#so its more of a bi weekly thing

[redyarns]

so... about that update.....

[angelfrombeneth]

LET ME BE THE JUDGE OF THAT - T . NOTT

Mature Content Ahead

Theodore Nott x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Enzo are best friend, you have a bi-weekly gossip session at the astronomy tower during your bi-weekly smoke break. During said gossip, Enzo drops some juicy goss about a certain slytherin boy and how he's 'packing', iygwim ;)

Warnings: SMUT, Switch Theo and Reader, Mentions of Smoking, Graphic descriptions of sex, Slight Male!Receiving Oral, Squirting

A/N: I apologise for any spelling mistakes or slightly off sentences. I did proof read but I am dyslexic with acrylics on so my spelling gets progressively worse.

Theodore Nott. The man he was. He was one of your friends, he was in the group of the original slytherins from day dot. You always harboured something towards him - you just didn't know if it was feelings or pure lust. The man was an absolute pantie dropper. He just got even hotter with puberty.

Though he wasn't as much as a whore as Mattheo, he definitely stuck his dick in a few things (stupid bitches). There were many rumours about him but no one knew it was real, no one kiss and told with him. For all you knew he could've been an absolute virgin. But one of the rumours was true, Enzo mentioned over your bi-weekly free period cig break in the Astronomy tower.

"Oh! I've got some goss for you" Enzo chuckled as he pointed his slender fingers at you. His cigarette perfectly slotted inbetween his index and middle.

"What?" You looked over at him intruiged, as you stayed sat against the railing of the tower, your feet dangling over the old cobble below.

"Theo" He smirked. If you were a dog your ears would've perked up. The way your body instantly sat up straight away as you looked over at him more alert than ever. Your hand paused infront of you, the cig butt burning out. "Its big" He winked.

"Oh fuck off 'Zo" You took a puff from your cig, letting it hit your throat before exhaling. "You're full of shit, I'm not sitting here and listening to you bullshit another stupid 'Big Dick of Hogwarts' again. Do you know I actually got with Adrien just to fucking see" You rolled your eyes.

Enzo laughed "Did you actually?!"

You nodded as you inhaled the smoke from your cigarette, flicking the end as ash fell from the tip. "Well embarassing too, was so turned off at the.. what 3 inches I had to work with, just walked out" You groaned.

Enzo snickered but collected himself. "I'm serious though, it's literally huge. He sent a picture to the lads groupchat-"

"Why?" You cut him off

"We wanted to compare dick sizes so we measure it against our DADA text books" Enzo shrugged.

"You lot are fucking stupid..." You shook your head. "But.. out of interest where abouts was it? Would you say centered with the authors name in the centre or? I know the book is 15 inches tall" You spoke, putting out your cig on the metal bar.

"Jesus fucking Christ you are a freak" Enzo laughed putting out his cigarette beside yours. "But it was to the title lettering"

You stood up in shock. "You're saying Theodore Nott has a 9 inch penis.."

"How do you know the size- Wait I'll just show you" He pulled his phone out of his pocket, pulling up the groupchat and showing you the picture. Now with Enzo, if you couldn't guess it by now, he was the male gay of the group - him and Pans representing the rainbow together. You all thought it would be Blaise he turns out he ended up hitting it off well with Luna Lovegood.

"No.. fucking way" You gripped the muggle phone as you stared at the picture. "This makes me want to fuck Theo even more 'Zo. I've been toying with the idea but fuck this solidifies it"

Enzo laughs "Well he's been having a 'dry spell at the moment' said he can't get it up because of an 'inconsistency' he said but he won't tell anyone. Sounds like he's seen something that'll only make him hard".

"Inconsistency? Pfft, I'll be the judge of that" You smirked.

"Oh I bet you will" He snickered.

"Jesus, this cig break was crazy" You laughed, giving Enzo his phone back and the two of you walked down the steps of the tower.

"I'll update you if I hear anything more from Mr 9 inches" Enzo winks.

You shook your head bidding him a goodbye.

Later that day, You made your way into the dungeons, walking to Enzo's dorm to tell him about the crazy fight between Astoria and a random Ravenclaw over Draco.

"Zo you'll never fucking believe it. Astoria ate shit today and got her ass handed to by a Raven...claw-" You flung open the door, looking up and locking eyes to chest with a very naked, towel covered sadly, Theo.

"My eyes are up here bella" He smirked.

You gawked at him, shocked to see him, especially how chiseled he was... as your mouth practically salivated at the sight of him.

"Bella?" Theo chuckled at your frozen figure.

"Respectfully Theo, I've always found you so fucking hot. But now I'm going to have to definitely suck you off" You smirked up at him.

He snickered as he gazed at you. His tongue running across his bottom lip before biting it. "You really dont play around... Come on then"

You slammed the door behind you as you lunged yourself at Theo, crashing your lips onto his. His hands roaming your body as your slid from his shoulders to his damp chest. Your fingers working through the crevasses slowly.

"My.. my.. So eager" He laughed as you pushed him back against a bed while yanking at the towel watching as he caught himself with his hands on the bed, sitting up as he supported himself completely naked.

You bit your lip as you dropped to your knees. "Fuck.. Enzo wasn't lying" You placed your hands on his thighs.

"What?" Theo froze.

"Enzo showed me your dick pic.. Its even bigger in person though" You bit your lip.

"Fucking Enzo.. So you saw my cock and now wanna suck it because of a picture?"

"Yeah pretty much" You licked a stripe up the base of his shafts to the tip as you peered up at him smirking as he let out a shaky gasp.

"You are a weird one Y/N.. Now hurry up before I fuck your face with it" He groaned slightly agitated at being teased.

"He also said about your inconsistency to get it up Nott.. you seem to not be having an issue" You smirked as you took his length into your hands as you jerked him off slightly as you kissed up his pelvis.

"Don't act so suprised bella.. We both know it was because of you and that cheeky thong of yours. Why'd you think that was OK?" Theo sighed as he bit his lip peering down at you.

"Me?" You questioned.

You peered outside your door, looking left and right before slithering out. You really wanted to grab some water from the kitchen but it was so late and you couldn't be asked to wait till breakfast.

You snuck out the common room, running down to the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water but also stealing a few biscuits while you were at it.

You had successfully made it back to the common room, slowly walking down the stairs before turning to walk up the stairs to your dorm. You felt a presence near you but you, looked around and saw no one. So you shrugged it off.

Third POV

"Fuck-" Theo hissed as he flicked his cigarette out the window as he stared at your figure stood at the end of the stairs.

The way you stood in your little black knee high socks, paired with an absolute ravishing black lace thong - leaving nothing to Theo's imagination. Not only that, a tiny crop top with underboov practically spilling out. Theodore was spoilt by this view. He noticed you didn't notice him as you crept back upstairs. The growing tent in his joggers as he stood up to readjust but ending up moaning at the slight friction of the fabric.

What you didn't know, is that night Theo went and jacked off 6 times thinking about you. He'd never came so much, let alone been so weak for anyone. You were all he could think about for weeks. Even when he came to the situation of fucking a random ass Ravenclaw after a party, he couldn't get it up. It wasn't until he thought about that night. You. He could. He ended up ploughing the fuck out of that poor Ravenclaw imaging the girl was you. After that he vowed to celibacy until he could get his hands on you.

"What are you talking about" You laughed as you kitten licked his tip, staring up at him as he fought back his moans. His fists whitening as he clenched then tightly.

"I.. saw you" He gulped, submitting and sitting on the bed as you shuffled closer. "Two weeks ago- You went somewhere I don't fucking know. But you were in a tiny fucking thong and- there was just so much boob and ass.." You tilted your head as you stared at him. "Y/N- I fucked my shit so hard- I fucked a random bitch- I nearly fucking moaned your name" He was pratically begging for you at this point.

You stood up, straddling his hips as you smirked at him, caressing his cheek. "I'm flattered Nott, if you wanted to fuck me you should've just asked" You bit your lip.

"God- S'bad.. I want you so bad Y/N" He pratically whimpered as his cock twitches up against your thigh.

"Who knew Theodore Nott was a begger.. especially with all this" You chuckled, running your hand up his whole length. You lifted your thong to the side as you lined up his dick with your entrance as you slowly sank down on it. Sighing softly as the poor boy whimpered under you.

"Good boy" You cooed, ruffling his hair as you slowly rocked your hips back and forth, biting your lip at the feeling of his dick moving inside of you, hitting your G-spot every. fucking. time.

"I fucking hate.. how weak you make me" He whines, a soft pout upon his lips as his hands grasp at your clothed breasts through your uniform.

You capture his lips, kissing him softly, speaking between the breaths- "You're so.. fucking.. hot.." You sighed as you arched your back, throwing your head back as you gripped his shoulders as you sped up the pace as you rode him. Your hips buckling against his chest as you left out soft whines and moans. Supporting yourself by your arms but you were growing weak. As much as it was hot to see a submissive Theodore, his dick was perfectly hitting your G-spot every fucking time that you were crumbling.

You threw your head forward, looking at Theo as you panted, your mouth open agape as you stared down at him. Lust in your eyes. "Ruin me Nott" you gagged out.

It was like a code word or something. In that moment, Theo pulled out and flipped you over. Ripping off your uniform but leaving your tie on. Slapping your ass harshly as he theusted his dick back into you, tugging on your tie, choking you slightly as he began to piston into you from behind. You gasped, a moan catching in your throat as your head leaned back slightly at the tug of the tie as you felt Theo's hand grip at your neck tightly as you gasped.

"Good girl.. Be good for me.. principessa" He whispered lowly as he let go of your tie, wrapping an arm around your waist as he yanked you up, leaning your back against his chest. You moaned lightly, gritting your teeth as his dick absolutely crushed your insides. His lips upon your neck, biting and sucking on the skin, as his free hand gripped your left breast.

"Fuck!" You whined out as you gasped. The overwhelming feeling of his dick and his touch was driving you insane. "I'm co-" You screamed out as he sped up his thrusts. You gripped his thighs, digging your nails into them as you screamed out. Your eyes rolling back as you let out a low groan as you came harshly against his dick.

Theo let go of you, letting you fall forward against the bed as you panted heavily, breath shaky as you gripped at the sheets below you. His dick still in you as he stared down at your twitching body.

"I'm not done yet, amore mio" He smirked, slapping your ass as he pulled out. Flipping you over as he leaned over kissing you softly. Your arms snaked around his neck, pulling his closer as you sucked on tongue as he gasped feeling him enter you once again.

"Theo- I don't think I can take anymore" You panted, giggling softly, slightly scared.

"You will" He smiled at you, kissing your cheek as he slowly dragged himself in and out of you. "I need to cum too, and you need to come atleast 2 more times" He winked.

His lips captured yours as he kissed you passionately. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your hand finding it's way through his curls as you tugged on them with each pummel into your G-spot. Theo definitely knew how to use all inches of his deadly weapon. You did question why you left it so long.

He pulled away, peppering kisses down your jaw, neck and collarbone, nibbling and sucking lightly occasionally scattering hickies and marks. "So. Beautiful" He growled as he grit his teeth. His grip on the headboard directly above you tightened as he thrusted harder onto you.

"T-Theo" you yelped, scratching down his back harshly with your sharp acrylics. Gasping as he cocked his leg up slightly hitting into you at a tilted angle driving you insane.

"Doing so good, darling. You look so beautiful" He pecked your lips as his grip tightened on his bed frame, thrusting faster as the bed below the pair of you began to creak with each movement. "Good girl.. You are doing so well" He kissed your cheek softly as you let out a soft string of moans.

Your eyes rolled back slightly as your panting became erratic, your toes curling as you shrieked, digging your nails further into his back. "Fuck! Fuckfuckfuckfuck- I'm cumming!" You screamed out as you arched your back, your legs twitching as Theo continued to relentlessly pound into you, showing no remorse for your sensitive state. You yelped loudly, throwing your head forward, locking eyes with him as the knot harshly unwrapped in your stomach as you came harshly against him. He continues to fuck you through your high causing you to squirt. Everywhere.

You threw your head back, squinting your eyes as you gritted your teeth whining as your hands fell from his back to the sheets as you fisted them. It took you a moment to come round, you were seeing white during your high. You noticed Theo slow down, but still continuing to slowly pump into you. You felt his hand caress your cheek as he chuckled softly.

"You alright bella? Thought I lost you there" He smirked softly as he kissed your forehead.

You looked up at him, panting softly, pulling his neck as you placed a soft kiss on his lips. "You're going to kill me Nott.. How have you still not came-" You groaned.

He laughed, hooking his arms under your thighs, he lifted you up causing you to shriek. The boy stood up, lowering you once against fully on his length. His hands gripping your ass as he thrusted into you. Your body recoiling against him as your skin slapped harshly against his.

"Fuck- There-" You gulped biting your lip as your hands gripped his shoulders.

"Love making you feel good.. I could make you cum all day, I don't care if i do too" You groaned, his jaw tensing as you noticed his dick twitch inside of you. He walked across the room, your body rebounding every thrust back into him as you whimpered lowly. He pushed you up against the door, his pace quickening once he leant u against it.

"Fuck yes! You're so tight for me bella, just for me-" He moaned softly into your ear as his face buried into your neck. Soft whimpers leaving his lips turning you on even more. Your hips bucked against him as you tightened your core as you began to lift yourself to bounce up and down. Soft moans leaving your lips as he bit at your neck, whining into your skin.

"M'close!-" He yelped, gulping as he kissed your roughly. You pulled him as close as you could as he continued to plough into you against the door. The pair of you gaining closer and closr to your releases. His thrusts progressively becoming more erratic.

Suddenly, Theo halted before he drop you to your feet, pulling out as you gasped at the sudden lack of pleasure. He pulls you to the bed again, pushing you face first down as he climbed ontop of you. You had no time to compute what was going on or question him. It all happened so fast. His legs eitherside yours trapping you down as he slaps your ass. A soft yelp leaving your lips as he spread your ass and thighs with his hand as he pushed back in. The boy was fucking mounting you like a horse.

He kisses your shoulder messily as he bites down on it, his thrusts becoming messy as you gripped at the sheets again. "Tell me if your- uncomftable" He groaned in your ear. His thrusts growing messier and messier as he sped up. His poor bed frame screaming for a break, constant creaking and slamming against the wall as you both moaned. You were worried for the dorm next door, the pair of you didn't think of a silencing charm.

His whimpering driving you over the edge as you screamed into the pillow. Theo knew you were close, he could feel it as you tightened around him.

The boy chased for his high along with you. You both letting out some rather unattractive groans and whines as you drew close together.

"Sei cosi' sexy" (You're so sexy) He groaned, nibbling at your shoulder as he continued to whimper softly in your ear. His pants become erratic as he continued to thrust into you, at a wildly animalistic pace. "Mio, tu sei mio..~" (Mine, you are mine..~) he whined out, pushing your hair aside as he sucked at your neck. His pants becoming gasps as his dick twitched inside of you. You had no clue what he was saying, but his Italian accent was making you even more wet.

"FUCK!-" you screamed as you sobbed into the pillow, biting the plush object as you harshly came against his thrusts as he sped up one last time, before delving deep inside of you, practically burying himself and his cum deep inside of you.

"Porca puttana, cosi' stretto! Tutto mio. Ti amo, cazzo-" (Holy shit, so tight! All mine. I fucking love you-) He groaned as he held himself above you, his arms shaking as he panted heavily. "Holy fuck.." He collected himself before pulling out and crashing beside you, pushing his hair out of his face.

The pair of you had a few minutes of silence, panting heavily and collecting yourself together.

You lifted your hair out of the pillow as you turned to look at his fucked out face beside you. You let out a soft snicker as you moved to cuddle him, putting your head on his chest.

Theo didn't know you knew a bit of Italian not much, but enough to know he just professed his love for you.

"Ti amo" You smiled up at him. His face shot to you, his eyes wide and his cheeks flushed.

"You understood?-" He gulped.

"Only slightly but, I love you too Theo" You kissed his cheek.

He shook his head, laying a soft kiss on your lips.

The two of you cuddled a bit longer before you retreated to the shower where you went another round. You don't know how you did it. Your legs certainly hate you at this point. He decided to leave some nasty bite marks and hickies on your thighs. He even drew blood a few times but that's something the two of you can toy with later...

Later you stumbled down the stairs in one of Theo's tshirts. Your hair very messy and skin peppered in hickies and bites from neck to thigh. Theo followed behind you.

You noticed your friends sat upon the couches in the common room.

You looked to Enzo "Can confirm it is definitely 9 inches" You both laughed as your friends look at you confused.

"Who-" Draco questioned before gasps came from them all as Theo walked downstairs, covered in scratch marks, bites and hickies as he stood behind you ruffling his hair in just his trackies.

"Oh my god" Pansy gawked.

If you enjoyed this fic and want to buy me a coffee, you can do so here!

[stormcrow-whispers]

.

[themidnightcrimson]

skirt ࿏ wm

summary: in which wanda gets a little too handsy during a small party.

words: 4.5k

warnings: top!wanda, fingering (r receiving), semi-public sex, severely gay ogling, reader being a fuckin simp

this fic is for 18+ only. minors dni.

masterlist.

Steve had unfortunately complained to Tony that the parties he always held in his huge, modern, techno mansion were not intimate enough. Tony, always ready to take complaints from Steve with a cheeky attitude, passed the message along to Pepper who decided to truly make something cozier for everyone.

Tony’s parties were pretty much bi-weekly at this point, every other Friday night. The team almost always showed up in entirety, and the regularity of it was becoming sentimental to some of you. Even Tony was starting to plan them: “You guys gotta try this whiskey. I’ll bring it next Friday” or “I swear, Cap, I’m gonna put you in a suit on Friday and shoot you up to Mars.” It was cute.

Tonight, instead of drinking and playing poker around Tony’s in-house bar room, Pepper had set up something beautiful outside. You’d arrived at the party with Nat, stepping through the back patio of Tony’ mansion and seeing something set up in his backyard. Tied between two trees was a large white screen, and several yards in front of it was a projector mounted onto the roof of the patio, pointed right towards the screen.

In front of the screen, on the lush, freshly-trimmed grass yard, was a whole bunch of pillowy chairs with blankets cast over them, set up like little cots. To the side of the arena was a little hot dog stand that also had a big red and golden popcorn machine currently popping popcorn attached to its hip, as well as a large futuristic-looking cooler full of ice and bottled drinks. There was even an attachment on the front of the hot dog stand with an array of candy bars.

Strung above the entire arena were strings of fairy lights going in every direction, tied between trees and the railing of the patio porch. The sun hadn’t quite set yet, but they were already turned on, providing cute little lights above the cozy scene. It was the homiest thing you’d ever seen at Tony’s home.

“My god,” Nat remarked as she looked around, looking as shocked as you. “It looks like Tony’s planning on proposing to all of us at the same time tonight.”

“I would say yes,” Banner said, coming up beside you and gawking up at the lights. He ran down the steps of the patio and towards one of the fluffy chairs made of pillow, throwing himself down on it and squishing it to the ground. You could hear his sigh of comfort from the patio.

“Do you guys like it?” Pepper asked, coming out of the house. “There’s more food and snacks inside if you guys want anything that’s not out there.”

“I feel like I’m experiencing my first American sleepover,” Nat said, turning to Pepper. “It’s great, really!”

It was cute seeing Nat get so excited like that. Steve showed up behind Pepper and had the same reaction as everyone else, even tearing up a little bit. When Tony reluctantly entered the patio, Steve gave him a slap on the shoulder. “This is really great, Tony. Really great.”

Tony tightly smiled and quickly went back into the house to avoid any more sentiment.

Since the few of you were the first to arrive, you all stayed on the porch and made conversation while waiting for everyone else to show up. It was a chilly spring night, the wind picking up and every once in a while catching the black skirt you were wearing. It was that annoying time of year, of course, where you would have been sweating during the day but now you were shivering at night. You wished you had worn pants instead of a skirt. You didn’t know you’d be thanking yourself later for the opposite.

You had been discreetly waiting for someone the entire time. As more people lingered through the back door into the backyard, you nervously glanced at each figure and hoped it’d be the one you wanted it to be, but it never was.

And then you knew. You didn’t see her, or hear her name, or any other evidence that she was there other than the fact that the pit in your stomach grew and there was a tingling sensation across your nerve endings. The witch always had that affect on you. You didn’t know if it was a spell or something, or maybe you were just acting like a crush-stricken schoolgirl, but you had a habit of always knowing when Wanda entered a room.

Surely enough, through the tinted windows lining the back porch, you could see a flash of red hair making its way towards the back door, that smile you had memorized greeting people as she stepped between them. A shiver crawled its way up your lower spine as the door opened and that face stepped through, the one you’ve been dreaming about, the one that haunts you, the one that twists your stomach into knots when you see it because it makes you think of all the times you’ve touched yourself with that face in mind.

Wanda stepped onto the porch, her hair in wavy locks down her shoulders. She was wearing a soft, light pink sweater that probably looked like off-white to everyone else in the dusk light, but you paid enough attention to know it was pink. It matched the gentle pink in her cheeks, and in her lips…

You and Wanda’s…”situation” was only just blossoming. After months and months of tense friendship and subtle flirting, you’d finally broken the ice when you’d shared a drunken makeout session at one of the parties. You found Wanda to be much bolder than you’d expected her to be, but it invigorated you so. She knew how to keep you on the edge but give you enough to keep you satisfied. She hadn’t fucked you yet, though she’s gotten close. You’ve felt her mouth, and her thigh, but she hadn’t touched you with her hands yet. Her hands.

It was embarrassing when Nat had to snap you out of it. You’d been staring at Wanda since she’d entered the backyard space and got caught up in a conversation with someone else on her way to greet you. You weren’t even sure if she’d seen you yet, but with how sly the witch was, you were sure she was fully aware of everything.

“Hey, you’ve got a little drool there,” Nat said, motioning to her own chin while looking at yours. You blushed and rolled your eyes, taking a deep breath and turning your back on Wanda. Even though she still hadn’t looked at you, you swore you could feel her eyes burning into your back.

“Shut up,” you whispered, crossing your arms and shivering slightly in the cold.

Like clockwork, you suddenly felt a warm arm wrap itself around your shoulders. God, you even recognized her touch now.

Looking up, you saw Wanda appear beside you, her arm slung over your shoulder and pulling you into her gently. You felt the softness of her sweater and her hair against your arm as you were overcome with her cologne. It was sweet but deep, and it made you melt every time you smelled it because it reminded you of all your moments with her.

Wanda smiled down at you, and you half-expected her to lean down for a kiss, but she didn’t. You weren’t public yet, though Nat knew the extent of it, and everyone else had just assumed. They all thought that if you weren’t fucking, it was at least obvious that Wanda wanted to, and no one would dare get in the way of that. This was all without your knowledge, of course, because you were innocent and naïve and thought that no one had any clue about it except for Nat. That was one thing that Wanda liked about you.

“Hey there,” Wanda smoothly said in almost a whisper. Every time you get close to her for the first time, you feel like you’re seeing her for the first time all over again. Her sparkling green eyes, soft lips turned in a self-assured smile, structured cheekbones, her cute little nose. It all made you swoon like a schoolgirl.

“Hi,” you squeaked, feeling your face get hot all over.

Wanda gave a breathy chuckle, obviously picking up on your little squeak. She gave a little space between you for a moment to let her eyes rake down over your figure. They landed at your hips, and her smile faded, turning almost crooked for a moment before she licked her lips and pursed them. “Hmmmm,” she hummed, pulling you into her again, a little tighter now. “You look so fucking good,” she hissed, leaning down towards your ear. You felt her breath fan against your ear, and then her lips grazed it, before she turned away, stiffening as if trying to hold something in. You watched her jaw flex, the muscles straining in her swan neck as she inhaled deeply.

You weren’t sure what exactly was going through the witch’s mind, but your body was burning all over. It almost pained you how you always had such a physical reaction to Wanda.

Wanda did not let go of you. Even as she lingered around the patio, even as people came up and made conversation, she kept you under her arm like her own pet bunny. You felt safe like that, tucked into Wanda, letting her lead the conversations while you just leaned against her soft sweater and inhaled her sweet perfume. The duality of Wanda’s gentle physique but domineering nature made your head dizzy.

Wanda was like a bee to honey to you for the entire time that you and everyone else waited for the party’s population to be dense enough to start a movie on the large projector screen. Finally, once the sun had set and only left an orange streak at the bottom of the sky, Tony came back out onto the patio and, fully equipped in his suit, stuck his hands out to the side and levitated up towards the projector. Halting mid-air, the face of the suit flipped away to reveal Tony’s face.

“Greetings and welcome to the lamest party Tony Stark has ever thrown,” Tony announced, earning several laughs throughout the small crowd of people before flipping the projector on and flying away.

Light illuminated onto the screen, and an old black-and-white Hollywood movie began playing on the screen. People made their way over to the little cots set out on the lawn, while some stayed on the patio pretending to be the adult part of the crowd.

“Want some snacks?” Wanda whispered in your ear, to which you gave a dumb nod, too focused on the way her hand slid down to your waist and gripped it.

Wanda led you over the little hot dog stand that shone like a beacon in the darkening lawn, apart from the light from the movie. You were about to tell Wanda that you wanted popcorn and Skittles, but she somehow beat you to it. “A bag of popcorn and some Skittles,” she told the guy behind the stand. Nodding, he began to load up a bag of buttery popcorn as you looked up at Wanda in confusion to how she knew what you wanted.

Mind-reading can be useful in many ways, kitten.

You thought Wanda had spoken, since you had heard her voice, but her lips didn’t even move and her voice sounded like it was behind you. Your eyes widened in realization that Wanda was using mind-reading on you for the first time—though it actually was about the hundredth time that she’d pried in on your cerebral. It was the telepathic communication that was happening for the first time, but she thought your confusion on the terms was cute.

“Thanks,” Wanda told the guy as he handed you the warm bag of popcorn. She took a bag of Skittles and two bottles of soda and placed her hand on your lower back, her warm palm ushering you towards a cot in front of the screen.

She decided to choose one a little off to the side, spaced out more from any others. It was a double, basically a large pillow in the shape of a chair that could hold two people.

“This is so fun!” you exclaimed, hopping down on the cot and sighing at how soft it was, understanding now why Banner was so relaxed when he had jumped onto one. There was even a little basket beside the chair that held a large, fluffy blanket folded up. Pepper had truly gone all out.

Wanda plopped down beside you, her warm body instantly melting into yours as her weight into the pillowy chair dipped you down closer to her. The redistribution of weight had moved you in a way that your skirt hiked up your legs.

Wanda’s eyes flickered to your skirt, her pupils swarming. You blushed and pulled your skirt down to cover yourself, discreetly watching Wanda blink and force herself to look away. She leaned back in the chair, snaking her arm behind you and curling it around your waist, which only deepened the blush on your cheeks.

Reaching towards your lap, Wanda took a piece of popcorn from the bag you held between your legs and popped it into her mouth. You took a piece and moved it towards your mouth, but suddenly her hand stopped you.

“Nuh uh,” she said quietly, taking the popcorn from between your fingers. “Let me do it.”

You froze, staring at her face that was so close. It was illuminated by the projection on the screen, her green eyes darker than usual.

“Open your mouth,” she whispered, her eyes flickering down to your lips. There was a hunger in her eyes as she watched you hesitate before slowly opening your lips, your heart beating twice faster in your chest. Wanda brought the popcorn to your mouth, letting your tongue take it. You were surprised when, as you felt the texture of the popcorn on your tongue and the butter flooded your taste buds, the tips of Wanda’s fingers lingered in your mouth. As you attempted to close your lips, they only closed around her fingers, tasting the extra salt left behind on them. Your face grew red and hot as you watched Wanda smirk, pushing her fingers in just a miniscule bit further, her own lips parting in infatuation as she watched your lips suction around her fingers.

“Good girl,” she whispered, slowly dragging her fingers out of your mouth.

As if nothing happened, as if you weren’t sitting there blushing and sweating and feeling the space between your legs get warm, she went back to simply eating the popcorn and staring up at the screen.

Clearing your throat, you forced yourself to stop staring at this blasted woman who just teased you so easily and tried to focus on the movie.

Wanda’s handsy-ness wasn’t too extreme during the first half of the movie. It was only her arm around your waist, her hand rubbing your back sensually, her fingers softly combing through your hair and pulling on it hard once or twice just to get a squeak out of you, to which she pressed a discreet kiss to your neck. It was like she was just playing with you. It was like she was just playing with her food.

It wasn’t until halfway through the movie, when there was no sight of any sunlight in the dark night sky, that Wanda strengthened her moves on you.

Under the pretty fairy lights, as everyone else started to calm down and really settle into the movie, a chilly night breeze sewed itself through the air. It flittered over your exposed legs, causing you to shiver. Wanda, who’d been trying not to ogle your thighs all night, couldn’t help but see the goosebumps on your tender skin.

“You cold?” she asked in a soft, sweet tone. When you nodded, she reached over to the basket and brought out the large, thick blanket, draping it over the both of your laps. The warm, soft blanket was such a relief to your cold legs, and with Wanda’s body also available to you as a heater, you felt so cozy and safe.

Then Wanda’s hand reached under the blanket and rested on your thigh, her palm curving around it. The action made you stiffen, your skin growing exponentially warmer where her hand touched. The intimacy of the action sent shimmers through you, and you tried to beat back the little smile on your face.

Wanda, on the other hand, was trying not to smirk. She was more purposeful than you gave her credit for, but again, your naivety was what fueled her to see just how much she could get away with.

You were trying your hardest to ignore her hand on your thigh until it suddenly shifted upwards, pushing your skirt up with it. You gasped quietly. Her hand was all the way up your thigh now, gripping your flesh firmly. Her fingers were wrapped into the inner most tender part of your thigh, pressing into the soft skin there.

The heat between your legs amplified with how close Wanda was to it. You couldn’t help but nervously glance around, afraid that somehow someone had seen her hand grab your thigh under the thick blankets. Luckily, no one was looking. The closest person to you was Nat, but she was watching the film with her head tilted and arms crossed, obviously trying to analyze it like she did with most films.

“Wanda,” you whispered, glancing up at her to see that she was already staring at you darkly.

“What, princess?” she asked innocently.

The name struck you like a bullet of white hot fire in the pit of your stomach. She watched you seriously, a smirk twitching the corners of her lips, as she tightened her grip on your thigh. It stung a little, her fingertips digging so hard into that sensitive inner flesh of your thigh, that you almost squeaked.

“If you want to make noises for me, then do it, babygirl,” she lilted, and you almost gasped when her hand slipped fully under your skirt. You squirmed a little, but she looked at you threateningly. “Don’t move.”

Your breathing grew heavy as you looked around again, feeling that for sure someone was looking this time. No one was.

No one will see, detka.

Wanda’s voice was in your head again. You sharply turned to look at her, but she was staring at the screen now.

Suddenly, you felt something under the covers spreading your thighs open. You hadn’t even realized you’d been squeezing them together, but as you looked down at the blanket, you saw a hint of red glaring through it as your legs spread themselves wide open. She was using magic to open you up for her. Out of impulse, you tried to slam them shut, but her magic held you there, the red glare dissipating so as to not draw attention to what was happening beneath the blanket.

Be still.

You bit your lip as you felt Wanda’s hand cup you under your skirt, her palm pressing into your fabric-covered core. Your breath quivered out of both nervousness and pleasure when she found your clit through your panties and slowly rubbed it.

I can feel how wet you are through your panties, princess. Her voice was even husky in your head.

You tried to keep still as Wanda rubbed your sensitive nub, looking around again to see that still no one was looking at you. But the fact that anyone could look over at the wrong moment, see part of Wanda’s arm stretched towards your lap under the blanket, seeing shapes inappropriately moving under the fabric, instilled a sense of fear into you that seemed to propel your desire.

Good girl, just keep being still for me. I know how bad you’ve been wanting this. You’ve dreamed so much of my fingers.

God, how did she know? Had she been spying on you?

Her fingers dipped down your fabric-covered slit, tickling there for a moment and feeling the wet spot forming on your panties. You were soaking by now, you could feel it, and it only got worse when Wanda started to push your panties to the side.

You started to open your mouth to tell her no, that she shouldn’t do that in front of everyone at a party, that anyone could look over and see and that it’d be so embarrassing, but her voice was quick to reprimand you.

So what if someone sees? I’ll let anyone know that you’re all mine.

With that, her fingers successfully slipped under the thin, stretchy fabric of your panties and met your soaking cunt. You heard Wanda let out a tense breath as she seeped her fingers through your sopping folds, her jaw flexing again.

You’re so fucking wet, babygirl. Her voice growled within your head, dizzying you.

You glanced around nervously, almost thinking someone was looking at you, but finding that no one was still. You felt so nervous about it, so paranoid, but your feverishness was mostly just from Wanda’s fingers rubbing your bare clit now, moving your wetness all around.

I’ve been wanting to feel your pretty cunt for so long. You just had to wear this slutty little skirt tonight, hmm?

Heat burned throughout you as Wanda’s fingers moved towards your entrance, circling it. You stiffened a little, not knowing exactly what to expect from her. You had to force yourself to not gyrate against her hand, to not turn to her and beg for her to just do it, to not moan out loud. It was especially hard not to do the last thing when Wanda’s fingers thrusted inside you.

“Oh—” you started, until Wanda’s magic snapped your mouth shut. Wanda went completely still, freezing completely. You took a blushing, nervous glance around and nearly died when your eyes made contact with Nat’s eyes.

You froze like a deer in headlights. Nat was staring at you while Wanda’s fingers were inside you for the first time. You were looking her in the eye while your walls clenched around Wanda. You wanted to set yourself on fire.

Fortunately, Nat only gave a casual little head nod and a smile and then turned back to the movie. You knew Nat well enough to know that she wasn’t just pretending that she didn’t see anything. Luckily for you, she really had not noticed anything unusual other than your usual awkwardness around Wanda.

Close call, princess. You almost got found out for being a slut for me.

Taking a shaky breath, your hand crawled around until it found Wanda’s knee under the blanket and gripped it for dear life as she started thrusting her fingers inside you. You tried not to whine at the stretch—it’d been a while for you.

You’re so fucking tight, baby. Wanda’s voice was breathy in your head.

You threw your head back a little as Wanda’s fingers pumped in and out of you, and you could even hear the faint wet sounds coming from under the blanket. It made you feel so dirty, getting fingered like that in front of everyone, and being so wet for it, too.

I knew you were such a slut for me. What if I rip the blanket off right now, hmm? Expose you for spreading your legs for me even in public like a whore?

Gritting your teeth together, you felt Wanda’s two fingers hitting a sweet spot inside you. It was so hard to not buck your hips, to not squirm or moan or do anything but etch claw marks into Wanda’s knee.

And then you felt a more noticeable stretch. Squeezing your eyes shut, you felt Wanda force a third finger into you. This time you couldn’t help it. You threw your head to the side and buried it in Wanda’s chest, letting out a mix between a quiet moan and a sigh that luckily was muffled by Wanda’s sweater. Keeping as still as possible, you inhaled Wanda’s perfume and scratched the fuck out of her knee as she pumped three fingers inside your cunt at an agonizingly slow speed. You knew she would’ve fucked you a lot harder if it weren’t for the sake of being discreet.

“Wanda,” you murmured into her chest, feeling the valley of her breasts from beneath her sweater cushioning your face. “Wanda, I’m close.”

Her fingers were hitting so deep inside you. They were so long, and she was curling them, and she was hitting your sweet spot deep inside, and you could feel your juices dripping down yourself.

Hold it. She commanded.

You didn’t even realize it, but you clamped your teeth around a chunk of her sweater, biting down hard on the thick cable-knit fabric as the woman’s fingers plundered you at a steady pace. You didn’t even know if anyone was looking at you now, and you didn’t even care because your body was starting to tremble as you struggled to not cum all over her fingers.

Finally, when you begged again, she acquiesced with Cum for me, princess.

It took all of your power to not moan out loud as you orgasmed with Wanda’s fingers lodged deep inside you, your walls spasming around them and your hips trembling. She nuzzled her nose against the top of your head and hissed when you bit down on her sweater again and accidentally bit into her breast. She held you still with her spare arm, her fingers deep in you, as you came down from the blinding high.

“That’s it,” she whispered into your hair. “Good girl, just breathe.” You were breathing very hard to make up for not being able to moan. “You were such a good, quiet girl for me, angel.” The praise landed over you like soft kisses until you realized she was also pressing soft kisses to the top of your head.

It didn’t help that, when you had finally calmed down and Wanda pulled her shiny fingers out of you, she popped them into her mouth and sucked off all of your cum. You blushed and dug your face into her chest again, this time purposefully biting her breast which made her hiss again and then giggle evilly.

Luckily, no one had seen you get fingered by Wanda, at least not to your knowledge. Nothing had ever come out of it, at least, except that Tony spread a rumor that you had peed yourself during the party because when you stood up from the chair at the end of the night, there was a wet spot right under where you had been sitting.

[iloveboysinred]

cw; p in v sex, missionary, backshots, cursing, minimal editing (yall know the drill), office sex, rough sex MDNI

Masterlist

Nanami was a pristine man.

He made sure to keep up with his bi-weekly barber’s appointments, and he always made sure his suit was steam cleaned and pressed to perfection.

He very much embodied the concept of professionalism, making sure to be respectful of both the environment and the workspace. He also encouraged you to do the same.

But professionalism was the last thing on you and Nanami’s mind right now.

“Ah! o-oh my god-ken!-“ you gasped, gripping onto his shoulders, the desk creaking under you from the brutal push and pull of his thrusts. His face was buried in your neck, panting and groaning praise in your ear like an animal.

“Shh honey. Let’s try to keep it- fuck! d-down, hmm?” He licked a stripe up the side of your neck, nipping the skin while his hand came down to fondle your breasts, his large palm warm and heavy over your chest. Your blouse might as well have been on the floor. The garment was unbuttoned and hanging off your bicep, swinging back and forth with the movements of your bodies. “Kento i-i can’t- fuck! Its too good!”You shifted down the desk to take in more of him, your pussy stretching around the girth of his dick as you greedily sucked him in, coating his entire length in a mix of your fluids.

He pulled away from your neck, panting hard as he rolled his hips into you over and over, not giving you a second to breathe. His pelvis smacked against the flesh of your ass, the erotic sounds of skin slapping and your hushed moans filling the office space. You tried to be quiet. You really did— but you showed up to work at just the right time, wearing just the right outfit to make a pent up Kento Nanami throw all reason to the wind and fuck you right in his office to the point where the paperwork once on the desk— now under you, was damp and sticky from your fluids and sweat, sticking to the underside of your body as he took you right then and there, over and over and over again.

There was just something so primal about the way he all but slammed you down on the desk, yanking your blouse open to mouth at and suck on your breasts, not even bothering to take your bra off. His hair, usually styled to perfection had been tousled, a few strands sticking to his forehead from sweat. He had taken off his blazer, his blue undershirt unbuttoned at the top and his yellow tie hanging loosely on his neck. He pinned you with a stern gaze, slipping the short pencil skirt off of you with ease, throwing it behind him without a care in the world.

Nanami looked absolutely wild and you were loving every second of it.

It did you no favors though, because he was giving it to you so good, so deep that you had to grit your teeth to be quiet, to not be caught.

You let out a choked wail when he flipped you and fucked into your pussy from behind, stealing the breath from your lungs as he pushed the entirety of his length into you. Quickly you covered your mouth with wide eyes when you realized how loud you had been. Nanami stilled inside of you, roughly grabbing your chin so you could face him. “I thought i told you-“ he started, but there was a few knocks on the door, a quiet “Nanami, are you quite alright? I heard a ruckus.” sounding from outside. You held your breath as you waited for him to respond, your heart beating out of your chest.

“Another sound out of you and we’re done here, sweetheart.” He hushed into your ear, his tone of voice leaving you no will to object.

Another knock. Nanami hastily grabbed his tie from around his neck, shoving the cloth in your mouth.

“Nanami? Should i come in?” The doorknob rattled once, twice. “Nanami?”

He slowly started to thrust into you again, the sound of your sopping wet pussy filling the room. You closed your eyes tight, biting down hard on the cloth to stifle whatever sounds may come out. Nanami ghosted his lips over your ear, grunting when you tightened around him like a vice, his hips stuttering at the sudden increased sensation.

“Everything’s fine. Please do not continue to disturb me.” His voice was steady, firm despite the tightening in his balls as he neared his release. Despite how heavenly you felt around his dick, sucking him into your warm, plush walls. Essentially milking him for everything he had as he kept his pace, grinding his pelvis against your ass with every thrust inside of you. His tip reached so deep, you were starting to think you were feeling him in your stomach.

When the only thing you could hear was the retreating footsteps of whoever was knocking on the door, You breathed a shaky sigh of relief. which was very short lived because soon you were sitting on Nanami’s lap on his office chair, the tie still snug inside your mouth.

“Now” he sighed leaning back into the chair, looking up at you with gleaming eyes. No hint of good-intent behind them. “Show me you can be a good little wife and keep quiet, hmm?”

[soulmatesinc-if]

A light-hearted interactive fiction game about soulmates, chances and choices, written in ChoiceScript.

|| PLAY HERE || [119k]

|| extra content ||

Here at Soulmates Inc we specialize in chance meetings!

Love happens.

It takes by the storm. It is lucky, it is cruel, it makes no sense, it elevates. It is beautiful, it rears its ugly head, then it is beautiful once again. Now that, humans can manage on their own.

Soulmate-grade connection is an entirely different brand. Enter you. That's your brand. It requires dedicated labor. Whimsical meetings. Nuance.

As a soul-link, you arrange for those destined matches to happen using the powers of glamor at your disposal. An ancient practice, really, though, as with everything, it has evolved and happily marched with the times. You work out of an office, have a phone plan, a lease, and a favorite restaurant. Your boss is not a half-naked man with a bow and arrows but a fashionably dressed man who goes to a gym and drives an electrical Mustang.

It is nice. Modern.

Just one rule. The only rule, in fact. A scripture, if you will: never interact with a soul directly.

Which is precisely why your most recent half-match staring at your confused face is so damn bad. Worse yet, they can see right through your glamor for some reason.

Now what?..

love is all around you but it does not have to be for you: play as aro, ace, bi, gay or straight. Your romantic prospects are three, but each has a story to tell

explore who you are: a firm and enthusiastic believer, a burned-out office worker, or a skeptical soul-link questioning their purpose

use and evolve your soul-link powers: Empathy and Shroud

keep up with your job duties and bring people together while trying to protect your employer from a greater looming threat

someone is throwing around heavy words like 'destiny', but dealing with existential questions is entirely optional!

Amber | Andrew Wyatt Once a high-performer soul-link, they flew too close to the sun and snooped around where one does not snoop around. Having fallen from grace at a company that believes in chances, Wyatt is back on probation, though under your supervision. The light is snuffed out of their eyes, and instead of being a firm believer, Wyatt now drips disillusioned pearls of what they think is wisdom.

A languid redhead who wears sunglasses more often than not.

Samuel | Samantha C. Powell Sam has a steady job, does weekly family visits and always parks the bike properly. How do you learn that? Sam is also your sparkling new charge, a common everyperson, a salt of the earth—nope, not that simple at all! You cannot seem to find their soulmate (never happens) and they can see through your glamor (never happens either). To be fair, Sam is freaked out by it, too.

Your sporty charge in a wrinkle-free T-shirt with a mess of locs held back by a band.

Martin | Mia Romero A hectic ball of energy that is a human person, they are passionate about their distaste for your employer's business and are happy to go in length about it. Romero is messy, yet strangely put together in their belief: a hurricane that may sweep you off your feet if you are not careful enough. They know things, things no human should. You should probably report that to your boss...

A city dweller with hair tied sloppily in a short low ponytail, perfectly matched with dramatic eyebags.

[unholyhelbig]

fuck yes wandanat!!!

Center picture Cred: Jadiakallisti

Title: The Beast You've Made of Me [Part 1/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Wordcount: 3977

Summary: When reader wakes up in her own grave, she's suddenly aware of a past that spans lifetimes, but she's not the only one. Two Avengers are tasked with keeping readers past a secret, or at the very least, controlled.

Warnings: Being buried alive, claustrophobia, guns, general violence, cold leftovers and horrible grammar.

[a/n: Let me know if anyone wants to join the taglist! I should be able to post every week to bi-weekly depending on some travel! This is setting some things up, but I promise it gets better.]

[ Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven ]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

The weight of dirt was beginning to make the lid of the state provided casket buckle. It wasn’t very sturdy despite its drastic price that the government contemplated paying. It would have been easier to cremate, send you into the afterlife with the kiss of fire white-hot enough to melt bone. But your will had been specific, not necessarily written by you, but detailing that you must be buried, nonetheless.

No state representative wanted to have the ghost of a twenty-something paralegal on their hands. Though most were Roman Catholic and believed whole-heartedly that once a candle was lit in recognition a spirit couldn’t possibly seek vengeance. Still, they respected your wishes.

No, not your wishes. You were too young to even think of a will, or any specifications that would result in your burial. You still swallowed two cans of candle-flavored alcoholic seltzer with your sad dinner of microwaveable lasagna. You hadn’t made a habit of signing legal documents between sloppy bites and buzzed naps in the sun.

Which begged the question of why you were in a casket in the first place, and why dirt was starting to sprinkle down from the creaking wood above. Doctors made mistakes, but burying you alive? Well- shit, that was less of a mistake and more of a deliberate ignorance.

Your body was stiff, cold and unwelcoming to the life that suddenly thrummed through you. Maybe you had been dead. Nothing two full bottles of Advil couldn’t ebb out of you. Your fingertips pushed against the fabric lining, testing the validity of the box you were in.

This was all somehow extremely familiar; the darkness that swam around you, the putrid scent of your own breath after being beneath the earth for God knows how long. You could taste the film on your teeth and almost craved a toothbrush more than you did freedom. Almost.

Despite the pain in your calves, you situated yourself to where your feet pressed against the lid. With just a little leverage maybe you could push hard enough to free yourself. There was a rhythmic shoveling above; so you weren’t completely packed in yet.

Suddenly, very thankful for the yoga classes Jennifer was making you take, you maneuvered until you got enough strength to push. For a few agonizing moments, nothing budged except your spine. Fuck, fuck, fuck. A few more breaths and a harder push and the latches on the outside of the casket seemed to give way to the pressure with a small pop. You could taste dirt, feel it in your eyes.

Another brisk shove and the lid flung off it’s hinges, crashing loudly against the meticulously carved grave. You winced at the cold soil that suddenly surrounded you. Worms squirmed against your skin and that was enough for you to sit up with gusto, holding back a stomach full of vomit. Formaldehyde? It tasted terrible, either way.

You shivered and dusted yourself off. It was either early morning or just before dusk. You couldn’t tell but the electric blue sky had just started to fade to orange. You wouldn’t have been able to handle the sun being in full force, barely blinking away the color of the world, much brighter than the dark box you’d dismantled.

And boy, did you dismantle it. You’d only intended to push it up, free yourself, but the cheap wood had splintered and crumbled under just a little force. You stood in the wreckage and peered up at the company you had obtained.

“What the fuck?!”

It was a man who looked younger than you in his fear. He held a shovel in his hands, hugging it close to his chest. His mouth was slightly opened and his deep brown eyes were widened in fear and shock. The knees of his dark blue jumpsuit were stained with dirt and water.

“Can you give me a boost?” You croaked.

“A boost… I, fuck, I shouldn’t’ have taken this job.”

“You can quit after you help me out of this hole.” You shivered, looking down at the dirt below your feet. You swore you saw it pulse like a heartbeat. Too many worms, maybe even a few spiders. You’d never been too fond of bugs. You reached your caked hand up. “Please.”

He made a small noise in the back of his throat. “I don’t want to be patient zero.”

“Do I look like a zombie to you?”

“A little,”

“Now I’m offended and freezing my ass off.”  

He regarded you, probably checking for a nasty festering bite, yellowing skin and any general signs of reanimation. When he didn’t find any, he reached a shaking hand down to you. Both of you struggled and strained until you found the perfect hold on the side of the grave. God- you were never so happy to touch grass.

You panted and stared up at the sky, stars were starting to pockmark the navy blue. It was, in fact, night. The metal tip of a shovel was pointed towards your neck. “Aw, come on, I thought we bonded there.”

“I’m talking to a corpse, we are not bonding.”

“Where are we?” You ignored his pointed stare and tilted yourself up on your elbows. A cemetery was the easy answer. But you wanted to know which one. There were at least 1,700 in the state of New York alone, and they all looked deceivingly the same. “Do I have to take a cab to Manhattan?”

“Uh, you’re in White Plains. Mount Calvary cemetery. I’m- I’m sorry, is this not freaking you out at all?”

You frowned, patting the pockets of a pair of jeans (why the hell would they bury you in jeans, they were the worst). In a long exhale you said. “Shit. I think worms ate my cash.”

It was a longshot to even think that your phone would be in your pocket. It wasn’t. But that left you stranded almost an hour, by car, outside of the city. It would be morning by the time you made it back and that was if no-one pulled up to the side of the road and tried their luck.

You did the only thing you can think of and peered up at this stranger with watery, wide eyes. It wasn’t a move you pulled often, meaning it still worked on Jennifer, on your mother and your father. This was a last resort and you were certainly willing to use it to your advantage.

“What? No.” He shook his head “No! No! Absolutely not. You just dug yourself out of a grave I fucking refuse-“

His name was Austin and he drove a 2002 Ford that needed to warm up for a few minutes before he even considered pulling out of the gravel drive. He was pressed as far as possible away from you and that didn’t exactly boost your confidence, but honestly, truthfully, you would take what you could get at this point.

Austin asked if you were freaking out, and you were. Everything was patchy and black in some places. You couldn’t remember how you’d ended up in a casket. It was clearly a situation that irked you for more than one reason. The forefront of which; no one had attended your funeral.

You weren’t even from White Plains. You’d known from your day job that this place had more than one government funded cemetery. So, most likely, you were given a half-rate priest with liquor on his breath and a funeral director that may have taken the twenty from your pocket, not the worms.

Your stomach clenched as Austin began to drive. He was tapping his fingers against the steering wheel nervously, and could you blame him? A corpse was in his passenger seat. Though, you felt alive enough.

“What’s your name?” He eventually asked, flicking on his high beams. You were on a long and deserted road flanked by oak trees. The occasional field passed by, the reflective quarter-sized eyes of cows blinking at the truck. “Frankenstein?”

You snorted, “Ha-ha. Frankenstein was the doctor, not the monster, you know? And I don’t remember my pitiful grave being struck by lightning.”

“You’re deflecting.”

“Perhaps.”

“Pitiful? Really? I work hard to maintain those graves.”

“I’m sure they’re lovely.” There was a rolling beat of silence. He glanced at you twice before shrugging his shoulders and leaning his chest closer to the wheel to see better. “It’s y/n. Wasn’t it written on the stone?”

Austin shook his head softly, “No, they don’t put the stone in until later. I’m supposed to spray paint a neon ‘x’ on the packed dirt, so they know what to make.”

How humiliating. You’d supposedly died, no one came to your funeral, and you were reduced to less than a quarter of spray paint. There was a system to everything, but this one made your self-importance fizzle out like a covered candle. There one moment and gone the next.

“Do you have a plan?” Austin changed the subject.

“A plan?”

“Yeah, like, are you just going to show up and say surprise, I’m alive? I’ve seen a lot of horror movies and that never goes well.”

Well, that was your plan. It was a damned good one too. There was nowhere else for you to go. While this near stranger was nice enough, you couldn’t impose on him for more than a single ride. His kind chocolate stare was telling enough. He would let you stay with him as long as it took to figure all of… this, out.

“Yeah,” You sighed out, leaning your head against the cool glass “That’s all I’ve got.”

Jennifer’s apartment building had a small box that required a code for entry. You knew the right numbers to press in the right order, they had faded away from regular use, but the door was always propped open by a cinderblock to let in the cool summer air.

If it rained hard enough, New Yorkers would take partial shelter under the awnings, and sometimes going as far as to loiter in the front lobby by the large set of mailboxes. They were the oldest and most fascinating part of the building, large and wrought iron. Allegedly, they’d survived three building fires.

Thankfully, no one but you stood in the lobby as you watched Austin’s taillights flicker out of existence. You’d have to thank him later- of course, you hadn’t gotten his number, but you knew where her work. At least where he worked up until now.

Escorting someone who had kicked their way out of their own grave back into the city was grounds for quitting, in your book.

The elevator was the second oldest thing in the building, but you somehow felt a wave of relief wash over you when the familiar warmth pressed against your skin. The mechanics jolted and hummed like an old lawn mower. All of these were comfortable.

Hunger tinged at your stomach in one fail swoop of feeling. You steadied yourself against the reflective interior of the elevator as it rose to the highest floor. Each number was signified in a loud and crude beep. You were tempted to hit the emergency stop; gaging the feeling in your abdomen.

Brains?

Yeah, the thought of them was absolutely unappetizing. Austin had gotten into your head. There was no innate need to dig your teeth into flesh and devour. In fact, you became more nauseous at the idea than before it popped into your head.

Zombies were chained to shitty horror movies you and Jennifer curled up to watch every Friday night, making fun of the gelatin that was used for wiggly guts and the cooked rice substituted for maggots. You could go for rice right now.

Knowing your best friend, she would have some sort of left-over cuisine in her fridge and you didn’t hesitate to run your fingers over the top of the doorframe to procure her hidden key, taped with a single strip of adhesive to the surrounding paneling.

Her apartment was dark save for the small tank with a one-finned goldfish named Gus. He barely regarded you, the dull buzz of his home and the pale blue light gave you all the vision you needed. Again, the familiarity of Jennifer’s apartment warmed you, comforted you. If you stopped for too long, you’d think about it all too much.

Waking up in a grave, not remember how you got there in the first place. When was the last time you’d had a meal? You’d purposefully avoided the side mirrors in Austin’s car, even the rearview was gently nudged by your dirt-caked hand. One thing at a time.

The fridge swung open with a satisfying pop and you were never more thankful for the red and white takeout containers that rested on the top shelf next to a box of wine. Neither of you ever claimed to be fancy.

You knew Jennifer’s order like the back of your hand. Sweet and sour chicken with a side of fried rice and no matter what, you would eat it cold. When the scent hit you, you even considered going forkless. If not for the slick dirt under your nails, you would have.

There was instant satisfaction in shoveling a mouthful of rice into your mouth, you barely chewed before swallowing. The neon light from the open fridge illuminated your shame and you swore that Gus, the one-finned fish, was judging you. He ate flakes for fucks sake, watching you spoon cold leftovers was the least of his worries.

You’d moved on from the rice and to the chicken before you noticed that you had company. It was a shift in the air, the feeling of being watched. But there was something more too, something like an itch on the back of your neck.

In a split second you turned from your cold meal and lifted your hand up with enough time to grip a wedge golf club that Jennifer had gotten from her father for her twenty-first birthday. They collected dust next to her coatrack, and right now, the metal edge was less than an inch away from slamming into the side of your temple.

You’d never been necessarily graceful, nor good at picking up on your surroundings. You never had to be, not with your work as a paralegal. The worst thing you had to look out for was a bad reaction to burnt office coffee.

Jenn was in an oversized Pink Floyd t-shirt and a pair of boxers, her eyes were wild, hair even wilder. A bloom of fondness wash over you despite her attempt at assault. You couldn’t blame her either, your mind so one-track on getting a meal that you hadn’t warned your best friend, not in the slightest.

“Fuck! What the fuck!” she wrenched the club away from you and moved to swing again, holding it behind her head like a baseball bat.

“Jesus Christ! Oh my God, put the wedge down!”

“You’re not-“She gulped in a cold breath of air “you died!”

“Don’t hit me with that thing and kill me again!”

Her chest was heaving up and down, fingers tightening against the rubber grip handle. Her eyes were frantic. “Did you eat my leftovers?”

You blinked at her, not sure what to say. She didn’t give you a chance to answer either, instead she sprung forward and wrapped you in a bone-crushing hug. You breathed her in, her scent of summer rain and freshly cleaned laundry. Her hair tickled your nose but you held her back, held her as if it were the last time you ever would.

Something softly broke within you, and you felt tears well up in your eyes. They slid silently down your cheeks. The fridge closed with a padded thump and plunged you both into the neon blue glow. Eventually, the club fell to the floor with a clank and her fingers fisted your shirt. You were thankful that she didn’t use her full strength.

“How is this happening?”

“I don’t know,” You rasped.

And you didn’t. Everything was so fuzzy and each time you attempted to press the subject in your mind, you felt the start of a headache at the base of your skull. For now, you were perfectly content holding your friend flush against you.

“You smell so bad,” She sobbed.

“Yeah, well, I was dead.”

Jenn pulled back and squeezed both of your shoulders, studying you longer than you had studied yourself, her breath shuddered “Maybe this is one of those Halloween things, like… like you have one night back on earth.”

You gave her a weak smile “It’s June, Jenn.”

She frowned at you, fingers pressing against your goosebump covered skin. “Sweetie, it’s October. You’ve been… gone, four months.”

But you hadn’t been buried since June. You were barely buried this evening. Your body ached from how stiff the casket had been, fingers numbed from the cold. You figured you were jarred, not in a different season altogether.

“I don’t… I don’t remember anything.”  

She swallowed hard, linking her hands behind your, they rested at the base of your spine. You could tell that she was afraid to release her hold on you. Her breath was warm against your collarbone.

“You were hit by a car that blew through a redlight.”

Okay- anticlimactic. You worked alongside Jennifer at Goodman, Lieber, Kurzberg and Holliway on cases that were focused on Inhumans, superheroes and supernatural beings that had gotten themselves into legal trouble. Being taken out by a car accident wasn’t on your top-five ways to go.

“It was all very… weird. They wouldn’t’ let me see you, and at first, I thought it was because we’re not family, but they didn’t let them in either. I even pulled the attorney card, which I’m not proud of, but they refused to let us even identify you.”

She withdrew her touch and started to pace around the kitchen. It was her way of thinking, and now that she was sure that you were a solid being, she was free to move around. “Even when I got six feet tall, mean and green, they wouldn’t let me in. I was two seconds from calling Bruce.”

Jenn stopped and lifted both eyebrows at you “You look remarkable for someone who has been under the earth for months.”

“I was being buried today in White Plains. I’m assuming there was no funeral, then?”

“No… no. They had said that private arrangements had been made and it’s my guess that those were keeping you on ice until now.”

You winced at the phrasing. You were never too fond of hospitals and the blocks in your memory scared you more than anything. If what Jennifer was saying was right, then, you may not have died in that intersection. You may have been through something much, much worse.

“Sorry,” She sighed out, desensitized just as you were. “Y/n, you can’t remember anything?”

“No,” The word came out as a broken whisper.

The two of you stood in a quiet moment. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, and you held onto that feeling. It was there, you were there, pockmarked memory and all. You felt the urge to reach out and hold Jennifer again, suddenly so exhausted you didn’t’ imagine your legs holding you up much longer.

Her eyes flickered down to the center of your chest and then back up to your stare with an immeasurable amount of fear. When you gazed down at the dirt-stained shirt, you saw a red dot, quivering as if a hand was behind it’s direction. Your shoulders slumped.

“aw, fuck.”

Jennifer let out a scream as her front door was splintered open and flung with great force across the room. The two windows that overlooked the view of the city shattered as heels broke against the panes. The one singular dot had changed to seven, long-range rifles aimed at you, and you were suddenly very sad that your last meal would be cold leftover rice.

Even in the dark, you knew that they had knocked over the fishtank holding Gus, multicolored rocks and glass slid across the wooden floor. There were light gray circles against the breasts of these intruders, a bird with outstretched wings in it’s center.

Your hands went up reflexively, both you ducked behind the breakfast nook, you were close to plugging your ears, the red dots trained on the fridge now, “Oh my god, did you call SHIELD?”

“No! No, I didn’t even know you were alive three minutes ago, I was going to hit you with a golf club and call the cops, not SHIELD.”

They were assholes and tight-lipped about everything, always. It was hard to get a phone call back from them divulging information about ongoing lawsuits, but now they were in front of you, guns raised and depriving Jennifer’s fish of life.

“Gus is going to drown,” You whispered harshly back.

“He’s a fish, he can’t drown.”

“In air.”

There was obvious shifting of firearms. The Agents were all calculated and still with their movements, there wasn’t subtle noise without intent. A gruff, raspy female voice called out to you. “Come out with your hands up, y/n.”

You peaked over the breakfast bar and squinted into the darkness. Your body was not equipped for this. It was already protesting from kicking open the casket with a bought of strength. It certainly wasn’t prepared for this.

Most of the agents were in swat gear, bullet-proof vests and helmets, their faces were covered with balaclava’s, leaving only small strips of exposed skin and eyes trained on you. You hadn’t had this much attention directed at you since your fifth-grade talent show, and you figured the last time would be your funeral, but that hadn’t gone exactly to plan.

The woman who was speaking was in a tactical suit. She didn’t’ bother to cover her identity, she didn’t have to. This was the Black Widow. Natasha Romanoff. Jennifer had gotten drunk one night after a losing case and told you about her cousin having a bit of a fling with her. You’d met Bruce, and that was… unbelievable in the nicest way possible.

Her emerald eyes were trained on you, serious and hard. A tingle ripped up your spine and your stomach squirmed at her scrutiny. Maybe it was the rice and the chicken, but you felt the urge to vomit. You wanted her to say your name again, despite not understanding why she knew it in the first place.

Jennifer gripped your ankle, shaking her head ‘no’ vigorously. Really, you should trust your lawyer friend.

The Black widow let out a sigh, the tip of her handgun pointed to the ground. “You can either come out, or I’ll blow a hole through your chest. Your choice.”

Your gaze flashed down to Jenn and she seemed to have changed her mind within a second, nodding with caution. “Okay, okay.”

Once you were at full height, the room bustled in movement. Your eyes remained on the Black Widow, and hers on yours. Your mouth felt dry, the tip of her gun pushing against your ribs before she flipped you and bent you over the granite counter. Jennifer was using her heels to scoot back to the fridge, trying to avoid the agents swarming around.

Metal cuffs were slapped against your wrists. The Black Widow was pressed flush against you, her warmth dominating. She grasped the back of your shirt and pulled you up. You were, for a fleeting moment, at her mercy. Her fingers searched your pockets, padded down your sides. Once she figured you clean, she holstered her weapon. “Y/n Y/l/n,” she husked in your ear. You suppressed a shiver, knowing she’d feel any move you made right now. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

Taglist: No one yet :(

[pinkpigtailsprincess]

𝜗𝜚 ݁ ˖ Dollies 63 Days of Summer Glow up!! Day 1 > Prep 🎀☀️🐬

Hii Dolls!! 🎀 Welcome 2 my newest series of my 2 month long summer glow up process its pretty self explanatory but im gonna be documenting my 2 month long summer glow up process 2 just be a better me!! enjoy!! ☀️

DISCLAIMER!! ; i will censoring and dancing around certain topics just bc ik they can be triggering to some folk that have issues so cw; vauge mentions of w3!ght!! 💗

Stage 1 : Health! ☀️

It always important to keep up with ur health obvii 2 maintain good balance in life! ☀️

𐙚 𓈒 ݁ ₊ Diet!! 🍏

Now diet wise i already do have a pretty balanced and healthy diet to begin with so i won’t have to that much work on my diet but i definitely wanna make small improvements!!🎀

𐙚 𓈒 ݁ ₊ Diet Goals!! 🍋

incorporate different from my usual ones fruits!!

expand my palate (chronic picky eater)

making more meals that are still healthy & tasty but not repetitive!!

not skipping my meals!!

cutting out all meats except fish!!

push myself to like cucumbers

get back into drinking more fruit water!!

stop eating so much cheese!

knowing my limit when eating!

𐙚 𓈒 ݁ ₊ Exercise !! 🧘‍♀️

Doing more exercise is definitely a huge one for me because there was a point where i did it daily but then i stopped bc i feel into a rut but then i started again but only once a month so im trying to get back into daily exercise!!

𐙚 𓈒 ݁ ₊ Fitness Goals!! 🧘‍♀️

workout more than once a month!

do more yoga + cardio + home pilates

use exercise to make me healthier & happier

lose w*ight i won’t disclose how much i want to loose and how much i wanna be bc that’s personal 2 me !!

feeling comfortable in my body + build discipline

𐙚 𓈒 ݁ ₊ Oral Health !! 🪥

I Will say i did recently update my oral hygiene routine bc i got braces so now i have to do more work but i definitely wanna still add things to it!!

𐙚 𓈒 ݁ ₊ Oral Health Goals !! 🦷

consistently floss in the morning as well as night

buy a tongue scraper

get an electric toothbrush

start oil pulling

𐙚 𓈒 ݁ ₊ Mental Health !! ☀️

I Sooo wanna improve some thing in my mental health bc obviously its super important to not only take care of my physical health but my mental health!! 🎀

𐙚 𓈒 ݁ ₊ Mental Health Goals !! 🧁

get back into journaling

get back into meditation

step out of my comfort zone

build more confidence in social settings!

replace most phone time with reading time

spend more time outside

prioritizing rest more

not being to hard on myself

celebrating all my wins and accomplishments no matter how big or small!

Stage2 ೀ⋆ : Hygiene!

I Already have a pretty solid skincare routine to begin with but honestly i just wanna improve to it and add more to it ! 🎀

Skincare ୭₊˚ ! 🎀

For my Skincare routine i already have my products and my basics but honestly i wanna stater using different products to better help my skin!!

❤︎ ໋𓈒 Skincare Goals ! ⭐️

ice rolling

gua-sha

jade rolling

bi weekly dermaplaing

weekly face mask

facial steaming

facial cleansing brush

use more Korean & Japanese products (Japanese products are literally the best)

Body-care ୭₊˚ ⭐️

Another section where i wanna make improvement i already exfoliate,hair removal sometimes and i use my antibacterial soap and my body washes but theres a bunch of things i wanna incorporate!! 💗

❤︎ ໋𓈒 Bodycare Goals ! 🐬

start dry brushing

exfoliate weekly

shave or epilating more often (my own choice bc honestly i don’t like the feeling of body hair

use my glycolic acid more routinely

buy more sweet smelling body products

find a signature scent

use body oil + body butter + body glitter

using an African exfoliating net instead of a rag

Haircare ୭₊˚ ! 💗

For my Hair care i definitely wanna make room for improvement i mainly detangle every day with just some water or style depending on if i need/want to or not and i oil my scalp!!

❤︎ ໋𓈒 Haircare Goals ! 🐬

Grow it out more with the Help of Indian Amla Oil (some said it stinks but if it helps)

Learn More Hair Styles

Use Rice Water

castor oil

Scalp Massage More Often

Hair Masque Bi-Weekly

Trim Split Ends

Deep Conditioning On a Wash Day

Nailcare ! ୭₊˚ ⭐️

use more cuticle oil

professional manipedis bi weekly!

soak my feet with foot salts more

develop my own at home nail care routine

Facials!!🎀

buy new daily vitamins!!

keep my hair professionally done!!

use my primuce stone more

buy more lipgloss + vaseline lip care

Stage 3 ೀ⋆ Makeup + Jewelry + Fashion + Perfumes 🛍️ !!

I wanna learn how to do my makeup again so badly! and this time i have more tips so i can actually learn how to do it properly!! 🫧

Makeup Goals ୭₊˚ !

find the perfect soft glam dolly makeup

perfect my eyebrows

learn to glue down lashes

make the perfect base

learn to bronze and contour correctly

perfect the highlighter placement

get the perfect sun kissed summer doll makeup

again buy more lipgloss

Jewelry Goals ୭₊˚ ! ⭐️

i desperately have been needing new jewelry and for the longest and ive stupidly been wearing silver knowing i like gold better

buy bangels

get gold hoops

get a new nameplate

get more necklaces

get more rings

get anklets !!

Fashion Goals ୭₊˚ ! 🛍️

actually dress in clothes i genuinely like

dress for my body type

not toning down my dressing for random people

build confidence in my outfits

start sewing some of my outfits bc i can

make crochet pieces for the beach

buy tons of cute clothes!!

make more inspo boards !!

Stage 4 ; Posture,Eloquence + Mannerism + Photogenic 🎀🍰

Definitely a Big one for me i wanna fix my posture and definitely speak up more in public bc im a little shy 🙈🎀!

Posture Goals ୭₊˚ ! 🫧

fix my back posture

learn to again regulate my nervous sustem and relax my shoulders

be more fluid in my movements!!

walking with my head up

Eloquence Goals ୭₊˚ ! 🛁

speaking louder in public so people can actually hear me

speaking clearly with confidence

controlling my facial expressions more

smiling more!! 😁

Mannerism Goals + Body Language ୭₊˚ ! 🛍️

I tend to tone down my natrual mannerisms ALOT when im out in public and honestly im tried of not being my true self in public and i let the opinions of those around me influence me into toning it down

be more animated as i am at home in public

walk the way i want to!!

practice princess mannerisms with my own little spin🤭

walk around like a princess bc im literally a princess

Extra Goals ୭₊˚ ! 🛍️

be more photogenic

learn how to pose

be more videogenic

walk around like i won the place (4 the confidence esque of it

Stage 5: Mindset!!🎀⭐️

The Final Stage!!🎀: where ill be implementing so mindsets of some my favs and learn how to express myself in my environment bc honestly it sucks not being able to be myself around my family ⭐️

Mindset Goals ୭₊˚ ! 🐬

knowing my worth

not letting outside opinions dictate my life

unapologetically being myself around my family

reminding my self that people opinions don’t matter

always have a one track mind with all my goals!!

again not being too hard on myself!

Thank you all so much 4 reading i can’t wait till start documenting my journey with you guys!!🎀⭐️ XO,Dolly!!

[lou-struck]

Distracting

Keiji Akaashi x reader

College AU!

WC: 2k

~ Thanks to the new library aid, your once quiet study spot has become much more… Distracting

a/n: sorry I have been gone for so long, it's been hard to do things lately. I hope you like this one. I tried to make it cohesive but when you start something and stop it in bi-weekly intervals you tend to loose yourself a bit in the process.

There is always that one damn professor who takes an extra step to make their course more challenging for students for no reason in particular.  

Yours is your history professor, known throughout the campus as Dr. Asshole. He is known for handwriting confusing exam questions and surprise Pop Quizzes on material chapters ahead of the assigned reading.

His newest pretentious obsession is assigning massive papers and requiring that his students research the whole thing using non-digital sources. This wouldn't be an issue normally, but your university is in the middle of nowhere, and there are at least a hundred students in this particular class. Which means every desperate student looking to raise their grade will be flocking to the library trying to find as many sources they can.

As soon as your class and you start your usual walk to the university's library, your usual study spot, and hope it will be the goldmine of information you need it to be. 

The sliding glass doors part for you as you enter. The faint smell of books wafts under your nose as you enjoy the natural sunlight that streams in through the glass skylights. The quiet, studious atmosphere lacks the noisy distractions that are back at your place. The air is comfortable, not too warm, and not too cold.

Your usual table is bare and sun-soaked under the glass skylights. Your book bag slides stiffly down your shoulder, and you wonder if it would be a good idea to leave it unattended for a few minutes.

Your eyes scan the room. There are a few students lounging in the corner on some large beanbags, Little white earbuds snug in their ears as they scroll through their sleek, thin, laptops. You see the back of one of the Library assistants slowly pushing a cart of books down a lowly lit aisle. 

Your gut tells you that you can trust the small group of randos. You set your bag down on the table so you can begin your search for academic materials. Slowly, you make your way down the rows of books. The space has never looked cleaner; all the selves, even the hard-to-reach ones, are free of dust, and as you flip through possible sources, you notice that someone has taken the time to smooth out previously dog-eared pages and pluck out the old bookmarks. 

After only searing the shelves for a few minutes, you have an uncomfortably tall stack of books in your arms. 

For balance, you stretch your chin out to steady the stack as you start to walk back to your table. The smooth laminate of the book jackets causes your literary mountain to quake as you shuffle through the shelves. Your arms burning from the weight as you turn a blind corner. 

There's a crash

There's some cursing

And you are on the ground…The books clattering to the floor around you as you wonder how you ended up face to carpet. 

Books are scattered all around you as a hand comes into your peripheral. It extends itself toward you as if it was trying to help you up.

"Are you alright!? I am so sorry." the voice of its owner says. Their voice laced with genuine concern as you take in the worried face of and the dark, slightly-messy hair of Keiji Akaashi. You know him as the setter for your university's Volleyball team. 

You have only ever seen him with his friends walking to practice or from the stands whenever you make it to a home game. Never up close like this. He is so handsome that you wonder if you hit your head during your fall to have just noticed it.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asks again, and you realize that you haven't answered him at all. You must've been too busy admiring how great the lean athlete looks in his cream-colored sweater.

"Yeah," you reply, taking his hand and allowing him to help you to your feet. "I'm all right."j

"Really?' His blue eyes are looking you over again as if he doesn't believe you.

You know your head and give him a sweet smile. "I'm positive. I'll take a whole lot more than a book cart to take me out."

"That's a relief." he chuckles, "I guess I got a bit distracted earlier." his gaze casting downwards slightly. They embarrassingly land on a half-open book, which must be the cause of this whole thing. 

"Pride and Prejudice?" you muse, craning your neck to view the title. "Good choice. I'd get distracted too."

"It's a great book." he sighs, "But I should've been paying more attention to where I was going. Especially with the cart, those wheels are stubborn." 

You look at the cart behind him and find yourself agreeing with him. The library may have been renovated fairly recently, but those carts were not included in the remodel. "I see what you mean; they certainly have seen better days." Your fingers reach out to gently tug at the peeling top layer of paint on the cart. The tan color covers up chipped and uneven coats of grays and black from years past. 

It brings a silly smile to your lips when you think about the similar paint job covering the light switches back at your rental. College housing does not have the highest caliber or repairs, and so it is often subjected to the 'landlord special.'

You notice that he is watching you, his blue eyes scanning your features like he is reading a book. They flicker from your eyes to your mouth as if he is trying to discern what you are thinking at that moment. 

This careful attention isn't creepy at all. It's rather endearing. Especially coming from someone as blatantly attractive as Keiji Akaashi. 

Your cheeks burn with embers of youthful bashfulness, and you hope that he doesn't notice.

"Oh wow, you were really carrying a lot of books," he comments, looking away from you long enough to notice your stack of fallen library books. Without any hesitation, he crouches down and begins gathering the pile for you. 

"You think so?" you ask. "I still don't know if I have enough for my assignment." the somber tone of your voice causes the library aide to inspect the large stack of books in his arms.

"Let me guess, you have Dr. Asshole this semester." he chuckles dryly. "I had him last spring."

"He's really the worst," you chuckle. "I just want to get this paper over with before everyone is fighting over the same three books."

"I remember that," he laments, "Bokuto- uhh, my friend was in that class for about one hour before he dropped it. I think that was the smartest thing he has ever done."

"I think I'm a bit too stubborn to drop." you chuckle, holding your arms out to take the books from his sweater-clad arms. 

"And I'm a bit too stubborn to give these back to you." he glances at the tables behind you. "Where are we taking these?" 

"I- can take them back myself," you say defiantly, a light playfulness to your tone.

"I'm sure you can. But it's the least I can do after running you over with a book cart."

"It's hard to argue with that logic. My spot is right there." you point to your lonely table as he follows behind you. Easily carrying the stack of books you had selected. 

Having a gorgeous man carry your books was something you thought only existed in coming-of-age rom-coms (or whatever). But now that it's happening in real life, you can't say that the experience is not enjoyable.

"Is there alright?" he asks, gesturing to the tabletop. When you nod, he sets the pile down at your spot and notices that there is a student waiting by the checkout counter, their fingers drumming impatiently against the wood. Keiji sees them and lets out a deep sigh, "I guess I have to get back to work, but if you need any help finding more books for your paper, I'd be more than happy to help."

You hate that this little moment, whatever it was, is over. But you understand that he has a job to do, and so do you. "Thank you, I will definitely let you know if my pile is too small."

He smiles so genuinely at your words that you start to wonder if him hitting you with that book cart is one of the best things to ever happen to you. 

As he walks away, you get settled into your seat and take the first book from your pile. Your eyes scan over the crinkly, water-damaged pages without really processing anything. 

How could you think about anything other than Keiji Akaashi, the volleyball-playing, sweater-wearing, snarky library assistant who keeps glancing over at you from his desk?

You hide your smile with the palm of your hand, determined to pretend to be engrossed in your studies.

~

Half an hour later, you have not made any progress on your paper at all. Your poor, distracted brain tries to read those tiny words. But you can't comprehend anything. So you're just staring down at the pages with a furrowed brow.

It's not your fault, really…

It's his…

You wonder if he takes pleasure in distracting little old you. 

As if to test this theory of yours, you shyly glance back over at the checkout counter only to make direct eye contact with Akaasi. His blue eyes shine almost mockingly as if to say, 'I caught you.'

You look back at your incomprehensible book, trying to make your movements as natural as possible. But from the corner of your eye, you notice that he's coming over. 

"Someone just turned this one in," he says, placing a well-loved book at the top of your pile. "I thought it would help you with your paper."

"Thank you." you beam, not realizing that your empty page of notes is shining up at him. 

"It's not a problem." he smiles. 'You may want to move on from that one; it doesn't seem to be giving you anything useful."

He caught you. You feel that familiar, embarrassing heat creeping its way up your neck. You shake it away and look at him with a reassuring smile.

"Masterpieces take time." you chuckle, "What would Dr. Asshole say if he found out I rushed through this precious little paper of his."

He leans against the wood. "There's a difference between taking your time and getting distracted." the way he murmurs that last word sends the butterflies resting in your stomach flying all over the place. Their imaginary wings tickle your heart as they travel upwards.

"Just watch." you grin, taking a new book off of your pile. "I am about to make so much progress."

"I'll believe it when I see it," he says, turning to walk back to his table. You may not notice it, but the tips of his ears are flushed a deep shade of pink as he glances back at you from over his shoulder.

Determinedly, you read away. Jotting down little bits of information with a newfound energy. Cute library aides may be distracting, but passing this class is a bit more important at this moment.

You manage to get a decent amount of work done before your water bottle runs dry. 

The warm air makes studying without it rather uncomfortable, so you grab the cylinder and take it to the water fountain near the bathroom. 

By the time you come back to your spot, you notice a little blue notecard on your tabletop taped to a pack of gum.

Sorry again for running you over. I had to go to practice, but I hope this makes up for it. - K. Akaashi

In this moment, you couldn't care less about the gum. How could you when his phone number is carefully printed at the bottom of the card?

Tagging: @enchantedforest-network

[luimagines]

I dare you to do one with your favorite trope to write (unless you've already done it)

Oh my goodness, this might be longer that usual. XD

And I really had to think about what I wanted to write. I think I'll make this a one-shot. (unless you guys want more anyway) Prepare for this to be as self indulgent as hell. :D

And I'll make it Time while I'm at it.

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

This was the third time this week that you found something like this. You didn't know who was doing this.

A basket, filled to the brim with goodies and trinkets alike, sat properly outside of your window sill. It would be charming if you weren't on the third floor. Someone was climbing up to your balcony and leaving the baskets for you to find.

It was creepy- to a degree. There was never anything malicious about it though. The baskets typically held a flower, a warm meal (or groceries) and some little thing for you to put around your apartment.

You see, you moved to the Kingdom of Kokiri with nothing but a backpack and small child's wagon. Your apartment wasn't even on a nicer side of town. But it hard to be worried about robbers when you're home is bare and empty.

Slowly, that's been changing though. The baskets always had a poem attached, but no name. You secret admirer would give little things from time to time. The baskets are getting more frequent too.

What used to be a small monthly thing, turned weekly then bi weekly- and you're beginning to suspect that they're turning into a daily thing.

Part of you worries that whoever this is, is spending too much on you.

But seeing that the last basket had a new set of dining wear with plates and cups and a some nice utensils to match- you're not inclined to have them stop anytime soon when they're improve your very living conditions as it is. Even if you feel a little guilty.

That being said, this basket had a warm meal already prepared, still steaming in the glass tupperware. There was a small bouquet of roses near the top and a small little box that you opened to see a single slice of chocolate cake.

The card was attached on the inside but it lacked the typical poem. It simple read: "Rest well, Love. You've worked hard today. Dinner's on me. I just want to see you smile in the morning."

You smiles and tucked the card back into its place, bringing the basket back into your apartment.

You have to figure out who this secret admirer of yours is. It has to be someone with access to your floor but it can't be a neighbor. Right? You're on the corner so it can't be anyone to your left. But maybe your neighbor to the right? That's a creepy thought. You hardy ever see him and you don't think he showers throughout the week.

It can't be him. Or at least you're going to deny it.

Maybe it's someone from above? That's more likely. There is this cute guy that you know lives on the floor above you, but you don't know which apartment. It wouldn't be hard to drop the basket secretively onto your balcony from above if that was the case.

The thought rotates in your head as you eat the food. It's delicious. Decadent, even.

Gratitude fills your heart and soul. you have to return the favor somehow after everything this person has provided for you. But how?

You head to bed with a smile on your face and a full stomach. You'll have to start small but you can think of something.

The next morning you head to the castle and walk straight to the throne room.

It was a deal that the king had proposed personally to you. You get to work concern free in his kingdom but you have to report to him every other Tuesday. Seeing as you had nowhere else to go, you didn't think it wise to refuse.

You've grown somewhat close, but with his power and status by his side, you couldn't help but slightly intimidated by him even now.

The king- like most Royals of Kingdoms of Hyrule- was a dragon. Sure, he could take the form of a typical man, but he stayed in his half form more often than not. His age and strength add to his credentials. As the current senior amongst dragons, all you've gathered is that he's lived longer than he appears. The older the dragon, the stronger they are.

King Link is a force to be reckoned with.

However, he's kind and patient with you. He's not all that bad.

You nod and grin at the Captain, who's affectionately called Warrior. Another dragon hidden among the people. You don't know his story, but he's a hard working fellow. He also came to the king in a time of need, looking for asylum and has been working under his employ ever since. He is the king's right hand man.

Warrior smiles back and salutes you softly as you enter. You'll never understand why you've more or less been given free reign of the castle, but with his approval, you feel better to head on in.

You meet the king and curtsy clumsily, still feeling rushed. He's asked you call him Time and he stands from the throne. His face is kind, amused even. A chuckle tumbles out of him as he walks toward you, his marble like tail swinging behind him. "I thought we were passed the formalities, my dear."

You clear your throat. "Were we? I don't recall."

He laughs again. "Come. We have much to discuss."

You nod and follow. He leads you to the back room with a gentle touch the small of your back. It's a familiar routine that you've grown comfortable with.

There's a small rounded table with a pale blue laced table cloth. There's a delicate tea set and it's covered to the brim with snacks and treats alike. You think you see a few of your favorites and your eyes light up at the sight.

King Time notices and he smiles, pleased. "Sit."

You nod and take your usual spot. Time sits across from you and serves you the pieces that you eyes earlier. You almost feel bad. You're still full from the night before.

Time notices. "Something wrong, dear?"

"No." You shake your head, afraid of insulting him. "Someone gave me dinner last night and I'm still a bit full from it."

Time seemed to be shocked by the tidbit. "Really?... Was it good?"

"It was delicious!" You can't help but gush. "I would normally cook for myself but they send food from time to time and it was still warm so I couldn't resist."

His smile turns a little tight. "Is that so? I'm glad that you were fed adequately then.... May I ask who?"

You falter, the smile on your face turning more soft and shy. "Um... I think it was my neighbor..."

"...You don't know who it is?"

You blush and look down onto the table, playing with the treats on your plate. "I know that I should be more cautious. But they've only ever left it on my balcony... It's a secret admirer so to speak. They've given me trinkets and flowers and food. It seems as if they've slowly been furnishing my house for me. I don't know... I've been trying to think about who it may be, but I'm coming up short. Regardless, enough about my lack of love life-"

Time abruptly puts his hand under the table but you catch the reason why before he can hide it.

He's bent the fork in half with his hand, seemingly without realizing it. He smiles brightly, as if nothing happened and the thought gets put on the back burner for now. "Right... Well, you can always ask for my assistance, Darling."

You shake your head with a small smile. "Thank you, but I'm here to report my work. Let's get to business then."

Time clenches his jaw slightly but nods in agreement. "Right. I believe last time you mentioned that you were following a trail of some suspicious individuals on the property of the farm lands for relief efforts. Did that bloom into anything substantial?"

You pull out a manila folder with a smirk and hand it to the king. "Did it ever."

The time passes before you know it. Little by little, as you give your report, if drifts away and you're talking about your lives as much as you can before you leave.

Warrior comes in, informing Time of another meeting has to attend. He looks apologetic.

The king winces but you're quick to stand up, mid panic. "I'm sorry. I've overstayed my welcome."

"Impossible." Time blurts, standing abruptly as well. He reach out as if to stop you and moves around the table as if to block your path. His tail curls around your ankle, stopping your in your tracks. It's gentle but firm. Even if his grip is painless, you can already tell that you wouldn't be able to escape on your own.

You freeze and after a beat he lets you go. Time gulps and stands, seemingly more aware of what he was doing. His grip falls away and he takes a step back. "R-right... I won't keep you from your work much longer then."

You can't help but blush. He's always been fine with putting a hand on your shoulder or your back... but the tail is one of the most sensitive parts of a dragon. And he just grabbed you with it. For some reason, you find yourself blushing.

You nod dumbly, as if your schedule is jammed packed like his. Your heart is pounding. You follow Warrior out of the room as he leads you back to the main gate of the castle.

"Sorry." Warrior says quietly. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"Nonono-" You're still shaken by the phantom feelings of the scales around you. Even if it was just a brush, there was a power there. You don't know why you're so out of whack suddenly. The act was more intimate than you were able to admit. "If you didn't say anything, I would have kept going. Honestly, I swear he's just humoring most of the time."

"This is the only time we get him to actually take a break." Warrior tells you. "He'd work himself t the bone if it weren't for you. It's not like he can't afford it. He's two years ahead of his work. By all means, keep him there longer."

You flush and look away, walking out of the gate. "Oh please, he'll get sick of me before we'd know it."

Warrior is quick to bite his tongue, biting back the instant retort that no doubt sat on his tongue. He takes a breath and shakes his head.

"...He likes you." Warrior looks pained. Like there's something there that he wants to say but can't. You don't see it. "Would you like me to walk you home? If I recall you live far enough away-"

"Not enough to cause concern, Captain." You smile and pat his shoulder. "But thank you."

"His Majesty wouldn't like it if anything happened to you." Warrior tries to push it a little bit.

You shake you head. "And take more of your time away? You work just as hard, if not harder, than the entirety of the castle staff. I think only the King works harder than you."

He presses his lips into a thin line. His own scales poke from under his skin. Something is riling him up but you don't know what. You've never seen his dragon form or even his half. He seems to hide it more often than not. You would never know he was a dragon if the King hadn't said anything earlier.

Warrior sighs and runs his hands through his hair. "Very well... Just... be safe, yeah? I don't think the goddesses themselves would be able to calm the king should things go wrong."

"Like what?" You snort. "I end up in the hospital? I'll be fine. No worries."

You wink for good measure and head home, happy, fulfilled and ready to take on the rest of the week.

You miss the next three visits.

Part 2

[sminiac]

౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡ Bad Miracle | Day 24 of Piwontober !

⋆ Ex Bf!Choi Jiung x Reader

Event hosted by my beloved @kisseobie & @sxfterhearts <3

Prompts — Seduction, Against a wall, Somnophilia.

Contains — Alcohol consumption, saliva consumption, slight exhibitionism, oral, porn with plot, sex in a vehicle, very heavily ‘Nope’ referenced, Jiung being kind of pathetic.

💌 — This is quite a lengthy read which is genuinely my bad, I got so carried away, I just love Jordan Peeles brain. If there’s any consistencies pretend there isn’t, I’ll be making tweaks here and there to this even though it’s already posted, I was just worried abt getting it out haha, thanks :b

“So…slutty Jean Jacket it is?”

Of course Jongseob happens to string together his most unpleasant sounding set of words and absentmindedly spews them out at you, precisely summing up your biggest internal struggle.

It’s like he’s petulantly flicking salt into the gaping deep seated wound of guilt that hollows you out.

Despite your torment, it still eats at what’s left of you for subjecting him to even more of your off-putting behaviour that’s only worsened over the past few weeks leading up to the party. Unknown by him, you’ve been fighting with the same question the entire ride out, it’s been sitting in your mouth, warm and heavy like a bad bite you just can’t swallow.

Maybe you deserve it. Fortunately Seob’s tolerance for your fret without a readily available solution to wash it down, disinfect you of the bile, is astounding—gold medal deserving, even though your plastic display case now feeling more like cardboard box because of your ex’s absence.

Seob is already frequently withdrawn because of his jobs demanding schedule, leaving him socially deprived, added an unhealthy addiction to energy drinks that only makes his screen induced migraines worse.

Funnily enough, with the proclivity for being a cloistered insomniac he possesses the biggest hatred for being alone. Impromptu hangouts are a norm, or—were a norm, especially the late voluntary hours you spent with him watching over the dingy looking bookstore that smells heavily of dried glue and mildewed paper. You haven’t been there in a while, but you didn’t mind how often you were staring at the same ‘Employees favourites!’ end cap that have held the same boring books for the past handful of months that he’s been collecting the same boring bi-weekly cheques.

It’s a different kind of bonding, what the two of you do, one where you don’t feel pressured to constantly entertain the other, which is why there’s a remarkable lack of awkward tension now.

It’s normal for Seob to be spacey once trapped in that busy head of his, full of silent yearning for a position in the lively music store that’s just down the street from his, even with what little room his discontent leaves up there, he doesn’t lack the critical thinking skills that it takes to figure out the foundation of your ulterior motive, which he assumes was the very thing that led to your sudden call for a ride after being so steadfast in your refusal to attend a party that you know fully well he’ll be at.

The fact that Seob grudgingly agreed to your company for the ride here doesn’t mollify your stacking inhibitions anymore than the culpability thats balling up in your throat, keeping your tongue tangled and barred in its enclosure, a strange thing he implicitly feels inclined to shoulder too.

A finger adjusts the strap of your wings that uncomfortably dig into the soft part of your underarm, its already a struggle conducting the sexy inwardly it doesn’t help that he sounds so dejected talking about your version of the large horse hunting saucer.

Flowing light with each sway of your hips the white mini skirt you hunted for is hugging nicely at your hips, while silently you endure the tedious task of having to pull up the thin cheap-feeling socks every few meters you walk, which isn’t something you have to explicitly express your loathing for anyways, he could already tell by the third yank.

But, you look good, even with the excessive effort and inconveniences, you know you do.

All of your details, even down to the pair of red lace panties that shape you in just the right places, is for the sole purpose of what you’re walking into now—your secretive plan, which, if you outright ask Seob, is inherently a horrible idea, but even in all of its horrid glory you still pursue it tirelessly for the sake of having the smooth voiced male to yourself for just another night.

Dead set on getting your turn one last time, the intemperate lengths you went to for your costume would make sure of it. You’d make yourself a spectacle if thats what it takes to have him back in your optics.

Indiscriminately walking out from the shallow line of trees that taper off in thickness the further you come from the main road while actively sexualizing angels of all things, right in front of your squeamish, personification of virginity looking friend is the most anticlimactic, shameful culmination of what is —notably one of your more desperate attempts yet— made to somehow, some way, successfully seduce someone, and subsequently not how Seob envisioned his night out. Never has he ever seen you in something so indecent, so vile in the most watered down, gentle of words.

All of this, for what? Closure? He doesn’t get it, your intentions, the enervating process of breaking up only to then come back? Yeah, all of that and still somehow having the profound drive to do whatever it is you’re up to. He doesn’t fucking get it.

Fictitious or not you believe that somewhere past his denial and shaping of resentment there’s a sliver of him that supports you, in a: it’s just dick, do it! Way.

Besides, you could always do much worse than sleeping with your ex.

Your eyes are still focused on his location and nothing but. Zooming in, flicking out and refreshing the map that Jiung’s idle avatar sits on like some psycho stalker. You’ve been like this, acutely anxious and insufferably inquisitive ever since he parked his mom’s vehicle off the side of the dark secluded road when your map had suddenly gave out and stopped working due to the abrupt cutoff from service, it was in Jongseob’s opinion undeniably foreboding to how the rest of your evening was going to play out, but keeping a handle on his lips would probably be for the best.

With two vodka seltzers already settling into his system that you bravely shotgunned together in the front seat of the silver mini van, he’s already so dreadfully bored that not even his oncoming buzz is enough to make this enjoyable. He sighs a loud antagonizing breath, looking off his shoulder to see the small scattered twinkling mix of orange and purple hues starting to leak through the bushes, a muddled, faint sound of music and drunk laughter following.

Usually he’d be anxious to get to your destination but all he can think about is being home—getting plastered in the safety of his own cluttered room, with you, in comfy pyjamas and within the range of expensive fast-food delivery services instead of having to worry if some asshole with beer induced confidence is enough to get you to strip of that tiny fucking skirt, because when you’re drunk he’s convinced you were a track star in your past life, he hates sports, and he hates a floating drunk just as much as the talkative ones.

“You hear me?” He tsks, pinching at the cheap pair of wings on your back and tugging on it. His fresh bi-coloured hair that you did by hand sweeps with the motion of his suddenly weighted head, falling to the side of the dirt path that you walk, studying your face in the cool toned glow of your screen.

Hoping to catch a glimpse of Jiung, you’re too focused on tapping through the few stories people have posted to care for the small feathers he accidently rips out, leaving a bald spot on your right wing.

You swat his hand away, still cradling your phone. “Slutty…bad, yeah i know, you despise me. But it’s…fitting, isn’t it?”

God, he thinks, if only it were that easy.

He watches as you slide up out of the app, and then promptly tap it back open again, eyes rolling for the umpteenth time tonight “What? The sexualization of a territorial slaughtering alien? You can’t be serious.” Hands stuff further into the pockets of the baggy denim that hangs at hips, a thick braided chain hung off the loops of his waistband, clanking with the dramatic rise.

Who does he think he is? Acting all high and mighty. “You’re the one who speculated that Jean Jacket found OJ worthy of mating with, this is all your doing, boy. And, arguably, your costume isn’t even really a costume but I’m not saying anything about that.”

If you were to ask the rest of the friend group who has all taken a sudden, unexpected interest in the 2022 sci-fi thriller movie —that in your opinion is more of a psychological-thriller than horror— they’d make quite the defensive argument about it, the same way you expect Seob to with his half-assed take on Angel Torres.

“That’s insane, so you want to mate with Intak? ‘Cause that’s what I’m hearing. If you’re so interested I can go grab him for you, or…would you rather take a ride on the cowboy?” He says it to be annoying, he didn’t mean it literally, but whatever he intended or didn’t the offer catches your attention.

Big unsure eyes peer over at him as you hug your phone close to your chest, which he already knows is your only source of heat that’s preventing stiff fingers and chattering teeth. Another thing to roll his eyes about.

“If it saves a horse. You wouldn’t mind finding him from me?” The question comes with an abrupt pause, your feet just as uncertain as your tongue. “I- well shouldn’t we, i mean, how do you think he’d feel if i showed up with you? He was never fond of how close we are, so, should I walk up by myself?” If only you knew of how badly Jongseob wants to call you out for your stupidity right now, to slap your pretty face with both the flat surface of his palm and the back of his hand like they do in the cartoons. Before his lips can even move with the ghost of an insult, an unexpected laugh beats him to the sheer hilarity of your unnecessary complexities. “Wow- no? Thats fuckin’ pathetic, Y/N, I was being sarcastic. You seriously need’ta calm down, you’re not even a virgin and you’re acting like this.” A heavy hand of his reaches out, grinning in a way that makes his tooth poke out from behind his lip as he pats heavily against your shoulder, causing your winged frame to shake.

“No ‘m sorry, that was really harsh. Oh, you feelin’ it yet? ‘Cause I think i am..” At the same time he asks you both come to a sudden stop at the expansive clearing. The lights brighter, the music louder, a blazing fire maintained hot and tall to the left of you.

How did you not realize you were already here? How long ago did the effects of the two cans you knocked back start to kick in? Or, did it kick in?

“Y/N, Seob, you made iiit!” Shit.

Intak, the not-so-chalant ‘OJ’ tries to scoop you up in an awkward three-way hug, just barely do you manage to step back in time to not get lassoed in by his long orange sleeved arms. Obviously a few shots deep he doesn’t seem to notice that he’s only cradling one of you as he sways back and forth, babbling loudly—something along the lines of being glad he has other people to drink with all while leaning his entire weight from one foot to the other and nuzzling the the top of his forehead against Seob’s.

Keeho and Taeyang, a very well decided fit for ‘Emerald’ and ‘Antlers’ are a few paces back, red solo cups in hand, sharing an unfaltering run of giggles over what you assume is Intak’s tendency for being overly affectionate and Jongseob’s constant susceptibility to it. You break off from the two emotional idiots, finding company with the other two who are at least not swaying and going on drunken tangents about how much they love each-other.

Keeho announces loudly, “Y/N, sexy Jean Jacket! I like it.” While wrapping an arm around your shoulder, unhesitant about inviting you in as he’s always done, sticking you right between him and Taeyang who shuffles away a little with a genial smile, allowing you more wiggle room.

The three of you make short conversation, bonding over detailed stories of the two in front of you that were actively wrestling; trying to see who would hit the ground first by aimlessly swiping at ankles. They went at it for a while, Intak’s boyish laughter and Seob’s shrill cackle entertaining you until you started getting so cold that it became a struggle for the sound to come naturally. By the time they calmed down, dry mouthed and winded, you’d finished off the last of Taeyang’s drink that he offered somewhere between Seob doing this and Intak doing that. Unsurprisingly you were the first to offer grabbing sodas and a special refill in thanks for Taeyang’s generosity, it was an unsuspecting card that you pulled, but Jongseob knows you aren’t that considerate, you haven’t even seen Shota yet, a presumed highlight of your night, your personal paparazzi.

You don’t hear the slurred, sputtered out complaints as you quickly make your escape under the poorly strung Halloween themed lights that dangle from one low branch to another along the perimeter of the barren landscape, especially by how quickly the bonfire draws you in like a moth, your motionless body gone cold from standing for so long—you figure that’s where it makes the most sense to be, plus, better scoping ground.

The boys wouldn’t mind a few forgotten minutes as you settle on top of a tree stump. Surely they could wait for you to warm up before returning.

This isn’t a place you’d typically be comfortable by yourself, it only sinks in as you settle. Couples aggressively make out across from you with their tongues and cheeks contorted by the heat, an uncomfortably loud game of beer pong on an unlevelled table that happens just a few feet away, and the boring’s who are only lively when there’s pictures being taken, bright and fast.

Beyond the fires hot flickering light, there’s an old barn, big and dark—much too big to be overtaken by the fire, notably ominous looking from the distance it sits at, something about its unwelcoming nature intrigues you.

We are a creature of habit, even the unforgiving ones, aren’t we? You lean forward, letting your cold cheeks warm in its embrace, squinting, trying to make out any little detail you can from being this far out.

“Y/N?” A masculine voice calls. It should be disgraceful the way you know exactly who it is as soon as the first syllable of your name is pronounced, but you don’t have the spare time to linger on it.

He doesn’t wait to see your face before he proceeds to silently crouch down at your side, coolly granting himself the pleasure of your company without the need of clarity, it almost makes you question how he’s so comfortable and certain of himself for doing it, granted that of in itself is quite the rabbithole.

A colourful can occupies his hand as he bends in his red blazing-like suit, floral embellishments decorating the blazer, sporting a smile under his cowboy hat, white hot teeth the glint of your very demise. “i knew it was you.” He finishes suavely, body planting in your direction but his chin rests on his shoulder, only allowing you the right side of his cheek and jaw.

Spot on, you think. He couldn’t be more like Jupe even if he tried.

An arm is propped to the side of your thigh to keep his rocking weight stable. Eyeing what little he’s lent to your field of view, theres a lingering smile of your own, wondering if he’d also move it closer without a word.

“God. ‘Knew it was you’ don’t tell me you’re a stalker now, Jiung.” It’s endearing, really, your wit smoking off your tongue and he’s only spoken a few words, he loves how you don’t cower under his towering height because of its persistence. “Are you?” Seems your skin has thickened in his absence, too.

It’s sharp, the sensation of his teeth digging into the delicate internal flesh of his lips, pursing them tight as his defined adams apple bobs in his throat. He’s humoured by you. “Mmh not quite. I, can be though, if that’s the kind of thing you’re into now.” You don’t see the way his eyes flicker towards you under the bone white suede of his ridiculous hat, brows raised in a subtle sign of expectance on your end, then again, you can’t see it.

“Is it?”

Your head shakes, an airy almost bashful laugh filling in your wordless mouth, its a different timbre in comparison to the girls he’s encountered previous to your arrival who were fervently nodding as if he had just asked if they wanted a treat when he was dropping vague hints to the unraveling of their revealing costumes. Your wet lips glisten in the available light, smiling that pretty fucking smile he can trace in the cold wrinkles of his pillowcase. “Like.. roleplay? Never thought about it, pervert. What’ve you been getting up to since I’ve been away?” His laugh is fuller than yours as it abruptly escapes, but it’s a shared emotion nonetheless, even if you loathe the way he shares it with you so easily.

“Man, you wouldn’t even believe. Speaking of, do you…aghh, no- never mind.”

You twist, but his position only hardens. A sour ringing in your gut at the implications of his activities. “No, oh my god, no, you can’t do that? Do…i, do i what?”

Out of habit he start toying the silver ring that sits on his ring finger, a swipe of his pink tongue running against the corner of his mouth. It’s stupid, even he’s wondering where the overbearing amount of confidence came from that prompted him to even think of asking you such a thing. But he never learns. Does he? “Do you- i mean, are you into…that kind of stuff?”

A chill crawls up your back, dispersing over your skin, dancing on your spine. “Well, i mean- that’s an awfully personal question, considering we aren’t…” Jiung backs up a little bit, his arm shifting away from your thigh as if he didn’t expect for you to remember that you aren’t dating anymore. “—No yeah, it is isn’t it? You’re right I shouldn’t uh- you shouldn’t answer that, i mean, you don’t need to. Obviously.”

The drinks you’ve kocked back are really starting to build off of one another, so much that you don’t even try to hide the entertainment you consume at his expanse. A laugh makes him feel lighter. “Obviously…I was joking, you already know what makes me tick, right? Don’t get your incredibly red suit all dirty about it.” Panicked, Jiung lifts his arm, looking along his elbow to see a few smudges of tree pitch dragging along his sleeve. “Shit,” he murmurs, desperately attempting to rub it off with dry fingers. “was expensive too.”

The curved brim of his hat is full in your vision, a desperate shake to his frame as he fruitlessly tries to lessen the stain. “Spit on it.” You thoughtlessly suggest while crossing your leg over your other, attention fully diverted from his panic, because thats the pleasure you have of doing now.

Jiung stops suddenly, the top half of his face that’s still well hidden from the angle lowers further from your sight. Utterly clueless he eyes at what little skin you’ve exposed to him. Generally speaking the expanse of your soft looking legs isn’t a lot, but with a sex drive as high and responsive as his, Jiung already feels the switch of pressure in his lower region flip.

‘Spit on it’ he thinks, trying to subtly adjust his waist out of view. Do you know how insane you have to be to say that around him and not mean what he now so badly wants it to mean? His short nails drag over the sticky spots along his arm, redirecting his attention to the ground, for your own sake, for his. “I don’t think that’ll work.” He utters.

This is humiliating, he’s the one dressed as a cowboy yet here you are doing the wrangling, and you don’t even know how good of an arm you have.

His thighs tense under the tightening fabric, fighting the sudden urge to move in a way that’ll satisfy his stirring cock. He can’t fuck his ex-girlfriend, thats not something he does, that would be…deplorable, he’d be despised by your shared mix of friends, but fuck, he’s never wanted to see what those buttons on your shirt would reveal if he were to rip them free, would Seob, the more protective of them all even notice if he took you right in front of the orange light? Would he keep watching if Jiung made you messily fuck yourself on his cock? Your finger taps on the crown of his hat, “Your mouth dry?” You ask.

Jiung’s lips part, but then decidedly shut again as he nods. “Yeah, uhm, really dry, is there any water? ‘m not feeling good.”

Honestly, you should’ve known that the host of the party would’ve had it somewhere you’re not even supposed to be, and that all of the drinks were hidden in the barn so it wouldn’t look suspicious coming to the property with heavy coolers and kegs. The water was left behind thinking it wouldn’t be important enough, nor worth the struggle of trudging through sharp dead grass to retrieve it.

You set out towards the ominous building, a quieter volume than you assumed is shared in the passing stroll, the few words that you do exchange are fluid, amiable in short, and enough for you to successfully rock your weight into every divot in the hard-to-see ground. Your ankles have a much easier time when Jiung intently takes your arm around his, making you hold onto him with an assertive hand, you feel the way it effectively causes your dilapidated barrier to crumble under his touch, the frail support beams of your silence that you’ve been silently trying to uphold comes crashing down just as fast as he links into you.

He knows just as well as you that it’ll only lead to more of your mutually fruitless efforts to be squashed underfoot, but neither of you speak on it, instead you step a little harder and you hope a little less that your backup walls manage to persevere through his wrath. Unsure of if this is right, if you’re allowed to cling to him like this, any lick of your self restraint being wrapped up by a frail splitting string, intent on squeezing you in two halves. The small unfurling existence thats been covertly living somewhere inside of him starts to crack when your attention evolves into something vast, the same one that bloomed in the heat of his bed, seeking to be bathed in your pouring praises.

There’s always been something about you, something infuriating, something nauseatingly enticing about the way you patiently tend to his almost-aching cock with such a weightless attention compared to the borderline fret that others may have felt about getting him to reach his peak.

But tonight, he would leave different.

Even as you’re smoothing his pre-cum down the curve of his erection, his unopened bottle of freezing cold water discarded at his feet, your eyes find other things to admire.

Your head is in the clouds and he’s losing to what’s above.

Struggling with the knowledge that the space you occupy is unrestricted area, Jiung fights with the unimpeded sounds of soft fuss that burst from his mouth.

You don’t notice. Or, maybe you just don’t care. “It’s pretty tonight…clear, you notice?” The slightest amount of pressure is appended to your already taut fist as you wetly stroke him down to his base, pace notably far too lackadaisical for his taste, however he still finds some form of joy in this, almost exciting in a way, how you build back into the motion of things, running a finger over his tip ever few returns you make to the head. Despite his prior grievance you do manage to press slightly against his balls with the established speed of your milky glide, a guttural sound initiated by both the coursing zip of twitching pressure and the lack of increase in speed.

After having made a sticky mess of your palm it comes up to circle at his tip, grooving so sensitively against his continuously drooling slit that it admits an additional series of whimpers to escape, some he manages to catch before they drawl out, others he has to physically stop himself from letting free by digging his teeth into his red swollen lip. “Shit, been too fo-fuck! Focussed ‘n you.” Normally, he can pull out a minuscule reaction with that one, but it’s as if his piteous response drifts right past your ears. Continuing to drag long boring strokes absentmindedly you mutter back, “That’s sweet Ji’.” dismissive of his tactics, you look like you’re speaking more to the air and not to his face as you deftly slip the small silver hooks from the top of your corset. “‘s not!” He cries, emotion tightening in his face, trying to evoke some sense of empathy into you, any little sliver you have to offer.

Unsuccessful, you hum to yourself in a hairsbreadth of contemplation, “I don’t feel like putting you in my mouth tonight, y’know. ‘m sorry if that’s what you were waiting for.” It isn’t sincere, he knows you don’t mean it when you take your attention away from him to briefly peak your head out from behind the shed. “Aren’t listening to me…spent s’long, so much ‘f my- fuck, time. Hn’ you wont even pay attention t’me.”

Being on the furthest side from the lights makes for quite the struggle to scan the field, to see if anyone has managed to stray away from the group, you worry for your reclusiveness. Before you can get a good thorough look Jiung weakly rests an unsteady hand on your cheek, curling along the structure of your face as he silently pleas for a minute—just another minute added to his time spent with you, its all he needs.

Narrowed in confusion your eyes find him before the rest of your body cares to follow. “What?” You coax, bland of confusion, or even a genuine interest at all. Still he’s persistent as ever about his goal tonight. To get a word out of you at the very least was successful but nothing to feel exultant about, there’s still a large nagging part of you thats unvanquished, and there’s not a chance he’s backing out now when he’s so, so close.

He swallows, an expression on his face that would be poignant to anyone, except you. “Listen please. Just want you to make me forget where we are, or- shit, who i am to you- if i matter or not. I’ll take it.” He looks pained as your slowing motions come to a gradual halt, letting out a strenuous needy groan, but you can tell in some sick way that he’s savouring every bit of his torture, like he’s ready to spew the words ‘thank you’ any second now as you run your thumb against his sore slit.

His cock stands upright, so wet and heavy that it bobs a little even with the scant movement of his hips and no support of your hand. He’s so pretty, so much that you could chant it in a never ending string until your words blur together and no longer sound real, so pretty and so stupid. The pressure is ripped away, only returned so you drag the pad of your index finger up the side of him so painfully slow.

“You will, huh?” You ask,continuing to trace him. “Whatever i give you?”

Greedier than time, firm in his belief he confirms “Everything.” via burnt throat. “Give yourself to me, need you t’use me if thats what you need.”

“You’ll be quiet?” It’s a gentle ask, as soft as the breeze that makes him shiver just the same when he feels it.

A nod once slowly, twice, and then it becomes so fast. “Everything?” You ask again, bold—unsure of if that’s the kind of question he’ll willingly answer a second time, if it’s something he thought critically about the first, but the feeling of hearing him say it is so satisfying you can’t help wanting it a second time.

It’s funny, someone like you not expecting someone like him to drop everything for just a strum of your time. He has nothing, absolutely and completely nothing to lose. Jiung’s been looking for a pleasant sounding being all his life, and this whole time a symphony was right under his nose.

With not even a waver in his voice Jiung replies, steadfast on his decision for a second time: “Everything.” With equally as much conviction on his tongue.

Fingers work fast at your panties, tugging them down and off. Jiung watches, choked with words, his desire, feeling whiplashed by your pace and the contrast of lace. He’s overwhelmed, but fuck does he enjoy it. The underwear is as good as forgotten when he drags a large tantalizing hand along his stomach, a habit of his that’s known of, he likes the way his nerves tingle, how the feeling goes straight to his cock, it reminds him of the time you made him explain to you in thorough and jaw achingly explicit detail how he likes to fuck himself when you’re away, the way you squeezed your thighs tight when he mentioned the parts that weren’t inherently sexual, but were a habit of teasing. Is it bad to wonder if he stills does it the way he told you? Even though the underwear is an extremely flattering cut and colour, you couldn’t possibly care any less when his fingers reveal the set of butterflies underneath his crisp button down, finger tips dragging over the sensitive lines.

The light touch of your own fingers quickly guide his cock between your plush thighs, “Pretty, whadda’ they mean again?” he can feel the heat you put off before the both of your faces are screwing up at the sudden feel of each others differing temperatures. You don’t really care, he knows you don’t. “Being pretty isn’t enough?” Jiung can feel the brittle air dispel from his body as you reach a hand down to better separate your sticky folds over his dick in addition to a soft rocking motion. Immediately catching at your sopping hole when he shoves forward, you catch the way his chest squeezes in with a depriving inhale of air.

It feels like he’s just been punched in the gut, hands dropping to your waist to keep himself held back against the wood wall, a deep groan unfolds in his chest, shooting up his throat at the haze of pleasurable tingles. “Love that you don’t really care, know you don’t, fuckin’ love it.”

You’re ridiculously soft, and so fucking hot that it almost hurts from the effect of the frigid air, he can’t believe this is what you’ve been keeping from him, that he allowed it to happen. He should not be as gone as he is without even being inside of you yet, but god the thick warmth of your arousal coating over him is so heavenly as you start moving, finding refuge in you from the cold. “Can’t…can’t keep…” he struggles, unknowing of what it is exactly that he can’t do, but what ever it is you’re greatly overestimating him if you continue to keep grinding your slick pussy on him like this.

Mortifying, that’s what it is when his head is thrown back, unable to watch you inconspicuously rub yourself along his length, coupled with getting an ear full of your muffled sounds of pleasure. Taking the opening of his neck you lean in, tongue dragging against his skin before pressing light pecks to the wet area. You move so fervently that he can feel his tip poking out and brushing against your skirt on the other side—dragging along his dick, the stitching in the front soaks up your remaining fluids.

He’s able to catch quick glimpse of his drenched cock with a certain swift bump of his head directly against your clit, but even in his sputtering pleasure he refrains from watching all too closely, even when soft, more audible sighs start billowing out of your pretty mouth. “Y/N, baby plu-please…‘m not as strong willed- fuck, ‘s you think i am.” He tries his best to keep his lower half still, open for you to use—his twitching erection pressed snug under you, between, but the rest of his body unapologetically has a scorching drive of its own.

Not in the softness of his bed but he so badly wishes that he was. He can’t grip at the wrinkled sheets or fist at his pillows, the only surface keeping him held is the damp wall that you can hear the scratch of sewn sequence in the shape of a flying saucer grazing against.

Compared to the wreck of a man pressed in front of you, the pleasure you feel isn’t immense or head spinning-ly good, but, witnessing, feeling the way you have him acting makes up for its lacking amounts. “Ohh, Jiung, already know you aren’t.” The feigned empathetic lilt you speak in comes naturally, your eyes soften, a gloss to them that he’s familiar with being in his own even though his friends swear he has the metabolism of a pig.

He’s so incredibly drunk on you, absolutely wasted—fascinated beyond belief that it’s possible.

Everything feels like its slowed down, he vaguely notices the way your cheeks push your lower eyelids closer to your irises, a sharp devilish smile tensing your muscles as you simultaneously nudge his dick back with the very tip of your index finger, nestling him right under your weeping cunt, your walls tensing with the expectancy of a welcomed stretch.

You’re fucking drenched, fluctuating in excitement as you lift to the tips of your feet, then sink back with a long muted breath as he coasts inside with a huffed “Fuck…”

Nodding his head profusely, in semblance of chanting ‘good, good, good’ as he heels his body forward—out, cold hip bones pressing fluttering kisses against yours. He pauses from the sense of embarrassment augmented by your scrutiny as you sink him deeper, yet it’s still such an addicting feeling to be under, he needs more but can’t bring himself to fall under his orgasm so easily. He spasms, hesitates plenty, all the way until he’s completely bottomed out.

“Please, let me…” your body finds balance with manicured fingers pressed into his shoulders, an aching arch closer to his chest. “Let you what?” You wrangle out through a tight chest, your lips find his, speaking directly against him, into his mouth. “Don’t be coy, jus’ lemme’ fuck you already Y/N.” His head slopes slightly to the left, looking at your lips under his heavy eyelids—already waiting for a kiss that he can only hope you’ll be willing to spare.

He noses at your cheek in waiting, sharing with you his stuttering breaths as he presses a warm peck on the side of your mouth, refusing to kiss where he wants without his call of permission being uttered. “Be good, I will, make you feel- good.” The fasten of your arms around his neck is swift, a further proof of your allowance, “Really good?” You raise, urging his head straight and back.

He feels the hat lift from the back of his warm head, the change in air amplified by the sweat that clings to the roots of his hair. It pops off, but he’s buzzing in delight much too greatly to care. He slides the words out, “Really good.” with a mouth full and wet as you reach for the broad crown of white, fingers hugging as you lift it over to your head.

“Go on then.”

Almost instantaneously he’s grabbing your hips, planting a solid foot and expertly moving from his place to fit you between his chest and the barn. Hushing your small surprised gasp once he’s certain you’re stable, a chaste kiss against your brow bone as a damp palm wraps against your outer thigh, he moves it up, out, opening you so he can press further in as they drive forward, canted in his haste. “Wet—s’fucking wet my girl.” It’s a reflex to bury himself inside of you, as much- as far as you can handle and stilling once he can’t nudge himself any further. Every inch of his figure is effected by small shakes and straining twitches, choppy voice narrowly escaping as he palms at your neck, feeling, covering as much of your skin that his hands are capable of with a tight grasp of your thigh in his other hand, he needs you everywhere. Watches the process of your mouth falling slack, taking everything in, feeling the tender depth he reaches even at such a difficult angle, your fiery brain can’t even begin to comprehend how much more of you he’d be able to reach if you were in a different angle, one more accommodating, and promising of pliability.

“Focus, shut up ‘nd focus!-”

A small significantly heavier jump of his hips has your nerves shot to hell, but you hold yourself tight, even a sliver of composed is enough to be convincing. He works out of you in short, taking a fingers width worth of himself out, then giving you added an additional width of two in each return. The feeling is good, it’s filling after being starved for so long- a hunger strike if you will, but it doesn’t succeed in bringing you any closer to your orgasm. “Thought you said, you’d make me feel good.” You huff in a thin unconvincing voice, frustrated. His head descends to your shoulder, thinking that he’s welcomed when you let the slope of him in, that this is his claim, that there’s no more ground another person could cover that he’s not already been.

Nails sharp and hot scratch at his scalp in the motion of your joints closing around a clump of hair at the back of his head.

��disappointing.” Floats straight to his ear, its invasive, vibrating inside of his head like a frantic bee.

A startling moan rips from his hold, the kind where you know it was large and full of bass to start with but not strong enough to uphold up its weight, like helium spewing from the volatile confines of latex. Whining frantically, his eyes snap shut as he digs his face further into you, damp flesh pressing into damp flesh, the wet sticky sound of his cock repeatedly plunging into you from the rutting at such a loose impatient pace. The sight is indescribable, the rocking of two bodies, moving as one, feeling as one, yet the brains that keep you moving are so incredibly different from each-other, disconnected in emotion by light years, steps, miles, planes apart, but physically the closest you’d ever come to be.

His jaw is wrung slack, drool pooling out with his tongue lax over the edge of his bottom teeth. Globs of the tepid liquid drip as his thrusts flatten out into timed punches, it leaks down your clavicle, sticking to the curvature of your collarbones. His meek sounds jointly purged by your body as he slips the opening of the corset further apart, impetuously tugging further so he can get a proper hand on the soft skin.

Small unintelligible sounds are made in the back of his throat as he presses the centre of his palm to your breast, squishing the tense of your nipple into it. “Ji’,” he hears, restlessness distinct in your voice, coaxing, hoping for something more. Heedlessly Jiung’s arm, fingers that you’re so desperate to feel under your skirt, disappear from your sight, feeling as he brigs it to the side of your ass, resulting in an even greater awkward position for him to be in with his height, but he can ignore the strain he feels in certain pints of his neck and back for the way you start pressing into his hand, a struggled whine leaving your mouth with the offer of your chest to his touch. “Oh, you like that.” A squeeze to the supple round of your ass evokes a heaved sigh as he presses a cold wet kiss to the base of your neck.

The meek stimulation to your nipples isn’t as effective as your clit being played with, a vitalization, but not a slake to your insatiable thirst. A dry swallow, the pleasure all fizzles and intertwines the same even in its marginal amounts, you can’t bleat about it, the intentional squeezing around him becomes close to incessant because of it, begging that he continues with the teasing pinches as his hips oscillate with a steady reoccurring flow into yours.

From the sole feel of your body confidence daringly creeps up over his shoulder, pink tongue drawing the essence of it back in.

A silent indecipherable moment shared as he looks to you before leaning in, eyes flitting as he laves against the neglected bud, further covering you in him as the muscle retreats, curls back, cradling the secretion of saliva into the bend of his tongue before his lips pucker, letting gravity take over as it dribbles it out across your tit.

Brushing back his tussled hair, wanting a look of the glassy liquid as it departs from the warmth of his mouth, your body moves without the need for communication, fruitlessly drying to grind against his pelvis, but he’s got so much more ground. Your hand moves rashly against his mouth, index finger accepted gracefully by his tongue, an unhesitant thing—dancing against the digit.

Jiung—already so dazed, retracts back outside of you, leaving a few inches of himself in for a fleeting moment. The empty space he leaves behind aches for his return, but the sight of him readily taking a second finger to join your other mitigates any measly discomfort.

“Tell you i like it, ‘s that mean you wont touch on my clit for me?”

His lips tighten, tongue licking up against the appendages, trying to shake his head, lidded glossy eyes stare intently at your face.

“You know I’ll touch you all you want, just tell me.”

“Shut the fuck up, keep moving.” A tempting beckon for him to return back to the heat between your legs is made, small barely noticeable spots of dark over the thigh of his red slacks, how could he resist knowing of the mess you’ve made? He reaches down, skirt bunching around his wrist as his middle finger straightens out from its curve, running directly against the spot that has your entire body tensing.

A continuous slide is maintained as his thrusts quicken, full, unceasing.

The deep all consuming indication of his approaching orgasm falls into the unwonted rhythm of yours, frantic muttering and endearing whines that you try and fail to retain behind those pretty lips of yours.

It’s predictable, he thinks, the reckless abandon of your body trying to meet the movement of his own, craving for the throttling nudge of his cock to hit that special place you’ve been dreaming of.

Shallow breaths shared in a silent race. Jiung can feel your arousal starting to cover more of his finger, the dwindle in volume of your noises and the succumbing weakness in your legs. “Hol’ on pretty, mmnh—‘m gettin’ there,” he pants, your hip is far past the point of discomfort but the pain only punches your orgasm closer. “wait f’me, you can wait, huh? Know you fuckin’ can.”

God, you know you sound pathetic when a headlong “mhm!” Is tumbling from your restraint, and he adores the feeling of your body curling in on him, whether it’s subconscious or not, how you grip him so tightly, and beg for him to keep fucking you through your orgasm because once you’re stampeding through the crest of it qyou can’t keep a sensible control of how you sound or the way you move.

The obscuring blanket of fog on the windows collect into small droplets, he’s closer to believing that with each prolonged close of his eyelids that the small action spurs them to spill, allowing what’s left of the outside world a glimpse in through the thin clear streaks.

Hands abandon the secure hold on his flimsy shirt that drapes haphazardly off your backside, once spotless, now defaced by nature and your recklessness.

A lingering smell of sex hangs over your heads in the confined space, it should be repugnant, concerning the way he inhales the balmy scent so greedily, but on his own accord he justifies it in the sense that no matter how much he resents its existence, everything about you is so addicting-ly cruel—sweet with an overthrow of bitter that he yearns to internalize. You’ve always tasted, smelled all the same in compelling amounts.

Jiung can’t bring himself to be worried about his primarily bare frame being seen when his dick sheaths up into you so easily in frail minor strokes. The repetitive movement of his body leads his natural musk to emanate a heavier trace behind on your skin, the softer notes of his amber cologne crushed along the obsessive pull and hold at your back, frantically trying to keep your jelly limbs solid against him.

Stained shirt is gripped tighter in his fist, softening a whine by plunging it into an exhale as he hoists your body further up his thighs. The sheer amount of unpredictability of the situation arouses a flurry of tingles to surge from the bottom of his stomach, resistance starting to dwindle as you steadily crawl out of your hot slumber, thinking of the varying ways Jongseob would react if he conveniently showed up.

Jiung likes that someone could easily peak in and catch the both of any minute now with the recent influx of spilling people that exit from the property.

The paced rut of his cock drives him closer into overstimulation, having forced himself to still the past 2 times the unwelcome pressure of his peak pulled him to the top, you asked of him to wait, the request still vivid in his head, ‘until I wake’.

He’s doing himself absolutely no good, the steer of your weighty hips in his hold revitalize the entirety of the moment you asked him so sweetly to take care of you when your stamina was proved to be inadequate for the stretch of time he’s capable of keeping you busy in the back of the cold vehicle—knocked out with the remnants of your request still drowsily hanging onto your lips not too long after you snagged the keys from Seob’s pocket, your top clasped one hook off from the other.

The sudden flatten of your knees holding out on the seat gives him a better advantage, as well as a little bit of a scare. His clammy palms migrate to your ass, feeling on you as you press up for him, keeping yourself still so he can properly fuck into you from below. “J’…” you hum, voice barren and small, the middle buckle under your leg digging against your bone.

A hand massages at you, drawing light against the expanse of your soft skin. “I know honey, hn’know—shit..”

2:13 was read the last time he checked his phone, the feeble sound of yelling from the party starting to lose it’s vibrancy, to it now being 3:00 am with little to no noise, and his phone battery on the cusp of giving out and plunging the screen into indefinite darkness—something he’d normally be worried about, furthermore, try his best to avoid, but the way your breathing gradually softens on top of his chest as your body wakes to full responsiveness, telling by the squeezes around his length that its just what you asked for, it makes the significance of his trivial concerns so unusually minuscule.

His eyes clamp shut, swallowing down his discomfort from the lack of space he was meant to endure. “S’good, you’ve always felt s’fucking good, sweet girl.” He shifts again, caressing the back of your head, anchoring you through his stammering thrusts.

“Thirsty.” You groggily complain, slithering a slow hand between your bodies, pussy twitching from the praise, aching to be touched. Jiung was fearful of the sore throat that he knows you wordlessly suffer from now, it always does after you drink, your hoarse squeaks evidential as you trace messy circles over your puffy clit. Body far more awake than you feel.

He didn’t think to take any water before the two of you managed to slip by the boys, and there’s sure as hell not any sitting in here. “Poor baby.” Inwardly he takes the flitting time to mull it over, but realistically there’s not many options to begin with. Well, except for one.

He doesn’t hesitate when guiding your head back down to level with him, his flicking his chin up as an indication for a kiss, to which you cluelessly comply. He’s a little stunned that you meet him halfway, the mobility of his lower body unceasing, but that doesn’t hinder the process of his tongue invading your mouth seconds after he’s finally able to properly press his rigid lips against your soft pliable ones.

Expertly he shoves a wad of his spit onto your tongue, another peck left at the corner of your mouth as it disperses over the muscle before he curtly tips back. “Swallow.” He husks, sealing you off, parting from his offering.

He leans back onto his forearms, folded up blazer pushed beneath his shoulders, leaving you leaned over, wet lips holding the additional liquid inside. You let it slide to the back of your throat, gathering, he waits to see the movement in your neck so he knows that you’ve swallowed it.

When you do, the peak of his 2nd orgasm starts breaching his senses almost simultaneously.

The body of the van rocks in his urgency, sweat beading out from his hairline as it squeaks, empty cans at the foot of the front seats rattling. “Good, baby?” His face pinches, struggling to punch the words out. “Good Ji’, so fuckin’ good.”

The feeling of his quickly approaching orgasm is unworldly, yet the nagging palpability of your current circumstances looms equally significant in vitality. “Jongseobie…‘s gonna be so—so mad at us.” He worries aloud, glancing down at the dark outline of your hips that starts straying from the tempo he set, the wet sloshing sound of your cunt recklessly sucking him down intense to his ears. Your sporadic grinding against him is relieving to see. You’re close, within the same nearing distance that he is, aching for the final puncture at your thinning endurance that’ll snap you slack. “Making a mess, all over me ‘n the seats.”

What a time to finally have some consideration for your friend.

Instantly he feels the leverage you use to pitch your upper body upright, holding the top of the headrest as you meet his thighs with short bounces. You can only dream of reaching over to muffle his irrelevant noise with a hand, trying to focus on the creeping sensation that starts strumming at your nerves, one that makes your legs feel fuzzy, and causes sweat to drip down your back, it’s far more pleasant of a feeling when his mouth is shut.

Piqued by the sound of his voice, you huff back an unconvincing “We’ll deal with it-” as your head lulls back, allowing yourself to fall into the dark of your eyelids, letting you forget about what’s on the other side of the van, and exactly how you got here in the first place the faster you rub at your clit. “Jiung,” you whine, spasming and restless.

“Yeah baby” he struggles out.

You shift, hold straining around the headrest, around his cock in the same, slippery finger ruthlessly sliding on your clit.

“Need- shit Jiung, need you to shut the fuck up already, make me come.”

Fuck, it’s ridiculous the way you ask him of any little thing and he’s jumping to get it done. Jiung doesn’t take your demand lightly, a thoughtless account as his foot presses onto the carpet floor, the piston of his hips deepening out with the aid, pressing his length into you as far as he can reach, the unforgivingly lewd mix of your fluids ringing at the plinth of his cock—sticky against what’s managed to leak to the underside of your legs, you feel its thick consistency spread further from the shared pace that has you unraveling overtop of him in the matter of minutes, sinking from the muffled sound of his voice.

“Love—love you, baby, please, please say it back.” He blubbers pathetically, convinced by no one either than himself that you’re just as deep into this as he is, that’s this is just as emotionally charged.

“Come back, come back t’me…missed this pussy s’fucking much- god, fucking miss you.”

He can’t comprehend the second his own climax hits, it’s a blur of flesh and liquid, the stiffening of your body, the aggressive shaking from your waist down.

Your spent body melts down on top of his, a shared exhaustion sinking into your bones.

Fingers rub softly against the small of your back, unwilling to move even if the cramped position makes him ache and numb in certain points of his limbs. You hardly move, and for a fleeting moment he’s able to take it all in, the stillness, the quiet, the ambience that resembles the warmth of your relationship, clumsily fucking in places you shouldn’t, disappearing on weekends and not a singular trace left behind of where you went.

This is us, he thinks, painfully convincing himself into believing it utterly and completely, that this is leeway back into your old affairs. But the truth, it couldn’t be more clear, you’ve known it long before the door slides shut.

Tugging at your skirt, you smooth yourself out as you step away without a spared glance back, keys pressed into your palm, wrapped by your fingers. You’re content, satiated even previously being in the face of your unremitting constraint, you got what you came for, throughout the time it took you to get it, maybe you didn’t succeed in becoming the spectacle you thought yourself to be among everyone else, but with the spoken covet of your presence in his life again, you sure as hell felt like it.

Hefty footsteps thump closer to you at a concerning pace that slows you down. Flashlights swing along the ground, with the lack of it you can’t tell exactly who is running down the path—concerned by the urgency in their pace until the figure comes to a sudden out of breath stop.

Jongseob bends over, his sandpaper tongue striking the roof of his mouth.

“Cops were called, we gotta go.”

[suzdin]

Belly of the Beast: Part I

Dark!Dave York x F!reader

Warnings: it’s Dave, so…buckle up! No use of y/n. Homicide with a gun, reader is shot and grievously wounded and dying, graphic descriptions of murder and gore, use of medical equipment/terminology, amateur triage and medical care, Dave is a voyeuristic creep, Stockholm syndrome?, physical restraints, partial nudity, divergence from EQ2 plot and major character deaths mentioned. No mention of wife or kids. No smut this time! (Shocking, I know.) Dark themes obviously, I mean, Dave DOES kill for money, after all.

Summary: You’ve been Dave’s housekeeper for two years. When you arrive for your morning shift, the last thing you expect to see is Dave standing over a body.

This was going to be a one shot but I decided it worked better as a two parter. Enjoy!

Word Count: 4,700

Taglist: tagging the people I know for sure want to be tagged. If you want to be tagged for part II, lmk!

@ohheypedrito @kateispunk @survivingandenduring @kellybelly1978 @awilderi @oberynslady @natdeandar @daddy-dins-girl @heavennumber2 @guelyury

—

The sky is still dark, a faint slice of jagged light cast across a slate colored horizon, when you arrive for the day at Dave York’s home.

You notice his car parked in the driveway as you pull in, checking your messages to make sure you hadn’t missed anything from him, finding nothing. You frown.

Normally, he would tell you when he would be home if he knew you were also going to be there that day. He simply must have forgotten to mention it this time. It wasn’t a big deal; you could just work around him like you always did.

He was gone for work more often than not. What that entails, you aren’t entirely sure of; all you knew was that he worked in D.C. Something bureaucratic, most likely.

What was even more curious than his unannounced presence, however, was a second vehicle parked behind his.

You pull up next to aforementioned vehicle and get out, gathering your bucket of cleaning supplies from the backseat. Dave provided most of what was used, but there were a few items you preferred for various reasons, with his approval, of course. You had been his housekeeper for the last two years, servicing his home bi-weekly, and he paid you well, plus tips. You had few complaints.

Although the home was large and stately, he lived alone as far as you knew. You couldn’t recall seeing anyone there before now.

As you walk along the edge of the driveway to the side door, you note the pale illumination filtering out through the kitchen window onto the concrete, which makes sense considering the time of day. He’s most likely just sitting down to have his coffee and breakfast. You hope you don’t startle him too much.

The sun is ascending rapidly, already burning brighter in the short walk from your car to the door, providing you with enough light to get your key out.

You unlock the side door, which steps directly into a small utility and mud room. The interior door to the kitchen is drawn shut, which wasn’t unusual, but an unfamiliar noise registers as you enter, immediately followed by what sounds like chair legs scraping along the tiled floor, and Dave’s voice saying what sounds like a name. Mac? Is that what you heard?

Your mind fumbles over the original sound, knowing it’s familiar, but that you can’t quite place it, trying to trace its source. You can best describe it as a muted pop, loud enough to notice but not so loud as to sound any alarm bells. Or so you think.

You smell the strong waft of coffee and eggs cooking as you enter. And something else.

The scene that is laid out before you as you push open the kitchen door is the last thing you would ever expect or want to find, and the realization of what the unidentified sound was hits you like a freight train.

What you discover is Dave standing above a body, pistol clutched tightly in his right hand, knuckles turning alabaster, with what you’re certain is a silencer screwed to the end of the barrel.

The body sprawled across the floor belongs to a man you don’t recognize, a pool of fresh blood spreading rapidly from a single gunshot wound to the front of the skull, bone and brain matter studding the kitchen island and wall, the stink of crimson iron filling the air.

Dave’s head snaps up when he hears you enter, his face gone pale, but otherwise completely blank and devoid of emotion.

Your eyes lock.

You think you say his name. You aren’t sure, and the only reason you know you’ve said anything at all is because you feel the muscles in your esophagus stretching and vibrating, your heart thundering inside your rib cage.

You’re smart enough to deduce that this isn’t some home invasion gone awry. The unknown car in the driveway and the trained, emotionless nature at which Dave currently presents himself is testament to that.

The only option left is that Dave killed a man. And now he has his sights trained on none other than you.

You drop the bucket of supplies, the hollow sound of plastic hitting ceramic reverberating in your skull as you turn, your brain screaming at you to run, run.

In hindsight, running was a bad idea. But panic doesn’t always create rationale.

You feel your legs pumping, your lungs sucking in air. You want to scream for help but when you attempt it, the only sound that comes out is a small, strangled croak of terror. You feel like a damsel in distress in every horror movie you’ve ever seen, almost as if you aren’t actually moving at all, like you’re just running in place while the villain slowly catches up to you.

If you could just reach the neighbor’s house. If you could just… reach…

You manage to make it to the driveway, but you’re barely a few steps onto the concrete when that same muted pop registers again, and you instantly feel a sharp, burning, agonizing sting that rips right through you like a hot knife through butter, knocking you ass over teakettle just paces from Dave’s car, your face slamming hard against the ground.

You look down to see the spreading circle of blood on your shirt against your lower abdomen, a geyser of red bubbling up from the wound. And Dave is on you in an instant, hovering above you, gun trained right at your head.

You know you’re a goner. Abdominal gunshots are frequently fatal, at least according to the kind of shows you like to watch. And at the rate you’re seeing your blood spill out, you know it’s anything but good.

Before you fully comprehend what is happening, your vision already waning, you’re pleading for Dave to end your life as quickly as possible, ‘please, please Mr. York, I’ve been good to you. Please do it fast’, you choke out.

But Dave doesn’t kill you. His dark eyes bore into you, through you, and he hesitates. He’s watching you die and beg for him to put you down and yet he can’t bring himself to actually do it, regardless of how many names he’s scratched out of his ledger without remorse. Maybe because you’re just an innocent, wrong place wrong time, but he can’t seem to do it.

“Please, don’t let me suffer,” you sob as you lift a single, quaking hand that is slicked deep burgundy, and still he doesn’t put you down, only lowering the gun to his side, and you can’t help but wonder what you did to deserve to suffer slowly like this.

Finally, some sense of self preservation washes over you, and even as you’re dying, in your final throes of desperation, you start ripping and clawing at your shirt, managing to somehow tear a sizable chunk out of it, in order to make some kind of makeshift tourniquet that could potentially save your life.

Your hands shake and slip, blood pressure dropping rapidly, and your vision wanes more, the edges of the lightening sky fading and blotting away. You suddenly feel very cold and you can feel your heartbeat gradually ebbing to a slow, dull throb.

The last thing you see before your vision goes completely dark is Dave crouching over you, his face screwed up in regret.

——

God damn it.

When Dave had found out only days before that McCall was still alive, and that his old compatriot had sniffed out the details shrouding Susan’s death, Dave had lost all sight of anything else, completely forgetting you were scheduled to clean his house that day.

Had he realized, he would have canceled. It would have made things far less complicated.

But God fucking damn it. He didn’t want to kill you, his militaristic training and instincts piloting his actions when you fled instead of surrendering, intending to put a round in your skull but changing his mind at the last possible fraction of a second so that he totally FUBAR’d the shot and hit your abdomen instead. A gut shot wasn’t much better. In fact, it was worse. Way worse.

You’re still breathing when he finishes applying the crude tourniquet that you had started, which didn’t completely stop the bleeding but slowed it enough to make a difference. That way, he could get you down into the basement where he could apply proper triage.

His medical training was rudimentary and archaic at best, but it was better than nothing. And it was his best chance at keeping you alive.

Your blood soaks through the light blue dress shirt Dave is wearing as he carries you through the house draped in his arms, the one you once told him looked nice on him. He takes you into the basement and places you on his work table — which isn’t sterile — noting no exit wound as he sets you down, which can be good or bad, all things depending.

Thankfully, he locates the bullet readily enough, fishing it out with a narrow pair of forceps, discarding it into a medical pan as he lets out a sigh of relief when he sees the bullet didn’t strike anything crucial, an incredibly lucky feat.

He grabs a skin stapler to close up the wound; a messy and rushed method of closure that would leave behind a pretty significant scar, but he didn’t have the luxury of time to close the wound properly with a needle, especially considering the rate at which his hands were already shaking.

He takes in a deep breath when he finishes stapling you back together and leans over you, examining your face and body visually, his mind racing as to what he should do now. You still had a pulse. You were breathing. But you had lost a lot of blood, and your prognosis wasn’t good.

Frowning, the crease deepening between his brows, he cleans and sterilizes the wound, wrapping you up in proper dressing, which he hopes is enough to stave off any infection. He can’t risk taking you to a hospital. Especially when there’s still a dead man to deal with only a floor above.

The good news is that he knew no one would come looking for McCall, the majority believing him to already be dead, so disposal would thankfully be swift and painless. You, on the other hand, he was unsure of. He knew your parents had passed and you didn’t have siblings, but he didn’t know if there was a boyfriend or girlfriend in your life, or friends who would notice your absence.

His mind reels with every possibility. Dave isn’t a man who enjoys loose ends. Loose ends make his ass itch.

Your shirt is shredded and bloody, so he removes the remainder of it, leaving you in a soft black cotton bra. He doesn’t let his eyes wander, although, at the back of his mind, he realizes he has always found you attractive. Just as quickly as it dawns on him, he shakes the thought from his mind; it is neither the time nor place for such endeavors.

He removes your shoes but not your socks, knowing you would be cold from having lost so much blood. He might actually put one of his pairs over your own, for good measure.

After a long beat of silent contemplation, Dave scoops you up into his arms once more.

——

You wake up from a fitful sleep some hours later, in a bed you’ve never slept in before. The room around you is dark, shades drawn, a faint light flooding in from beneath a closed door.

When you attempt to sit up, pain lances through your torso and you cry out, your back hitting the mattress. You immediately realize, much to your horror, that you’re also handcuffed to a bedpost. Even if you could move without effort, you aren’t exactly going anywhere.

Your memory suddenly comes flooding back in a tidal wave of images, recalling all of the events that lead up to this point; the body on the kitchen floor, the gunshot, Dave staring down at you with a pistol in his hand.

But you aren’t in a hospital and this isn’t a hospital bed. You’re in Dave’s bedroom. In Dave’s bed.

The door clicks open and a familiar silhouette steps into the room, regarding you in steely silence. You recognize the broad shoulders right away, the thick arms, the short cropped hair.

Your pulse quickens, your body and mind telling you to flee again, even though you know you can’t, causing you to flinch with a choked whimper when he takes a step toward you.

“I wouldn’t move, sweetheart. You lost a lot of blood,” Dave explains, his voice low and soft to your ears as he approaches the bed.

Your body is trembling hard. So hard that it makes the entire bed vibrate.

He’s no longer wearing the blue shirt or black slacks from before, now dressed in a slate gray t-shirt and Adidas sweats. His dark eyes study you as he sits next to you on the edge of the bed. If you weren’t so weak, you think you would strike him.

He lifts the back of his hand to your cheek and you flinch again.

“Shh,” he tuts, “I’m not going to harm you.”

His hand presses to the soft round of your cheek, your forehead, checking for fever.

“Y-you— you s-shot me—?“ you croak.

“I reacted poorly,” Dave agrees with a small nod, his lips parted softly, “but you also shouldn’t have run.”

“You k-killed… that man…”

“I did, indeed.” His eyes grow a shade darker, his brow knitting together, lending him a sinister appearance. “But that man was threatening me. That man was going to kill me…” Dave explains, an edge of malice and contempt to his voice. “I was left with few options.”

You stare back, unblinkingly, trying to decide what to say next, if anything.

“My family will come looking for me,” is what you settle on, a wash of bravery suddenly welling up within you.

To that, Dave smirks, eyes remaining dark, hand lowering to the bed by your hip.

“What family?” Dave asks, smirk slanting even more, his tone semi-mocking. “Do you really think I would hire someone to come into my home without doing a full investigation on them?”

Your jaw drops open, hanging slack in the air, as it dawns on you that a trained killer has been right under your nose this entire time. You would scream if you had the lung capacity to do so.

You should have seen the patterns. Noticed the signs. The constant travel, the lack of personal touches to his home, the pinpricks of blood you occasionally found on his clothes that you excused for other things. That one room in the basement he forbade you from entering.

But you hadn’t, causing you to nearly pay with your life.

Truth is, Dave had picked you for good reason, and it wasn’t just because of the exemplary reviews. You were naive and trusting, you had no family, no criminal record, you didn’t work for an agency; you worked solo. Your work ethic and reliability were just cherries on top.

You look down to notice the IV needle in your hand, and you lift it in examination, your hand shaking and sputtering weakly. No… no, you really had no clue who this guy was at all.

Dave watches you for a beat before he gently grasps your hand and places it back down on the bed, regarding you with uncharacteristic softness and empathy.

You feel your consciousness starting to drift then as Dave pulls the covers back to check the dressings, finding they’re still intact and that the wound hasn’t reopened from what he can tell. He’ll clean and redress everything in the morning. For now, you need rest.

“I’ll be right back,” he tells you, stepping out of the room for what feels like only a meager blip of time to you, but when you open your eyes again, he’s hovering above you once more with a thermometer and an ice pack.

“Open up,” he instructs, and you do so obediently.

“Good girl,” Dave praises as he checks your temperature, and you close your eyes.

When the thermometer beeps, which feels like an eternity later, he frowns, exhaling a long sigh. “101.5. Here,” he says, leaning to the side where he opens a drawer on the night stand, a bottle of aspirin rattling somewhere next to your head. The sound is grating, making your head throb, and suddenly the lamp seems too bright.

He feeds you some pills and gives you a drink of water from a nearby tumbler, which you guess was also on the nightstand, but aren’t too sure.

He pulls the blanket back up all the way to your chin and places the ice pack on your forehead, staring down at you. Although Dave was the reason you were even here at all, he is treating you with a surprising amount of tenderness.

“You need to eat,” he says after a moment. “Dinner is almost ready.”

——

You must pass out again, because when your eyes reopen, Dave stands next to you with a small tray table filled with food.

“Chicken and dumplings,” he explains. “It will keep the cold away.”

You nod your head weakly as he places the tray over you. When you reach for the spoon, he stops you, blocking your hand with his own.

“Let me,” he says, picking up the spoon. “I don’t want you moving anymore than necessary.”

You have to keep reminding yourself that he’s the one who shot you. He’s why you’re in this mess in the first place. Why you’re here, injured, with a hole in your abdomen, chained to his bed.

The way he’s acting shouldn’t be trusted.

You try to resist, but he grabs your jaw with the other hand and forces it to pop open, pressing the spoon past your lips as he ladles the soup into your mouth, much to your displeasure.

“Eat,” he says softly, but sternly, his features darkening in regard.

The food is warm, as promised, and delicious. You aren’t sure of the last time you ate, not knowing what time or even what day it is, but you soon realize you’re starving. Because of this, the second spoonful is not met with as much resistance as the first, your mouth hinging open in resignation and acquiescence.

Dave’s eyes zero in on your soft lips. The way they twitch ever so slightly as they divide. The way your tongue looks so velvet and inviting…

He feeds you slowly, thoughtfully, watching your every move, his own lips parted in concentration as you take in the much needed sustenance.

By the end of it, you’ve managed to polish off about half the bowl. Seemingly satisfied with that, he makes you drink some Gatorade.

“Why are you doing this?” you ask weakly as soon as you swallow down a couple gulps of the blue liquid, your consciousness ebbing and flowing by the second. Dave looks at your face, but he doesn’t give you an answer. He doesn’t have one to give.

Part of him wishes he did.

“I have to pee,” you tell him suddenly when you notice the familiar stab of discomfort in your lower region. A realization that sends a jolt of anxiety rushing through you, your pulse racing when you watch his face fall. He hadn’t even thought of that…

His skills and equipment were limited to wound care, so of course he hadn’t put a catheter in. He wouldn’t know how even if he did happen to have one.

He deliberates on what to do. He didn’t have a bed pan. But, he was sure he could find something comparable to use.

Or he could help you to the bathroom. He has an en suite, it was literally only steps around the bed. But the space was tight. It would take some maneuvering. And he would have to be close to you the entire time. Not to mention uncuffing you from the bed.

In the end, that’s what he settles on.

“Let me help you to the bathroom, sweetheart,” he says to you, pulling the blankets back, and you are cold. So cold. Your flesh pebbling with the lick of cool air against your skin.

He unlocks the handcuffs and you massage your sore wrist and shoulder the moment you have full motion of your arm again.

“Slowly,” he instructs, his voice low and even. “Grab the IV stand.”

You do as you’re told, gripping the cool steel in your hand as you grasp his forearm with the other while he gingerly manipulates you into a sitting position. You cry out at the sudden dagger of pain that slices through your lower gut, and he does his best to steady you against him.

He did this to you, you keep reminding yourself. He did this to you.

He lifts you carefully, slowly, and you groan at the swell of pain when he places you on your feet.

“Easy, easy…” he murmurs, one arm circling your waist to keep you upright. You flinch at the contact.

You make it to the bathroom easily enough, light flooding the small room as Dave flips the switch. A bathroom you’ve cleaned countless times. There was rarely much to clean in here, save for the occasional whisker in the sink, or some light trash in the bin.

Dave was neat and fastidious, and not frequently home. You often wondered why he needed someone to clean his house in the first place.

The space looks no different than usual, but right now it feels… different. You shouldn’t be here.

He guides you to the toilet, and when you get there, you stare down at it, pondering to yourself how this is going to work.

He seems hesitant to leave your side.

“Go ahead,” he tells you softly, “I won’t look.”

You freeze. The last thing you want is to expose your body to him when he already has several advantages on you. But your bladder is screaming at you to go, especially now given your proximity to the porcelain bowl, and you can barely stand on your own, your arms and legs wobbling.

You watch as he turns his back, placing himself between you and the exit. You bend just slightly to tug your bottoms down, but it’s too much, more pain coursing through your body. You yelp, unable to even budge the fabric.

“Hey,” Dave says, turning back to face you, “Let me help you.”

“No, I—I got it,” you protest, your arms shaking, attempting it again, only to end up with the same result. “Fuck—“

“Hey,” Dave says a second time, more sternly than before, as he moves in to your space. “Let me help. I promise I won’t touch you.”

You tremble. You’re cold, you’re frightened, you’re weak. So weak. You’re in your bra, partially exposed to him already. Yet, you concede with a nod anyway. You’ll piss yourself if you don’t.

He mirrors your nod in silent confirmation and moves closer, crowding into your intimate space, his fingers finding the waistband of your leggings and underwear. He slides them down your hips and legs in unison, all the way to your knees. As promised, he doesn’t touch you more than he needs to.

But he has to look. He needs to see where his hands are in relation to your body in order to keep himself from accidentally breaking his promise of touching you in a way you didn’t consent to, and another part of him just can’t help it, either. He is a man, after all, and he wasn’t currently seeing anyone. Romance wasn’t exactly optimal for someone in his position, his attention honed in on his work above all else.

When the nights were long and lonely enough, he would, on occasion, share his bed with a sex worker, but aforementioned nights were few and far between. He enjoyed his job. He got off on it. Romance was often placed on the back burner.

But there’s just something about you. Especially now, with how vulnerable you are, that he finds irresistible.

His gaze only lingers on your bared skin for a moment, big brown puppy dog eyes roving over your soft curves, holding on to you as he lowers you down to the commode. And, god, you’re just as beautiful as he imagined, his skin heating at the sight of your soft folds.

“Call for me when you’re done,” he grates quietly as he takes a step out of the bathroom, blood rushing to certain parts of his body, shutting the door to give you a modicum of privacy, which you’re more than grateful for.

His eyes on you had not gone unnoticed. You weren’t stupid and you weren’t seeing anyone either, currently; his attention, regardless of how brief, had made your skin heat and your core pulse with need. You clear your throat and try to discard the thought.

Dave is why you are here. Dave is dangerous. So dangerous he can’t even take you to a hospital to get proper medical attention. Stop it.

It feels like you pee for ages. You aren’t totally convinced you’re awake for most of it. Eventually, you finish, even managing to wipe yourself, in spite of things, which you’re relieved for. You wouldn’t want him to do it for you; that would be humiliating and degrading.

You call for Dave when you’re done and he returns in an instant, hoisting you to your feet as he pulls your pants and underwear back up and over your hips, trying not to think about your soft cunt. You can see how hard he’s trying not to look at you.

“Good?” he asks. You nod.

Bracing yourself against him, he helps you back to the comfort of the bed. It smells like him, despite how little he’s actually in it. You hiss through your teeth as he manipulates you into position, adjusting the pillows and covers until you’re as comfortable as possible.

You’re cold. Freezing, in fact, despite it being the swell of summer.

“I’m c-cold,” you lament to Dave, crossing your arms over your chest beneath the blanket.

Dave’s lips pinch to the side in thought. “Hold on.”

He returns a moment later with an extra blanket, tossing it over you, tucking the edges neatly around your form, taking extra care to be gentle, noteably around your abdomen.

As you watch him, his face and eyes soft, his hair mussed and unkempt, you ask yourself once again why he’s doing all of this for you.

Guilt? Shame? Something else?

You don’t have much time to ruminate on it for too long before your consciousness peters away once more.

——

Dave sighs as he watches you slip back into listlessness. You’re doing better than he anticipated, but you aren’t out of the woods yet. He knows how much blood you had lost; he’d spent hours cleaning it. Not to mention McCall, the remains of which he had delivered to an acquaintance who works at the industrial incinerator on the outskirts of town, after tending to you.

He loops your hand back through the cuff on the bedpost and peers down at you. You’re so beautiful; he hopes you make it. He wishes you hadn’t run from him. God, why did you run? He doesn’t want you to meet the same fate as McCall. He doesn’t want to know what your incinerated body smells like.

Every body has a different smell, in his experience.

He gives you another dose of morphine to reduce any pain you may be feeling and to keep you knocked out for a few more hours, checking for fever again, which is currently holding steady. It was good that it wasn’t going up. Any higher and you could potentially be in trouble. He’ll keep checking throughout the night to be on the safe side.

He sighs, knowing he’ll have to stay in town for weeks, which he detested doing. He hated staying in one place for longer than required. But he didn’t have much of a choice at this point.

He turns off the light and shuts the door behind him as he leaves you to rest.

Part II coming soon!

[shepscapades]

Hi its me. Docs arm guy. I went back and yeah. dont know how i forgot thats not the first time. thats AT LEAST 3 arms. Sir.

Anyways im determined to figure out the Docs Arm mystery now bc yeah ig this is what im doing with my life now. So in Doc explaining to X WHAT deviating is he still has his arm and it seems generally for a period of time post deviating (not that. it took long to happen) He had both arms, but also in that Time no one decided to spread the news of deviating. So, ik its likely just Dinnerbone. bc he loses it post deviating but some part of me wants it to be because he loses it due to his deviating but ya know. that cant be real But also i feel like if Doc publicly duked it out with Dinnerbone them being able to Do That would be very very public news. So might be something else. maybe the next might be Doc duking it out with god. I dont know but yeah. Another thought: maybe its X's fault in some way Other silly ideas: He just wanted to look cool, got stuck in a door and popped it off. Ren. Dog Bit it. When Grian asked Mumbo to hack doc it worked but only in the arm. Its the original arm but he just took the outer casing of. Blows it up breaking the universe a few times

Eitherway ! Love this au. Dont know why i got hung up on docs stupid fucking arm but i chose to believe hes on arm like 20 by now and he just goes to X like bi-weekly to remake his arm

Sorry for the. length. but yeah now i want to know more

There are some very interesting things in this ask! :-)

[lovebvni]

Shifting Timeframe? Pick A Pile

Welcome back to my bi-weekly pick a piles!! I was compelled by spirit to do a timeframe of when you will probably shift. Remember, general reading and YOU have the POWER to change it.

Also I've been seeing 325 a lot  - 3/25 is actually my birthday SOOO if anyone knows what that means please tell me!

Everything comes with a grain of salt, I will also have a shufflemancy going on in the background.

So, take a deep breath in...

Now out...

What emoji is your third eye telling you to pick?

🥚|🍭|🍬|🍶

pile 1 -- egg

A Month and a half, your day to shine.

Cards: Strength reversed, The Tower, Temperance, Knight of Cups

BESTIE OMG UR SO CLOSE TO SHIFTING WTF IM SO PROUD OF YOU, I KNOW ITS BEEN HARD BECAUSE OF THE TOWER CARD BUT I KNOW YOU'RE PUSHING THROUGH! You may feel vulnerable in some way, like you're not good enough? You are! You are the universe, you are the most powerful being EVER!! You should also take a quick 1-2 day break from shifting - this will also help you shifthere will also be someone coming in *possibly a friend, witch, or spiritual person* helping you out on this journey - they might be the one to give that final push.

Possible Personality Traits: Loving, giving, annoying {To yourself}, confident {On the outside}

Shufflemancy :

"Don't be afraid of heights 'cause we flyin'" - Rebels Call Me Karizma

"The time is upon you to show them what you can do and soon they will know that the day has COMEEE" - The Day - From Boku no Hero Academia, NateWantsToBattle

"I'm a little faded" - Slumber Party - Ashnikko

"It's exactly the same, they say 'why do you dress that way?' 'why do you act that way?' 'why aren't you just like me?" - Fire Drill - Melanie Martinez

Phrases, Numbers, Signs and more: 777, 666, Christmas, Bakugou, short tempered, Denki, Shinsou, shy, "You've got a friend in me", "Movie night!!", "Get in loser, we're going to the mall", "So you're obsessed?" Capricorn, Scorpio, Sagittarius, Taurus.

pile 2 -- lollipop

Within the next 48 hours, your dreams will come true.

(2 days to a week, actually)

Cards : 9 of Pentacles reversed, King of Pentacles reversed, 3 of Wands, The Fool reversed

OKAY FIRST OF ALL HOW LONG HAVE YALL BEEN SHIFTING I FEEL LIKE UR JUST A VERY SPIRITUAL PERSON!! But I feel like to get to that point you have to be less dependent on the things outside around you, and more on yourself. YOU'RE the one who can shift, the signs mean NOTHING if you don't take action. Do you abuse your power to shift in one way or another? Like start denying it exists JUST so The Universe will let you shift? Approach shifting like a timid animal in your backyard that's hurt. But yes, you definitely are shifting within the week. Your child-like wonder inspires me btw 

but keep your hopes up, you need more faith and hope that you will shift!

Possible Personality Traits: Softie on the inside, kind of shy?, risk taker, lover of music, goofy

Shufflemancy:

"Stupid boy think that I need him, I go cold like change the seasons, I go red hot like a demon, I go ghost for no damn reason, stupid boy think that I need him, stupid boy think that I need him." - Stupid - Ashinikko

"I'm not your friend, or anything damn, you think that you're the man, I think therefore I am" - Therefore I am - Billie Eilish

"You've got troubles, I've got em too, there isn't anything I wouldn't do for you." - You've Got A Friend In Me - Cavetown

"We bark alot" - GOODMORNINGTOKYO! - TOKYO'S REVENGE

"We can fill it up with grass and all the things that make it warm. When you leave to go fly across the sea, I'll be waiting here with Junior and the flowers that we've grown." - Things That Make It Warm - Cavetown

"We might hotwire this old car to drive" - Everything Is Temporary (Sticks and Stones) - Cavetown

"Look like I'm going for a swim" - Chun-Li Nicki Minaj

Phrases, Numbers, Signs and more:  Denki Kaminari, "I'm failing all my classes omg", 444, "Hey, a frown won't get you anywhere - SMILE MORE!", calming music, study sessions, sexually active, dirty-minded, lack of physical affection, "Rough around the edges", Cavetown, Air Signs, any dominant sign tbh, "Have high hopes but low expectation", UA traitor, villian

pile 3 -- candy

44 Days, but It feels like years.

TW: DRUGS, SMOKING, ETC.

Cards : 8 of Pentacles, King of Cups reversed, 6 of Cups, The Hierophant

If you've read any of my other tarot readings you KNOWWW the hierophant makes me feel like I'm being choked, but before you shift you're going to realize something new, something new will come to you I suppose? So it will be a new beginning, then shift, it will probably be a new hobby or a job you like. And, like pile one, you will get good advice from a friend. I know some of you guys are like 'im not attracted to people in this reality' but you might be soon?? it's probably someone you knew in your past life or something. It may just be a friendship though. But the hierophant is just emphasizing what I just said, a good friend is going to give you advice.

Possible Personality Traits: ignored, quiet, lonely, friendly, smart, emotional

Shufflemancy:

"The worlds a little blurry, or maybe it's my eyes." - Ilomilo - Billie Eilish

"Maybe I'm too emotional, or maybe you never cared at alllll" - Good 4 U - Olivia Rodrigo

"I don't smoke, I just like how it smells" - Cigaratte Ahegao - Penelope Scott

Phrases, Numbers, Signs and more: Senpai/teacher, "You sure do cry a lot.", "You shouldn't care so much", watching youtube, hbu?, ignorant accidently, 666, 999, 69, st0ner, dr!nking, first time

pile 4 -- drink

Anywhere from to day to the 29th of this month

Cards : Queen of Wands, The Lovers, Judgement, Page of Cups

CLEARLY YOU'RE SHIFTING FOR SOMEONE WITH THE LOVERS CARD COMING OUT I MEAN SAME BESTIE, you don't know when you will shift, and you def look to higher spirits. Try some shadow work - your inner child needs healing. The universe sees you and how much you have bene struggling and working towards this, and it thanks you deeply. Your hard work is going to pay off soon!

Possible Personality Traits: Disappointed often, violent, gay, dramatic ASF, popular, two face, probably on medication, has been hurt physically, emotionally, or some other way

Shufflemancy :

"She moves on pretty BLOODY QUICK" - Your New Boyfriend - Wilber Soot

Literally any MHA song

"Baby hotline, please hold me close to you!" - Baby Hotline - Jack Stauber

"She said you were a hero, you played the part. But you ruined her in a year, don't act like it was hard. And you swear you didn't know,  I wonder why you didn't ask, she was sleeping in your clothes, but now she's got to get to class." - Your Power - Billie Eilish

I hope this pick - a pile resognated! I've been going through a lot this week and I don't know if my accuracy may have failed bc of the stress I'm experiencing but I'm so glad like NOBODY is shifting in a year+( like 2023) bc I know you all work SO HARD to shift.

[allicat0]

hi there! i absolutely loved ur other fan fic even tho i didn’t know the character. made my pussy throb. anywho 😊 just seeing if u are able to write a gojo x reader, perhaps him being older ( older brothers bsf, teacher, etc. ) i also would love to see some discreet public sexy time. ( classroom, movie theatre, pool… i love fucking hot tubs and pools…) thank you so much!😜✌️🎀

Our little secret

Ans: thank you so much for the support, and of course! I’m so excited to write my take on Gojo! Hope you like it!!

Summary: University au! You're working along side your thesis advisor Gojo in hopes to working closer to your ambitions for the future. But being a university student, costs are high and money is low. So to be able to keep up with your school you have a little gig on the side.

Content: MDNI, 18+, abaf reader, smut, forced proximity, dubcon, oral, penetrative sex, domination, degradation, praise, making out, rough sex, oral sex, penetrative sex, teacher/student relations, dominant Gojo, submissive reader

A/N: I apologize if not all of my historical information its 100% correct, I did do a little research for it to make as much sense as I could. I also apologize for any word vomited, grammar, or punctuation errors. I was up till 2am writing. but hope you enjoy!

You had been given the opportunity to have Satoru Gojo, head professor of the History department as your Thesis advisor. It was all still a little unreal to you, but you couldn't be more grateful. You have spent countless hours with one another, early mornings and late nights, doing your best to progress with your latest research proposal.  “The Villa of the Papyri” you said, placing your stack of papers down onto Gojos desk. “Now that surely is a pretty big project your-” He began to reply before you quickly cut him off “I understand it’s a lot, and that most of the contents inside got destroyed but there are over two thousand lost scrolls that reside inside that structure. There could be so many answers about the lost city of Herculaneum that those scrolls could contain!” Your look was genuine. . and so full of hope that he just couldn't say no. 

As weeks passed, you still had no leads. Weeks turned into, months, and months turned into a year, endlessly working alongside Gojo. Despite your research not flourishing as much as you had hoped, your relationship with your professor grew more than you expected. It didn’t feel like work, it was tolerable to be around eachother, it didn’t feel like he had some weird authority complex over you, you were comfortable, you couldn’t help but admit to yourself some feeling for your professor began to form and you wished nothing would come in between that. .until something did.

Being a university student, especially in the department you're in, funds are high and since you were usually busy researching all day, you had a hard time getting a stable job that worked around your harsh schedule. The school did pay you money to go through with this research but it was barely enough to buy you a loaf of bread and toilet paper. You needed money to survive and things were getting a little tight, so you thought working at your local club didn’t sound like a horrible idea. . as a dancer. 

Zafrio, is one of the more popular clubs in the area, but they worked well around your schedule, Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays every week. The pay was beautiful, every penny you made on that stage was yours to keep, on top of that you also got your bi-weekly pay which 10% of it went through tip - out to the servers, but you weren’t complaining. On average you made at least four hundred dollars a night, but on good days you would rack up closer to a thousand. 

Tonight was your Saturday shift, the busier one out of the three. As you were getting ready backstage a familiar face walked into the club, the club was packed full of people, he made his way through the crowd, brushing past people shoulder to shoulder, getting closer to the main stage. Now he didn’t come here often but when he did, it was every Saturday at eleven, to see you and only you perform. He used having a large crowd to his advantage as he was often hidden, so you seeing him was never a concern of his. How he found out about your little side job was not intentional, he just happened to stumble into the club with some of his friends one night, and there you were working. Gojo was beyond intrigued, so ever since that day he’d been coming to watch you perform, he didn’t know why he came back, but all he knew was that he started thinking of you in ways he’d never dare think of before. 

Your stage name gets called and there you are, walking out onto the stage over to the pole, beginning your number for the whole club. Cheers filled your ears, watching the money fall onto the stage, the serotonin that pumped through your body was unbelievable and he watched, every. Last. second. His eyes never leaving you or your body. The way your hips sway to the music, it was like he was in a trance. 

As you finish your number your eyes fall out to the crowd, adjusting from the bright stage lights shining up at you. You start to strut off and out the corner of your eye, you see. . no it couldn’t be. What was he doing here?? Your heart rate began to pick up. What was your professor doing here?! You quickly rushed the rest of the off stage. Did he just see you perform? Your mind was rushing at a million miles a second. 

You arrived backstage and looked in the mirror, your mind began to spiral and your heart picked up its pace, that was totally him, there was no denying it. “Is everything alright?” one of your fellow dancers came over to see if you were okay as they noticed you were panicking. “Yah.  .yah i'm fine” you said to put your clothes on and packed all your belongings. “Something came up and I really need to go, please let the boss know I’m sorry.” You knew all of the money you got from that dance would be taken care of by your boss, and were quick to leave, walking out to your car and heading home. 

Monday finally rolled around and you were on your way to Gojos' office to start work. If it were any other day you would be eager to get back to work after a weekend break, but today wasn’t any other day. The events of Saturday night still loomed in the back of your mind, you didn’t want to admit it but you were scared to face Gojo, how were you supposed to just act normal after that night?!

You opened the door to the office and plastered a smile onto your face and there he was sitting at his desk. “Good morning professor.” you said, making your way into the room, closing the door behind you. “Good morning, how was your weekend?” he asked, his eyebrow slightly arching with the question. You felt a lump form in your throat forcing it down before speaking. “Ah, it was quite relaxing,” you said trying to cut the conversation. “I'm surprised, you spend your weekends working do you not?” his head tilted ever so slightly, a smirk forming in the corner of his lips. He knew what he was doing and he knew you saw him that night. 

You froze in place for just a moment, “i'm not sure I know what you mean” Gojo looked at you right in your eyes, leaning forward so his elbows were resting on his knees. “I think you and I both know what I mean” your breath hitched, there was no going back, there was no avoiding this. You watched as Gojo sat up from his chair and made his way around his desk. Leaning against this chair and resting his ass against it he crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Well. . am I wrong?” This was it, your career was over, there was no way you would be able to recover from something like this, you knew the risks and yet you still took the chance, now look where it got you. 

You could feel yourself trying to choke but in the coming years, you were trying your best to keep yourself together. “Now you know there's no reason to lie to me. .” Gojo pushed himself off the desk and made his way towards you, your eyes never leaving him. He walked behind you, leaving your sight, but you could feel him looming over you. “Professor look, moneys been low and.” his hot breath suddenly hit against your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” His words were soft. 

Your shoulders tensed as he placed his hands on them “Is this okay? Can I touch you here?” Gojo let out softly once more, you simply nodded your head being speechless. His hands began travelling down stopping right at your hips. “You know. .I have a confession of my own. Ever since I found out about your secret endeavours. . I haven’t been able to stop going back. . I can’t stop thinking about you in ways I shouldn’t.” He choked out, Gojo was doing his absolute best to keep himself at bay. 

“Really?” you said, sounding surprised, his words were making your stomach flutter. As much as you wanted to deny this as wrong and unprofessional there was a recurring curious thought that wanted to find out more, what exactly was he thinking. “The thought drives me crazy” the hold he had on your hips gets tighter, but you move away from his grip, turning around to face him. His eyes were drawing you in like never before, you couldn’t describe it, but his gaze was full of pure lust. 

You bit down on your lips, you were unsure what to do, act professional or. . no what were you thinking! “Darling,” Gojo said, snapping you out of your thoughts. His hands coming up and cupping your face, his thumb trailing softly against your cheek. “Gojo I. .” You stood there speechless. “This is unprofessional.” You try to centre your thoughts “I think we’re long past that.” he said his hand never leaving your cheek. His face leaned down his lips inches from yours “if you want me to stop then tell me, I want you to be okay with this” you looked up at him through your lashes nodding your head ever so slightly. “Please. .don’t stop” you let out quietly just enough for him to hear you. 

Next thing you know you felt Gojo’s lips press against yours, lips moulding with one another. His kiss was delicate, but carried so much passion and lust behind every movement. Your mind continued to spiral at every given minute, but you didn’t want to stop, you wanted more. Gojo’s hands travelled down before taking your ass in his hands giving it a squeeze as he continued to kiss you. 

His tongue slipped past your lips and moved with yours, but it didn’t last long as he was quick to pull away to catch a breath. His head moved to your neck planting firm kisses against your neck as his hands made their way up your shirt, cupping your breast in the process massaging them as he continued to place his markings down your neck. “You’re fucking gorgeous” his voice was breathy, against your skin.

Gojo guided you over to his desk, turning you around to your back facing him. His hands lingered at the hem of your pants, thinking for a moment before he pulled both your pants and underwear down revealing your slick pussy. Gojo went down onto his knees to get a better view, his hand trailing up and down pushing in between your folds, slowly sticking his middle and ring finger deep into your pussy, causing a moan to escape your lips. “What if someone hears us?” you asked nervously. He continued to pump his fingers in and out of you slowly watching how your pussy swallowed his fingers “let them” he said. 

The speed of his fingers began to pick up the pace causing soft moans to escape through the seam of your lips. Gojo pulled his fingers out of you, spreading your legs open enough to lodge his head in between your thighs, dragging his tongue against your pussy. As you lay there leaning over his desk, gasping for breath, Gojo tasted every inch of you, savouring the sweetness of your flesh, he knew exactly where to touch, how to caress, driving you further into the realm of ecstasy. Your hips would involuntarily push back into him as he lapped his tongue over your clit, exploring every curve and crevice, bringing you to the edge of climax. It was almost painful, the anticipation and desire building within you, but you wouldn't trade this exquisite torture for anything else. 

As you were nearing release Gojo pulled away standing up, quickly unbuckling his pants to unveil his already hard twitching cock eager to pound into you. He held the base of his cock, dragging the tip in between your wet folds, before slowly pushing himself into you, causing a groan to escape from the back of his throat. His hands grabbing onto your hips, he began to slowly move his hips watching your pussy swallow his cock. “You feel so fucking good” he said as he began to pick up the pace. Your hand moved up to your mouth blocking out the moans leaving your lips, doing your very best to stay quiet enough so others wouldn’t hear your lewd sounds. Gojo’s thrusts became rough, his hand releasing your hip entangling his fingers through your hair tugging on it as he pounded into you. “You’re such a good girl, taking me so well”. 

As Gojo continued to thrust deep into you, you felt yourself coming closer to the edge once again, the knot building up in your stomach from him constantly hitting your G-spot. Your free hand moved down in between your legs and moved rapidly against your clit. “ you gonna cum on my cock baby?” He asked you, smirking down at you, how he enjoyed the sight. You let out a moan as your legs do their best to hold themselves up through your orgasm, Gojo was close, you could feel his cock pulsating inside of you. His thrust was becoming sloppy and out of rhythm. With a few more thrusts he quickly pulled out of you, his hot cum hitting against your back “fuck” he said out of breath looking down at the mess he made, but god it was fucking hot.

His body pressed up against your own, planting a soft kiss against your shoulder. Moving the hair away from your neck and planting them slowly against your neck as well, he let out a light groan, the vibration of his hot breath against your skin made you shiver. “Let's get you cleaned up baby” Gojo said, going back to his cocky smug voice once again. “Oh and. .lets keep this our little secret alright?”

@allicat0 signing off. .

[orchidsangel]

I BET ON LOSING (CHILI) DOGS [JASON TODD]

notes/cw - fluff, suggestive, wrote this bc jason canonically likes chili dogs, also mitski mother i am so sorry this is not at all what you had in mind when you wrote 'i bet on losing dogs', (pacing might be shit idk sorry guys, working on it i swear)

“I’m not eating it.” You say, as your boyfriend reaches over the console, and hands you the paper bag containing your lunch before sliding into the driver's seat of the car and closing the door behind him. 

“Could you just not be stubborn for a second? Like seriously, it’s a chili dog.” 

He takes the bag out of your hand, and removes its contents, placing them carefully on the dashboard and discarding the bag.

The inside of the vehicle now smells like fast food, and you grab a couple of fries, stuffing them into your mouth before continuing on with your justification.

“I’m not being stubborn. I’m setting a boundary!” You exclaim, reaching for more and dipping them in your milkshake. “And besides, I plan on getting full off of these fries.” you say, holding up another couple waving them around before eating them.

You reach for another handful when he grabs the container and moves them over to his side of the car, “can’t get full if there's nothing to eat.”

“Jason…if you don’t-” 

You make a move to grab them, but he just places them further on his side of the dash, “A chili dog babe. A chili dog.” 

“I hate them.” You huff out in frustration, giving up on the fries and leaning back on the headrest, letting out a long groan.

“You’ve never had one.”

“No, but I hate chili and hot dogs so if one plus one equals two…” You grumble, “then it would make absolutely zero sense for me to even try it.”

“Would you just- one bite. Please?” He’s begging at this point, and the look on his face shows just how badly he wants it. “I bet you’ll love it.”

And the little lilt in his voice when he says that breaks down any “boundary” you might’ve had. 

Here’s your big bad crime lord boyfriend practically on his knees over this, pleading for you to just take one bite, and you’re supposed to say no?

“Fine.” 

A grin spreads on his face and he hands you one of the chili dogs he’s holding before grabbing a few napkins and distributing them between the two of you. 

“And if I don’t?” you say, examining the mess of meat, chili, and cheese.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t love it.”

“Then I’ll make it up to you.” He says before taking a bite.

“Make it up how?” 

“If I tell you, you’re gonna lie and say you don’t like it.”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh?”

“Would you just eat it already?” 

You pick up the chili dog and bring it to your mouth.

“Careful, it’s pretty big.” Jason says from beside you.

“Don’t worry, I’ve had a lot of experience putting big things in my mouth.” You say before biting down.

“Subtle.”

It’s an explosive mix of savory meat and spices, with hints of tangy sweetness. Not at all what you expected and not nearly as bad as you thought. The cheese and the onions on top compliment the flavors and when you’re done chewing you take another bite. 

“Good huh?”

You turn your head towards Jason who’s looking at you with smugness you’ve only ever seen him give Roy on your bi-weekly game nights.

You were enjoying the chili dog, and he knew it. 

Still, you couldn’t let him have that kind of satisfaction. “No, not really.”

“Uh huh.” He says reaching over the console and bringing his thumb to the corner of your mouth, wiping away some sauce that you must’ve missed when you were licking your lips.

You take another bite, and he gives you a look. “What? It’s not like I’m gonna waste it.” You scoff.

“Right.” He says before returning to his own.

And for a few minutes the two of you sit in a comfortable silence, chomping away at your respective meals and occasionally stealing fries from the other.

When you’re done, he takes the empty cardboard container and crumpled napkins from your lap, tossing them into the bag previously thrown to the backseat. 

“So, since I lost the bet…”

You hum happily at his admittance of defeat. 

“...I guess I have to make it up to you now.” he says, leaning over the center of the car.

“Glad you know.”

He closes the space between you and nuzzles his face into your neck. Feeling a warm tingle in your body, you close your eyes and crane your head upwards, allowing him more space as the nuzzling turns into soft open-mouthed kisses.

He nibbles the tender skin as he moves up and towards your ear, “Do you want me to run inside and grab another dog for you?” He whispers between bites, and the question catches you off guard.

“What, why?” You say, confusion lacing your words. 

He draws back a little, a familiar heat radiating off of him, “For later tonight, when I’m done making it up to you.”