#like what told it to flare up so bad that i almost had to go to consult about getting it pinned ;~;

[nobodybetterlookatme]

Update 3: drove the asshole home bc I was so sure he was fr gonna die if he drove himself lmao. Poor dude looked so miserable, like bro was either holding back while we were working or he got worse the second he was able to relax, bc there wasn't a single moment of silence the whole drive back, dude was just curled up in the passenger’s seat shivering and being so fucking symptomatic. Like he was doing that thing where you basically cough all of the air out of your lungs then doing that rattly little inhale and then repeating, like it was Not Good 😬 0/10, hated being there to experience that in person, I was horrified, I want all of that to stay in audio recordings where it can't hurt me lmao. And he wasn’t sneezing a ton, but when he did, he stifled them until I told him to quit it bc the last thing he needs is a fucking ear infection on top of whatever the hell is already wrong with him, and even when he stopped, he was so congested that they sounded kinda stifled anyway 😭 like it's all objectively hot and I would've loved it had I just read it and not experienced it first hand, but unfortunately I'm a massive germaphobe and had to sit three feet away from this guy all damn day. So I bleached the hell out of my car and scrubbed myself down in the shower three times and I still don't feel like anything is clean enough, but I'm tired so it's gonna have to do for now lmao

[seumyo]

BAKUGOU KATSUKI ✰ 5:48

Bakugou’s in his third year of high school when he finally invites you over to his house. The reason? To finish a calculus project.

You’d think that after surviving through the hardships of being a hero-in-training together for three years, saving each other’s lives (more often you were the one being saved than doing the saving, really), and whatnot, he would’ve invited you sooner to his home (one could dream).

But this was Bakugou, after all.

And he knew that something was off the moment he left you to share a conversation with his mom while he went to get his books from his room—the greatest mistake he could have ever done because by the time he’s making his way back, Bakugou could hear you snickering to yourself.

Not a good sign.

“I’m not going to lie; you looked hideous when you were a baby,” you say, reading through Bakugou’s baby album.

Bakugou froze. He had absolutely no idea why his mother would cave in and give you the godforsaken album from when he was young, but of course she would’ve agreed with your request to see it if you did so much as mention it.

He dropped the books he’d grabbed from on top of his desk on top of the living room table before whipping his attention towards you, an indignant scoff escaping through his nose before he took a few slow, but heavy stomps over to you—practically snatching the album from your grasp when he’s within reach.

“Stop looking through those stupid pictures.”

“Hey! I wasn’t finished,” you reply with a frown. “You’re lucky my phone’s battery just died, or else I would’ve taken a billion photos.”

Bakugou’s jaw clenched slightly as he grumbled curses under his breath, trying to flip through the album in his hands to make sure you hadn’t managed to sneak a photo out—a small sigh of relief rolling off of his tongue to find that, luckily, it was still how his parents had done it.

He shot a glare over towards you, stuffing the album back into its original spot on one of the bookshelves, his nose crinkling as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Don’t care; tell anyone what you saw, and you’ll drop dead,” he tells you.

“Oh, but how could I not? That photo album’s like hitting the jackpot—so many super ultra rare photocards of you,” you gushed, blatantly disregarding his usual threat. “Come on, I wanna see the rest!”

“Absolutely not.” 

Bakugou knew the damn photos were in the back of the album. There were probably a handful of the ones where he was in the bathtub, butt-naked—a common photo in most photo albums he’s seen, at least. Other photos include when he was three years old and wore an All Might onesie for his birthday, pictures of him during his school recital where he was the prince, him with a bald haircut, and so much more blackmail material. 

It was humiliating, for goodness sake! And he knew you’d just tease him mercilessly if you saw it.

You’ll never let him live it down, so it’s best to deprive you of it.

“Don’t come at me for saying this, but I was the cutest baby in our village back then,” you told him proudly. “Had the roundest cheeks and brightest smile, trust.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes, a huff of air forcing itself past his lips. That was one thing about you that he couldn’t stand; you were so full of yourself most of the time—you’d always been like that, and he absolutely loathed it. It could be that it reminds him of himself, so the competitive meter on his head just flares whenever he’s around you.

“I doubt you were even 1% of how adorable I was as a baby.”

“Have you seen me?” you gestured to your face with your hands to emphasize your facial features. 

“I’m still as cute even now. And no offense, Bakugou,” you giggled, “you looked like a wrinkly raisin on your first few days on this Earth.”

Bakugou’s smirk dropped. He’d almost forgotten that you had seen the stupid pictures already.

“Shut the hell up. It wasn’t that bad.” He muttered quietly, his hands balling into frustrated fists. His parents always assured him that he was a cute kid when he was small—but to hear that YOU of all people, are in disagreement with that is just aggravating.

“Fine, fine. Quits it is,” you hum. “Let’s do that calculus project so I can get home before sunset.”

Bakugou grumbled something inaudible under his breath, reluctantly nodding his head in agreement. There was no point in arguing about something so idiotic—after all, both of you were there to get a project done, not to sit around and bicker about his past.

He took a few steps over to the living room table before plopping down on the polished floor ungracefully, yanking out his notes before he gestured his hand over towards the free space next to him.

“Sit down. Let’s just get this thing done and over with already.”

Bakugou had already started working silently by the time you sat down; his hand was writing almost furiously as he copied equations onto his paper. He kept his attention focused on his notes, trying to stay quiet as he focused completely on completing the project.

He eventually stopped writing for a moment, turning his gaze over to glance at what you were doing before clicking his tongue at the sight. Bakugou could already see a few mistakes you’d made with your work.

“You’re doing it wrong,” he says.

“Wait, I’ve barely turned on the calculator, jeez.” You shook your head, solving the equation through your calculator.

“And that’s how I know you’re doing it wrong.” Bakugou huffed, shaking his own head in disappointment. 

“Formula first before adding 1.3.”

He pulled out a pen and began scribbling down on his own paper, glancing at yours every once in a while to compare the work. He knew from his experience that you were decent at math (he’d rather die than tell you that), but this was just pitiful even by your standards.

“Have you been dozing off during Ectoplasm’s class?”

“Ouch. Do you have a personal grudge against keeping the not-so-nice stuff from leaving your mouth?” you sigh. “You’re hurting my feelings— I’m devastated.”

He had a feeling you’d say something like that, and he was prepared to ignore your attempts at gaining sympathy from him.

“Unfortunately, you’ll fucking live,” Bakugou says, scribbling down the last of his work before turning it towards you. “And learn how to solve equations too, while you’re at it.”

“I know how to do it; calm down.” You huff, rewriting your solutions.

Bakugou raised a skeptical eyebrow, his head tilting with a hint of disbelief. Even if he knew you were capable of doing math, you had a bad habit of missing even the smallest details, like the operation to be used in your work, leading to the wrong answers.

His eyes scanned over the work you’d written on your paper before letting out a small huff. “Looks right. Are you done with your half?”

“Yep, yep. Are you going to write it down on our answer sheet, or should I do it?” you offered.

Bakugou glanced down at the answer sheet set to the side before picking it up and nodding. He was already holding a pen while you were still using a pencil, so it would make more sense for him to be the one to write it all down.

He began copying down the answers slowly and carefully, each number being written out with ease as his eyes flicked back and forth from the worksheet to the sheet of answers.

With him busy jotting down the answers, you occupied yourself with taking in the interior of his living room. It was beautiful, neat, and just screamed rich—not really what you expected (you really didn’t know what to expect, honestly). “Y’know,” you mention, glancing around. “You have a nice house.”

Bakugou hummed in acknowledgment, his eyes remaining focused on his task. It kind of took him by surprise to hear you say something out of the blue—about his house, no less. He’d fully expected you to talk about something else, like school or that new show you’ve been begging him to watch.

It went against what Bakugou had originally thought, which led him to look over at you from the corner of his eye, silently raising an eyebrow in a silent question.

“Yeah, I guess it’s a nice house,” he said casually, his pen continuing to move over the paper. His penmanship was neat, and Bakugou hears you in awe. 

Bakugou continued to finish writing down the last of the answers, his eyes narrowing slightly as he noticed you looking around his house. It was obvious what was happening, but he decided to ignore it in favor of just getting the godforsaken project done.

He finished soon enough, his pen rolling back with a click before he leaned back a little and let out a small huff. “We’re done. Finally.”

“Nice, nice.” Glancing at your watch, you concluded, “I should get home.”

Bakugou was silent, rolling his shoulders and neck before glancing out of the nearby window. The sun had already begun to set over the sky, the day quickly slipping away into the night.

“Yeah, whatever. You need me to walk you home or something?” He asks gruffly.

“Nah, I’m good. I need to say goodbye to your parents, too.”

Bakugou watched as you packed up all of your belongings, a scoff rolling off of his tongue. It felt almost weird to be civil with each other, neither of you having taken jabs or making snarky remarks to taunt one another. 

“Alright, fine,” he finally said, standing up from his seat and stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Let’s go find my parents then.”

He led you down the hall and into the kitchen area, his ears vaguely picking up the sounds of his mother and father talking amongst themselves about… something. He couldn’t tell what exactly, and frankly, he barely even cared.

“Mom, Dad.” He spoke up, capturing the attention of his parents. 

Mitsuki looked over at him, a smile spreading across her face. Masaru looked in the same direction, a warm smile forming on his face as well.

“Thank you for having me, Mr. and Mrs. Bakugou,” you said in gratitude. “I’ll be going home now before it gets too late.”

His parents shared a hum in acknowledgment, with his mother being the one to speak up first. She had a knowing grin on her face as she clasped her hands together, her eyes flickering over to her son.

“You’re welcome. You should come over more often,” Mitsuki said enthusiastically, her voice taking on a slightly smug tone.

Masaru laughed as he nodded in agreement. He gave a knowing look to his wife before he looked back over at you. “You should join us for dinner; we already made enough for you to join us.”

“I’d love to, sir, but my folks are waiting for me at home,” you answered sheepishly.

Bakugou noticed the glance his parents exchanged and immediately knew what they were thinking. He almost grumbled in frustration, already knowing that they’d ask him about you later after you left.

His mother spoke up once again, her smug grin growing wider. “You’re always welcome here,” she repeated, her eyes flickering over to her son as her voice came out teasing. “After all, Katsuki’s always in a ‘better’ mood when you’re around.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it, ma'am. I’m a joy to be around, after all,” you lightly joked, though you still maintained a respectful tone.

His parents were easier to get along with than you thought.

Bakugou’s eye twitched in annoyance at your words, almost making him want to quip back at your cocky behavior. However, it was the sound of his mother’s sudden laughter that stopped him from doing so.

Mitsuki mother put her hand up to her mouth briefly, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she continued to chuckle. The expression on her face was elated, and it was pissing him off even more, knowing what’s to come. 

“I like this one,” she said, grinning from ear to ear.

Masaru added, “And clearly, so does Ka—“

“All right! They need to get going to catch the shitty train.”

By the time Bakugou accompanied you to the door, he had this obvious scowl on his face. “You’re never comin’ back here again, dipshit.”

“Wha— no fair! Why am I getting banned from the Bakugou residence when this is my first time here?” you replied.

“Shut up,” he grunts. “I could do whatever the hell I want because it’s my house, too.”

“Too bad I have your Mom’s number—“

“Delete that.”

“Hey— wai— no way!”

It was not the last time you were ever invited to the Bakugou residence.

SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[cloudstrky]

a long drive

after sun drabble

sum: yn can't drive stick so rafe drives her to the beach

warnings; none besides my bad writing xo

mlist

taking a deep breath, you walk towards rafe's room. there's no noise coming from the inside when you knock. his soft voice tells you to come in, well aware it's you standing behind that door. you open the door slowly, your eyes immediately falling on his figure. he's lying on his bed in his navy blue shorts, a white t-shirt covering his tan torso. his arms resting behind his head give you a full view of his flexed biceps and the veins covering them almost look like hieroglyphics the way they are so prominent.

"hi doll," he breathes, a warm smile on his face, "do you need something?"

you nod your head but your eyes stay roaming his figure. this wasn't very plan-getting-over-him friendly. before your imagination goes any further, rafe clears his throat as if he knows what you're thinking. a soft smirk evident on his face.

"i'm sorry this is bad timing, you're resting," you say at last.

rafe doesn't waste a second, "no it's okay," he reassures you, "whatever you need" he softly lets out.

he is well aware of how whipped he sounds. honey dripping from his voice, he's ready to say yes to anything you ask of him. he is ready to give you the world if you asked for it. thoughts of his conversation with topper suddenly fill his head and he tries to push them away. not good for her.

he is well aware.

"this is stupid but can you drop me off at the beach? sarah borrowed my car and I don't know how to drive stick..."

there was a moment of silence before a warm chuckle erupted from his chest, "you don't know how to drive stick?" he asks surprised.

"uh huh" you nod, nervously looking around the room.

"want me to teach you doll?" he asks softly, bringing his right arm to rest on his lap. his long fingers start pulling on the string of his shorts and your eyes follow their every move.

"sure," you reply mindlessly, not having paid too much attention to the question.

"yeah?" he rasped. your knees almost gave out at his tone.

"not now obviously," you laughed, snapping out of your thoughts. no crushing allowed. "i really need to get to the beach now."

he nods at your words, getting up. "okay, let's go then."

you watch him walk around his, surprisingly, clean and organized room. his scent immediately rushing towards you when he stands in front of his AC. it smells just like the cologne you got him last year as a birthday present.

after he puts on a pair of white socks he leans over to grab his car keys from his nightstand. you both walk in silence to his car, your backpack hanging over his right shoulder after he had insisted you give it to him.

when you both get in the car you speak, "sorry for making you drive right now. you're supposed to be resting, hangover and all."

it takes a moment for him to reply. you think it's because he's tired, he knows it's because the closed space of his car allows him to smell your perfume, a sweet fruity scent, and it takes almost all his self-control to not try and taste it off your neck where it bounces off your skin.

"i told you doll," he pauses to reach over you, his breath softy hitting the left side of your neck causing your cheeks to flare up unwillingly. he pulls on your seatbelt, fastening it with a click. your body is tense and so is his. "anything." he finishes.

and the thing is, you know he means it.

"are you going surfing? is that why you're in a rush?" he asks when he finally gets on the main road.

"yes." the beach is only a ten minute drive and you silently wish it was longer. he silently wishes the same.

"alone? want me to join you? haven't caught a wave in a long time i'm getting rusty." he chuckles and you almost agree without thinking.

"no uh, actually," you pause clearing your throat, "jj is waiting for me."

you miss the way his hands tighten around the wheel and the way his fingertips briefly turn white. you miss the way his jaw locks or the way his eyes darken at the mere thought of you alone with maybank.

"is that right?" he asks, faux interest lacing his voice. he gives you no time to reply. "am i driving you to a date then?"

he's fishing. and he knows he should stop before his apology is nothing but empty words and before you go back to hating him.

"no, not even. just two friends surfing rafey." you make your defense quickly, adding his favorite nickname. he thinks it should be illegal for you to say his name like that. especially when he's driving.

"right," he stops at your drop-off spot but you don't move as you wait for him to unlock the doors. "let me know if you need me to pick you up later, i'll be home."

you smile and he swears his heart skips several beats. he sees the glistening in your eyes and the redness of your cheeks, show and tell you felt the same tension he was feeling. in a moment of weakness, he lets his hand reach out for you and to his surprise, you don't move. his long fingers guide a strand of hair away from your face and behind your ear.

if you thought your cheeks couldn't get any more red you were wrong.

he watches your lips tremble with anticipation as his fingers ghost down the side of your ear and down the line of your jaw. his eyes fall to your lips when his fingers slightly point your chin upwards. your sharp breath breaks him out of the trance and he pulls his hand away so fast you almost worry you hurt him.

he wanted to disappear. he doesn't know what's happening. he can't comprehend why he's feeling like this and why his fingers are aching from the loss of contact.

he should know better than to act like this. you were soft and sensitive and kind and so many things he wasn't. he was, among other things, not good for you.

rafe recollects himself quickly, snapping his gaze away from you and back on the road. his voice wasn't cold but it was distant, "don't leave a man waiting then, doll."

and you nod, still in a haze, you thank him quickly before climbing out of his car. you don't dare look back as your eyes search for the boy you were meeting.

you can still smell him, you can still see him and you can still feel his burning touch when you hug JJ.

[dollwrites]

ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴇᴘ ᴇɴᴅ ! ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ʀᴇᴍʏ ʟᴇʙᴇᴀᴜ

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!reader, reader’s tipsy ( and supposed to be saving herself for marriage ), thigh riding, dry humping. all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰 ∣ act ten [ thigh riding ]

“Now petit,” Remy drawls. he’s breathless from the barrage of kisses and heavy petting you’d sprung upon him, but that doesn’t stop his lips from still chasing every movement of yours. his breath was hot on your mouth, his stubble tickling your soft cheek. you imagined just how raw it could rub between your legs, scraping against sensitive, vulnerable flesh and you mewl out loud, squirming in his lap. the idea made you wet. “You makin’ Gambit feel all guilty for givin’ you the drink, what with the way yer a’actin’ now.” but even in your inebriated state, you could tell that wasn’t entirely true. Remy was grinning a lazy, satisfied simper, enjoying the way your body rubbed against his, the way your head dipped so that you could nuzzle against his neck, lick and kiss and suck all over. “Rubbin’ all up on me like some kinda kitty cat in heat, purrin’ so pretty like.” with one hand firmly planted on the flare of your hip, the other traipsed across the shape of your jaw, urging your lips back towards his own. “Tell Gambit what it is you wantin’ right now, chére.”

“I want you.” the answer comes out so easily— slips from your swollen lips as simply as if you’d been asked what day it was. “Remy, I want you so much.”

Remy’s grin only widens, showing the tips of his jagged canine on one side. calloused fingers trace over your lips, committing each mountain and valley to memory as deep, ruby eyes flicker across your face, drinking in your expression. glassy eyes, unable to fully focus, in a lustful haze as the alcohol worked away in your system, lowering your inhibitions that you were usually so strict on. if Remy had been more of a scoundrel, he would’ve spared not a second— he would’ve had you on your back on the couch, legs wrapped around his waist and screaming his name as he plowed into you over and over. he knew you would let him in your drunken stupor. hell, you’d probably even beg him for it. however, he pushed that fantasy deep into the recesses of his mind almost as suddenly as it had flared.

damn, he hated having to be the reasonable one.

“I’m achin’,” he responds in a low groan, just barely rocking his hips to adjust your position on his lap, centering you. with the way your skirt was rolled up, the thick tent in his pants prods against the soft, flimsy cotton of your panties, already damp with your own desire. he lets out another sound, an expletive under his breath, as he feels the soak bleeding a damp spot right on his groin. his clothes were going to smell like your core, your arousal, which made it even more difficult for him to resist. “Gambit wants you bad, too, chére.”

“Then take me,” you plead with him, your hands running down over his shoulders, caressing his broad chest before sinking lower down over his abs. “Take me, Remy.” you could feel just how honest his words were, his hard cock rubbing up against your panties in such a delectable way, and you roll your hips to meet that movement, swooning at just how much of his length you could feel while he was still packaged up. your hands, albeit novice level when it came to intimacy, blindly fumbles with his belt, eliciting a soft grunt from him.

“Nuh uh uh, petit.” he insists, both hands fleeing to envelop yours and hold them for a moment. “Gambit ain’t gonna do nothin’ to make his lady hate herself in the mornin’, when her pretty head a’poundin’ and she’s comin’ round back to her senses. You done told me that you not gonna be ready ‘til I put a ring on this pretty, little finger.” pulling your hands with his own gloved ones to his lips, he peppers them in loving, open mouthed kisses. “Ah’ll always look after you, chére. And ah can tell that right now, you need a lookin’ after, but Gambit don’t take advantage a’his woman.” he paused, pondered for a moment, and gives you a charming, toothy grin. one that always made your knees weak so you were grateful to be perched on his lap. “That don’t mean he won’t give her what she needs,” releasing your hands from his own, he shifts you on his lap, his back sliding down further along the cushion of the sofa. you’re jostled into a straddling position across his right thigh, and he lets out a soft sigh— most likely of disappoint as his hard on can no longer rub your wet panties.

“Remy—“ you start to protest, squirming against his thigh. you wanted to get back to that intense sensation of his cock throbbing in his trousers, begging to be released. you wanted to grind on it some more, until you came and soaked his groin in your scent, since he wouldn’t let you get it out.

“Hush now, sugar. Just let Gambit get’chu goin’.”

one svelte finger slipped under your skirt, tracing your panty line before hooking into it. his bare knuckle brushed against your swollen clit, causing you to catch your breath and seize, but he only chuckles, pulling those panties to the side and out of the way. Remy taps his foot against the floor in a slow rhythm, the motion bouncing you up and down on his taut thigh. it wasn’t until you sit flush against it that you elicit a soft moan.

“Attagirl, just rub that sweet, little honeypot on my leg ‘till you’re all satisfied.”

both of your hands immediate search for purchase on his thigh, splaying out to provide leverage as your hips start to move of their own volition, humping your boyfriend’s leg like a needy bitch. it was almost overwhelming how warm his thigh was, how you were able to feel it radiating off of him. his muscles were subtle against the fabric, but tightened, and with each roll of your hips, your bare cunny rode against the dips in his muscle pads and wrinkles in the fabric, providing you with a wide, ribbed expanse to strum yourself silly upon.

before long, you were panting, back arching and hips rutting in fast, eager buck, and Remy can’t help but admire that sight. moaning to himself with one hand holding your waist to help guide your movements, the other palms at his cock, snorting through his nostrils to suppress a rumbling, pleasured sound. “Ah, chére, you drive Gambit crazy without even tryin’.” red eyes completely and utterly entranced by your base display, the smile on his lips still present, he rubs the bulge in his pants in languid circles, only to quell the raging need to be inside you. “Gonna cum on me, aincha?” he taunts, but only because he can see how close you are. he could watch the way you’re gripping his leg with both hands in tight vices, or feel all of the muscles in your legs tensed up, clenching around his own. he could hear it in your voice, the higher pitched gasping yelps that escaped your open mouth as your jaw hangs slack, and the dampness that coated his leg underneath you, marking him as yours. “You go ahead, now.” he encourages, squeezing your waist to ensure you that he still had you. “Let it all out, chére. Let Gambit see you.”

it was too difficult to hold out. your stomach was tied in a thousand knots that pulled and pulled and pulled with each swipe of your cunt over his thigh, until it felt like snapping. your nails dug into the rough denim of his pants, and you were certain you’d torn microscopic threading, because you could feel the warm flesh beneath, but you couldn’t care less about his ruined jeans right now. rubbing back and forth, aided only by the slight tapping of his foot, the bouncing of his leg, you brought yourself to the tipping point.

and when you came undone, you rode out the duration of your orgasm. toes curling, eyes crossing, and mouth hanging open. you cried out Remy’s name as if it were the only word you could remember. your clit throbbed, your core clenched around nothing but air, seeming to demand to be filled for the first time. slowing down once your muscles all loosened, you felt a creeping soreness in your inner thighs, cramping from the position you were in, but you chose to ignore it. your eyes were even more difficult to focus, now, but you managed to see only one of Remy and smile, lackadaisically and satiated at him.

that makes him laugh out loud, his hand gliding up the curve of your side and then to your arm, tracing over your shoulder until his thumb and forefinger capture your chin. “Now, what a pretty sight dat is,” he murmurs. his voice is still husky with unfulfilled desire, but he no longer rubs at himself. he needs that arm to sneak around your lower back and jerk you closer to his body, until you collapse with your chest flush to his. a soft giggle bubbles up from your grinning tiers, holding his shoulders. you can feel the warmth of his breath washing over your lips and cheeks in waves as he speaks again. “Cumdrunk’s cute on ya, chére.”

[fanwarriorfictions]

Not Again- Part Two

Azriel x Rowaelin daughter reader

Summary: Y/n woke up in a strange foreign land surrounded by strangers that she couldn’t understand. Alone and desperate to get home.

Series Masterlist

-Part Two-

Y/n kept her dagger pointed at them. The two males and the small female didn’t seem to mind that fact, they seemed more concerned about the Wyrd mark on her brow.

“What is that,” the beautiful male with violet eyes asks, “how did it toss me out of your mind.”

She glares at him, “that was rude of you, trying to look into a ladies mind without her permission.”

She’d felt those talons at the edge of her mind, hitting that ice cold wall that had grabbed him and threw him out without hesitation. She’d felt his shock when that ancient power had flared, she’d felt his pain as it ripped into him just as viciously as he’d attacked her.

The corners of his lips tug, “my apologies, we’ve had bad experiences with random females falling into this world.”

She couldn’t hide the surprise. So she wasn’t the first they’d encountered. How many gates had been opened here? How many had been wrenched from their home worlds against their will. How did the gates get unlocked.

“I don’t take kindly to strangers messing with my head,” she says, memories of sitting in her mother’s office, learning of the valg queen who’d held her mother captive during the war, torturing and twisting her mind, the queen who had gone into her father’s head and convinced him another was his mate just to get her killed, “this mark is the mark of my blood, and protection against beings like you.”

Her mother had woven the protection into her skin the moment she was born, the mark upon her brow no longer just a warning of the price to be paid. The mark will continue to pass down through the bloodline, and it will protect them as it had protected her.

“Who are you?” She asks, “why did you bring me here?”

“My name is Rhysand,” the violet eyed male introduces, his casual stance not moving an inch, a preformance, she was well versed in those, “We didn’t bring you here, Azriel over here found you laying in the dirt.”

He gestures to the male with the dark bat like wings who’s scent had woken her. The scent was familiar, something she couldn’t quite place at first. She’d felt him draw close and that’s when she struck without hesitation. He fought well, countering each of her moves, not attacking, just blocking. When she’d pulled away and truly looked him over, saw those shadows that reminded her of her uncles’, she had recognized that he smelled like the libraries of Orynth. It’d shocked her enough to let the grip on the air go, and when he’d sighed in relief she’d unconsciously warned the air even more. It was strange, very very strange, that reaction to his pain. Her father would bite her head off for the slip.

“There was no one else with me?” She asked the male, Azriel.

He merely shook his head, “just you.”

The small female who’d yet to introduce herself steps forward, “who would’ve been with you?”

Y/n eyes the female warily, she looked like a normal fae, but something told her that this female was more than she seemed, “I was sparring with my father when the gate opened, a force I couldn’t see pulled me down, my head smacked the ground and then I was waking up here. Whatever it was seemed to have just wanted me.”

She could hear her fathers yell as she was pulled away, she remembers the flash of light as he shifted and then everything went black.

“The Wyrd gates have been sealed for 25 years,” Y/n continues, “it shouldn’t have been possible.”

Her mother had almost given her life to lock those gates, she’d given almost everything she was to do it.

“Wyrd gate?” Rhysand asks, shakily testing out the word, it existed in their language, given the way she was able to say it with ease, but obviously it hadn’t been used in a very very long time.

“A gate between worlds,” the small female answers, “gates opened with marks like that.”

She gestures to the mark still faintly glowing on Y/n’s brow.

“Nameless,” the female slowly reads, “you’ve got quite a long name to have nameless stamped on you, girl.”

“Amren play nice,” Rhysand chides halfheartedly.

“Wyrd marks are used for many things,” Y/n says, “it’s the language of worlds, like I said, this one is the mark of my bloodline, passed on from my mother.”

Ever the silent figure, Azriel simply watches, his eyes not missing any details. It’s almost enough to make her squirm, but instead she holds his gaze, refusing to back down even an inch. He’s unfairly beautiful, dark hair curling slightly at the ends, his face unreadable, his eyes the shade of whisky in fire light. Several inches taller than her, she’d have to crane her head back to look him in the eye standing next to him. A warrior, built with lethal muscles that she could see beneath his black shirt, large yet he moved with speed, like one of those wisps of shadows at his shoulders. And those wings, large and foreboding, wicked talons at the beak and on the ends, if he stretched them open they’d be twice, maybe even triple the size of him. The shadows around him dance, more sentient than her uncles, more wild too, they swirl around and whisper in his ears, she wonders what they have to say about her.

“Should we move this conversation somewhere more comfortable?” Rhysand asks, a glimmer in his eye as he breaks the stare down between them.

He takes a step towards Y/n and that dagger is back up in an instant, “I’m perfectly happy to talk here in the open, rather than whatever cell you have in mind.”

Rhysand quirks a brow, “who said anything about a cell.”

Her answering laugh is as cold as ice, “you would invite me into your home? I wouldn’t if I were you.”

“We’ve been down this road before,” Rhysand says, “our last guest was keen on escaping anyway she could, I’m sure you would be as well. I’d like to be able to keep a closer eye on you. Azriel here would be more than happy to fly you up to the house of wind.”

Azriel sends him an inquisitive look, “I would?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Y/n says quickly, examining those bat like wings, “where is this house of wind.”

Rhysand grins as he points across the garden to the looming cliffs hanging above the city beyond, “up there. I promise flying will be much better than the ten thousand steps up to the door. Azriel won’t bite.”

She grins, showing off those sharpened canines, “who says I won’t.”

Azriel subtly examines those teeth, she could easily rip out his throat with them if she wished. Based on the way he shifts back on his feet, she’s sure he’s come to the same conclusion

“I’ll get there myself,” she continues, “just need a guide.”

With a flash of blinding white light, she shifts, taking the form of a large hawk. Surprise lights in the three fae’s eyes, Azriel’s wings flaring in shock. He takes in her form, her red tinged wings, those same cold eyes staring out at him.

“Well isn’t that something.” Rhysand’s head angles, “follow Azriel, he’ll show you to your room. We can continue this conversation in the morning.”

They glance at each other, a silent conversation passing between them, before Azriel spreads his wings and launches into the sky. She bows her head towards the two remaining before she’s shooting into the sky behind him.

She’s fast, faster than him in that nimble form. Azriel flies quickly to the house, yet she surpasses him and circles around to keep pace. He can’t help but feel like she’s stalking him, like he’s a field mouse that she’s picked out for dinner, waiting for the moment she decides to strike. Whatever sort of fae she was set him on edge, her power felt older and wilder like she was closer to the beasts the fae used to be, the ones with raw magic that drew directly from the earth beneath them. That wind could pull the air from beneath his wings, pull it straight from his lungs, that fire could burn him to ash from the inside out. It was the most unsettling feeling.

They land on the balcony, a bright flare of light and she is back to that fae form, cold eyes assessing every inch of the house around her. It fells like a mistake to turn his back towards her to walk inside, a mistake that could end with that red hot dagger in between his shoulder blades, maybe even one of those small throwing knives sheathed by her ribs. He can’t help but glance at the leather vest, it was tight to her skin, laced in the back to fit her form. The evidence of the way she’d been ripped from her world shown in the rips in her clothes, in the blood around her collar from the healing wound on her head. It’d started stitching itself together quickly considering how much she’d been bleeding when he found her.

“After you,” he says gesturing towards the hall.

Her eyes wisely slip towards truth teller at his side, but no complaint rises to her lips. She holds her head high as she walks past him, close enough that he could easily grab her and put his blade to her throat, close enough that he caught the scent of pine and snow and embers. She wasn’t scared of him, and with the way she fought, she had every right not to be.

He drifts behind her, giving her single word directions down the familiar halls until they were standing before the door he’d chosen as her room.

“The house will give you whatever you need,” he says, “simply ask and it will appear. If you need anything else, I’m right across the hall.”

If the sentient house was a surprise it didn’t show on her face, instead she asks with a small smirk on her lips, “are you my host or my keeper?”

The teasing tone takes him by surprise, “I’m here to keep a close eye on you. Our last guest had a tendency for surprises.”

She eyes him in that predator like manor, gaze drifting over his shoulder to a wisp of shadow, “keep any wandering eyes to your side of the hall.”

That shadow moves on its own accord, drifting towards her like she’s a magnet. She bares her sharp teeth at the little wisp, scaring it back to Azriel’s side. It hides like a scolded child and he finds himself holding back a chuckle.

“You’ve seen shadows like this before?”

She shakes her head, “not quite. Two of my uncles can control shadows like yours, but they’re not sentient creatures.”

He wasn’t surprised that there weren’t more like him in her world, he’d spent a long time looking for other shadowsingers to help him master his power, in the end it was just him and his shadows who’d figured it out. Even Quinlann’s brother wasn’t like him, not completely.

“They whisper to you,” she states, not a question.

“How’d you know that?”

A breeze drifts past him and she says, “I can feel them in the wind. Can’t quite understand what they’re saying, but I can feel their whispering in your ears.”

“It’s called shadowsinging,” he supplies, he’s not quite sure why but he tells her, “if you spend enough time in the shadows you learn their language.”

She hums, stepping towards her door, “keep the little busybodies close by, I don’t take kindly to little spies in my rooms.”

“As you wish, your highness,” he’s not sure where the title comes from, or the taunting tone.

She throws a look over her shoulder, those eyes blazing instead of cold, “Goodnight, shadowsinger”

The door slams shut behind her and Azriel simply watches. Watches as her shadow fades from the crack beneath, as a cold wind blows through his hair, as his shadows dance with that wind. He stands there for several moments until an amused chuckle sounds in his head.

Don’t let a pretty face distract you brother.

Shut up, Azriel scowls, closing the doors to his minds and turning to his bedroom. The breeze follows him and it gives him the strangest feeling of being watched.

Y/n found that Azriel wasn’t lying when he said the house would give her whatever she asked for. She’d barely thought about a bath before she’d heard running water in the adjacent room.

The bedroom was huge, to her right a large bed centered on the wall that looked like it could comfortably accommodate several people. A seating area to her left with plush couches and low backed chairs, made for winged males like her keeper across the hall she presumed. The red stone walls warm and adorned with a lit fireplace and giant windows overlooking the city far below. She’d admired the view on the flight to the house, but standing there looking at the twinkling lights below, the bright stars above, she could really appreciate the beauty in it. Yet, it didn’t hold a candle to the lights of Orynth in her eyes.

And just like that, the homesickness hit her. She could picture her family, her mother and father raging through the castle, looking for any clues as to where she’d been taken. She could see her uncles barking orders at warriors to search the castle and city surrounding from top to bottom. She could see her distraught aunt shifting into the snow leopard that would tear apart whatever person or thing that would dare harm her niece. What time was it back home, would they work until dawn, would they rest and come back in the morning, would her father hold together the pieces as her mother finally broke?

Y/n stared and stared and stared at that glowing city, wishing she was home, reading a book by the fire in her mother’s sitting room as she listened to her parents bicker back and forth. She’d been reading a romance her uncle had brought her from the castle library in Adarlan. It would still be sitting on the table, the scrap paper bookmark halfway through the well worn pages.

A tray appears on the table next to her, full of meats and cheeses and fruits. She could feel the curious presence around her, the house it seemed was a busybody.

She eyes the plate, “I’m not hungry.”

The tray stays put, and she huffs, pushing away from the windows towards the attached bathing chamber. That presence seems to sigh, clearly frustrated with her but she paid it no mind.

Her body ached, the adrenaline wearing off enough that she could feel each cut and bruise from the vicious way she’d been dragged through that gate and thrown to the garden floor in this strange world. Her head ached, pulsing with pain each step she took, everything ached, her head, her body, her heart.

A giant bath was drawn, steaming water with frothing bubbles that smelled of lavender. There were plush towels on the small stool by the bath, and clean clothes on the counter beneath the mirror. Soft light illuminated the space, she didn’t care to think where it came from, how it all worked. All she cared about was stripping off her tattered and bloodied clothes and submerging herself into that water. She felt each cut burn as she went down, felt the wound on her head scream in pain as she drifted down beneath the surface.

She burned, and kept burning, and burning and burning, and burning.

[supernovafics]

Super random silly idea but for the I’ll be there for you universe I was thinking it would be so cute if reader and Steve chaperoned one of the kids school dances and got all dressed up for it :)

𝐓𝐀��𝐄 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 2.2k words

warnings: explicit language, fluff

summary: in which you and steve help chaperone a school dance for the kids

author's note: loved this request idea! thank you thank you !!

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Spring 1986

Dustin suggested the idea only days before the dance, and even with the short notice you were still agreeing. And you were forcing Steve to agree too, even though he actually didn’t need that much convincing. 

You both thought that seeing all of the kids get dressed up and go to a school dance would be adorable, and chaperoning along with a handful of teachers and a few parents didn’t sound too bad. 

In the beginning of the night you were designated to punchbowl duty, and you and Steve stayed together until he was being pulled away to help fix a decoration that had fallen, and then he got roped into doing a bunch of other things. When you saw him helping the gym teacher move a table, your eyes met his and you gave him a sorry but encouraging smile. 

As the night started winding down, the punchbowl became empty— and since there was only an hour left of the dance, it would not be getting refilled— and you decided to simply linger on the sidelines, listening to the unfamiliar sounding pop songs and watching random kids have what looked like a good time dancing and talking. And then your gaze focused on the group of teens that you knew and loved; Will was talking animatedly about something and everyone else was smiling and laughing at whatever he was saying. 

You felt a pair of arms circle around you from behind, a touch that you immediately recognized as Steve’s. The feel of his warmth enveloping you in the simple embrace was entirely familiar and never failed to comfort you. 

“Hi,” He murmured in your ear. 

“Hi,” You said as you instinctually leaned into his touch. The heels you were wearing to match the formless of the night made it easy for him to lean his chin against your shoulder. “Glad to see that you’ve finally managed to get away from moving tables and fixing the ‘Spring Fling’ sign.” 

“I was almost forced to help fix one of the chairs that broke, but I made up an excuse about needing to use the bathroom, and I hope that he just does it without me or forgets about it.”

“Only one more hour until we can leave.” 

“And I can’t wait,” He told you and then his mouth was brushing right against your ear as he quietly said his next statement. “Mainly because I’m really excited to pull this dress off of you.”

His words sent something equivalent to a shiver down your spine and at first all you could do was smile shyly. 

From the second you were exiting your bedroom and Steve was seeing you for the first time that night, he was admiring and complimenting what you were wearing; a short sleeve cream-colored dress that subtly flared out at your waist and ended just a few inches above your knee. I need to get you out of this immediately, were his first words to you, and it was a demand that you wouldn’t have minded abiding by if you two weren’t already running late to the dance, so you instead quickly shut it down. 

“Shh, stop,” You whispered to him now, attempting to make your voice sound as serious as possible. “Keep your dirty thoughts to yourself for now, Harrington.”

He laughed at that and only pressed a quick kiss to the side of your head in response. 

The pop song that was playing switched to a slow one and everyone on the basketball court designated dance floor started pairing off. You smiled when you noticed Mike and El, and Lucas and Max joining the other pairs.

“They look really cute out there,” You said, leaning further into Steve and tilting your head to let it rest against his. “Reminds me of when we slow danced at our proms.” 

“Thinking about it now, it probably should’ve been so obvious that we were into each other then.”

You nodded and laughed a bit. “Very.”

Steve’s arms dropped from your waist and he instead grabbed one of your hands, and turned you so that you were facing him. “Come on, let’s walk around for a bit.”

You teasingly smiled up at him. “We’re supposed to be watching everyone. Y’know, chaperoning.”

“No one will notice if we’re gone for a few minutes,” He was already leading you out of the gym and you let him. 

Hand in hand, you two walked down one of the empty hallways, they were unfamiliar to you but the opposite to him. You could count on one hand how many times you had roamed the halls of Hawkins High School; each time it had mainly been to find a bathroom during one of Steve’s basketball games or swim meets. 

“Where was your locker?” You asked him, suddenly very curious about the mundane fact that you didn’t know the answer to.

Steve laughed a bit. “What?”

“Where was it? I’m just realizing that I don’t know that.”

“We went to different schools, so it makes sense why we wouldn’t know that about each other,” He said, but then still decided to answer your question. He turned a corner and led you down a different hallway, and then pointed to the clump of lockers at the end. “Mine was at the end.”

“What number?”

“224.” 

“Okay,” You nodded thoughtfully. “Got it.” 

Steve was simply smiling amusingly at you, and you knew that he probably thought you were at least a little bit insane for being so interested in this random fact. 

“What? This is important information to know just in case I ever have to give a speech about you or something,” You told him. “I’ll be able to say, Steve Harrington was a great best friend and awesome boyfriend. He had locker 224 for all four years of high school.”   

He laughed a little before leaning in to kiss you. It was quick and you were smiling into it and then up at him when he pulled back. 

“What was yours?” 

“165.” 

He nodded. “Okay, I’ll include that in my speech for you too.”

“Good,” You joked. “Actually, this information might be wedding vow material.” 

“Very, very true,” He responded, playfully smiling at you. 

Lightheartedly talking about the future— an inevitable engagement, wedding, marriage, etc.— had easily become a part of your and Steve’s banter. It was always spoken about jokingly, but it also felt obvious that neither of you entirely saw it as a joke. Because it did feel the tiniest bit real that eventually, one day, you two would get to that point— to the point of marriage, kids, and a kind of seriousness that warmed your heart and made you feel entirely at ease. You could so easily see yourself having that sort of life with Steve, and in some ways you already did have it. 

You gave his hand a light squeeze, and let that simple action say what you wouldn’t right then because you didn’t want to get super sentimental; although Steve always loved when you did and would only playfully make fun of you for doing so. He squeezed your hand back and then pulled your intertwined palms up to press a soft kiss to the back of yours, silently telling you that he understood you and your heart squeezed in response. 

Steve led you toward a random door at the end of a different hallway, and then he was letting go of your hand to pull the door open and let you in first. It was dark for the most part— the only light was coming from the bright streetlights that could be seen out the large windows— and neither of you made any attempt to find the light switch. You quickly noticed the many, many bookshelves and tables neatly scattered around the huge room. 

“The library?” You asked, turning to lean back against one of the empty tables and giving him an amused smile. “You wanna study, Steven?” 

He was quickly closing most of the distance between you two and his hands found your hips. “Nope, no studying.”  

“Okay,” You simply nodded and then easily pushed up onto the table. Steve immediately moved closer and settled between your now parted legs, which made you inwardly smile at his eagerness.

Your arms came up to loosely circle his neck and you were looking up at him for just the briefest of seconds before his mouth was hurriedly finding yours and your eyes were slipping shut. You were reminded of the first time this had ever happened, back in your bed at the cabin in Colorado, and you also thought about the second time, at home in the kitchen. Actually, anytime you kissed Steve like this you were reminded of those moments— the certainty you both felt, but there was still such a newness to it all. You adored that feeling, and you especially loved how it would always settle into something so comforting and familiar after only a few moments.

You were pulling away when you needed to catch your breath. Your eyes were still closed but you knew Steve well enough to know that his mouth would immediately find your neck, kissing your skin and teasingly sucking the sensitive spot right at the underside of your jaw. Any other time, you would've happily let him do it; in fact, you probably would’ve begged for it. But in this moment, your hands found his chest and stopped him because you didn’t want to get stuck with a hickey that you would have no way of covering up for the next hour. 

Steve laughed as he pressed a kiss against the side of your mouth. “I wouldn’t have left one this time. I promise.”

“I love you, but I don’t believe that.” 

He jokingly shook his head in disbelief and let out a playful scoff. “We’ve known each other for almost ten years, where’s the trust?”

You only shrugged in response and had to bite your lip to hold back the laugh that you wanted to let out. Steve easily read through the half-hearted shrug and instead of keeping the little game going, he poked your side, which did make you laugh. 

Him smiling at your laughter and the fond look on his face right then reminded you of an older time, a different time when he was obsessed with doing anything to make you laugh and you loved to do the same for him. A sort of competition formed during the summer before your Sophomore year of high school where you two kept count about how much you made the other person laugh. After barely a week, accurately keeping score became much harder than you both thought it would be so you two decided to end the game by simply calling it a tie— although Steve loved to say that it was him who, in fact, won. 

Abruptly thinking back to that memory and then being brought back to this moment also made you think of something else.

“Hey… Do you ever think that it was dumb of us to not start dating sooner?” Your gaze held his as the question left your lips. You weren’t entirely sure why it was on your mind right then. Maybe it was being in his old high school and peeking back into that life that made you feel a mix of nostalgic and a bit regretful. “Like, we could’ve been happier sooner or whatever if we realized years ago…” 

Steve shook his head first before pressing the softest kiss against your forehead. “I’ve thought about that too, but I honestly think it was meant to happen this way.”

You found yourself agreeing with the simplicity of his response. It was supposed to happen exactly like this— slowly, years and years worth of obliviousness and internal denials, and then it hitting you both so suddenly, all at once, and finally not wanting to shy away from it. 

“You’re right,” You told him and didn’t give him a chance to potentially say anything in response before you were pulling him back toward you and meeting his lips halfway. 

He squeezed your hips and pulled you to the edge of the table, keeping you impossibly close and you didn’t mind that at all, your own fingers hooked in the belt loops of his black pants in attempts to keep him close to you too. You even let his lips find your neck after a moment and trusted him that no hickeys would be left in his wake. Your fingers were itching to slowly unbutton the white shirt he was wearing or to let his hands loosen their grip on your hips and slip beneath your dress that now sat dangerously high on your thighs. You were really close to throwing rational thinking out of the window and letting both of those things happen, but you knew that you couldn’t. 

“We should probably head back to the gym,” You mumbled when minutes that only felt like seconds passed. You decided to let the logical side of your brain finally take over. “Before anyone notices we’re gone. Especially the kids. They’d have a field day with this one.”

Steve pulled away from your neck, lightly chuckling against your skin, and nodded. You fought the urge to simply bring his mouth back to yours in another languid and heart pounding kiss that would once again make you feel weak in the knees. 

“You’re right,” His hand was finding yours and lacing your fingers together and then he gave you a tiny hint of a smirk. “I really can’t wait to go home.”

You nodded immediately and smiled up at him. “Me too.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

[mercwiththem0uth]

another drabble because i have soft!wade literally living on my mind 24/7. not proof read!

x gn!reader showering with deadpool and caring for him when his skin has a bad flare-up.

you had been in a relationship with wade for a couple of years now. you knew him inside-out. you loved him so deeply and would do absolutely anything for him, and he was totally head-over-heels for you because of it.

unfortunately, sometimes his mutation causes the scars on his skin to flare up, becoming irritable and painful. he would say that his skin essentially hurt him all the time, and he was just very used to the pain. however when these rare moments happened where it hurt more than usual, you tried to do everything you could to make things more comfortable for him.

in the earlier stage of your relationship, when the first flare-up happened, you spent a long time stood in the kitchen surrounded by a huge amount jars, test tubes, liquids, essential oils, and syringes, trying to find the best combination for a special lotion that wade could use to moisturise his unique skin.

wade stood in the doorway, a small smile on his face as he watched your eyes narrow, tongue poking out of your mouth slightly, concentrating so hard on the task in front of you.

you were so engrossed in measuring out the ingredients and stirring your lotions into different labelled pots, that you hadn't noticed him observing you.

"what are you doing, doll?" wade's voice spoke gently as he stepped towards you in the kitchen. you jumped, heart almost skipping a beat as you hadn't suspected anyone to be home with you.

realising it was him, you relaxed. "you're back early" you smiled at him, tilting your head.

"no I'm not" he smiled widely, motioning his head towards the clock, which read 7:36pm.

oh...

you had been stood in the kitchen doing your little experiments for much longer than you had realised.

wade came behind you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist, dropping a kiss to your exposed shoulder, before whispering in your ear. "so... you never told me what you are doing." he stood back and leaned against the counter, inhaling a deep breath of the different smells that you had created. he was getting senses of ginger and honey... coconut and oatmeal.

"if i was to guess, you're starting up some sort of etsy home-business?"

you giggled at his silliness.

"i'm trying to create a lotion for you. to help... you know... your skin. i know it's been hurting recently." you blushed slightly, suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed.

wade felt his heart swell at your words. he almost melted right there on the floor. you had only been together a couple of months, and wade was still very insecure about his appearance around you. but the fact that you were going out of your way to make something to help him, almost made him want to cry.

he knew in that moment that you were something extremely special. you were still in the early stage of your relationship, yet you were being so selfless and kind towards him.

"oh, baby" he whispered, a small smile on his face. "that is so kind. thank you."

the sincerity in his voice made your stomach flutter. you hadn't seen a very affectionate/grateful side of wade yet, but little did you know that this was only the beginning, and you are yet to meet the very clingy, loveable deadpool.

he came and wrapped you in a hug, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

you spent the rest of that evening sat together round the kitchen table, testing the lotions and altering some of the recipes, before he settled on one that he really liked. he still uses it to this day, and you happily make him a new batch every month.

wade sat in the passenger seat of dopinder's taxi, staring out the window. his lips were curled until a soft smile as he thought about that memory. you had been his biggest supporter since day one.

he climbed out of the taxi and gave dopinder a high five, before slowly making his way up to your shared apartment. his footsteps were slow and heavy as his muscles ached and his skin screamed against his suit with every step that he took. he finally crashed through the door, immediately relaxing slightly as the familiar scent and warmth of home surrounded him.

"hey baby!" he heard you call from the bedroom, as he kicked his shoes off and made his way to find you. you were folding laundry as you looked up at him and smiled, having missed him all day. he managed to smile back, never once breaking eye contact as you approached him for a kiss. resting your hands on his shoulders you pressed a sweet kiss to his lips, a toothy grin on your face as you pulled away.

"are you okay?" you said gently, watching as your boyfriend began to take his suit off, his face screwing up and flinching in agony every once in a while. "does it hurt?" you whispered.

he just nodded his head, a small sigh and grunt escaping his mouth. you frowned, wishing you could take away his pain. "i'm sorry baby, anything i can do to help?"

"i'm gonna take a shower" he said, voice barely above a whisper, as he peeled the last piece of his suit from his body. you followed him into the bathroom, watching as he leaned to turn the shower on to a lukewarm/cool temperature, making you frown again. he couldn't even enjoy the feeling of hot water. "what's the frown for, kitten?" he said, pulling his underwear down and kicking them off his feet.

"i just feel bad for you", you sighed, hating to see the love of your life feel this way.

"don't be silly" he pulled you against him, holding you in a small hug, "i'm used to it."

"but still, you don't deserve it."

"hey now, if i wasn't a mutant, cancer would've got me a long time ago and I never would've met you." he squeezed your shoulders before pulling away, watching your face waiting to see you smile.

he climbed into the shower, before turning back to you. "you can join me if you like," wriggling his eyebrows, "i wouldn't recommend it though, your sweet cheeks will get cold."

you smiled and rolled your eyes. eventhough he was in pain, he was trying to be his usual-self that always cheers you up. you pulled off your clothes and joined him in the shower, letting him stand at the water end. his big eyes looked down at you, filled with love and adoration, but underlying sadness. he was just in pain, and needed some comfort. you noticed immediately, reaching round to grab his soap. it was an expensive one, formulated to be kind and gentle to his skin.

you poured some onto a soft sponge and used your hands to lather it up with some water, directing him to turn around. you placed the sponge ever so gently at the top of his shoulder blades, before slowly moving it down across his back. he tensed up, liking the feeling but hating it at the same time. his hand reached backwards and he used his fingers to brush against your thigh, indicating to you that he wanted to hold your hand. you reached down and locked fingers with him, giving it a small squeeze, whilst still using the other hand to slowly sweep the sponge across his backside. you squeezed the sponge in your hand, letting the soapy water trickle down his body, so you weren't putting any friction on his most sensitive and inflamed areas.

you brought his hand up to your mouth to kiss it, before tightly tugging him to face you again. he turned around to let you wash his chest and stomach.

you peeked up at wade, his head was dropped down to his chest with his eyes screwed shut. you put an arm around his waist, pulling him close and pressing a kiss to his forehead. he leaned into your touch, wanting more. you breathed a laugh against his skin, giving one more kiss, before passing him the sponge and letting him finish washing his more intimate areas. (although he definitely would not have minded if you'd done that for him)

once he was rinsed off, you helped him out of the shower and passed him the fluffiest towel you could find. you left him alone and ventured back into the bedroom, pulling out some clean pyjamas for the both of you, before going to the kitchen to order his favourite chimichangas.

wade eventually appeared, wearing nothing but some cotton underwear. you looked at him confused, "i got some clothes out for you, bub."

his eyes darted down to his hand, where he was holding a bottle of your home-made lotion. your eyes softened as you whispered an "okay", before quickly washing your hands.

you joined wade on the couch where he was turning on a movie, sitting next to him and rubbing some lotion between your hands. he leaned into your touch and began to finally relax against you, as you gave him the gentlest massage you possibly could.

you spent the rest of the evening cuddling your big baby of a boyfriend, using your fingers to moisturise every nook and cranny of his back, arms, chest, legs, hands and feet. your heart melted every time you heard him let out a sigh or a grunt of pleasure, knowing his pain was finally easing. even if it was only slightly.

after you'd eaten, wade laid across the couch with his head in your lap, your hand resting lightly on his head. you were both fighting sleep as you tried to make it to the end of the movie.

before drifting away, you felt wade tilt his head up to look at you. you met his eyes, softly blinking at him, trying to read his thoughts.

"i don't deserve you," he mumbled, reaching his fingertips up to caress your cheek. "thank you for everything"

you stared lovingly at him for a moment, before leaning down and pressing a long kiss to his lips. he meant every word. what did he do to deserve someone who loved and cared for him so deeply?

guys I'm so in love with this fictional man it's not even funny i just wanna kiss his face and give him the love he deserves :'(

[avatar-anna]

It's Not a Competition (But It Is)

i just feel like this song is so reader coded in this series like she literally gets annoyed by how much she likes him and at first refuses to admit but of course she can't hide it forever...

Hockey Player! Harry x Figure Skater! Reader Masterlist

"What are you staring at?"

"Nothing. I'm not staring. Who's staring?"

You narrowed your eyes at Harry from across the couch. He was on one end, you on the other, as you studied for your respective midterms. You hadn't meant to stay after hooking up, but Harry offered his shower and an extra set of clothes and promised not to bother you if you wanted a quiet place to go over your notes, and despite the warning bells flaring in your head, you stayed.

As promised, there were no distractions. You were able to go over your psych notes in peace, the only sounds in Harry's apartment being the instrumental music he put on and the clicks of his keyboard as he worked on his laptop. It was comfortable, almost too comfortable, you thought. This wasn't the kind of relationship you anticipated when you and Harry hooked up for the first time. It was supposed to be strictly physical, transactional, a satisfaction of mutual needs.

But you felt it—Harry's stare as you reviewed key terms and quizzed yourself with your professor's review guide. There wasn't any heat behind the stare, it was more of a soft, warm glow. Affection. Harry stared at you with affection, and you weren't sure how to make the responding butterflies in your stomach stop fluttering so intensely.

"You're being a creep," you finally said, shifting in your spot on the couch as if you could physically shake off the weight of that stare.

Harry's brows raised above his blue light glasses, amused by your assessment. You'd never seen him wear them before, but they framed his stupidly beautiful face perfectly. You thought they softened his appearance, made him look less like the overconfident jock you knew too well.

"You really wanna know?" he asked, a playful grin on his face. "I don't think you wanna know."

"I asked, didn't I?"

Harry's grin widened before turning back to his laptop. "I just think you look pretty in my clothes. That's all."

His smirk was self-satisfied as if he knew what your reaction would be, which pissed you off even more. Before you knew it, you took a throw pillow and chucked it at his head.

"Ow! What the hell?"

"I look pretty in your clothes?"

"It's a compliment, princess," Harry said. "You would be the one to get pissy over something like that."

You sniffed. "Sorry I'm not at your feet like one of your adoring fans."

"Hey now, I never said I didn't like it. I like this thing we have going on. The banter. It keeps things interesting."

"Whatever."

"Would you rather I said you looked hot? Sexy?" Harry challenged, though his smirk told you he was playing around, laying a teasing trap to see if you'd take the bait. "Why can't I tell the girl I'm sleeping with she looks beautiful in my clothes? That's like every guy's wet dream."

You frowned and picked at your nails, trying to ignore the effect his words had on you. "You're sounding too romantic. Like you're my boyfriend or something."

Closing his laptop once more, Harry set it on the coffee table in front of him and turned toward you completely. He looked too soft, too cuddly, too kissable in his worn gray sweatshirt, his hair extra curly from the shower you shared together earlier. And when he shuffled across the couch toward you, the smell of his shampoo dizzied you, made it hard for you to focus on his words.

"You say that like it would be a bad thing," he said. His voice was light, but there was an undercurrent of weight to it. This was the conversation you and Harry avoided, danced around, hid from, at every turn. You could see it in his eyes sometimes that he wanted to have it, that he wanted more. But you...you just couldn't.

"We agreed—"

"Yeah, yeah. We agreed. Just sex," Harry grumbled as he pulled off his crew neck. "I can haul you over my knee and spank you all I want but I can't say you can't look cute in my clothes. Pathetic, Y/n, really."

You blushed, playfully swatting his hand away when he tried to push your—his—shirt up. "What are you doing? We already did that!"

"Well not-couples don't sit around studying together, so come on," Harry said, smiling as he play-fought you on the couch.

You giggled your way out of your clothes wrapping your arms and legs around him as he kissed along your jaw. "No, don't do that. This is strictly sex between us. Only girlfriends hold boyfriends like that."

"Don't make fun of me," you said, breathless from laughing.

"I'm not making fun, princess. Promise. We're just two people who love to fuck. And study together and train to—"

You cut Harry off with a kiss, fisting a hand in his hair tight enough to make him hum. The slide of his mouth against yours was familiar, practiced, as dizzying as the first time you kissed him. Since the very beginning, it had been easy with Harry. Too easy, too right. You thought it was just the tension between you and him finally snapping in half, that he'd finally pushed enough of your buttons and you just needed to get him out of your system. And then it happened again, and it felt just as good as the first time. Maybe even better. So it kept happening again. And again. Until you were staying over at his place and he had a drawer at yours and he laughed at your stupid jokes and you knew what he meant when he talked about hockey stats and his favorite place to eat off campus.

And now you were here.

You didn't know where "here" was, though. You knew where Harry thought it was, you knew what he wanted beneath all his teasing and joking. But you didn't know what you wanted. Or you did, and perhaps didn't know how to admit it.

"I should go," you whispered after, even though you knew you didn't have to. Harry's body was warm and sturdy beside yours, the hand drawing circles up and down your back and through your hair pleasant, calming. Your eyes were getting tired, blinking slower and slower as your head laid on his chest.

"Yeah," Harry replied, his chest expanding and falling as he sighed. "But I don't want you to."

You didn't either, though you didn't say it out loud. You just nestled deeper into Harry's chest and wrapped your arms around his waist.

And you stayed.

*.*

Harry woke to the sound of his phone buzzing noisily on by his bed. Too tired to make any sense of who was calling him at such a late hour or why, he didn't even bother sending it to voicemail, merely turning over in his bed and dozing back to sleep once the buzzing stopped.

And then it happened again.

That time, Harry did send the call to voicemail, believing it to be one of Harry's teammates trying to pull some kind of prank. By the third call, he was thoroughly annoyed.

"What?"

"Do you not like me anymore?"

Rubbing his eyes, Harry looked down at his phone, more specifically, the caller ID, for the first time. "Y/n? Is everything okay? Why are you calling so late?"

"It's Friday night why do you—hiccup!—why do you sound like you're asleep?"

"Because I was," Harry said, groaning before sitting up in his bed. Running a hand over his face, he asked, "Are you drunk?"

"No! Yes! Maybe a little tipsy. The nice bartender gave me a double shot for my drink," Y/n said, giggling to herself.

*.*

Harry woke up some more at her giggling, already reaching for the pair of jeans he'd ditched by his bed earlier. He'd gotten home after an away game earlier and didn't have it in him to go out, not to mention the pile of homework he left for the last minute. Y/n went out with her friends, insisting that she could go a Friday night without hooking up with him. Harry had laughed at the time, but selfishly wished she was with him now.

"How nice of him," Harry replied, trying not to let the idea of anyone flirting with Y/n bother him too much. "So, you're okay?"

"I—hiccup!—I'm fine! Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know, you're the one who called me out of the blue."

"Well, I," Y/n started, her voice drowned out by loud noise of whatever bar or party she was at. Then it all quieted as if she was suddenly alone. "I wasn't going to call you, but then I did."

Harry smirked. "Aw, did you miss me, princess?"

"No!" she snapped, perhaps a little too quickly. "No, but I just—I was ready to leave and no one else was and I know it was stupid of me because you're always tired after away games, but I thought—"

"I'm already on my way," Harry said, sliding off his bed as he picked up his jeans off the floor.

"Really? You don't have to. We're not—I mean you're not—"

"Send me your location, princess. I'll make sure you get home safe."

Y/n was quiet for a moment, presumably sending Harry her location while he shrugged into a t-shirt and grabbed his jacket. And an extra one for her, just in case.

"Maybe...Maybe I can stay at your place tonight?"

Harry's heart leaped in his chest, but he didn't let himself get his hopes up. Y/n was drunk, and he might've just wanted to hear the plea, the affection, in her voice. She didn't like him that way, or didn't want to admit that she did. He just needed to be patient.

"Course, princess," Harry finally said. "Sit tight, okay? I'll be there soon."

Skating always brought you clarity. Going through a familiar routine and landing tricks was what made sense. Moving through the music, letting the music move through you, helped you relax.

But today was different. Today you skated around the rink in circles, no choreography or music flowing through you. You skated in a daze, hoping you could leave your thoughts behind you with another lap, but they were as quick as you were as you glided across the ice.

"Y/n?"

Your most persistent thought of all.

You skated one last loop before coming to a stop at the rinks entrance. Harry stood on the other side, backpack on his shoulders and baseball cap covering most of his curls. It was a vision you were more than familiar with, you even knew the slightly concerned furrow of his brow.

"Everything okay? You weren't at the library."

"I—I just needed to skate," was all you managed to say, your breaths still coming out unevenly.

"Oh. Can I join you?" he asked, already shrugging out of his backpack.

"Just like that?" you asked him, blowing a stray strand of hair out of your face.

"Just like that."

Leaning across the barricade Harry kissed your forehead. There was a small smile on his face as he pulled away and gingerly pushed that same strand of hair away.

Because that was a thing you and Harry did now. You'd finally admitted to yourself what Harry had known all along, so now he was your boyfriend. It had taken a moment to wrap your head around it, though your dynamic with Harry didn't change all that much. Not at first, anyway. Until your first date at a bowling alley, then the second at a sushi place in town, then you began opening up about your home life, your family, sharing things with him that you never had before. Now you got extremely jealous when girls came up to him and tried to flirt, and Harry, who wasn't afraid to admit he'd always been jealous when he saw you flirt with other guys, wasn't afraid to scare those same guys off.

You and Harry were finally dating, and it was...good. more than good. It was—

"It was the date, wasn't it? Was it too much?" he asked later as skated beside you, having finally gotten his skates from his locker. Harry's skates were clunkier than yours, meant for speed and agility so he could race down pucks and out skate his opponents, while yours is slim and geared toward performing tricks. You watched them as they glided across the ice as you figured out what to say.

The date Harry referred to wasn't meant to be anything special, not any more special than the others were. But then Harry did what Harry did best and went above and beyond.

He somehow scored tickets to the ballet and surprised you with them and a candlelit dinner before the performance. It was perfect, all of it incredibly perfect. Harry in his suit and tie, different than his game-day suit, you in the fanciest dress you owned—pale yellow and off-the-shoulder, the bodice shaped like a bow.

It was a night filled with hand holding and kisses to your bare shoulder as you observed the performance. The seats Harry got were far from the stage, but you didn't care. You were enthralled by the dancers and the night your boyfriend planned for you, and Harry was just enthralled by you. You felt his stare all night, the same one he'd had since the first time you met, only now you knew what it meant.

Then at the end of the night, he walked you to your door, kissed you, and let you go inside. When you asked why he wasn't following, all he said was, "You have a competition tomorrow. I know you like to be alone so you can mentally prepare."

And that was that. He left, and you went inside and replayed the night in your head over and over and over again. You saw him the next morning at your competition, but you were too focused, all your feelings carefully compartmentalized so you could perform your absolute best. But the second you got off the ice, you thought of him, and only him, and all the ways he made you feel entirely too much and how you couldn't see yourself with anyone else.

It was too much, too many giant feelings to make sense of all at once. So you took some time to yourself the next couple days, and instead of meeting Harry at the library to study like you'd planned a week ago and headed for the skating rink instead.

"The date was perfect," you said now, your eyes trained on the ice beneath your skates. "It wasn't—It wasn't the date."

"So...you blew off studying with me because you...what? You just felt like it?" Harry asked, his voice carrying the slightest edge to it. Your boyfriend was incredibly patient despite your apparent aversion to dealing with your growing emotions. But he was still human, and honestly, you were a little annoyed with yourself too.

"No, I—"

"Then what's going on, Y/n? I know things haven't been easy, but if I'm coming on too strong and we need to slow down, then—"

"I don't want to slow down."

"Okay, then what—"

"I love you!" you said, coming to a stop in front of him. The words just tumbled out of your mouth, and now they wouldn't stop, like a dam had broken inside you. "I've come to the realization that I'm in love with you. A lot, and—and I'm overwhelmed by it and a little annoyed that you've managed to make me feel so much more than I ever planned to, so... that's why I didn't show up. I'm sorry, I just—I love you, I guess, and I didn't know how to tell you. But I also couldn't sit next to you and not say it either."

Harry said nothing for a couple seconds, looking down at his skates, then you, then back down again. Then he began to laugh.

You gaped at him. "Hey—You're laughing at me? I know it wasn't as romantic as you would've made it but, but I love you, you stupid fucking jerk!"

That only made him laugh more, which made you spin on your skates and glide away from him. He called after you, but you kept going, except he was a faster skater than you were and caught up to you before you wanted him to. Harry grabbed you by the waist and spun you around so faced him. He was smiling wide, his nose bright red from the chill of the rink.

"I'm laughing because you got to say it first," he said. "I'm laughing because I have been waiting for the right time to tell you, walking on eggshells for almost two years now, and you just—you beat me to it. That's all."

You blinked. Then laughed a little yourself. "So it was a competition? I won?"

"Yeah," Harry scoffed. "You won. Now stop stress skating and come with me to the library, you neurotic freak."

"Competitive ass."

"I love you," Harry said, using the smile he usually reserved for getting out of trouble or getting what he wanted. It was a smile you pretended you could resist, perhaps more for your sake than his, but now you didn't even try.

You rolled your eyes before kissing him, not confused or scared of the butterflies that erupted in your stomach as a result. " I love you too."

[thewritingbeforesunrise]

Like Lava.

18+ ONLY. MINORS DNI

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A/N: The idea for this fic was prompted by this post by the wonderful @twistedmelodies. This thought plagued my mind so much that I had to do something about it.

I suggest you listen to the song "My Name Is Human" by Highly Suspect while reading this.

Word count: 4.2K

Pairing: Jake x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW 18+ONLY, graphic sexual content, oral (m! and f! receiving), protected penetrative sex, use of restraints.

Summary: A terrible day at work takes an unexpected turn when you decide to go to a bar to get a drink.

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The bar was still packed when you entered. Much to your dismay.

It was late and you were already overstimulated by the longest shift ever at work.

You thought that a hot shower could make you feel better but you clearly needed something stronger.

You needed a drink to help your brain finally relax and that place was the closest one to your house that could provide you one.

You didn't look anyone in the face there, you just made a beeline towards the bar and quickly got the attention of the bartender.

You asked for a whiskey neat and sat on a stool while you waited.

He placed the glass in front of you with a smile and turned to serve another customer.

You had just grabbed the drink and were ready to have a much needed gulp of liquor when a hand knocked against yours, making the drink spill over the bar top and the glass fall from your grasp.

The glass crashed onto the floor with a loud noise, sending shards everywhere and you shivered at the sound, feeling your anger flare.

You bit the inside of your cheek to try and make your anger subside but it didn't work.

You quickly turned around with your cheeks reddened and your nostrils flaring, ready to tell off whoever the culprit was, but those venomous words died on your tongue when you were met with sweet dark eyes and a heartstopping apologetic smile.

He started apologizing profusely, asking if you were hurt, if he had ruined your clothes and already flagging the bartender to buy you another drink.

“I'm so sorry, I'm very clumsy sometimes. I’m Jake, by the way” The stranger said, extending his hand for you to shake.

You introduced yourself too and took his hand in yours.

His skin was so soft and warm that you felt your icy demeanor starting to crack.

At that moment you finally took him in.

He was beautiful.

His hair was long and looked so soft you wanted to sink your hands in it. It was glowing beautifully in the low light of the room.

He was wearing a simple black shirt that was almost totally unbuttoned, and black jeans. Nothing too fancy, but what caught your eye the most were the antique-looking silver pendants he had around his neck and the many rings and bracelets on his fingers and wrists.

You were regretting coming to that place with every cell of your being before meeting his eyes.

But something told you to stay and let this handsome stranger buy you a drink.

~

An hour and two drinks later you were still chatting and laughing with him at the bar.

He was incredibly funny and smart and you chatted about anything and everything; time had flown in his company.

And on top of that, you would have listened to him talk to no end because his voice was so intense and warm that it made you melt every second more.

You told him everything that happened at work that day and he listened to you with interest.

Then he told you that he had a bad day too. He was a musician, a guitarist, and that day it seemed like he just couldn't focus on notes and riffs. He kept messing up to the point that his own bandmates had kicked him out of the studio and went on practicing without him. He was so irritated with himself that he had almost risked destroying his guitar against the wall.

A comfortable silence fell around you after a while, and you were slowly losing yourself into his eyes, when the bartender signaled to the customers still lingering around that the bar was closing soon.

You were a bit disconsolate that your time with him had eventually come to an end, but when your eyes met his again, you saw a glint there.

He cleared his throat and came closer to you.

“I'm going to be very direct, okay?” He said while trailing a knuckle down your cheek, with a featherlight touch that made your skin cover with goosebumps.

“If I'm overstepping just tell me and we can forget I even said a word. We can go back to being strangers and you won't see me again I promise. Or we can be friends and meet for another drink whenever you want” he whispered.

You felt his hot breath on your neck when he came even closer and a shiver ran down your spine.

“It's been a long day for us both, why don't we help each other unwind?” He whispered into your ear and your heart skipped a beat.

When his dark eyes met yours again, your mind went completely blank.

It was your heart talking when, a few seconds later, you answered him with a confidence you didn't know you possessed.

“Please, yes. Let's go to my place. It's ten minutes away from here” you said struggling to recognise your own voice.

The idea of having to wait ten minutes to feel him didn't really appeal to you but, thank God, he had a better solution.

“If you want, we could go to my place. It's just around the corner” he whispered onto your lips. His voice was like honey, so rich and voluptuous, that you felt drawn to him like a butterfly to the sweetest flower.

The need to feel him was increasing and your fingers were trembling when you grabbed your glass to finish your drink.

He closed his tab paying for your drinks too and then grasped your hand in his, leading you out of the bar.

Once outside, all you wanted to do was start running towards his house but he didn't immediately lead you there.

He stopped abruptly and turned around to face you.

His eyes bore holes into yours as he gently grasped your face between his warm hands.

You felt a tingle where his fingers were touching you and your cheeks heated immediately.

He leaned his forehead against yours and you felt his hot breath on your lips, before his voice graced your ears again.

“Do you really want this, love? I can walk you home if you don't.” He whispered gently, placing a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Please, I do” you answered him in a sliver of voice.

“May I kiss you?” He whispered caressing your bottom lip with his thumb.

You nodded and his lips were on yours. A shiver ran down your spine at the softness of his mouth.

He sucked gently at your bottom lip and you moaned at the feeling. His lips tasted of the whisky he had been drinking all night.

When his tongue licked into your mouth, you felt dizzy, and you clawed onto his jacket, feeling the soft corduroy under your fingertips.

You needed him.

He broke the kiss and caressed your cheeks with a sweet smile on his plump lips.

There was a little wind that kept blowing strands of his hair in his eyes, but that couldn't hide the fire burning there.

“Let's go” He said, grasping your hand and leading you towards his house.

~

The moment you two entered, you ended up pressed against the cool wood of his door.

His lips were on your neck, sucking and biting the delicate skin while his hands gripped your hips.

Your hands sank in his hair and you moaned at the softness of it.

As he lost himself in your neck, biting, licking and sucking your skin, you took a look around his flat, despite struggling to keep your eyes open because of the pleasure coursing through your veins.

He lived in a cozy open space and, if he hadn't told you before that he was a guitarist, you would have guessed it the moment you entered.

There were many guitars hanging on the walls, one more beautiful than the other.

The place was in semi-darkness, the only light was coming from outside, casting a dim glow on everything.

Near a window there was a desk with papers scattered on top and under it. Many were crumpled and others just scribbled, effectively portraying the chaos plaguing his mind that had gotten him kicked out of band practice.

You tugged gently on his hair and guided his mouth to yours, moaning at the feeling of his warm tongue caressing yours.

He broke the kiss and turned you around by your hips so he was behind you and could guide you towards his bedroom.

There were a few more guitars there, two acoustics on their respective stands and an electric that was thrown on the floor without care.

It was still plugged into an amp and you suspected that was the one that had been almost destroyed against the wall because of Jake's temper.

The room was bathed in a soft golden glow provided by the vintage lava lamp on the nightstand. The orange bubbles rising and falling inside reverberated on the walls creating a cozy atmosphere.

The double bed was completely unmade, the white sheets were incredibly crumpled but looked so soft.

“Sorry for the general mess and for the unmade bed, angel, I didn't plan on having company tonight” he whispered onto your lips before sitting down on the bed with you.

You started kissing his neck and, when you nibbled at the tender skin right under his ear, a little moan escaped his lips.

That little sound elicited an uncontrollable fire in your heart. You wanted to hear more of those sounds, immediately.

He started fumbling with his phone and, a few seconds later, music started filtering into the room from a bluetooth speaker on a bookshelf full of trinkets of any kind.

There was a collection of ancient ships in bottles, a wooden model pirate ship, many little succulents and what looked like antique rings and pendants amongst tons of well-loved books.

His lips on your collarbone brought you back to the task at hand.

He stood and prompted you to do the same. He removed his jacket and you started fumbling with the zipper of yours.

When you finally removed it, he kissed you again and moaned into your mouth when your hand sank in his hair, tugging lightly.

Your lips slowly started their descent from his mouth to his neck and lower.

His almost totally unbuttoned shirt allowed you to reach his collarbone and chest easily. His skin was incredibly soft and hot to the touch. He smelled divine, too.

You made quick work of the two last buttons of his shirt and it fell on the floor, joining his jacket and yours.

When your lips skimmed over his left nipple, another little strangled whimpery sound left his throat and you knew exactly what to do.

You dropped to your knees in front of him and his eyes almost rolled back into his skull at the sight.

You reached for the button of his trousers and he whimpered your name when you successfully freed him.

He was left just in his boxers in front of you, but the item did a poor job at concealing how much the situation was affecting him.

The golden glow of the lava lamp looked delicious on his skin. And you wanted to see all of him.

“You don't have to” he whispered, caressing your cheek, gently.

“But I want to” you answered him in a whisper, right before reaching for the elastic band of his boxers while keeping your eyes on his.

“Please, angel” he begged you when your fingers dipped inside and tugged at the fabric just a little, letting it snap right back with a sharp sound.

You finally peeled the black cotton off his toned thighs and you gasped when his member sprang free and slapped against his soft tummy.

Your mouth watered in an instant.

He looked deliciously needy, so the more you admired him the more impatient he got.

He caressed your lower lip with his thumb and he bit his own hard when you grasped his wrist and opened your mouth to let his digit rest on your tongue, just to torture him a little more.

You stroked his member a few times while sucking at his thumb.

When, finally, your tongue licked at his tip, a loud growl left his lips and both his hands sank into your hair.

You let his tip rest on your tongue for a moment and then you wrapped your lips around it, sucking gently and reveling in the sight of his abdomen contracting and his eyes squeezing shut.

His eyes met yours again immediately when your hands covered his, on both sides of your head and you motioned for him to move his hips forward and then backwards.

He cursed at the first thrust, and moaned when you encouraged him to just go on and fuck your mouth.

He did it gently, ensuring that you were ok and checking up on you every few thrusts.

Your hands didn't stop exploring his body. You started caressing his strong thighs feeling powerful at the sight of goosebumps covering his skin because of your touch. He sighed when your thumbs pressed into the delicate skin of his inner thighs and moaned your name out loud when your hands ended up on his ass, kneading his soft supple skin and prompting him to go a little harder if he wanted.

The song sounding through the speaker made you want him even more and the more you felt and watched him thrusting and groaning, the more your mouth watered for him, enhancing his sensations.

He had a tight grip on your hair and he kept arching his back at the feeling of your mouth around his cock.

Suddenly, he pulled out of your mouth and yanked you up to stand before him.

Get up off your knees girl

Stand face to face with your God

His eyes bore holes into yours as he admired your disheveled state. Your lips and chin were shining with your saliva and his precum and your hair was a mess because of the tight grip of his hands.

Before you knew it, his mouth was on yours, licking, sucking and biting at your lips with intense hunger, tasting himself in the process.

He grasped the hem of your dress and removed it from your body at lightning speed, leaving you just in your bra, panties and dark sheer tights.

It was your turn to gasp this time when his kisses followed a slow path from your neck to your tummy as he sank down on his knees before you. You were about to beg him, but a strangled whimper left your lips instead, when he pinched the waist of your thighs between his teeth and tugged downwards.

He quickly removed them with your help and you shivered before his hungry eyes.

His fingers skimmed over the elastic band of your simple cotton panties and your skin covered in goosebumps.

“Y-you don't have to” you whispered, diverting your eyes from his burning gaze and feeling shy and self-conscious all of a sudden.

“You are right. I don't have to. I need to.” He whispered, squeezing your hips and leaning forward to gently press his nose against your mound.

“Please, take them off for me, love” he whispered and you let your panties fall on the floor at his request.

His hands slowly caressed down your legs and prompted you to spread them a little wider.

“Good girl” he praised you with that deliciously raspy voice of his that got you melting.

When his warm breath made contact with your skin, your knees almost buckled, but it was when his tongue licked a broad stripe over you that you really feared that your legs wouldn't hold you upright.

You sank your nails into his shoulders when he started making out with your cunt and you realized that you were much closer than you thought.

It was almost embarrassing.

Your hands tangled in his hair and he groaned when you tugged at it without realizing.

The vibrations of his groan had you almost screaming his name out loud as your hips pressed against his mouth.

Two of his fingers started caressing your labia, collecting your increasing wetness, while his tongue spoiled your clit expertly.

He slowly slid a finger inside you and your mouth fell open, but no word came out. You felt your walls fluttering and contracting around it and were ready to beg him to add another and move them when he spoke.

“You are so tight, love. I can't wait to feel you around my cock.” he said and you moaned, sounding a little desperate.

“But first, I need you to make a mess all over my face. C'mon baby, cum for me” he begged you and curled his fingers sharply over and over again, making your knees feel like jelly.

The moment he sucked your clit into his mouth was when you knew he was going to get what he wanted.

You let go then, moaning his name and clinging onto his hair and shoulders for dear life.

His fingers kept moving at a soft rhythm and his mouth didn't cease its onslaught on your clit until you forcefully dragged him away from you to stand up in front of you.

He looked disheveled too, now, and absolutely drunk on your pussy. His eyes told you that he would have gone on and on at eating you out till morning if you hadn't stopped him.

Get up off your knees boy

Stand face to face with your God.

You didn't even leave him the time to catch his breath before you crashed your mouth to his hungrily, tasting yourself onto his luscious lips.

He wrapped his arms around your body and unclasped your bra, before pushing you on the bed and climbing on top of you without breaking the kiss.

The sheets felt incredibly soft and cool under your flushed skin.

He crawled on top of you and stole your breath away with another kiss, before opening the drawer of his nightstand and retrieving a condom.

You helped him put it on and then you grasped his shoulders and arched your back when you felt him sliding his tip along your slit.

You spread your legs even further and whispered his name on his lips.

His hands on either side of your head cradled your face before his hips started pressing against yours, allowing him to enter you slowly.

I'm ready for love, I'm ready for war

But I'm ready for more.

Your mouth fell open in a silent moan and you felt yourself clenching around him harshly.

He whimpered at the feeling and his face contorted in a pained expression.

His hips stopped and his voice echoed faintly into the room, needy and strained.

“Love, relax for me, please. Fuck, you are so tight. If you keep squeezing me like this, I'm going to cum” he begged you and you tried your best to relax, feeling his thumbs caressing your cheeks gently.

“Yeah, baby, just like this. Good girl” he praised you smiling.

His body was already covered in a thin layer of sweat and when, finally, he was pressed inside of you to the hilt, goosebumps covered his skin.

You couldn't make a sound. The feeling of being finally full slowly registering into your brain had you completely forgetting how to breathe properly.

“Breathe, baby” He had to remind you, leaning his forehead against yours and kissing your lips.

The first thrust had your legs wrapping around his hips and a strangled moan of his name leaving your lips.

Soon, he set a steady rhythm, pressing you into the matress with his strong hips and, with every thrust, you started feeling lighter and lighter. You had completely forgotten about your shitty day and, by the blissful look in his eyes, you were almost sure he had too.

The song had faded away long ago and now your bodies were dancing only on the symphony of the sounds of the shared pleasure you were experiencing.

You were both panting heavily and sweat caused your bodies to stick together. Drops of it were slowly trickling down his neck and suddenly you found yourself licking them away from his skin.

The sounds leaving his lips increased in volume and pitch the more he approached his high and were heavenly. You mentally thanked every entity in the universe for letting you find a man that wasn't afraid of being vocal in bed.

Hs hair kept tickling your face as it swayed back and forth with the rhythm of his trusting and was completely disheveled.

His skin glowed in the low flickering light of the lava lamp and you reveled in the sight of his face, scrunched up in utmost pleasure. You trailed a finger over the wrinkled bridge of his nose and he moaned your name.

As you started sucking and biting at the tender skin of his neck again, he did something that left you without words.

He grasped your wrists and pressed them together above your head on the bed so quickly that you almost didn't see it happen.

“Are you ok with this?” He whispered into your ear and cursed when you quickly nodded your head.

Then he maneuvered the little hair tie you were wearing on your wrist around his fingers so that it bound your wrists together, trapping you.

You gasped at the unexpected gesture.

His pupils were blown wide as he quickened his pace even more, squeezing your wrists in his hand, basking in the feeling pulsing through his cock and slowly losing his mind.

You both couldn't take your eyes away from the other, admiring as pleasure took hold of your bodies and minds every second more.

Finally, the orgasm hit you like a strong wave and brought him with you a few seconds after.

The room filled with moans and whimpers while the glow of a car passing by in the street illuminated his face as it scrunched up in pleasure. It was the most breathtaking sight you had ever experienced.

His eyes were screwed shut and his teeth bared before his mouth went slack with a loud moan, while you kept moaning his name, digging your heels into his lower back.

Then the room turned silent and the only sound filling the space was the heavy panting coming from your chests.

He let go of your wrists then, and gently kissed your reddened skin there, before slumping down on top of you and hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

He slid out of you but didn't move away.

When you finally recovered, your eyes fixated onto the ceiling, mesmerized by the fluctuating glow of the lava lamp, while you caressed his hair.

After a while, he placed a kiss on your lips and then stood with a groan and went towards what you assumed was his bathroom.

You got up too and started looking around for your clothes.

When he came back and noticed what you were doing, he looked a little taken aback. He came closer to you and grasped your hands in his, looking you straight in the eyes before speaking.

"You can stay if you want. I'd love it if you stayed, honestly” he whispered onto your lips and a smile spread on your face at his invitation.

After a quick shared shower, you fell asleep almost immediately, but all of a sudden you woke up to a dark room.

It took you a while to understand where you were exactly but when you did, a little smile spread on your face.

You turned around ready to wrap yourself into Jake's arms only to discover that his side of the bed was empty and cold.

A fait glow was coming from outside the room and, after a while, you decided to see what it was.

You stood, fixed the t-shirt he gave you around your body and silently padded out of the bedroom.

There he was, sitting at his desk, slightly hunched and scribbling away on a piece of paper with an acoustic guitar in his lap illuminated by the low light of the lava lamp that he had moved from the bedroom.

You were about to approach him silently but he must have felt your presence because he turned around and smiled, motioning you to join him.

He placed the guitar on the floor and patted his lap.

The moment your skin made contact with his again you felt your heart flutter.

“What are you doing?” You whispered.

“Writing. You got me inspired. And I think I finally fixed that song” He said, caressing your hip.

“Well, I'm happy to have been of help” you said, chuckling and leaning your head against his.

“You deserve a reward for it” he said, grasping your hips and placing you in front of him on the table with a glint in his eyes that told you that he wasn't even remotely done with you yet.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

A/N: To those of you who need a visual reference of that moment...here it is 😉

Thank you for reading!

Taglist:

@gvfpal @sammyslappers @spark-my-nature @highladyofasgard @sparrowofthedawnsworld

More in the comments.

[noiriarti]

The Winner Takes it All: Anakin Skywalker x Reader (Enemies-to-Lovers Modern AU) | Chapter 5

NSFW! Minors DNI!!! Summary: The moment the thesis competition was announced, you knew your biggest threat. Anakin Skywalker, golden boy of the engineering department. He's the only other person smart enough to beat you, and the only other person insane enough to stay in the lab until midnight every night. He's also an asshole, but you're starting to think maybe he's not as bad as you thought he was... Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Fem!Reader CW: oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex, overstim? WC: 6.2k AN: hehehehe i have written something nefarious!!! requests and asks are open, as always <3

Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, [Ch. 5], Ch. 6, Ch. 7

Chapter 5: Learning

Your knees were shaking as you unlocked the bathroom door. The metal handle was cold under your fingers, but your body was blazing hot, an inferno trapped inside a person. Only two people were left, one of whom was Barriss, so you smiled tightly and told her that, actually, you were gonna head home, that you fell asleep on a bench outside and it was time to turn in. You hoped she didn't smell the cum on your breath.

You almost forgot to pack your laptop, but slid it into your bag haphazardly at the last minute and managed to leave the room with a smidge of your dignity still intact. On unsteady legs, you walked over to the door of the building, resting your fingertips on the cool glass, just to steady yourself. Images of Anakin flashed in your mind. His yell as he shattered that wood. His desperate moans as he tried to keep it together before cumming last night. His hands buried in your hair, rough and unyielding. His strong legs under your hands as he fucked your throat. His smile when he woke up next to you.

All of them kept you unbelievably horny until Anakin joined you with the clicking of the lab door behind him. He'd probably made some similarly lame excuse to the others, but you could see the flush of his cheeks from earlier hadn't faded, even when he cast you a grin. If they knew to look for it, maybe the other students would have noticed the slightly heavy breathing or the looseness in his movement. But only you knew that about him, and it sent a thrill down you.

"Let's go home," he said, pausing in front of you, far closer than any friend would be. Your heart jumped again, and you could feel that he still made your knees weak, even after everything the two of you had done. There was no one in this area, and you took the risk to put your hand on his chest, then drag it slowly, almost imperceptibly, downward.

"Oh? What are we gonna do when we get there?" You pouted up at him. This was crazy, you thought. Two weeks ago, if someone had told you that you would be drooling, practically begging Anakin Skywalker to fuck you, you probably would have filed for a restraining order. Now, it was all you could do not to mount him in the middle of the lobby of the engineering building.

Anakin obviously enjoyed the way you teased him, based on his smirk and flaring eyes.

"Don't act innocent. We both know where your mouth was ten minutes ago." His voice was low, gruff, but it was like he'd lit you from within. Everything buzzed and tingled, and you couldn't wait to get home. God, how did he do this to you?

Anakin must have noticed, his eyes catching on your slightly open mouth. He grabbed the hand that had stopped its path somewhere around the top of his stomach, and took it in his. "Come on," he murmured, then turned around and started speedwalking out of the building. You followed him, in a trance, and somewhere around the second block of your walk home, you realized that your hand was still in his, and his thumb was rubbing over your knuckle and leaving fire under its wake.

You were holding hands. You hadn't even held hands while you fucked, or anything else really. The two of you weren't supposed to be like this, all romantic and sweet and hand-holdy. But there was nothing that would have ripped you away from him right now, horny or not. You'd give anything to solder your hands together like pins of a chip, intertwined eternally.

Fear curled in your stomach, and an image flashed in your mind. His face, crestfallen, his eyes pleading, begging fate to give him another chance. His prototype in his hands, delicate and made of hundreds of hours of his best ideas, but still not enough. The creamy paper of the certificate under your fingers on the hot lights of the stage. The thunderous applause of the audience, your classmates, as you looked out at the one person in the audience who mattered. The tears welling in his eyes, even though he tried to will them away by looking up and blinking as fast as he could. His cold look when he ignored you in class for the last six weeks of the semester.

The breath stalled in your chest, but you looked up at the Anakin in front of you now, walking home with his hand wrapped around yours. Strong, powerful, unbreakable. He'd get over it, right? Going home with him now surely couldn't make it any worse down the line, you tried to tell yourself.

You were quiet for the rest of the walk, but the ache between your legs didn't stop. No matter what you thought about the future, the current you wanted him more than anything. More than whatever fears you had that he'd never look at you again in three months' time. And, if that did happen, you wanted some memories to keep you warm while you got over him. (But what was there to get over? This wasn't anything more than some comfort between friends, right? You tried to quiet the racing voice in your mind.)

The front door of the building was there, and, as soon as you slipped into the elevator--not yours, the one on the other side of the entrance--Anakin was kissing you again. Your mind went quiet, and the only thing left was that you wanted him. You wanted him more than anything in your life. He was leaning, looming over you with his imposing figure, and kissing you like you were his oxygen. And, if you were being honest, right now, he was yours.

Your hands came up to his strong jaw as you tried to bring him closer and closer, but the elevator dinged, and he yanked away. Anakin really was strong, you realized when he almost dragged you down the empty hallway to his room.

It was your first time in his space, and you were shocked by how neat it was. You'd expected energy drink cans covering every surface, or maybe random devices and wires all over the floor, but it was like someone had taken special care cleaning up. Not a speck of dirt on the carpet, and the bed was made almost militantly. He had been planning to ask you over tonight, you realized. You started grinning like an idiot as he dropped his backpack by the door and threw his coat over it. You took yours off too, but with more care than he did.

His desk was the only sign of chaos, covered in old papers and sketches. There was a bucket in the corner of the room of what looked like shells of old Raspberry Pis, and a gleaming array of servers blinked in the darkness on his dresser. There was a picture there of a woman, kind-looking, older. She had his eyes, but her hair was darker, thicker. Their smiles were identical. That must be his mom, you thought. Somehow, this new window into his life made you want him even more, but in a different way. In a scary way.

The thoughts disappeared when you felt his warm lips on yours again and his arms wrapping around your waist. It never got old, even if you'd kissed plenty of times before. It was always new, exciting. He furiously pulled you closer to him, his fingers digging into your back. He was devouring you, his tongue lapping at your lips insistently. You met it with your own, and he groaned loudly before exploring your mouth further.

You stumbled backwards until you hit the desk, sending a few papers flying. Anakin detached from you, just for a second, and shoved the papers off like they'd affronted him personally. Immediately after the desk was clear, his hands came up on the back of your thighs. You both know what it meant. Jump, just like the first time in the lab, and you obliged, shimmying onto his desk until you were fully seated.

"Get your fucking clothes off. Right now," he ordered, already starting to peel off your shirt. You threw it off, then took off your shoes and socks, leaving them forgotten somewhere on the floor. He had already shrugged off his tee, and, forgoing any extra steps, yanked his pants and boxers down in one go. His cock bobbed up, already leaking and hard again. With a similar annoyance at the existence of clothing as a concept, he yanked down your leggings and underwear and tossed them aside, leaving you bare, panting, and looking up at him expectantly. You'd been waiting for so long, so desperately, that you could feel the slick had spread to the inside of your thighs.

He opened one of his desk drawers with his right hand, his eyes still fixed on your pussy, and fumbled around until he found a condom. He couldn't resist before opening it, and shot out one hand to gently smack your clit. You keened as sparks exploded across your body and made your back arch. You were sensitive. So sensitive, you wondered if you could cum with him inside you. He put his hand on your hip, and it was big enough that he could reach your clit with his thumb, rubbing small circles that made you produce gentle noises of pleasure.

Eventually, he gathered enough self-control to pull away and roll the condom onto his dick before stepping in between your spread legs. Taking his cock into his hand, he slapped your clit with it a few times, just to get a rise out of you. The contact, the pressure, was perfect, and with every slap, your hips twitched to chase the spongy head of his cock. He watched your desperate writhing and chuckled darkly. You knew what he wanted, and you were too far gone to try and stop yourself.

"Please, please, Anakin, I need you," you begged as you slid to the edge of the desk, trying to get closer to him, just enough to touch. You added another desperate, quiet please, and he gave in, slamming into you all the way.

Both of you let out ragged groans as his hips met yours, finally filling you to the brink. You'd been thinking about this for hours. The whole day, even. Then he pulled back and started fucking into you with an aggression you hadn't seen before. The previous time you'd fucked, he was energetic, sure, but he wasn't like this. This was wild, a remnant of how excited you both were from the way you'd blown him earlier. His thrusts wracked your frame, making you shake with each vicious jab into you. The smack of his hips into yours and the squelch of your wet pussy taking him was obscene, dirty.

Anakin's hands came to your knees, moving them so that your feet rested on the table. You were completely folded over, and you realized why when he pressed his hips to yours and rocked into you instead of thrusting, creating amazing friction from his skin on your clit. You threw your head back with an unrestrained groan of his name. He was out of breath, ragged and feverish, but he just kept going.

"Look how good you take it, baby," Anakin growled. "God, you feel amazing, so fucking wet for me." One of his hands found your hair and grabbed it while he hit a particularly tender spot inside you. Your scalp screamed, and so did you.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck Anakin, right there!" You could hardly recognize your hoarse voice as you begged him. "Harder, faster, please," you moaned. You could feel that coil of pleasure in your stomach that had been wound up for hours because of him getting tighter and tighter. He was moving so quickly, his eyes wild, feverish and desperate like an animal. His usual smile had faded, and you saw a sort of intensity you only noticed when he was angrily working. Like you were the only thing he wanted.

Each thrust pulled a grunt or curse as you started tightening around him. You were so close, only a few more thrusts until you'd finally feel relief, and you started shifting your hips up to meet him, just to get an extra bit of friction. Anything would be enough to push you over the edge. Anakin noticed your erratic thrusts upward and held your hips down to the desk. You hoped bruises were forming.

"Fuuuck, you're so needy. You're not gonna cum until I say," he ordered. You weren't sure if that was possible. Your pussy was twitching wildly, and your walls were fluttering around him. You bore down and clenched as hard as you could, but that bought you thirty seconds at best.

"I can't--please--I can't--" you started, trying to tell him that you were too close, and he quickly stopped panting to smirk, before slamming into you even faster. You were trying so hard to be good for him, to do what he asked, and your pussy was betraying you as it started barreling towards your orgasm. Your face scrunched into a grimace as you tried, in vain, to control it, and you counted one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten excruciating seconds before he grabbed your chin and forced you to look up at him as he finally gave you permission.

"Cum on my dick--ughhh ffuck--Do it now. Cum for me," Anakin gritted out. As soon as he did, something inside you exploded, and you let out a howl as you finally came. Wave after wave hit you, and you went limp in his arms, like you were made of nothing but pleasure and loose limbs. Even though your eyes were squeezed shut, his face was all you could see in your mind, everything that mattered at that moment. Aftershocks made your head buzz, and he could feel you constrict around him.

"Shit, you're so good for me, baby," Anakin choked out between gasps, "So fucking perfect, fuck I'm--" And then you felt him twitch and jump inside you, thrusting in a couple of final times before he buried his face in the crook of your neck as he let out wild grunts of pleasure from his second orgasm of the day. Beneath him, you were boneless, thoroughly exhausted from everything the two of you had done that day.

After a few moments, you felt his strong arms lift you up to your feet, then help you over to the bed. You slowly started to catch your breath, splayed out on the soft sheets which smelled like a mix of clean, fresh laundry and him. You wanted to swim in it. Maybe if Anakin wasn't right there to see you do it and then make fun of you mercilessly after, you would have stuck your nose into the pillow.

You felt the springs of the shitty dorm mattress shift under you as Anakin joined you on the bed. You expected him to lay next to you, maybe spoon you if you were lucky. (If you were lucky? When did you start wanting that?)

Instead, you felt Anakin's fingers, still warm from your body, come to brush your thighs above the knee, tracing patterns. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you looked up at him, one eyebrow raised. When his hand reached the crook where your leg met your pussy, it was entirely clear what he wanted. Stirrings of arousal started inside you again when the tip of his finger barely ghosted over your clit.

"You're not done. I came twice, you're gonna cum twice," Anakin said as he sank his finger inside you. You let out a high, keening moan, which turned more desperate when he lowered his hot, wet mouth onto your clit. He was merciless, driven, precise, repeatedly licking circles into your skin as he watched you squirm above him. Anakin was a quick study, based on his success in classes, but you didn't realize he was this quick of a study. Even based on just the first time he'd eaten you out, he was near-perfectly doing exactly what he knew would get you close. Last time, he had been tender, exploratory, but today, he was going directly for what he wanted. You were still sensitive from the way he'd slammed into you, and the finger inside you was stroking your walls gently, just to remind you it was there. Despite how tired your pussy was from everything he'd done to you, his pointed tongue directly where you needed it, sucking you and covering you in his spit, was enough to restart the tension in your stomach and light it on fire.

Your hand fumbled on the sheets, looking for him, his head, his hair, his shoulder, his anything, and instead his hand came to meet yours. You interlocked fingers, and you caught his eyes looking up at you tentatively. As if you'd pull away at any second. But you wouldn't, not by a long shot.

"Fuck, Anakin, I'm close," you moaned out, even though you were fairly certain he could tell, based on the little breath he huffed out when he felt your thighs clench. The idea that he knew you that well was enough to push you over the edge, gentle waves lapping at your core and spreading through your body. It was softer, weaker than the one before, but it was still enough to make your toes curl. The knuckles of your hand that was intertwined with his went white, and he gripped you back with equal intensity. Your moans floated through the room. You heard them as if they weren't even yours, just noises in your ears as you came on his tongue.

When your rhythmic clenches became softer, Anakin pulled his finger from you and came up to lay beside you. He squeezed the hand he was still holding to try and grab your attention when he saw you were still a bit dazed. Your eyes shot open and fixed on him. He was holding a water bottle, and helped you sit up so that you wouldn't spill.

"Drink some, baby," Anakin said, bringing the bottle to your lips as you took a couple tentative swallows. Sometime around the third mouthful of cool water slipping down your throat, you realized that he'd called you baby again, and that you hadn't flagged it as weird.

He pulled the water bottle away and took a couple of gulps. It was an oddly intimate gesture, drinking from the same water bottle, but it felt right. It felt natural. The way his Adam's apple bobbed would have made you feel something if you weren't so thoroughly spent, but you could at least ogle him a bit and save the image for later. A bit of water dribbled out of his mouth, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand.

"Wanna watch some TV or Netflix or something? Once we clean up, I mean. It's kinda early for bed," Anakin said. You nodded, and slowly dragged yourself out of the bed to the bathroom, which Anakin shared with his neighbor. You locked the doors and started cleaning up the wetness along the insides of your thighs.

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When Anakin exited the bathroom a couple of minutes later, he was still naked, and quite annoyed he had forgotten to bring a pair of underwear or pants or anything. Instead, he was pacing in his bathroom trying to figure out if whatever the two of you were was the kind of relationship where he could walk around flaccid without it being weird. Or would it be weirder if he wrapped a towel around himself? That would definitely be weirder, because he still smelled like sex, and he was going to shower tomorrow morning, anyway. He was too tired tonight.

After a few minutes, he decided to just leave, and if you got weirded out by him being soft, so be it. He couldn't imagine you would, but the delicacy of it all had him second-guessing everything. How far was too far? Would you push away a suggestion to wear his shirt to sleep tonight? What if he held your hand again?

He got his answer when he opened the door and found you wearing one of his old CU hoodies and pulling on a pair of his boxers. The grey hoodie was stretched out and soft, and it was too long on your frame, so it ended more around your upper thigh than your hips. His boxers looked a bit silly, but comfortable on you, and he felt a flare of possessiveness in his stomach. God, you looked like you were his. But that wasn't what this was, right? When he looked at you, he wasn't sure. He'd give anything for you to be his right now.

"Sorry, I didn't ask. Is this okay?" Your innocent eyes looked up at him, like you didn't know what you were doing to him. Yes, it's fucking perfect, and I kind of want to rail you again, but I think I'd pass out, he thought.

"Yeah, um, it's great," he said, trying to hide how pleased he was. He did not succeed, but he caught you hiding a smile.

The two of you settled into the bed, covered by one of his blankets. He grew up in a warm climate, he explained, and duvets were just so stuffy, so he used a pile of blankets and sheets instead. His laptop sat on your laps, balanced between one of his thighs and your leg.

"Have you ever watched Pride and Prejudice?" You asked.

"Uh, I think I watched the start of it once." He had, sometime at friend's house when it was playing on the TV. They didn't have cable when he was a kid, so he got most of his pop culture knowledge acquired before the age of thirteen from snippets at other people's houses and doctor's offices, before someone changed the channel.

You nodded and pulled it up on his laptop, slotting yourself just perfectly under his arm and on his chest. He was almost too distracted to look at the screen, and instead kept finding his eyes drifting back to the way your soft lips mouthed some of the lines. Every time he saw you, it made him smile like a maniac, and his cheeks were hurting by the time he noticed you were asleep. Darcy's first proposal rolled around, and you were gone to the world, so he gently closed the laptop and pulled the blanket up around your shoulders.

As Anakin drifted off, he thought about peace. The kind of stillness that you inspired in him when you were together, the focus you brought. And sure, he teased you, but you made him better. He was the best version of himself around you, and he wanted to spend every second of every day by your side. He slipped into a deeply restful sleep, but, before it took over, he asked himself if he'd ever felt this way about anyone before, and concluded that the answer was no.

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"Hey, Anakin?" You asked him the next morning, when you were throwing on a loose t-shirt of his and some old joggers.

"Yeah, what's up?" He tossed a jacket over his sweater. You were a bit nervous to bring it up, but the harshness of the morning light had made you think more about what you should have been doing last night than you would have liked.

"I was thinking, um, I'm worried about that thermo final, and I ended up not finishing what I wanted to last night, so, would you mind if we kinda sorta did less stuff for a tiny bit? Not that I don't enjoy it, I'm just worried about my grades," you explained. Anakin nodded.

"Yeah, of course. Why don't we say that we'll keep it PG until the thesis deadline on Monday?" His suggestion was great timing, actually, because you weren't sure you'd be clear-minded or awake enough for the next week to be able to have good sex anyway.

You agreed. And it was easier than you expected, too. Anakin was never too far away, which soothed the ache if you ever really felt like you needed to fuck him. Now that TKD practice was finished for the semester, given that you were in the week before finals, all his time was dedicated to classes and his thesis, both of which involved you. You left your dorm together, worked on your projects together, and walked home together.

Sometimes, you'd catch glances filled with something across the lab, and you didn't realize that you were shooting them at him too. When you were alone, which was typically after 11, you allowed yourself a hand on his shoulder, or a brush of his back. Just enough to remind you that he was still there, still real. Then you'd go back to your wiring, and everything else faded away.

You touched yourself in your bed nearly every night, thinking about him. One night, when you were particularly shameless, you pulled up his Instagram and looked at his photos as you got yourself off. It had only been three days since he last fucked you, but you were insatiable.

On Thursday, when you woke up, you got a text from him.

Anakin: hey, was thinking about typing my report n studying for thermo today in the library. wanna join?

You texted him back that, yes, you would, and that you could meet there after breakfast. On the way, you stopped by the campus bubble tea place for some much-needed caffeine to top up the supply of Celsius in your bag, and then entered the library. It was a grand space, all old-money style marble and granite. It made you feel like you were getting ready to go to some swanky gala, covered in Swarovski with a champagne flute in your hand.

Through the check-in desk, you found your way to the elevators, which took you to a distinctly less old-timey space. Anakin told you to get to level B3, which you did, and you found it to be quite cool for a subterranean lair. It had mesh rolling chairs, oak tables, and a little overlook of B4, which appeared to be a massive computer lab with rows of desktops set up. Only five were in use, which made the space pleasantly quiet. Anakin had saved you a seat at a table overlooking the students below. It was already covered in hand-sketched schematics for his thesis, and some crumpled slips of paper that were probably thoughts he'd had on the go and written down before he'd forgotten.

When he spotted you, he grinned and waved you over, and you told yourself the warm feeling in your gut was from him being such a good friend. He asked what you were drinking, then admitted that he didn't get the hype around boba. He'd had it once, at a freshman year event, and thought it was too expensive.

You spent the rest of the day trapped inside the library, only coming up for air to pick up a to-go box from the dining hall. He took about seven trips to the vending machine, four of which were to get Skittles, which he inhaled by the bag. He admitted, when prodded, that he maybe had a sweet tooth. The other three vending machine trips were for Red Bull, which he was using to get through the week, he explained. Around 3am, he forced you out of the building, and walked you home. Thankfully, the library was only three minutes from your building, but the city was not particularly safe at night, so the buddy system came in handy.

When you reached the elevators of your building, past the completely empty entrance, he hesitated before pushing the call button.

"I was wondering if you'd like to come up?" He asked the question while staring at the elevator door, and you hardly realized it was directed at you.

"Anakin, I thought we said we wouldn't--"

"No, I mean, just to sleep," he interrupted. The silence hung in the air between you, cut by the ding of his elevator arriving. "Sorry, that was weird of me. Good night," he said as he stepped inside. It seemed to surprise him when you followed him, but it wasn't like you'd say no, ever. You wore his hoodie to sleep again. You'd wanted nothing more than to feel his weight next to you all week, and it was a relief you didn't know you needed.

On Friday, once you'd gone to your room to change and grab some stuff, you met at the library again. This time, he texted you "i have a surprise for u." He was holding two bobas, one replica of your order, and one for him. He got the sugar wrong (it was too sweet), but it was the taro milk tea with a double serving of tapioca pearls. He'd gotten himself a mango green tea with jellies, so sweet that, when you tried it, you needed water to make your throat feel normal again. He laughed heartily when he saw your reaction, and pronounced your drink "too milky," but you saw him go for sips when you weren't looking.

(It was something he wouldn't have spent money on if it was just for him, but treating you was a treat for him, he told himself. His mom told him to take care of himself, and making you smile was the best feeling he could imagine, so it was technically self-care to buy this, right? And he could just work another hour in the Jinn lab this week to make up for it.)

Sometime around midnight on Friday, in the silence of the library, you felt his pinky graze yours. Sparks shot across your hand, just from that simple touch. When you looked up at him from your thermo textbook, you found him staring intently at you, mouthing is this okay? You nodded. It was. It was so okay.

You didn't know when, but, the next time you looked up, your fingers were laced with his, and he was grinning like a maniac as he looked down at some equations about air pressure.

You slept in his arms again that night, but in your bed this time. He would have to do the walk of shame this time, fair was fair.

On Saturday, after Anakin had slipped out to avoid questions from Ahsoka, you joined him at the lab for an hour, just to get photos of your project, then you both scurried over to the library for a couple more hours of writing. You were already at 56 pages, which you felt proud of, but then you saw Anakin hit 70, and you typed faster.

When he outpaced you and hit 80 before you hit 65, you grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the stacks at the back of B3, then kissed him silly. That will slow him down, you thought to yourself. It also slowed you down, but you didn't really find yourself caring much when you found him blushing for an hour afterward.

You slept in his bed that night, but a more appropriate description would have been that you both collapsed around 5 am.

On Sunday, you were both completely focused in the library, and consumed more caffeine than food. Anakin insisted he get you lunch, which he did, but he only ate bits of his. Dinner rolled around, and he got it for you again. You were finally finishing your first draft, and so was he, so you read each others'. His was, unsurprisingly, brilliant. His results section was a little sparse, but he was still in the prototyping phase, so that was fine, but you added a few comments anyway and caught a few missing verbs and weird sentence structures. When he returned your draft in half an hour, you found he had passed through it carefully, marking "justify more" and "good argument, put it in the intro too" and "why not use a different material for the shell?" all over the document. He was good at editing too, apparently. You hated to admit it, but his comments made your paper better. You just hoped you'd returned the favor.

The two of you passed out in your bed at 7 this time, only for an hour, before getting some food and writing furiously in the dining hall. The deadline was in four hours, and you were so, so close. Ahsoka joined you around 9, just to eat, but then went back to your room to study an hour later. The clock was ticking down, and you were bouncing off the walls. You still had to generate two graphs, and add all your citations.

You were practically vibrating in your chair when Anakin's hand found your knee under the table.

"It's okay. It's already good, don't get in your head about it," he assured you, just for a moment, before turning back to his own laptop and frantically adding some images of existing microsurgical tools.

At 11:59am, you both hit the submit button, then, without words, looked at one another and instantly went back to his apartment.

You didn't even take off your sweater before collapsing onto his bed. His warm body wrapped around you, and you had the best sleep you'd had all semester. You woke up at 9pm, but then promptly went back to sleep. You had a debt to catch up on.

The next morning, you dropped by the lab again. Just to get everything squared away from your submission, and to grab some basic parts so you could work over finals next week and maybe even over winter break the week after, if you found the motivation.

The only other person in the lab was Barriss, who greeted you warmly. You'd missed her sass and chipped black nail polish. She was a breath of fresh air among all the other dudebros who you had to deal with. Plus, she actually cared. She asked you questions about how your finals went, if you thought the thermo final was actually the tenth circle of hell too, and filled you in on her dating life. She had been seeing this girl, but it wasn't working out, so she was going to end it in a few days. You were dreading where the conversation would inevitably go, and you were getting ready to tell her that, no, you weren't seeing anyone, but she had another question. A much more direct question.

"Are you… with Anakin? I've seen you two together a lot lately." Barriss asked, her deep green eyes unreadable. Your blood went cold. Were you too obvious? Did Barriss see or hear you two fucking in the bathroom downstairs that one time you'd done anything in the building? You had to say something, quickly, or else you were scared she would get suspicious.

"Um, no? We're friends, nothing more," you said, intently staring at some imperfection in a section of the plastic. You grabbed some sandpaper, just to have something to do. Did she know about the two of you?

"Friends? I thought you hated him?" Her question was joking, lighthearted, and the tension eased from your shoulders. She was just being perceptive. You were spending a lot of time together, someone was bound to realize you weren't quite so anti-Anakin anymore. If you hadn't been so relieved, you would have noticed the edge underlying her tone.

"Well, I used to. But he's actually kind of a good person, turns out," you commented, shrugging as you worked a little too hard on the divot under your fingers.

A derisive snort flew from Barriss.

"What?" You suddenly couldn't give less of a damn about the plastic or the sandpaper. All you could look at was Barriss, who was tightening a nut on the body of her bike with a wrench like nothing was wrong.

"Just that you think he's good. It's kind of funny, actually," Barriss said as she shrugged nonchalantly. What the fuck did she mean? Anakin was a good person, a great person even, someone who you'd really like to spend more time with. What did she see that you didn't? Was it still that bot thing from sophomore year?

"What do you mean?" The question came out more tentative than joking, and you cursed your lack of subtlety. But it didn't matter how you asked it, not in the slightest, because what she would say would throw any facade of yours out of the window.

"Anakin Skywalker is a thief."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

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[bad268]

Hi I was wondering if you're comfortable with writing one for Andrea kimi antonelli with a chronically ill reader? (I have pots so preferably something similar or about that) but just a kinda fluff/comfort where the reader is having a bad flare up day? Only if you're comfortable but tysm if u do write it I love your writing! (I'm also a writer)

- em

At Least 75% (Andrea Kimi Antonelli X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/F2/F3

Requested: Clearly (I FEEL LIKE HE'D BE SO SOFT FOR YOU) (Also, thank you so much Em <3 Send me some of your stuff if you're comfortable with that, I'd love to read your stories <3)

Warnings:  Chronically ill reader (not explicitly stated what illness)

POV: Second Person (You/your)

W.C. 1181

Summary: Flare-ups and hot tracks are not fun.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

Maybe he would understand if you missed one day. Just one day this weekend was all you needed. You woke up this morning and felt like hell. Your mind was foggy and you felt like throwing up. Honestly, you really did not feel up to walking around period, let alone walking around a crowded paddock in the heat. Still, you knew that you wanted to support Kimi this weekend, and you would do everything in your power to do so even if it meant you would suffer for the day.

You looked to the other side of the bed, seeing Kimi’s side empty. He had an important meeting with Mercedes this morning and told you he would meet you in the Prema garage whenever you got to the track. Groaning, you moved to sit up in bed, almost immediately stopping to lay back down as you were hit with a dizzy spell.

You waited a few extra minutes, taking some deep breaths to slow your rapid heartbeat. When you finally felt it slow to a normal rate, you gradually sat up on the bed. You waited again before swinging your legs over the side and standing up slowly, holding for a minute as you regained your balance. It did not take as long as it normally did, so you decided that was a sign to go about the day as normal.

Well, that was a mistake.

It did not take long after getting to the track for you to feel the wrath of your body. The heat was unforgiving, your head was pounding, your heart was starting to race, and you just wanted to hide away in Kimi’s arms. Thankfully, you were able to hitch a ride from a passing golf cart, but the closest they could get you was the start of the pitlane. Unfortunately for you, the Prema garage was in the middle.

You groaned to yourself, not wanting to walk that far, so you took a seat on a nearby stack of tyres. You pulled out your phone, and just as you were about to text Kimi, he showed up, standing in front of you.

“I was just about to text you,” You chuckled as you weakly wrapped your arms around his waist and leaned against his chest.

“I had a feeling,” he chuckled, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as his hand held your head to his chest. “How are you feeling? Is the heat too much? Please be honest.”

“I don’t think I can walk to the garage, mio vita (my life),” You sighed in defeat as your shoulders sagged, but Kimi held you tighter to his chest when he felt you sink. “It’s been a bad day, and it’s only just started.”

“Why didn’t you stay in the hotel?” Kimi consoled as he rubbed up and down your back to calm you down. “Your health will always come first.” 

“I wanted to support you,” You wined, pulling back a little to look up at him, resting your chin against his chest. “It’s a big weekend for you, and you know I’d never miss qualifying.”

“You’re going to be the death of me,” He mumbled as he left a few kisses around your face. You began laughing, but you cut yourself short when a wave of nausea hit you. You hid your face in his chest once again as you breathed in his scent. Even he could feel your heart rate rising from just sitting there, and it did not help that SkySports had spotted you. They looked like they were going to make their way over, so Kimi tried to pull away slowly, He turned around and gestured for you to hold around his neck. “Hold on. I’ll carry you to the garage, and we can lay down before quali.”

“Can we get food or smoothies first? I haven't eaten all day and I know I probably should,” You whispered into his ear as you laid your head on his shoulder, and he held your legs tightly around his waist.

“I’ll go get you a smoothie after I drop you off in the garage,” Kimi compromised with a small smile as he started down the pitlane. “Look at you remembering to eat! I’m proud.”

“I knew you would like that,” You chuckled to yourself. You almost fell asleep, but you reached the Prema garage before you could. Kimi carried you into the back room where the driver’s room was set up and set you down on the massage table. Kimi pulled off his Mercedes jacket and laid it over your legs before leaning down to leave a kiss on your forehead. As he pulled away, you reached out to grab his hand before he could get too far. “You leaving to get food now?”

“Yeah, I’ll be back in a few,” He sighed with a loving smile as he leaned down to be at eye level with you. He lifted your entwined hands to leave a kiss on your knuckles. “Your usual?”

“You’re too good to me,” You replied dreamily as you closed your eyes again. “What would I do without you?”

“Starve.”

~

After qualifying (front row!!) and after the debrief, you and Kimi were free to head back to the hotel for the night. Despite wanting to suck it up and celebrate Kimi’s pole position, he knew you better than that. He knew as soon as he saw you sway in the garage after he pulled the car in that he was not letting you lift a finger that night. And true to his internal promise, he did not let you even walk.

“You know, it’s not that hot. I’m okay to walk,” You chuckled as he swept you into his arms and carried you through the paddock. Interviewers and fans that remained got a few pictures that you would be seeing later, but the gesture from Kimi made you happy nonetheless. “Are we going to dinner with the team?”

“Nope,” He quipped back as he popped the ‘p’ as he walked out of the gate and toward the car that Rene was pulling forward since they carpooled. “We are going back to the hotel, ordering room service, watching whatever you want to watch, and relaxing. I need your health at least at 75 percent tomorrow. I know your 100 percent is hard to come by, so I’ll settle for 75.”

You could not stop yourself from laughing. Even after hearing this joke many times, it never failed to put a smile on your face. “Can we make a fort?”

“By we, you mean me?” He joked, looking down at you just as Rene pulled up. Kimi helped you stand on your feet momentarily, so he could open the door. Then, he helped you sit down. Even going as far as to buckle your seatbelt for you. Once he clicked it in, he moved his head, so he could leave a small kiss on your lips. He pulled away slightly before whispering, “If you want a blanket fort, I will happily make you one.”

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[helen-with-an-a]

Any amor and alexia hcs on your mind lately??

Fear not Anon I have many ideas - they will be coming out as a separate post/s but here are some more

Beautiful Girl Masterlist

Amor gets UTIs on the reg (about 2-3 a year) - she’s not too sure what the cause is but she’s fairly sure it’s cos she doesn’t drink enough water/she doesn’t clear it up fully the first time

Ale likes to leave little notes around the house for Amor to find (they’re usually in drawers/cupboards that only she will open - Pina found one once and would not shut up about it for a good few weeks)

I mentioned that Ale and Amor have self care nights once a month - this involves showering together, doing hair masks, face masks, waxing eyebrows and legs, painting nails etc - the full works it’s very sacred to them and nothing will get in the way of it (they have been known to cancel team bonding that they were hosting because it fell on their self-care night)

Ale wanted Amor to move in about 6 months into dating - Amor held off until the 8 month mark then decided they should get a new place together rather than one moving in with the other (partly logistical - their places just weren’t big enough - but also she wanted something that was theirs not used-to-be-one-now-it’s-both)

Ale still gets so nervous and shy around Amor it’s untrue - this woman has seen Amor in every state, has said the dirty/sexual things to her, has been there for Amor in every way yet will still get blushy over Amor’s compliments (and there are so many compliments)

Amor tried to mainly complement Ale on anything other than football - Alexia knows she’s good at football (amor still makes her know how good she is etc) but it’s usually how proud Amor is of Alexia rather than the skills themselves - equally Amor loves to compliment things that the general public tends not to see (ie Ale’s cooking or Ale’s proper smile or the way Ale acts when no one else is around)

Amor and Alba go for brunches whenever they can (Ale is convinced they talk about her but they’ve intentionally made Brunch as Ale-free space - Ale is La Reina and is the face of Barça, it can be a lot sometimes so they dedicate their time to anything other than Alexia)

Ale had some serious self doubt issues, especially with her injury flare up - it was so bad she went into sub space for almost 2 days (Amor recognised it immediately and ended up calling them out of training for the rest of the week - she said they had both picked up a bug [she told Mapí and Ingrid an almost-truth - that Ale wasn’t doing well mentally and really wouldn’t be able to cope with training or a match])

Ale is terrified of spiders

[dadbodbuck]

does the swallow dream of flying?

Rating: G | WC: 1.6k | Pairing: Buck/Tommy

Summary:

Tommy calls Eddie after he breaks up with Buck. Eddie has some choice words for him. Coda for 8x06.

{ Read it here on Ao3! }

OR read below!

“Eddie,” Tommy says, voice hoarse on the other end of the line. He sounds—if not drunk, then so heartbroken it sounds like inebriation. “I wanted to—I’m calling to say goodbye.”

Eddie’s not quite sure if he means it the way he thinks he does, but his stomach almost falls out through the soles of his feet anyway. He sits bolt upright in bed, carefully extricating himself away from Buck, who’s doing his best impression of a endoparasite (“A parasite that lives on the skin of its host, Eddie, it’s really fascinating stuff—”) and somehow latched onto Eddie’s waist with an iron grip while also being dead asleep.

What little vestiges of sleep had been clinging to him fall completely away as he steps into his own hallway, quietly hissing, “Are you okay? Where are you?”

“I mean—at home?” Tommy says, confused, and okay, yeah, he’s definitely slurring his words a little, “Where else would I be?”

Eddie sighs and drags a hand over his face. “Are you going to be safe? Do I need to call someone?”

“No! No, it’s not like that,” Tommy assures him, “Sorry, I should have clarified. I’ll be okay. This is just… this is it. For us. Since Ev—since Buck and I broke up.”

“From what I heard, you’re the one who broke up with him,” Eddie huffs, “Or did I just spend the last three hours getting snot on my nice white shirt for a mutual thing?”

“This is what I mean!” Tommy insists, “He’s your best friend. I’m—I know I don’t rank that high. I just… fuck, I really enjoyed spending time with you these past six months. It’ll—it’ll always be,” a rough, shaky breath, “I’ll remember it fondly.”

Eddie feels a shocking flare of irritation, and it leads him out onto his back patio, so he knows he won’t wake Buck up. “What the fuck happened, man?”

“I had—I had to end it,” Tommy says, with a shake in his voice like a motorcycle’s death wobble, “It wasn’t going to last. If I didn’t pull the plug it would have broken me. I didn’t want to—I didn’t want it to get to the point where either one of us would get our hearts broken.”

“Really? Because from where I’m sitting, neither one of you sound especially put together right now,” Eddie positively seethes, “He’s fucking gutted, Kinard. He told me—” (“I didn’t know if I loved him this morning, and then he called me Buck and I felt sick. What—what else could it be?”) “—well, he told me a lot that, frankly, I don’t think you should hear from anyone but him. And you don’t even know what you did to him because you ran! You didn’t even try—”

“Please stop,” Tommy says, sounding smaller than Eddie has ever heard him, “It’s… it’s better this way.”

“Better for who?” Eddie snaps.

“For him!” Tommy insists, “For both of us, but especially for him. I’m not the forever guy. I’m not his forever guy, and I’m not yours, either. I just want… I want a clean break. I—I want—”

There’s a sniffle, a choked-off sob, and Tommy says, “I just want to be left alone. It would hurt less if people would just leave me the fuck alone.”

“That’s a shitty excuse, and you know it,” Eddie accuses, “Tommy, listen. I’m not saying this to make you feel bad, I’m saying this because—despite the fact that you’re apparently the biggest idiot I’ve ever met—I care about you. I care about you outside of your relationship to Buck. Or did you forget the fact that you were my friend before you were his boyfriend?”

“So, what,” Tommy says, irritation seeping into his voice, “You want to keep talking to me? I know how that goes. You’ll text me every once in a while, we won’t hang out if Buck’s going to be there, so you’ll lose interest and our fun trips and sparring sessions will be fewer and further between, and it’ll hurt. It’ll hurt worse than this. Why do you think I’m doing this, Eddie? I’m doing this because it’s the only way I can keep myself sane.

“You want to know why? You want to know why I broke up with him? Because I woke up the morning of our anniversary and realized I was falling in love with him. I haven’t been able to eat. I haven’t been able to sleep. I—I realized I would let him do anything to me, and that’s not something I ever want to feel again. So I couldn’t. There—there’s your fucking answer. I broke up with him because a little heartbreak is better than ever letting myself get hurt like that ever again.”

The words kind of prickle at some sense in the back of Eddie’s brain. The anger fades a little, and into something a lot more like concern. “Hurt like what, Tommy?”

“I don’t—I don’t know how to tell someone no once they’re in my life like that,” Tommy confesses through gritted teeth, “Maybe it’s my dad’s fault, maybe Don’t Ask Don’t Tell’s fault, maybe it’s just me. Every relationship I’ve ever been in has ended in me making the same mistake. I stayed too long, I let them—I let them believe I wanted to marry them, or I let them take out their anger on me, or I—I—other stuff. Evan—Buck doesn’t deserve that.”

“You’re right,” Eddie acquiesces, “He doesn’t. He deserves a partner who can communicate openly with him. Which you had been doing. You’re capable of being open, Tommy. You did it before.”

Tommy pauses on the other end of the line. “I—I don’t know what to do, Eddie.”

“Did you want to break up with him?” Eddie presses.

“No,” Tommy says, easy as breathing, “Of course not. I want him around for the rest of my life. But that’s… selfish.”

“And breaking up with him because you don’t want to talk through something difficult and scary is so altruistic,” Eddie counters, “You know, there’s this thing Buck says about love—you don’t find it, you make it. I think he heard it on a scene we were at years ago. From this old gay couple, been together for decades and decades.”

Tommy’s quiet on the other end, and then Eddie hears the hitch of his breath. Tommy is sobbing, silent and restrained, but so hard the exhalation of breath sounds nearly painful.

(“I’m starting to think the curse wasn’t just Billy Boils. Maybe it’s me—I mean, I move into Abby’s place, and she leaves me. I pick out an apartment with Ali, and she leaves me. Taylor moves in, and she leaves me. And now this? I can’t… Eddie, I can’t keep doing this. I’m—maybe I’m just the guy who’s good for a fun time, not a long time. I—what am I doing wrong?”

“Buck, you’re not doing anything wrong. I’m so sorry.”

“Do you think—do you think you could ever fall in love with me?”

“I think if I wasn’t this way, I already would have.”)

“I’m not going to tell you what to do, Tommy,” Eddie says, “But I really think you should talk to him. Tell him where your head’s at. Buck’s really good at—at understanding why you hurt him, and he’s even better at forgiving.”

“I—I—I can’t—”

“You can,” Eddie insists, “So pull yourself together, do some box breathing, get some sleep, and come over to my house tomorrow. I’ll make my hangover cure. I’ll lock the doors if I have to.”

Tommy’s quiet, which Eddie interprets as a fully-blown panic attack.

“If you don’t, I will call Athena Grant,” Eddie threatens, “You don’t want to know the things she’s willing to do for Buck. I’ve seen her break at least three laws with my own eyes.”

This, at least, gets a laugh out of Tommy. “Okay—Jesus, yeah. What time?”

“If you’re not over here by nine I’m sending the cavalry,” Eddie says primly, “And bring flowers. Nobody’s ever gotten Buck flowers before.”

Tommy takes a slow, shaky breath out. “Thanks, Eddie. You didn’t—you didn’t have to do all this for me.”

“Everyone always says Buck has a habit of worming his way into your heart, but nobody ever talks about me,” Eddie grins, “You’re stuck with me now, Kinard. Rain or shine. Even when you’re the stupidest motherfucker on the planet.”

“I’ll text you tomorrow when I’m on my way,” Tommy says, “I’ll—I should go eat some carbs and drink water now.”

“Take care of yourself, man,” Eddie says, “And don’t you ever call me to say goodbye again. Or break up with Buck like that. Also—call him Evan. It’s fucking weird to hear you call him Buck.”

“Okay,” Tommy acquiesces, quiet. “Damn. I was so worried about falling in love with Evan that I didn’t even realize I already loved you.”

“I’m sneaky like that,” Eddie says, “I’ll see you tomorrow—or else.”

(The next day, Tommy knocks on the door at nine sharp. He hasn’t changed out of his pajamas, his hair is a mess, he looks too gaunt and the bags under his eyes could fit a small country. But he’s holding a bouquet of wildflowers.

“I got this one because they’re the same color as your eyes,” Tommy says to Buck, who stands in the living room with his mouth ajar.

“What’s going on right now?” Buck says, eyes darting over to Eddie suspiciously.

“I’m going on a walk,” Eddie says, putting his sunglasses on his forehead and twisting at the hips to pop his back, “Don’t fuck on any of my furniture.”)

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Full hcs for the m6 with an MC that has chronic pain (I looked through the masterlists and didn't find anything, but it's totally possible that I missed something O///O)

The Arcana HCs: MC with chronic pain

Julian

He devotes his full care and attention to every person in need of a doctor he meets and you are about to get 200% of that

Will do a full examination as soon as you're able to talk to him about it. Give him your medical history, past diagnoses, personal opinions, potential causes, and any other detail you have

Listens to every word, writing them all down so intensely that his handwriting is even less legible than usual

In the moment, there's not much he can do beyond suggesting a few alternate ways of handling it and covering you with kisses and careful, all-encompassing sympathetic hugs

In the long run, chronic pain starts to rival (if not surpass) hematology as his field of study and expertise. Pain management does get easier over time as he learns and applies more

It has also changed how he speaks about pain

The earliest example of which was when he told you that he was "intimately acquainted" with it and you misinterpreted that as him saying that he suffers from it too - you still tease him for that

Your biggest medical advocate & never loses sympathy for you

Asra

They didn't really know how much you suffered from it until your first weeks back, and then they watched as you had to relearn how to live with it. To call it nightmarish would be an understatement

So, so, so many pain easing spells and potions. His collection was already impressive for Nadia's migraines but now it's tripled

Curious to the point of almost seeming insensitive about the sensations you experience. They did, with your permission, try linking to you enough to take them on once

He didn't like it. He can handle physical discomfort well enough but he hates it with a passion and this was a horrible realization

Thoughtful and protective of your right to comfort and access to accommodation, to the point that you sometimes have to remind them that you really can handle it

Asks you every morning and through the day how your pain levels are and will adjust accordingly. Bad pain day? Leave the shop to him, here are some meds, he'll bring you breakfast in a bit

Has been known to use pain transfer spells on rude customers during your flareups - it's two birds with one stone!

Nadia

Had a hunch that it was something you experienced from the moment she met you, if only because she was dealing with constant migraines at the time and recognized the pain

Does her best to hide it from you because she doesn't want to make your pain about herself, but gets frustrated beyond measure about it. She's a fixer, and this is something she can't just fix

She does everything she can for you, of course - opening the Palace doors to anyone with knowledge on the subject, stocking up and giving you access to all of her pain management methods

But it still gnaws at her when she knows you're having a bad pain day and the most she can do is encourage you to rest and have your meals sent to you and try to get extra time to spend with you

Even more proud of you than you can tell (which is very proud). Living in pain the way you do is no easy thing and that pain being largely "invisible" only adds to what you must be going through

Very respectful of your needs. It doesn't matter if she doesn't understand why you need something right away, if you need it, you need it

Muriel

It's not something he'll confess to until you're close enough and he's comfortable admitting it, but he has his own chronic pain from his Coliseum injuries. It's not constant, but it flares up regularly

A poorly healed fracture in his wrist. Some mangled nerve endings from blunt force trauma to his ribs. A wrenched knee that never fully healed and keeps coming back like a sprain

There's another layer to the days he spends hiding in bed, lifting nothing heavier than his tiny carving tools

He never really got much medical attention when the injuries were fresh and he certainly hasn't gotten any for the pain since, but he'll share all the knowledge on natural medicine he has

And nobody knows how physical pain can get into your head like he does. He doesn't always know what to say, but he is dedicated to listening when you're struggling and helping where he can

A little slower at accepting support for his own pain (it's months, if not years, before he's comfortable with being seen for it by a doctor) but he's with you every step of the way. You're not alone

Portia

Portia is excruciatingly empathetic to you and this is not something easy for her to understand or relate to

Pain? Physical pain?? Which you can't control, or point to an obvious/visible/curable source for??? How do you not act like you're in constant pain? How have you not found a cure?

(To say that she cringes when she remembers peppering you with these questions is an understatement. What matters is that she learned and she never doubted you for a second)

She still has difficulty fully comprehending what you're going through, but once she's dragged you to her brother and gotten some action items to follow up with, supporting you gets easier

Checks in with you several times a day on schedule and keeps a list of useful questions to ask so she can understand your pain levels

Always has at least two pain meds on hand in case of a spike or flare up and will scour the markets for any ingredients that she hears will help with pain/nerve damage/inflammation

Will bring Pepi to loaf and purr on you for hours when you need to stay in bed for the day and leaves treats on the bedside table

Lucio

He relates to this more than he wants to, but his own experience is so all over the place he doesn't know how to talk about it

Sure, he had chronic pain when he was a count, it's hard to have an emergency amputation done by an inexperienced student and then a decently weighty metal prosthetic for 20 years without it

But back then he had plenty of doctors and the kinds of resources to make managing it almost easy, not to mention the parties and pleasures he indulged in constantly to distract from it

And then for three years he felt nothing - nothing at all

At this point, he'd choose the pain over the ghost form any day, but that doesn't make it easy. Hearing you talk about your pain openly helps him realize it's possible to live with, even though it's difficult

So that's what he does. He'll live with his pain, and you'll live with your pain, and you'll both wake up to it with each other for company. He can do this

He'll still go as far as threatening any medical experts he finds with their demise if they refuse to see either of you and you're not there to stop him, though

[and-so-he-rambled]

The Call

Gotham Rogue Vlad Masters (chapter 0)

Masterlist | Chapter 1

The call came at exactly 7:56 on a Tuesday night. He had been cooking an Italian dish, a tape of Packers highlights playing on the television as he puttered around the kitchen. It was large and empty, decorated to the bare minimum. He’d only just moved in recently to the castle and he hadn’t had time to settle in fully yet. He liked the lack of stuff though, the empty space that was his alone to fill. It smelled dusty and ancient in a way the hospital never did, full of history and echoes of the past.

The shrill ring of the landline startled him, the pan he was holding clattering onto the burner as the handle phased through his hand. He cursed as he turned down the heat and walked briskly towards the phone to see what idiot he had to deal with. Even almost ten years after the accident he still had mishaps, small losses of control that bothered him to no end.

He picked up the phone, slipping into a mask of polite indifference as he prepared for what drivel an investor or cold caller would dump on him.

“Is this Vlad Masters?” The woman on the other end asked.

“Speaking.” He boredly watched flames roll over his knuckles, winding it through his fingers.

“You were an associate of Jack and Madeline Fenton, correct?” The flame flared out of control before dying with a hiss, the plastic of the phone creaking in his hand as he tried to not crush it to dust. Even after escaping their shadows he wasn’t free, haunted by scars and an obsession he couldn’t control.

“Yes.” He bit out, wondering what trouble they would cause in his life now. He had forgiven Maddie in the first few years, she’d realized the error, it was Jack that had stolen his humanity, killed him where he stood and scarred his face.

“I regret to inform you that earlier this week Jack and Maddie Fenton were caught up in a lab accident in their basement and did not survive. According to their wills-“ She kept talking, but it faded out into static. Something in Vlad’s chest pulsed, something deep inside cracking until it shattered with a shockwave that traveled down his arms and legs. He wheezed in pain, bracing himself against the wall as his legs shook and threatened to go out from beneath him.

Pain, that was the only way he could describe it. Pain and grief and loss. Maddie, his dear beloved Maddie, and Jack, a bafoon he had once considered his closest friend and had swore to one day take revenge on. They were gone, dead. Did they have ghosts? Should he go looking? Did he want to?

“Sir?” The staticky voice crackled loudly in his ear. “Did you hear me?”

He forced himself to rein in his powers even as he slid to the floor, cradling the phone to his ear.

“Bad connection.” He grit out as his lungs seized and his heart beat sluggishly before finally giving up and stopping. “What was that?”

“We need to talk regarding the children, Daniel and Jasmine Fenton. They’re currently still in the hospital undergoing treatment, but you’re now their legal guardian. Could you make the trip down to Amity so we can discuss in person?”

He responded on autopilot, making a plan to make the trip down to Amity.

He’d known the Fentons had children. Jack had called him the night Jazz was born, and while he’d ignored every single call since the accident he still listened to each voicemail. It often fueled the hate in his chest, but other times he just liked to close his eyes and pretend they were back in the lab, working on projects no one believed in.

Jack had excitedly told him about his baby Jazz, how she had red hair like her mother and was six pounds, four ounces. He could hear her crying in the background and Maddie’s dulcet voice cooing to her. It sang of other lives he’d never get to live, a life where he’d been a father instead of Jack, or where he’d stayed human and been there for the birth. Jack expressed that he wanted Vlad to meet her.

He taped it onto a cassette to listen to in moments of weakness, but he never reached out. He couldn’t face the product of their love.

He instead threw himself into building a company, relying on petty thievery and lies to build his throne. He tried so hard to make it his obsession, but his core still called out for Maddie, for revenge.

He hadn’t realized a son had been born until he had fed his obsession by viewing the Fentons gaudy website and had seen the portrait of a toddler with Jacks features. Daniel Fenton. Had Jack not called him about this birth? Did he care?

(He did and it drove him insane.)

He resolved to not think about their children, about what would never be his. He cheated and lied and stole, and he definitely didn’t comb through his answering machine until he heard Jack’s grating voice excitedly telling him about his newborn son. Four pounds and eight ounces, stayed in the NICU briefly. “He’s got that Fenton spirit!” Jack loudly proclaimed, Maddie shushing him as he apparently woke the baby. A young Jazz was asking questions loudly in the background, the toddler stumbling over her words. “But not the ghost kind of spirit!” Jack added on just as loudly. “No, that wouldn’t do at all!”

He taped it and put it with the other tapes of shame, knowing it would become background noise to his lowest moments ahead.

He spent the night of the call replaying the tapes over and over, still in unbelievable pain even worse than his death. He cried despite having tried so hard to train himself out of human weaknesses, mourning his love and the past. Did he care that he’d never get his revenge on Jack? Did he miss him anyway? Curse human emotion! Curse death!

The flight to Amity was one spent in a haze, reliving memories like a movie he couldn’t stop. He was a prisoner in his own mind, forced to relive each detail of the past. He caught himself slipping several times, forcing himself to remember how to breathe and force his heart to beat. His grip on his humanity had grown weaker in the wake of his obsession break.

He leaned heavily on his cane as he made his way through the quaint town of amity, the place where Jack and Maddie had chosen to settle down.

Legal talks were boring, laying out what he already had pieces together even if it didn’t make sense. He stared at the will in front of him, reading the statement over and over that he, Vlad Masters, would be entrusted with Danny and Jaz in the event of the parents death.

They brought him to the hospital after that, leading him up to a room and stepping aside.

He opened the door slowly, bracing himself as he met two pairs of eyes.

Jasmine looked just like her mother, a sharp jab of pain shooting though his cracked core. She had the same fiery orange hair, but she had Jack’s piercing blue eyes. She regarded him with open distrust, bag held tightly to her chest.

His eyes shifted over the the boy on the bed, hooked up to machines. Static rippled across the displays as Vlad fought to control his aura as the sight. Daniel was small for his age, tiny against the bed with deathly pale skin and stark black hair. He had the same piercing eyes, but his were round with curiosity.

A case worker stood from her seat in the corner to greet him, but Jazz cut her off.

“So you’re Uncle Vlad?” She sounded unimpressed, eyes narrowed.

“I- Yes, I suppose I am.” Vlad stuttered, entirely caught off guard. He was completely unprepared for this situation, but he was also sure that no amount of preparation would have been enough.

“You’re gonna take us away?” Daniel’s squeaky young voice drew his attention back to the boy. “Now that mom and dad are dead?”

Jazz flinched, pain rolling off her in waves as she kicked the base of the hospital bed.

“Sorry.” The boy apologized, but his eyes were on Vlad still, waiting for an answer.

“Uh, yes. I’ll be taking you two to Wisconsin with me.” It was the first time he’d said it out loud, or really made the decision at all. He hadn’t made up his mind before coming, but he knew the only choice the second his eyes landed on the two children. His core called out for them, needed them safe. They were Jack and Maddie’s, their greatest inventions, he couldn’t spend the rest of his life worrying about them and not knowing if they were safe.

He was wholly unprepared for fatherhood, but he’d always dreamed of meeting Maddie’s children, of caring for them. This was a situation he never could have predicted, but life was unpredictable like that.

The Fenton house was in shambles, both kids left with a garbage bag each of their belongings.

They stayed in the hospital another night as Vlad bought them each suitcases and arranged travel and ironed out legal matters. There was a lot less involved that he thought with taking over custody of two children. His hearing even picked up the case worker lamenting to another about how lucky those children were to have a well off uncle that their parents trusted to take them in.

He picked them up as Daniel was discharged, the doctors still baffled by his recovery from complete organ failure but not questioning whatever higher power they believed responsible. Jazz held her brothers hand as they walked towards Vlad and the open door of the rented car, a worker placing their suitcases in the trunk.

“Jazz dear, you forgot your bear!” One of the nurses ran out holding a brown teddy bear with a white mustache and crazy hair.

“I don’t need it!” Jazz snapped, helping her brother into his car seat. “Those are for babies and I’m not a baby!” She slammed the car door hard in the nurse’s face.

“I’ll take it.” Vlad carefully took the well loved bear. They had warned him that Jazz was trying to shoulder all the responsibility for Daniel and be strong. They’d heavily pushed the idea of putting both children into therapy as soon as possible, which he would take them up on. While he’d never sought therapy for himself, seeing it as a sign of weakness, these children needed any stability he could give them. His parents had died when he was a teenager and he had been a proper mess, these were literal children.

Daniel’s spirit was still bright despite the tragedy, asking questions the whole trip through the airport and staring in amazement out the window of the plane as they settled in first class. Jazz was silent, on edge and watching for danger. She squeaked in alarm as food was placed in front of her mid trip, both children reeling back in their seats and staring at the meat as if it would attack them.

He had the stewardess bring them the vegetarian meals instead, which they hesitantly picked at.

They landed in Wisconsin as the sun was setting, both clearly exhausted children stumbling through the airport as he herded them towards baggage claim.

Vlad stopped walking as Daniel began to tug furiously at his pants. The boy stared at him before throwing his hands up and waving the insistently.

“He wants you to pick him up.” Jazz folded her arms in annoyance, clearly bothered by the action.

“Oh.” Vlad stared at the child, hesitantly placing his hands under his armpits and picking him up, holding him out at arms length.

“You’re not doing it right! Arm around his back, there, put him on your hip.” Jazz coached him until he had Daniel on his hip, legs around his waist and arms wrapped around his chest as he snugged in. Vlad had an arm around his back to hold him and a steadying hand on his leg.

“Good.” Jazz nodded her head, picking her bag back up and marching towards the baggage claim.

“Would either of you like a snack from the kiosk?” He was pretty sure children were supposed to snack frequently. Daniel was dozing on his chest and didn’t respond, but Jazz marched into the small store and began browsing through the shelves of overpriced goods. She picked out two bags of peanuts and a bag of veggie straws, bringing them to the register. Vlad paid for them, weakly returning the cashiers customer service smile and following Jazz as she left.

“Do you know where you’re going?”

“I can read!” She snapped, pointing at the sign ahead that said baggage claim.

“My apologies.”

He somehow managed to haul Daniel’s car seat and the luggage to the car while carrying Daniel, Jazz dragging her blue suitcase behind her with determination. It wasn’t until he was pulling and and starting the long drive home that he realized he’d forgot his cane on the plane.

[acapelladitty]

Captain Boomerang/Female Reader - Unexpected Visit

Summary - Digger interrupts a 'private' moment and the fallout is more fun that you could have anticipated.

It wasn’t the fact that you were two fingers deep in your cunt - curled digits stroking along those sensitive parts within your walls that made your breath stutter as your toes curled against the sheets. It wasn’t even the fact that your bed directly faced the door which Digger was currently filling like he owned the place.

No.

The issue was the headshot of Digger which lay clenched in your free hand and the fact that the shit-eating grin on his face told you that he had heard you moaning his name as you stroked frantically along your aching clit.

“Thinking about old Digger, eh?” Digger announced, his laughter somewhere between a growl and a giggle as he palmed his rapidly-stiffening cock with his left hand. “Maybe, if ya ask nicely, I’ll see fit to replace those fingers with something almost twice as big and throbbin’ for a quick root.”

Shame burning across your face, the heat in your cheeks as your fingers pull free of your hole with an obscenely wet noise flares in an instant; your throat tightening across the moan which threatened to break free as he pulled his fat cock from his jeans and gave it a quick tug, readying it for a chance at your willing hole.

x-x-x-x-x

Not that he was bad at it. Far from it. What he lacked in practised technique he more than made up for in enthusiasm as he quickly read the signs of what movements made your thighs tighten around his ears as your lips moaned and vibrated around his fat cock. His beard and muttonchops even provided a wonderful sensation as the graze of the coarse hair on your thighs and soaked cunt added a layer of burning discomfort that made you writhe all the more desperately in place.

Following your embarrassing little impromptu show, Digger seemed determined to experiment with various positions and it had been his stellar idea to indulge in some mutual oral sex. His appetite was ravenous and even the very thorough fucking he had only just finished delivering didn't seem enough to appease him.

But still, even you had to admit that the man had a talent for suggesting amazing ideas which very quickly went awry.

So, no.

He wasn’t bad at it.

However, this did not prove to be the issue either.

But where Digger’s good idea went to die was in his decision to take the ‘below’ position in your sixty-nine adventure. A surprisingly gentlemanly choice given that he seemed to enjoy the sensation of you pinned beneath him, held in place by his thick frame while he railed you with a messy ferocity.

Being on top had suited you to begin with, the freedom of movement allowing you to set the pace as you hollowed out your cheeks and worked slowly around his pulsing shaft. His cock wasn’t the longest but the sheer girth of the thing made it a difficult task as any attempt at taking further into your mouth essentially plugged your throat entirely.

What Digger had failed to consider, when proposing this little game, was the impressive strength which you could muster with your inner thigh muscles and how tightly you were able to hold him – his face buried deep within your cunt as you rode your orgasm out on his thick features. In that wonderful moment, his natural need to breath was long disregarded and it wasn’t until his blunted nails dug bloodied crescents into your outer thighs that you recalled that little facet of the human condition and pulled yourself free of his face with a panting gasp.

“Not the worst way to go.” Digger exclaimed cheerily as he sucked in huge, desperate inhales of air. His lower face was a mess, glistening and visibly wet with your juices as his pink tongue lapped at his own lips like a particularly thirsty dog. “But I don’t think me old mum would appreciate a retellin' of the story at my eulogy.”