans @thatglimmerofhope @ollyoxenfrees @woofgocows @captaingothgirl1996 @honeychicana @viking-raider @seb-owns-these-tatas @laufeysodinson @msblkfire84 -> If you want to be added/removed lemme know! Feedback is always welcomed, love you lots and be nice to yourself my bbies ;))

[respectingromance]

So you’d like to try romance

If you’re interested in reading romance or would just like to know a bit more about the genre by reading books instead of going off of whatever nonsense you’ve heard about it, here’s a list grouped by arbitrary categories that I made up as I went.

“I have a shelf of chick lit, but I just don’t know where to start with those books.”

Congrats! If you read “chick lit,” then you’ve probably already read romance because the generally agreed upon definition of a romance novel is a story that 1. centers on a love story and 2. has an emotionally satisfying ending. Lots of chick lit fits those two rules. It’s all just marketing.

Bet Me by Jennifer Crusie

Roomies by Christina Lauren

The Wedding Date by Jasmine Guillory

The Hating Game by Sally Thorne

Pretty much anything with a colorful illustrated cover featuring two people: Red, White and Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston; Get a Life, Chloe Brown by Talia Hibbert; No Judgments by Meg Cabot; etc.

“I have a shelf of historical fiction and historical romance is such a natural fit for me it’s really a wonder that I haven’t read any of it yet.”

Three Weeks with Lady X by Eloisa James

Diary of an Accidental Wallflower by Jennifer McQuiston

A Lady by Midnight by Tessa Dare

One Night in London by Caroline Linden

The Madness of Lord Ian Mackenzie by Jennifer Ashley

“Listen, if I’m going to read romance, I want to read the classics.”

I’m listing the classics that I like because it’s my list. 

Devil in Winter by Lisa Kleypas (2006)

Gentle Rogue by Johanna Lindsey (1990)

Romancing Mister Bridgerton by Julia Quinn (2002)

Mackenzie’s Mountain by Linda Howard (1989)

Flowers from the Storm by Laura Kinsale (1992)

Ransom by Julie Garwood (1999)

It Had to Be You by Susan Elizabeth Phillips (1994)

Lord of Scoundrels by Loretta Chase (1995)

Sea Swept by Nora Roberts (1998), Vision in White by Nora Roberts (2009), anything you want by Nora Roberts, including Naked in Death by J.D. Robb (who is Nora Roberts) (1995)

“You’re giving me too much REALITY. Where’s the fantasy?!”

Bitten by Kelley Armstrong

Slave to Sensation by Nalini Singh

The Magpie Lord by K.J. Charles

Dark Lover by J.R. Ward

No Rest for the Wicked by Kresley Cole

“No, no, no, that’s all too far-fetched for me. I want to read about things that could really happen.”

Hard Hitter by Sarina Bowen

Something About You by Julie James

Act Like It by Lucy Parker

“No! I’ve spent years hearing about all the weird stuff in romance novels! Give me your wildest shenanigans or give me nothing!”

Warrior’s Woman and Keeper of the Heart by Johanna Lindsey (Actually, just read any old-school Lindsey.)

The Red Hot Cajun by Sandra Hill

I listed Dark Lover by J.R. Ward above. Keep reading the Black Dagger Brotherhood series if you want to go from the shallow end to the deep end and beyond.

Iron Cowboy by Diana Palmer -- or just read this review on Smart Bitches Trashy Books.

Pregnesia by Carla Cassidy -- or just read this review on Smart Bitches Trashy Books.

“Okay, now I’m really pissed off because I knew romance had a ‘diversity problem’ and you didn’t include enough writers of color or diverse characters or people who aren’t straight for me.”

The Kiss Quotient by Helen Hoang

Wrong to Need You by Alisha Rai

A Duke by Default by Alyssa Cole

Forbidden by Beverly Jenkins

A Bollywood Affair by Sonali Dev

Rafe: A Buff Male Nanny by Rebekah Weatherspoon

A Seditious Affair by K.J. Charles

Trade Me by Courtney Milan

The Ruin of a Rake by Cat Sebastian

“I’m a dedicated romance reader, you didn’t include my favorite author or favorite book, and now I’m annoyed.”

Slightly Dangerous by Mary Balogh

Nine Rules to Break When Romancing a Rake by Sarah MacLean

A Knight in Shining Armor by Jude Deveraux

The Secret History of the Pink Carnation by Lauren Willig

Irresistible Forces by Brenda Jackson

Waking Up with the Duke by Lorraine Heath

Lucky in Love by Jill Shalvis

Beard Science by Penny Reid

Ravishing the Heiress by Sherry Thomas

The Duke of Shadows by Meredith Duran

Virgin River by Robyn Carr

Motorcycle Man by Kristen Ashley

Long Shot by Kennedy Ryan

Look, just imagine I included your favorite here, okay?

“Wait, I know of some pretty big novelists who aren’t on this list. Why aren’t you recommending them?”

Nicholas Sparks is a jerk about the romance genre, even though romance readers are the reason he’s rich. Screw him.

Same for Diana Gabaldon.

Danielle Steele doesn’t write romance novels.

Everyone knows about Jane Austen.

Georgette Heyer was an anti-Semitic trash person.

That about covers it. Happy reading!

[descendantofthesparrow]

Multipart commission work - Harry Hook x Reader - a prince behind the pirate - part 1

@musicarose​

=

Another day in Auradon, another day of classes and preparing for cotillion with Mal and Jane.

You were the twin sister of Audrey, though you…kinda didn’t look like her? I mean people could tell you were her sister but otherwise.

Anyway, your sister had retreated to fairy cottage to get away from Mal and Ben. You didn’t blame her, don’t get me wrong, you were great friends with Mal and Ben, being best friends with Ben since you were kids in fact.

You just felt your sister deserved an apology for getting broken up with in such a harsh way.

But anyway back to the main story.

Cotillion was three days away, and you could tell Mal was….stressed, to say the least. So you did your best to communicate with Jane about cotillion to lighten the load.

You slung your light blue denim book bag over your shoulder, checking your shoes before walking out of your room that you shared with Lonnie and heading to class.

“Hey (y/n)! I need your help for a moment!” you turned, smiling as Jane jogged up to your side.

“Sure, what's up” you, leaned over her shoulder, glancing at her tablet.

“well, you’re an artist, right? Well, I wanted to know if I needed any changes to the stain glass window art?” you hummed, and looked over the concept art.

“When will it be made?” you inquired, taking the tablet from her and zooming in on certain details.

“tomorrow, just need to run this by Ben after you  approve it”

You took out the tablet's pen and started to edit some things, adding some burns to Mals purple dress, putting some green lines on the top, and resizing the crown.

“there, that’s a little better” you handed the tablet back to Jane, who smiled as she looked at the art “now I gotta get to class, see ya!”

=

Harry sighed, picking at the fish fries in front of them, lifting them up, grimacing at the grease dripping off of it. “ugh” he groaned, dropping the fry back on his tray.

Looking up, he saw the usual Auradon news playing, he rolled his eyes, slumping down on his arms.

“and now we meet the planners for Mals special night, cotillion, where she will be presented as lady of the court~” first to appear on screen was the little blue daughter of Fairy godmother, Jane he though her name was.

He looked away for only a moment, distracted by the crew yelling about something, looking back he instinctively straightened.

A girl, with shining (e/c) eyes and a bright smile, a soft pink off-shoulder top flowing around her. “and here we have the other planner, miss (y/n), daughter of Aurora, now tell me, what are you in charge of?”

Her voice was like bells, not the ones in the little plastic ones that ended up on the isle after the holidays, but ones that chimed in the wind.

How sentimental and bullcrapy was that Harry? 10/10, Harry smacked his hands against his cheeks, he couldn’t feel this way about a princess, the daughter of sleeping beauty no less.

He stood, he needed to get back to his dad's clock shop, it was his turn on shift.

=

You sighed, sketching out a male body to figure out some outfits to help Evie out with her orders. Right now you were working on chads order, since Evie was so busy with everything else.

Most of his outfit was already finished but he kept making changes so you had to constantly add new things to the outfits, and now you were sketching out the final draft since Evie had managed to convince him she knew what to do.

Adding the fluff to the cape, you felt someone sit next to you. Looking to your right, you saw the now bleach blonde Mal. She sighed and fell into your side.

“are you okay?”

“yeah, just kinda tired” she muttered, scratching at her history book. You hummed in sympathy, patting her shoulder and going back to the sketch.

“hey, by the way, I never asked what happened during that whole trident went missing fiasco” Mal groaned and rolled her eyes.

“shrimpy happened that’s what” you rolled your eyes and sighed.

“ah, okay, Uma”

“no-shrimpy-shrimpy! shes always been shrimpy” Mal pushed, you just shrugged, you had a policy of not calling people names, even if they were villains.

“anyway, the storm washed the trident behind the barrier and shrimpy went after it, we were lucky enough to get it before her”

“Why did she want it?” you asked, closing your sketchbook and taking a sip of your drink.

“to take over Auradon duh?” you pressed your lips together and nodded.

“right”

Mal sighed and looked at her phone, squeaking as she saw the time.

“oh shoot! Im late?!” you perked up, watching as Mal scrambled to grab her things “I have to go, talk to you later!!!”

Mal sprinted off, leaving you stunned at the picnic table.

“huh,” you muttered, putting away your sketchbook and slowly starting to get ready for your after school stuff.

You looked out the window, the barrier surrounding the isle of the lost glinting in the sun. you frowned, you still thought more kids should be off the isle by now.

But it seemed Ben was taking his sweet time in trying to get the next set. You sighed, tearing your eyes away.

Hopefully, after cotillion, you would get the chance to talk to both Ben and Mal about it.

--end of part 1--

permtaglist

@queer-cosette​

@sephiralorange​

@lunanight2012​

@daughter-of-the-stars11​

@amorathegamingkitsune​

@random-thoughts-003​

[johobi]

The Devil In His Details

Word count: 9.2k

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Warnings: alcohol consumption, drug mentions, dirty talk, oral sex (male receiving), assplay, prostate milking, edging

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18686617

A/N: So this was supposed to be 1k words long for an anon that requested bad boy!Jimin in a drabble prompt game. Clearly that didn’t happen. I hope you enjoy it more than I did editing lkfjwalkjf.

Evil comes in many forms. In this instance, it’s a 5′8″ pretty-boy with an even prettier dick. And you’re the form you want him to come in.

Park Jimin.

A slender, regal nose. Two sly eyes that mellow with laughter. A white smile with just the one, imperfect tooth. Cheeks you'd find on a cherub's face, but a jawline hewn with the devil's input.

Everything about his face is an infuriating dichotomy of soft and sharp. And, God, his lips. Full, unfairly alluring, and begging to be kissed. But this is not a man who does much of that. Begging, that is. Kissing? Oh, he does a lot of that. It doesn't extend to you, though, no matter how much you wish it did.

Jimin is the object of your latest fixation. Well. You may say latest, but in reality you've been harbouring something hot and nasty for this guy for most of the academic year. To the faces of your friends, you blame the heartbreak inflicted by your ex-boyfriend. The thing is, you've been over him for months. Without that as a plausible explanation for your misguided crush, though, you have little to offer in substitution. Jimin isn't the type of guy any sensible, law-abiding girl should be cranking her Rabbit up for. Sure, he's so beautiful that his face can cleanse troubled minds. But he’s flying so many red flags it's like swimming in shark-infested waters.

He manspreads across from you in the campus square, leather jacket and black jeans lacquering his body and a cigarette dwindling limply between his lips. A smile occupies his mouth and eyes, the latter until they're mere, charming slits. You find yourself smiling, too. Oh, God. Get yourself together, ____. Fucking infatuated idiot.

You should know better. Jimin is aposematic with his lurid, magenta hair. He's a beacon of rebellion amidst the drab of campus conformation. And, yeah, maybe he looks cool because of that.

But he’s nothing but trouble.

A criminal.

You don't know the extent of his many and varied illegal activities, but you do know that you'd be an idiot to ever involve yourself with him. The lesser of his crimes begin with him not even being enrolled at the very university he utilises as his base of operations. And nor is he shooed away for his overt disregard for campus rules - and, generally, the law - because security lives snugly in his weed-stuffed back pocket. Yep, he's a dealer. Street racer. Brawler. You don't know how many times you've been torn from sleep by his gang's maniacal laughter as they rough up a rival, less attractive one.

He's also a heartbreaker.

And as ridiculous as it is, that's the thing that gives you most reason for pause. Not the drug-peddling, not the violence, but because you're in so deep you want to be sharkbitten. Consumed, bone for bone.

But he never looks your way. Ever. You're not so much a Plain Jane, you don't think, but desperately shy. Especially where your heart's involved. It forgets its function when confronted with someone you like. You take care of your appearance. You've had a few, long-term boyfriends. But whenever you're dumped back at Square One: Single, you're as hopeless in romance as you are in cooking. And all the cuisine you can conjure involves a microwave.

Scenarios of seduction circulate your mind as you ogle him from afar, your thoroughly bitten lip again between your teeth. If only you possessed the confidence your best friend insisted lay latent within you. It would be nothing to strut up to him now and toss your phone into his lap, arms crossed and an expectant smirk curling your mouth. "Gonna give me your number, or what?" you'd sigh - exasperated for the sake of drama - his beautiful face wiped clean of its cocksure facade.

Yeah, that'd be real cool.

But you're still sitting here, legs bobbing out of habit. Jimin is still there, smug and sexy, imparting something hilarious enough, apparently, to wind the comparably attractive guys with him. It's then that your phone purrs between your hands, clutched and previously forgotten.

It's Jisoo, said best friend.

[13:56] slut #1: heyyyy

[13:56] slut #1: guess what

It'll be one of two things. Either she needs your notes because she slept-in in lieu of doing the set reading, or—

[13:56] slut# 1: our floor's having a party tonight

Party.

[13:56] slut #1: come or ill break your legs 

The severity of her threat comes down to your repeatedly declining her invitations. It's not that you don't enjoy parties, because you do. In fact, there’s rarely a time you feel more alive than getting smashed and exorcising your anxiety for those few hours. It's more the fact that it takes a month's worth of mental energy to prevent you flaking out in the lead-up.

Today, though, you're game. Your introversion has been well and truly catered to these last, barren weeks. You're at full charge.

[13:58] yeah, why not

Dots dance across the screen.

[13:58] slut #1: serious???? holy shit that was easy for once

[13:58] slut #1: come to my room at 9

[13:59] the party's in your room?

[13:59] slut #1: no dumbass it's like the whole floor, idek whose party it is but u gotta meet me somewhere right

[14:00] kk. see you then

However unlikely, a feeble hope tugs at your fragile, besotted heart. Maybe he'll go? The organ stutters in your chest when you raise your eyes to where Jimin sits. But he's gone. Suddenly, it all seems like a terrible idea. It's just not meant to be. The universe is communicating it to you as gently as it can.

I need a firm slap. Irked by your nonsensical infatuation, you shoot to your feet and make off in a storm, bag not so much slung but catapulted onto your back. I need to get the fuck over this.

The campus square is a sizeable, open space with the central fountain being its only obstacle. However, by how solid the object is that you suddenly collide with, it seems to have sprouted another.

"Shit!" you gasp, nose flattened sharply, painfully, against something immovable. As you rub it, brows sharp in offense, you peer up into eyes of the thing you've blindly marched into.

Fuck.

Jungkook.

One of Jimin's lackeys.

Before you can locate his magenta-headed leader, however, Jungkook fills the entirety of your field of view. His narrow lips draw tighter; eyes, too. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

“U-Uh—”

“Uh?” the musclehead mimics, stooping into your personal space. By instinct, you shrink. At odds with his adorably prominent front teeth, the sneer he wears is nasty. “Anything else?”

An errant glance over Jungkook’s shoulder finds you Jimin. He hangs back, hands in pockets, nonplussed by the confrontation. It’s likely pretty tame in comparison to their usual run-ins. But it frustrates you, nonetheless, that the boy won’t look at you, even now, when the spotlight is searing you.

Jungkook snaps his fingers at the end of your nose and you’re back in the room. “Well?”

“I’m sorry. It was an accident. I wasn’t looking where I was going.” You hack for breath when he exhales a plume of cigarette smoke directly into your face. “I-It won’t happen again.”

The other one with them - Seokjin, the half-ass in your business studies class - claps a hand on Jungkook’s seam-straining shoulder. “‘Roid rage. Sorry, sweetheart. You’re a finance major too, right?”

Before you can even process the unexpected civility of his question, Jungkook rounds on him in ire. “The fuck? You know I don’t take steroids.” His cigarette flares at the corner of his mouth. Like a showboating pidgeon, he puffs out his muscular chest. “This is all hard work.”

Seokjin is clearly unmoved. He blinks an unnecessary amount of times, like it’s a tic of his. His glasses ride up as he crinkles his nose. Then: “Okay. Didn’t know you were too stupid to get a joke though. ‘Roids must be shrinking your brain as well as your dick.”

“What—”

An Off-White jacket streaks across your vision.

“—the fuck—”

A white t-shirt follows it soon after.

“—did you just say?”

Jungkook ripples, shirtless, with such unabated fury he distorts the air surrounding. Or maybe it’s the heatwave.

It’s then, beholding this sudden, aggressive display, that your fear finally surfaces. “Oh my God, what the fuck is happening?” you whisper exclusively to yourself, because to attract attention is to court an ass-beating.

And it’s then, of course, that Jimin finally takes heed of your existence. With a quirk of his head, he stares you down. Well, not so much stare. What he does expresses far less effort. His eyes meander the length of you in their own, good time, before landing on your blanching face. The laziest of smirks possess his lips.

Your heart sprouts wings.

His smirk widens.

Fuck, your heart’s airborne. It’s gonna launch itself out your mouth.

Seokjin dispels Jimin’s sorcery with another, unwisely provocative comment. “Your dick’s shrivelled? Or your brain? I don’t know which one offended you.”

Jungkook pounds his chest once, like an oversexed silverback. “Why you always gotta do me like this, bro? Is it ‘cause I fucked your mom that one time? I thought you were over tha—”

“Fuck you!”

Just when you’d established Seokjin as the pacifist of the group, he begins throttling Jungkook double-handed. The pair slip into an awkward grapple while Jimin looks on.

Looks at you.

Doesn’t even spare a glance for the groups of hurried, whispering students migrating across campus.

Guttural grunts float up from the ground as Jungkook and Seokjin’s scuffle escalates, but their leader pays them no mind in that moment. It’s your opportunity to say something more, but you don’t. Your vocal chords never pull together.

Moment missed.

Jimin sweeps a lock of magenta from his eyes, finally animate. A testy sigh siphons from him. “Get up. You’re making me look bad. Put your fucking shirt on, Jungkook.” His voice, usually soft, strikes like a serpent. Venom coats his tongue. “You represent me, dickheads. Plus, you’re scaring this girl.”

The absurdity of the situation, the apprehension you feel, is muffled for a moment. All you can hear is the rush of blood and Jimin’s vocal acknowledgement of your existence ricocheting in your mind. Girl. You.

It’s stupid. Demeaning, even, snapping up these scraps like a slobbering mongrel.

But exciting.

Having captured Jimin’s attention, you bow to him the gratitude you can’t vocalise. The plan, as you rise, is to hit him with a seductive smile, but you're certain your mouth only stretches awkwardly. Nevertheless, his pretty lips purse for a moment before pulling up, too. “I’m going.” He addresses them, but his eyes are on you.

Jimin takes his leave without further ado. As he passes you his gaze lingers too long, demanding he turn his face. His body ghosts past without contact, but a chilly thrill descends upon you like he's drifting right through your bones. And then he struts away like he owns the place, because he does.

And, God, he owns you, too.

His in-fighting entourage scrabble to catch up with him. Jungkook's hastily gathered clothes scrape the floor as he runs, their expense forgotten. “‘Min-hyung! Wait! We’re sorry!”

"Bye then," you comment, quiet, to their retreating backs. It wasn't quite the first encounter you'd prophesied, but considering Jimin's reputation, it should've been.

Anyway.

Your eyes fall to your phone and this evening's plans.

Party.

---

Jisoo's generously highlighted features bob before you in the muted light. Parts of her face are so illuminescent it looks like scaffolding. "Anyway, I'll be back soon. Get some drinks, loosen up. I need to find Namjoon."

"Okay, but are you actually gonna come back?" Your first beaker of jungle juice is already souring your lips. "'Cause if you're gonna find Namjoon, I don't think you're gonna come back."

Her eyes are everywhere but on you, glossy mouth twisting. “I'll really try! But I also really wanna see him, now I know he's here." Suddenly, your free hand is in her meticulously manicured clutches. "I'm not saying I will disappear, but I might. Please understand! I need dick so bad. Please." And now her eyes are on yours, black as night and just as dangerous. Jisoo is never more serious than when cock is at stake.

You shake yourself free of her flimsy grasp and flimsier promises. "Do what you want, but I don't know anyone in your dorm. If you don't come back in an hour, I'm gonna go."

That was an hour ago.

Within that hour, you consumed three cups of awful booze, lingered awkwardly by the party lights, and recovered zero Jisoos. The only noteworthy happening was some plastered guy insisting you were his boyfriend. So insistent, in fact, that you doubted your own identity by the last of the 15 minutes he spent calling you Yoongi. He lamented endlessly about how difficult it would be to survive the evening without getting in your tight little ass. The only thing that convinced him of the truth to your identity was said, tight-assed man appearing and dragging the lightweight away. Yoongi did have a nice ass, you observed, as they fell back into the throng.

Oh.

And Jimin was here.

Skulking the fuchsia shadows like a perfect predator. Thing is, he's already top of the food chain. No hunting required. Very much evidenced by the girls that swarmed him all night like a shoal of pilotfish. The music was too loud and the light too dim, but for every instance he opened his mouth, his accompanying partygoers exploded into laughter. This seems a skill of his. He has dominion over men and women both.

And you're no exception.

Whenever he was in sight, he drew your eyes. When he was dancing, he drew them lower. And there they remained, never straying from his swivelling hips and straining thighs. The girls danced in circles around him like they were worshipping a pagan idol. Understandable. You coveted him, too, from afar.

But now he's gone. Your cup is empty. Jisoo is getting Namjoon'd.

It's been an hour. You're going home.

There’s enough trash at your feet and liquor loosening your morals that you feel no guilt in dropping your beaker onto the pile. Polished, black shoes with pointed toes enter view and crumple that which you’ve littered. You look up.

“Juh—”

Jimin. It’s Jimin. Neither your mouth nor brain can co-ordinate sufficiently enough to identify him verbally, though. Instead, you gawp, inches from his breathtaking face, bathed in romantic light. “Littering, huh? Kinda rude, don’t you think?” He taunts, tongue between teeth. When you don’t rebut him, he slides an arm up the wall behind you. Sinks closer, until your eyes meet on an intimate level. “What are you doing here, campus girl? Didn’t think this was your kind of thing.”

Righteous indignation roils in you. As for why, it’s unclear. As are most things when relatively tipsy. “How would you know what my kind of thing is? You don’t know me. Also, don’t call me campus girl.” At this proximity, you’re acutely aware of the alcohol on your breath. You dial it down a bit. Turn your head and snort. “That’s rude.”

The alcohol, apparently, has also robbed you of your self-preservation skills. Because never in the light of a sober day would you be slighting a delinquent like this. And not the one you’re besotted with, either. That, then, dawns on you. As does his closeness, and the sweet smell of his own poison of choice.

“Well, I don’t know your name, do I?” Charm inhabits his tone, his smile. God, it’s flustering. Jimin toys with you, thwarting your attempts to evade his eyes. His face follows yours, until it’s all you can do but stop and stare. Fall fully and deeply into him. “‘Cause you’re shy, aren’t you?” He wets his lips then, unfairly. They’re dewy and full and even rosier in this light.

“Let me suck your dick,” you blurt, hypothesizing it being just as juicy. Just as tasty. Your inhibitions are low, but not enough that this is a mistake. Jisoo is right. There’s confidence in you, somewhere. You tap it when you tap a keg.

Jimin looks scandalised. His eyebrows vanish into his hairline. Giddy laughter streams from him. “Pardon?”

“I said, let me suck your dick.” Power floods your bloodstream. Liquid courage mingles with. “I’m pretty good at it, and I really want to. Like, so bad. I think about it a lot.”

If he says no, you no longer have to wonder.

If he says no, you never have to look at him again.

If he says no, you can chase someone wholesome and virtuous.

If he says yes, you get to suck his dick.

“Yeah?” Interest kindles in Jimin’s keen, black eyes. He’s close enough, now, that his body heat feels akin to weight against you. His voice drops below the bass of the music. “What did you think about?”

Are you gonna dirty talk in public?

A quick glance around and they aren’t so much the public anymore as parading monkeys, high on lust and low on decency. Just over from you, there’s a girl getting the least discreet fingerbanging of her life.

So, yeah. You lose a little of your rigidity and tip back your head. Lick your lips with a deliberate tongue. “How pretty your cock probably is. How it’d feel on my tongue, in my throat.” Unconscious or not, Jimin’s pressing to your hip. The subject of your conversation starts soft in his pants, but stiffens with your salacious description. Fuck, you’re tingling, too. “How you’d taste, coming down my throat—”

“Are you for real, campus girl?” Jimin interrupts, breathy. Disbelieving. He almost sounds distressed. Like a donkey that doesn’t wanna walk miles for a dangling carrot. Jimin doesn’t seem to get it, though. He’s the carrot, and dear God you wanna chomp down.

“I told you not to call me that. Guess you’re not interested,” you bluff, because not only are you provocative on booze, you’re also an absolute fucking idiot. There’s a significant chance he’ll tire of your tsundere bullshit and find another open mouth. However, as you turn to leave, fate smiles on you. As does he, when he sandwiches you to the wall, his chest to your back and his mouth a ghost on the nape of your neck.

Chills.

Chills spread where his breath is hot and wet. But still, his lips don’t touch. You can, however, hear the smirk in his voice. “Tell me your name.”

The stutter sabotages you somewhat. You’re breathless. “I-It’s ____.”

"____," Jimin repeats with a flick of his tongue, wetting your nape with the slightest of saliva. "Are you for real, ____? Or are you drunk?"

His fingers spread like wildfire across the tops of your thighs, testing the give of your flesh. You exhale as if he's squeezing the soul from you. "I'm for real. I'm not drunk, I've just had enough to realise that if I don't say this now, I never will. How often do you talk to me, after all?"

Jimin's throat rumbles as he contemplates. His lips part by your ear, vocal fry caressing each, careful syllable. "How often do you talk to me?" he poses. The steady, rigid throbbing against your ass suggests that this could've happened sooner.

Reluctant as you are to disturb your clinch, you’re not here to stare at the plastering. It would be a crime to deny yourself the chance to ogle his beauty close-up. With this in mind, you twist against his body, bringing your fronts flush together. God, he throbs all the more potently like this, pressed to the crotch of your dress. Jimin's still smiling, of course, all illegal charm and zero reserve.

A nervous lick of lips. "You're terrifying. Especially when you're surrounded by those guys all the time. That's why I don't talk to you." It’s a half-truth. The other half is your incompetence in flirting.

"And here I was, thinking you were shy," is Jimin’s riposte. "But, clearly, I'm wrong." Those plush, pink lips descend on you before you can blink away the unreality of it. They're softer than any piss-poor imitation of a man's mouth that's come before them. Softer than silk, even. And when they open, syrupy. A mire of heat and wet tongue, caressing away all your prior fears, even if they're legit. It really doesn't matter. Not when you're tasting this sublime man. Not when he suckles at your mouth so sensually, so gently. He can't be that horrific a person when he's holding you with such careful attention. It's too soon when he unties your tongues. "You don't need to be afraid of me," Jimin murmurs thickly to your lips. The lop-sided smile he wears says otherwise. It's a little too close to a sneer. "Well, ____—" he steps back. Lures you with him. "Wanna make this a reality?"

You're giddy as fuck. So much so your legs feel like a Newton's cradle. "Y-Yeah. Take me somewhere—" to speak his name is to make it real— "Jimin."

People blur, merge shapelessly around you as he weaves through their mass, leading you by one, dainty hand. It's not the drink. You're dizzy - high, even - with anticipation so intense it renders all outside his svelte figure indistinct. All there is is him, and what you're about to do. It doesn't even feel like you're tripping up the stairs when you do. You're floating, actually, because he's pulling you up and smirking so salaciously that you're weightless. The only weight is the one nestled deep in your abdomen, punching at your cunt like it knows well what that smug mouth could do.

The two of you stagger into an unoccupied bathroom. It's as grim and grotty as you'd expect of student lodgings, but that matters very little right now. Even though you're painfully germaphobic. The priority is realising you're about to suck off Park fucking Jimin. It hits you so powerfully that, for a very long second, you want to reconsider. After all, he likely has expectations. Confidence flees from you.

"Okay, then. On your knees, ____."

And then it floods back. As does desire.

Jimin perches atop the toilet with poise, its seat flat beneath him. You briefly speculate its cleanliness, but he’s already slinking the denim down his legs and over his knees. They cling in a pool at his ankles, likely impossible to get any further. His visibly wilting cock lounges against the crotch of his CKs, waiting for your intervention. It'll have to wait a little longer, though, because there's nothing on God's awful earth that will hinder your leering at this visual feast. His muscle-strapped thighs are somehow all the thicker hugging the bowl of the toilet. And the tiny, toned waist they taper to is all the confirmation you require to understand that this man is way out of your league. Like, forget international league. You're 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. "Fuck."

The curse is all he needs to understand. Whether it's for the sake of wanking his ego or to titillate you further, Jimin tenses his quads until they're as hard and smooth as varnished oak. All you want is to ride them like a fucking rocking horse. "You making me wait?"

Hell no. Before he can even finish his taunt you're at his feet and kneading his thighs like dense dough. Jimin feels fit. He isn't pliable like lovers gone. He's zero body fat, all thew, all sex. He's everything.

And you're nothing to him.

Tonight, though, you’ll become something.

Your fingers continue upward. And as they do, inward. Where he's slightly fleshier, and by the twitch of his covered dick, more sensitive. "How do you like it?"

"I'm as predictable as any other guy," Jimin half-shrugs, reclining against the cistern. His fingers curl into your hair, though not in any pushy, possessive way. It's almost as though he's simply appreciating its texture. The curve of your scalp. Tingles spring from his touch and arrest your body. "Deep as possible. Don't neglect the shaft. Play with my balls a little," he reels off his litany shamelessly. "If you can take it, lemme fuck your face?"

Each of his suggestions make both your mouth and cunt salivate. You want all of those things and more. That other thing. "We'll see," you say as much to yourself as you do to him. "Let's see what we're working with." You lunge for his waistband with both hands, eager to steal them from his body. Jimin halts you once you peek pubes.

"I'm not sitting my bare ass on this toilet." The grunt he makes is indignant. Adamant.

But you have plans. And so you whip a towel from its rail and coax it beneath him, the makeshift mat feeling dubiously damp. "If you want me to do it good, let me have you without your underwear."

Jimin complies, shifting his weight. Then, with danger perverting his tone: "Then you better do it good, ____."

You perform well under pressure. The pressure that comes with academic deadlines and 10th grade theatre, at least. However, it doesn't extend to sucking the cock of, arguably, the most intimidating, most captivating man you've gawped at from afar. Your previous lovers were diffident and easy to please. It's only through your own, bored invention that you delved deeper into the art of oral with them. You hope it serves you well tonight. "I'll try my best," you challenge, brow cocked, Jimin's boxers successfully purloined. The front of them are tacky to the touch, and this alone incites you. God, you can taste his salt already.

To your dismay, he doesn't resume his careful caressing of your scalp. No, once his bottom half is nude, he splays his thighs obscenely and leans back, fingers curling around the towel-covered toilet seat. From here he peers down his nose at you, a smirk all the while. His torso is one rigid, smooth slope, and you wish selfishy to see it exposed. Asking for that, too, though, might be too much.

And now that your gaze plummets, it doesn't matter. His cock is enough. You'd think it impossible for such an awkward looking appendage to ever earn the term pretty. But, uniform with the rest of him, his is. What he lacks in length he makes up for generously in girth. His cock is chubby and blushing, and, yes, pretty. God, so pretty.

Yes, you'll let him face-fuck you.

The tinkle of Jimin's earrings disrupt your awed silence. He projects impatience: Chewed lips, raised eyebrows, a slight, inquisitive tilt to his head. "This your first time or something?" Magenta falls across his eyes as his focus slips down his own body. He cages his cock inside a delicate fist, nurturing it to its full, thickened capacity. As it grows, so does his filthy smile. "You don't need to lie to me. I can go easy on you."

"This isn't my first time." Your resentment is palpable. Apparently, he enjoys it. As he pumps himself harder, his tongue probes disrespectfully at the corner of his upturned mouth. That only inflames you. "Is it your first time? Are all the rumours false?" Your comeback is risky, but the mood suggests banter is welcome. Perhaps all this big, bad wolf wants is a little, red-faced riding hood to provoke him.

The dare pays off. With one last, long stroke, he lets loose his erection, the concrete appendage slapping his stomach with an admirable thud. Resting back on one hand, he gestures to his waiting cock with the other. "Totally. I'm a good boy, ____. Now stop talking and fucking spit on it."

Your clit jumps. As do you, right into action. With your palms canvassing his inner thighs, you take one last, unenlightened breath before you dive face-first into his musk, pulling aside his cock to nuzzle at its base. To fully savour his scent and warmth. Jimin fills your hand to the extent you're unable to form anything close to a closed fist. Your thoughts are possessed only by your imagination and how wide he could stretch you. How full he could make you. A fucking stampede thuds through your pussy.  "Mm, you have such a nice cock," you murmur around the root of him. It's not so much meant as a compliment, but a statement of pure fact that must be expressed. You're sure he's heard such professions many times.

Yep. "I know, sweetheart." The timbre of his voice is a little heavier. Breathier. As your tongue flicks lazily under the round of his balls, it quivers, too. Nevertheless, he maintains his stoicism. "Why you teasing me down there? You know what I want."

When you pull one of his testicles into your mouth, however, he emits a quiet noise. One that sounds a little like it's something he wants. "Yes, daddy," you mouth around him, full irony. Jimin reacts to it, though. Pushes into your slack grip, looking for friction you're not about to give. It's almost enough to make you roll your eyes. Still, you don't know where the limit to his patience lies. And so you relent and pull your mouth upwards, dragging his sac with your reluctant lips. Jimin tenses when finally you free him, wet, sticky, and back to hanging. And then you're ascending his fat, veiny shaft, lathering the underside with your tongue. Ekeing from him the most delicious gasps of air. His hands go back into your hair, though with far less care this time, grasping at your roots as though to earth him.

"Yeah, that's it, ____. Keep going." Jimin's encouragement is sweeter to the ears than any lauded music. And so is the stifled whine that streams from him when you glaze the tip of his cock with saliva, enough to dribble down its entire length. Once he’s sufficiently spat on, you follow with your mouth. Fuck, it’s a strain to accommodate him. A feat not to scrape him with your teeth. He's so thick you must look vulgar stuffing him between your lips like this. A wayward glance tells you he's enjoying the lewd visual, though. His mouth is parted and breath puffs quickly from him. His eyes, normally sharp with wit, are dull. Fully blown. Jimin devours the sight of your struggle, as you do his uncomfortably chubby dick. His nails imprint crescents of self-restraint into the skin of your scalp. "F-Fuck. Yeah. Suck me."

You do. More fervently than you have any mouth-watering candy. Your lips work the head of his cock with measured pressure, back-and-forth, to the tune of his increasingly whiny vocalisations. Instinct takes him, sometimes, and he jerks without thought into you. Your teeth graze him, then, but it seems like an ineffective deterrence. No, sometimes he moans when you catch him, and for that you reward him with tongue on his frenulum.

That gets him the most.

His thighs ripple, his back bends. His head of magenta hair falls back.

"You—mmmmh—like that?" is your an attempt at a taunt, dulled by the cock wedged in your cheek.

"You suck dick like a fucking slut." Jimin is panting now, a sheen of perspiration oiling his face. Fuck, he looks dewy and downright dirty. The crotch of your panties is saturated with want for him. "You pretend you're all innocent and shit, but, Jesus, you're a dirty bitch."

With an enthusiastic flex of his thighs, he struggles free from the jeans binding him and props up a foot, knee bent and accentuating just how shapely his calves are. Spread like this, he's sordid. Wanton. He's getting desperate, and, against all expectations, unafraid to show it. Men with his level of machismo are typically reserved. It turns you on, dials you into overdrive, just how unabashed his enjoyment is. "Deeper. Can you take it deeper, ____? P-Please," Jimin whimpers on cue, resolve thready.

Briefly, you alight from his cock. He whimpers about that, too. This man is the terror of your college campus. And now he’s a needy, sex-swollen mess. "Depends. Can I edge you?" You're actually decently sober at this point, but bravado still brews in you nevertheless.

Jimin, no longer basking, purses his lips. Glares with the fury of a thousand blue-balled men. "Don't you fucking dare. Try it and I'll take over. I’ll come all over your smug little face."

The threat, in actuality, is more a solemn hope of yours. "Okay, okay. I won't edge you." Your hands keep busy while your overtaxed mouth relishes its moment of emptiness. You funnel your energy, instead, into keeping his cock stiff, five fingers twisting along its lubed-up length. With the other hand, you return to your earlier fixation and palm tenderly at his distended balls. A delicate quivering radiates from his core muscles. "But I really wouldn't mind you coming all over my face."

Everything about him tenses, then releases. His eyelids, low, bear the weight of arousal. "For real?"

"Might as well, my knees are already gross. You can get me dirtier if you like, Jimin." And then you're pulling down the straps of your dress until your breasts spill out, already pebbled and desperate for a fondling they won't get tonight. "Or here. Or everywhere. Just go to town."

Jimin gulps down stuffy, humid air. Concentrates a little too hard on your uncovered tits. Rocks a little too enthusiastically into your undulating grip. "God, yeah. I wanna come all over you. Spit in your fucking mouth." Suddenly it's not just your sole fist grasping him. He's clutching you, clutching him. Squeezing your knuckles until they're white and his cock is very, very red. "I'll bend you over the bathtub and fuck you 'til I break your hips. 'Til your pussy's dripping cum."

“Jesus—”

You’re so luststruck by his vulgar fantasies that it’s almost too late when you come to your senses. Jimin fucks your hands so ferociously it’s clear that the beast has taken him. You snatch away your hands before he wastes himself all over them. His come away, too, hovering in the air and demanding answers.

"Okay, well you just edged yourself." A giggle slips out while you watch him heave breath like he's nearing death. In a way, it's cute. Jimin's cheeks are full and flushed, eyes rounder than moons. He himself seems taken aback by his lapse into unadultered lust. "Don't take away the only reason I came here."

Despite Jimin's earlier, emphatic disapproval of being edged, he sure seems appreciative now. He basks in the near-rush, mellower than before. Gently - perhaps affectionately? - he cradles the back of your head and draws you in, a thumb pressing caresses to your cheek. This sudden sweetness, it's abnormal. Harmful. You don't want it. You don't want to see his good side, nor fall for it.

But here he comes, eyes searching, lips begging.

"Then deepthroat me like I asked."

Nevermind.

The pompous smirk is back. He reclines, his one leg up like an ode to Michaelangelo, dick tall and looking just as self-important. You're decided. It's time to make him squeal. "Okay. No edging. But let me make it feel even better?"

Jimin drips scepticism. "How?"

Fully anticipating rejection, you're direct. "Lemme stick a finger up your ass."

Again, he surprises you. Insomuch that revulsion doesn’t immediately sour him. "The fuck?" A husky chuckle rattles in his chest, instead. "Is that your secret technique?"

"Kinda." Your shoulders draw inward as self-consciousness consumes you. "I totally get it if you don't want to. But the other guys I've been with enjoyed it."

"Then do it, whatever. Don't let me go soft, though, ____," Jimin warns with pouty lips. His cock leans demonstratively forward, threatening flaccidity. "I'm feeling neglected."

"Tragic," you coo, feigning empathy. Looking as petulant as he, you suckle softly around the head of his dick, enkindling his passion before it fades. Your tongue does work around its bulbous ridge, teasing where it makes him squirm most. Then, with his demands in mind, your mouth descends over his modest stretch of shaft, worshipping each, precious inch as you go.

“Yes, baby. That’s it, that’s it.”

You dip and rise, tug and suck in a tantalising advance toward his base, wringing the precum from him. It's salty and sticky and you love it on your tongue, love smearing him with his own mess. Want to smear him with your mess.

“Fuck, yeah. K-Keep—unh!—going!”

The more of him you gobble, the more erratic his body behaves. Beneath your hands, his sweat-tacked thighs are tremulous, tensing without rhyme or reason. Jimin has little control over  any of his extremities. His hands are uncomfortable fists in the back of your hair, like he's reining in a wilful mare. And then there's his beautiful, unstopped moaning, so sinful your clit thumps like a bass drum between your legs. You moan, too, slurping the end of his leaking cock to the back of your throat so he can better feel it. The reverberations must reach him, because Jimin bucks, then, wildly enough to trigger a gag. "Ugh, y-yes, fuck!"

You can't so much as master Savasana in yoga, but what you are adept at is gag control. And though you cough a little, slaver a little, nothing but sudden death will stop you now. Nose-deep in Jimin’s considerately trimmed pubic hair, you trap him momentarily there, the whole of his cock nestled deep in your throat's constraints.

Jimin looks half-way gone. His hands hover above your shoulders, fingers curling and twitching peculiarly, like he’s about to astral project. Indeed, all you can see through the sliver in his lightly-closed lids is the white of his eyes. Every so often Jimin rolls his pelvis towards you, but you stymy his attempts to face-fuck you until you're ready to see him over the finish line. Grasping his hips, your thumbs take the liberty of feeling the lines of his obliques, and, God, you've never hated an item of clothing more than the t-shirt he's wearing.

"More," he splutters, then, swivelling against your hold like he's compelled. "More, give me more. I'm so close, I—I wanna fucking drown you in cum—" an ungodly groan bursts forth as he whips himself into a frenzy of his own making— "Fuck, you suck cock so good—so good, baby."

Of all things, baby is what heats your cheeks. The endearment feels like long-coveted validation. "Bear with me," is what you try to communicate, but considering the weight of his cock is pinning your tongue, it comes out garbled. Jimin doesn't even notice, so rapt is he in your mouth's luxury. Occasionally, he rewards your efforts with globs of pre-ejaculate that slide smooth down your throat.

Not wanting to interrupt his well-earned crawl to orgasm, you bob on his cock hands-free, employing them instead to locate one of the condoms populating your purse. Keeping pace is difficult enough that it's not long before Jimin, unsteady on his perch, growls in caution.

"Don't you dare fucking stop," he grunts through gritted teeth, scrutinising your every, unrelated move. When he sees what it was you sought, the growl becomes a snarl. The disdain his eyes convey is almost comical. "Don't make me come in that. I'm not coming in that," he snorts, placated momentarily by your refocused efforts on his plump little dick. As you tear open the wrapper, you tongue his cock hole like a striking snake. "Oh, sh-shit!—H-Hey, if you don't want me to come on you I won't, but—"

Slobber splatters the towel in your haste to cut him off. "It's not for you."

Rather than court more questions, you demonstrate. Hastily, you unroll the condom over your longest finger. Then, with his unerring attention, you squat back on your heels and hike up your dress, allowing him a view onto your panty-wrapped cunt. Jimin doesn't even notice that your mouth is gone from him while he’s leching. It’s just long enough an opportunity to dip your rubber-sheathed digit deep into the wetness of your pussy. He makes noises as you do, quiet ones, ones that stress how much he wants to be inside it. When you withdraw, your lips lock back onto him, kissing his cock where it's most swollen and sensitive. "Try and relax, okay? It'll feel good quicker if you do," you offer in advice, your cunt-slick finger bypassing his balls and slithering along his perineum. Already he's reacting, even from this slight, external stimulation.

"I'm relaxed as fuck," Jimin puffs defiantly, despite his initial recoil. "Show me what you're all about, ____."

"Alright then." Ever so carefully, you wheedle the tip of your finger past his asshole, stopping when his body tells you to. "Jimin, if you can’t handle it—"

They're unextraordinary words, but, apparently, the magic ones. Immediately he loosens around you. "I can. Shut up."

You do. By engulfing his erection without warning. Drawing on it like you would a drinking straw, enough to fluster him into distraction. The result is an easy, sailing entry into his ass, right up to your knuckle. It's not difficult to locate his prostate from there, as deliciously swollen as it is. With a cursory couple of taps, Jimin's body responds in new, mesmerizing ways.

"W-What the fuck—ah!" he cries through his confusion, the unfamiliar feeling prying his eyes wide. Jimin can only watch, overwhelmed, as you manipulate him from within, his back arching clean from the cistern. He's suspended by sensation, a wobbling tension keeping him upright. As you slurp mercilessly at his cock, you fix him with a look. Jimin's not there to receive it, though. His expression says his brain short-circuited the moment you started stroking him internally. And then, with a choked gasp, he returns to the corporeal, yanking at your hair like a man possessed. Only, he's pulling you away. "Stop, oh fuck, I'm gonna piss in your mouth." Distress and arousal fight for his features. The latter is winning, if the stutter of his hips is anything to go by. He's caught between two worlds of pleasure; bookended by penetration and your softly nursing mouth. All he can do is thrust from one to the other.

You come away with his hands, just briefly. Kitten-lick his purpling cockhead. "It's okay. You won't pee, it's meant to feel like that. Just go with it, unless you don't like it."

The blush dusting his cheeks deepens. You can't imagine it's because he's embarrassed, but for a moment he looks vulnerable. Human. Beautiful. Your heart trips. "Whatever," he attempts nonchalance, but his needy fragility is fooling no-one. "I like it, so don't stop. As long as you're sure i won't piss in your mouth. I mean, I don't care if I do, but you might—ungh!"

Swallowing a man's cock is as good as gagging them. Jimin falls quieter than night when you welcome him back into your warmth, working his shaft as well as your aching jaw will allow. Your tongue, too, is tiring, and yet you only twist around him all the more ravenously. It's not just his body that’s contorting when you pound at his prostate, now. His mouth hangs open unchecked, all thought for appearances gone. Within, his tongue writhes, articulating nothing but bodiless sounds.

You rub harder. Suck harder. More insistent. Jimin's eyebrows knit so tightly his nose crinkles. And when he does, a flood of runny, salty liquid squirts into your mouth, catching you off guard and in-between breaths. It's a wonder you don't drown when it keeps coming, this thin, bountiful expulsion. "F-Fuck, God—what is that—" he whines between milkings. As it seeps from your stuffed mouth, Jimin is enraptured. With his focus on you, you regurgitate it noisily over his cock, dousing him in his own fluids. "Fuck, i-it feels so good. I want more." His hands are either side of your face, fingers at your temples, palms pressuring your cheeks. "More." With a grunt, he hoists his previously dangling leg onto the toilet seat with the other. He squats, open and obscene, the picture of aroused anguish. "More. Harder," he jerks, marionette-like, to fuck himself on your finger, to propel his cock further down your throat. You're prepared for this onslaught now, mouth wide and tongue laying dormant as he rams his tip to your tonsils. Each thrust pushes more of his leakage from your mouth until you're drooling like a starving dog. And he's transfixed by it, teeth grinding, gripped by a terrifying hunger. "Fuck. Take it, take me, oh, shit—t-ta—"  

Nothing much else comes from Jimin but discharge, his face contorting as his body does, locked and straining. The motion of his hips slows until it ceases. There, he floats, with unseeing eyes, his orgasm approaching in an unavoidable swell. The throbbing that radiates from his buried cock is the final tell you chance before you cough him from your mouth, kneeling tall before him, breasts and face a blank canvas. You don't push him that last step so much as hammer him, battering his prostate until his mouth twists in devastation. Jimin's eyes are so wide it's like you're fucking the fear of God into him. He rises from his squat, millimetre by millimetre, as you slap your palm to his taint; his bloated balls. "C-Coming, I'm coming—" is all he can rasp as his soul departs and streaks your face once, twice—your eyelids fall closed as thick, viscous white weights down your lashes. Robbed of your sight, his groans hit louder, deeper. They resonate with agony, almost. And still he paints you, your throat, your neglected tits. "Oh my God, I—"

“That’s it, Jimin. Empty yourself on me.”

As the deluge dies away, you wipe your eyes free of cum and slide yourself from his spasming asshole. You expect to see him sat there, clutching his softening cock, but instead he’s sat back, hands-free and seeing constellations on the ceiling. "You came without touching your dick? Damn. That's restraint," you chuckle, your mouth feeling oddly loose. Too big. Too empty. When Jimin doesn't respond: "You okay?"

He stirs briefly from catatonia, though he continues to stare spaceward. "I'm good. I'm good. I think." A laugh comes out, but it's like he's forgotten what they should sound like. "Well, that was fucking awesome." A few, dumbstruck seconds later, Jimin returns to earth with a shaky sigh and that damn smirk. Finally, he looks at you. "Whoa. I got you messy as fuck."

A deadpan blink is all you can spare him when most of your body is protesting some type of pain. Your jaw, particularly, feels unhinged. "Yeah. You didn't notice that before?" You slip the latex from your finger and lob it at the trashcan. You miss.

"I did, but I was, like, coming my brains out. I didn't know what the fuck I was seeing, other than it was good." With an unsteady hand, he flattens back his soaked bangs and stares at you, eyelids heavy. His cheeks are stained pink with exertion. "You look so hot like that. Fuck." And though his body must be leaden after satiation, he pulls you up to your knees, until your torsos nearly touch. Stops just short of smearing himself with his own ejaculate. Instead, he cups one of your soiled breasts with a small, soft hand, thumbing his cum across the nipple. Being touched here, now, after such deprivation, it's like a kiss of life to your cunt. It roars back to life with a bitter vengeance. But Jimin remains modest in his touches. Doesn't stray much from your one, sticky breast. No, he's more focused on you. Your face. Studying all there is to know about its shapes. And he's inscrutable as he does it. It makes you nervous. "Well." It's scarcely more than a whisper. "Thank you," he mumbles, soft and awkward, like he's never before expressed appreciation for anything. And then he kisses you again, though it feels like it's for the first time. It's slow, intimate, with lazy tongue and spent breaths in between. It makes your heart race for several, terrifying reasons. You break apart, then. "Can I do anything for you?"

"N-No, that's okay." The proposition is unexpected. And with the way you're feeling, dangerous. "I got what I came for. I had fun. Thank you, too." You rise to standing, weathering the crack of your joints as you go. "I'll just clean up quickly."

Jimin is already towelling down his own, comparatively unscathed body. He stands, too, though with far more grace. As he feeds himself back into his too-tight jeans, he extends the towel to you. "If you're sure." A tinge of something colours his tone. Disappointment? "Maybe next time."

Next time?

Jimin's semen begins to crust on your chin. The towel twists in your hands. "What?"

There's an indifference to his body language that doesn’t quite ring true. He shrugs on his jacket. "Yeah. Next time, right?"

For several seconds you both stand there, locked in an unsaid exchange. The air is pregnant with meaning.

The door flies open.

"There you are!" In Jungkook strolls, bleary-eyed and with no clear bearing on his surroundings. "Someone said they saw you come in here." His gaze is hazy as it lands on you and your poorly shielded tits. And then it’s on your face again, where Jimin's spunk is heaviest. "Holy shit."

What feels like a century of shame passes, but it's no more than a microsecond before Jimin is slamming the point of his boot into Jungkook's abdomen. "Get the fuck out!" He bellows, octaves deeper than all this past half hour. Masculinity oozes from his squared shoulders and jutted jaw. The hardness is in his eyes, too. They're like steel as they cut Jungkook down, unchanging even as the younger man claws at his gut and stumbles back. "Don't fucking barge in on me again. This ain’t for you to see."

"I-I'm sorry, 'min-hyung." Jungkook slurs his words past comprehension. "C-Call me wh-when yuh wha-wanna split."

Jimin folds his arms. Tucks balled fists inside. "Yeah, now go."

Unfortunately for Jungkook, the gang-leader catches that last, errant look at your naked breasts. And for that he is rewarded with another swift kick; to his retreating backside, this time. Though you can't see him behind the door, you hear the impact of his fall to all-fours and grimace. Jimin's line of sight tracks low. Jungkook must be crawling away. "Go and sober up, you stupid piece of shit. We're going soon."

The door slots back into its frame. Jimin lingers there a little longer than necessary, his head bowed to the panelling. "Uh." Again, he's different. Transformed. Someone more timid stands in Jimin's place. Ruffles the back of his well-tousled hair. "Sorry. He's a dipshit."

"It's okay," you laugh. You have to, because the entire scenario is astounding. "You didn't have to kick him, though. Twice."

Arms criss-crossing his chest, Jimin watches as you wipe away his residue. For some reason, you’re more self-conscious now than when he put it there. "He deserved it. He's an idiot. Idiots don't learn unless you kick them in the ass. I didn't kick him in the balls, at least. And for that, he should be thanking me."

Clearly, your views on appropriate punishment diverge. Jimin inhabits a different world to yours. It's unnerving. And a little exciting, even though it shouldn’t be. "I'll defer to your judgment in his case." Your straps come up and over your shoulders. On inspection, suspicious white stains dot your dress despite your attempts to prevent that. Hopefully everyone is so smashed by this point that they can’t distinguish it from any of their other surroundings. "Okay, I'm gonna go. My dorm's just across from this one."

"I'll walk you. It's not safe." There's a certainty to Jimin's words that speaks of his experience. Ironically, it's probably safer out there while he's tied up in here. "Lots of scumbags out there that will target girls who are alone."

Fully covered, now, you clutch your purse in front of the worst of the splattering. You want to say something, so you do. You feel like you've earned it. "Not you?"

So self-assured, Jimin is. For a moment, though, he isn't. His smile flickers. "Never. I'm not about that. And I'll thrash anyone who is."

The answer pleases you. Diminishes his other activities somewhat. Somewhat. Just enough that you can go home and fuck yourself into a guiltless coma. "Okay. Well, it was fun. Don't worry about walking me. It's literally just across from here and there are still people around. I gotta find my friend first, anyway.”

Another shrug. Then, with the same nonchalance, he offers up his phone to you. "'Kay."

Eyes on him rather than the device, you take it from him. "What's this?" The screen displays a newly created contact. The phone number is blank. The contact name, though?

Litterbug.

It's hard to scoff at it when you love it so much. "What the hell? That's me?"

"Yeah. Gimme your number?" Jimin grins, brazen-faced. The temptation to kiss him is almost insurmountable. "I wanna see you again, litterbug."

You smile, too. Until you don't. "I don't know. I don't think it's a good idea. I didn't plan on anything past this."

If Jimin's shaken by the snub, he hides it masterfully. His smile isn't quite so burnished, though. "Neither did I, but then this happened, and I want it to happen again, ____. Let me show you just what I can do for you."

God, it's tempting. A bite of that apple is worth being cast from Eden. But your heart is weak and liable to entwine far too easily. And he's not the type of man that should occupy space outside of your depraved fantasies. "How many girls with cute pseudonyms do you have on there?" you deflect, knowing well the answer. Hearing it might temper your hopes somewhat.

"I don't give out my actual number to anyone." Jimin doesn't miss a beat of breath. "Only those that matter to me. Or might do," he adds, quieter, losing his bullishness altogether. "But, do what you want." His palm lays flat in expectation of receiving his phone back empty, but you hesitate. Look down at the vacant space. You could fill that.

You want to.

"Okay, there I am." With a flourish of thumbs and a final tap, your name is input and the contract sealed.

The Devil smiles. "Cool." His fingers linger on yours when you return the device. They're soft like charmeuse, and just as expensive. Because this will cost you everything, you're sure. "Can I see you tomorrow? So you can explain to me exactly what it is you just did to my ass?"

Tomorrow? Jimin’s keen. And you’re smiling again. “Sure. I’ll give you a practical demonstration.”

[itsanerdlife]

It’s Complicated 24/25

Pairing: Clint Barton x Fisk Niece!Reader

A/N: Reader is Wilson Fisk’s Niece. I’m tired of the same old villains so keep your eyes peeled for who just might be the one lurking in the dark.

Warning: This is very match and lighter fluid type of burn. Feels of abandonment. Talks of Psychopaths. Overprotective male. Lies. Secrets. Language. Kidnapping. Violence. I think that’s about it.

One Part Left Peaches

“Oh my god, no.” You giggle into your hand. You and Barney had moved, sitting at the kitchen island, the bowl of grapes between the two of you. He stood on the other side, telling you antics and stories from his and Clint’s childhood together.

“Oh swear.” He laughs.

“God I hope he doesn’t take after either of you.” You snort.

“He’s a Barton, he’s going too.” Barney grins at you.

“You know for two boys in the circus, I would assume you’d be less, clumsy.” Your head tips.

“Oh we are graceful, but it’s like a rickety light switch. Sometimes it’s there, other times, you get shocked flipping it one to many times.” He shrugs.

“You know that makes a lot more sense about the two of you.” You nod, slowly pushing another grape into your mouth.

Barney suddenly moves, his back to the door, his chest to your side. Shielding you suddenly. Breaking metal, splintering wood, the loudest crashing noise, shakes your apartment. You yelp, turning in your seat, putting your belly farther from the destruction. There’s footsteps, you turn your head back, before your whole body comes around again. Buck stood on your once standing door, Nat stood just a hint behind him, arm raised, pistol in hand. Clint storms in next. 

“Clinton Francis Barton!” You shove Barney away from you. Everyone shifts slightly.

“Babe.” He blinks.

“My door!” You yell at him.

“Barney?” Clint’s attention no longer on you. You wince slightly. Nat’s eyes land on the gun on the island.

“Hands up, Barton.” She swings her gun around, aimed at his chest. Barney puts his hands up slowly.

“He dropped by.” You squeak. Clint’s whole brow drops down.

“Dropped by?” He repeats in the most unconvinced voice.

“With a gun?” Bucky adds.

“James Barnes, you put my door right, right now.” You warn him. Bucky looks down at the door under his feet.

“Yes Ma’am.” Buck nods, stepping off the once door to your apartment.

“Natasha, put it down.” You point a finger at her.

“He has one.” Clint points out.

“On my counter.” You huff. “It’s not pointed at anyone.” You point out. Nat slowly lowers her gun, looking a little scolded.

“You just decided to drop by?” Clint eyes Barney. Buck is behind him, trying to rest the broken door in the frame. “The apartment of a woman you’ve never met before?” Clint’s tone nasty.

“Well,” Barney’s head tips as he puts his hands down “I, well,” he struggles.

“You’re a horrible liar.” Clint shakes his head.

“I didn’t exactly drop by.” Barney shrugs.

“Are you okay?” Nat looks at you, moving towards you.

“Fine. Good lord, did you really need to kick my door in?” You roll your eyes.

“You didn’t answer your phone.” Clint moves towards you, glaring at Barney who steps back.

“I was having a conversation. Well, less conversation an more a intervention.” You admit.

“Intervention?” The three of them repeat. You glance at Barney.

“I kidnapped her.” He admits, looking down at his shoes for a moment.

“You fuck!” Clint moves, you put your hand on his chest.

“Clint Barton, you touch him, and I will banned you from the room when I bring your son into the world.” You warn him. Clint’s face falls quickly.

“But,” he starts.

“Oh no, you don’t talk right now. You say things and then well, you do stupid shit.” You point out. Nat shrugs, nodding slowly. Buck picks up a grape popping it into his mouth.

“Rude.” Clint mutters.

“But true.” You pat his cheek. “Now, yes he showed up to kidnap me. But that’s not how it worked out.” You explain.

“She yelled at me.” Barney nods. Nat and Buck smirk at you.

“I told him his ways were wrong, he saw the light.” You roll your eyes.

“I already apologized, before you came in.” Barney adds.

“Saw the light?” Clint glares at him.

“Oh Clint stop. He put himself between me and the door you had Bucky kick in.” You point out.

“Now that makes more sense.” Buck nods, eating another grape. 

“I thought we caught him grabbing her.” Nat nods, eating another grape as well.

“No, I didn’t want the debris from the door to hit her or him.” Barney shrugs, looking bashful.

“Why?” Clint glares.

“She’s my sister in law, he’s my nephew.” Barney mutters, running a hand through his red hair.

“Not yet.” Clint mutters, looking over at you.

“Huh?” Barney looks confused.

“She’s not your sister in law yet.” He mutters.

“Oh Christ.” You wave your hand. “I keep you from starting another fight with your brother, that never is going to end. You just kill everyone around you, and you want to bring up marriage?” You fold your arms over your chest.

“No.” Clint looks away.

“She’s scary.” Barney, scratches the back of his head. Clint does the same, your head tips looking at the both of them. 

“Wow, they’re really brothers.” Nat nods.

“Weird, there’s two of them.” Buck shakes his head.

“Three.” They reply together.

“Do you think he’ll be like that?” Nat grins at Buck.

“I want to know if he’s going to be a red head or blonde.” Buck smirks.

“That’s about the only difference they have.” You snort.

“Hey!” They both exclaim together, with the same offended face. They exchange a look.

“Shut up. You’re still going to jail for kidnapping her.” Clint points a finger at Barney.

“Clinton.” You sigh.

“No, rules.” Clint stands his ground.

“He should go to Ravencroft.” You nod.

“Y/N.” Clint sighs.

“I’m not asking you. I’m telling you, and I will tell Maria.” You wave him off.

“What the hell happened during your kidnapping?” Nat grins.

“She yelled at me. Called out our sibling issues. Called me stupid.” Barney admits.

“Sibling issues. We don’t,” Clint stops suddenly. He shifts awkwardly, dropping his eyes to the floor.

“Seeing all those sibling issues now?” Buck grins.

“Do I have to be apart of the study?” Clint sighs loudly.

“Yes.” You nod.

“This all started because of him.” Clint jerks his finger towards his brother.

“Wow, years later, all grown up and still can’t take responsibility. How are you having a baby?” Barney scuffs. 

“We really want to talk about being responsible?” Clint scuffs. “Living the life of crime.” Clint throws his hands up.

“Hey.” Three voice reply.

“Clint.” You sigh. “You are not helping.” You shake your head.

“Fine. But I don’t like this. Maybe Sue can do his study.” He looks at you.

“I can’t see my feet, or I would kick you.” You squint at him.

“Babe.” He huffs. You slip out of the chair.

“Like it or not, I’m doing it.” You poke him in the chest. Clint grumbles, Nat moves, taking out a set of cuffs. Before she can cuff Barney, Clint sucker punches him. You yelp, something warm runs down your legs slowly.

“Clint!” You gasp.

“For kidnapping my woman and baby.” Clint shrugs, when Barney pushes himself up.

“I deserved that.” He mutters but looks rather salty about it. 

“Um.” You swallow.

“Y/N did you pee?” Buck asks.

“What?” Three sets of heads look down at the floor.

“No, my water broke.” Your voice a little shocked.

“Ohhh.” Three male voices reply.

“Clint, hospital bags.” Nat snaps her fingers at him. He runs for the bedroom. “Bucky get the damn door.” She glares at Buck who moves, pulling the door open. It falls to the floor with a thump.

“I’ll call Stark to get that fixed.” Buck looks bashfully down at the door.

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

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