#the way this fucking job is tanking my mood

[weltonreject]

...

[igbylicious]

knockout [woosan x reader]

pairing: woosan x f reader

rating: 18+

genre: smut, boxer au, friends with benefits

summary: Wooyoung invites you over to play after San wins his latest match.

wc: 3.9k

warnings: boxer San, manager Wooyoung, threesome, consensual somnophilia (San is the one asleep), blow job, hand job, spit kink, face-sitting, cunnilingus, face-fucking, choking on cock, cumplay (eating and sharing), dirty talk, San has bruises, they use the pet names ‘baby’ and ‘good girl’ for you but no pronouns, reader wears a dress, established Woosan, San is whiny while he sleeps but gets cocky when awake, Wooyoung is a mischievous lil’ shit (affectionate) the whole way through

a/n: my first ateez fic! please consider a like/reblog if you like it (❁´◡`❁)

-☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧-

Your phone buzzes late at night, and you already know who it is before looking. You tear yourself away from the TV and check your messages, where you find a selfie from Wooyoung.

His hair is getting longer, pushed back with sunglasses resting on top of his head. (Even though it’s already dark out. Poser.) He wears a black-and-white shirt with a busy pattern and just one button too many undone, a heavy silver necklace around his neck. But all of that is just a sideshow to the main point of the selfie; Wooyoung is winking cheekily at the camera, holding up a big wad of cash. San won the match.

does this mean takeout is on you guys next time? you text him. After a brief pause you add, also congratulations i guess

(But the dismissive tone is just for show, riling each other up a natural part of your relationship with Wooyoung. You’re smiling as you press send, knowing how much a win means to him and San, how hard they work for it.)

Your phone buzzes again. you should come over

for takeout?

idk about takeout but there’s definitely a meal in it for you 😏😜😘🍆💦

You can’t decide whether to grin or roll your eyes at the message and its string of emojis at the end, but you do send Wooyoung an affirmative text back. Your face decides on a grin as you put your phone down, a spark of excitement coursing through you. Guess you’re going out tonight after all.

This thing between you and San and Wooyoung has been going on long enough that usually you don’t even bother dressing up for them anymore, but hey, it’s a special occasion, right? So you slip on some lacy panties and wiggle into a cute dress, and do a quick check in the mirror to make sure you’re looking at least halfway decent. (Not too much fuss. Wooyoung did text you in the middle of the night.)

Just before you go, your phone buzzes one last time; Wooyoung warns you to send a text once you get to the apartment, not ring the door. At first you do not give it too much thought; they do live in a crappy old place, might just be that the doorbell is broken.

But then the added photo loads, and you see San is conked out on the couch, sitting with spread legs and his head lolled back, mouth slightly hanging open. Apparently he hasn’t even changed clothes since the match, wearing a dirty white tank top and a smattering of bruises across his tanned skin. His dark hair is a mess, pretty lips set in a natural pout while he sleeps.

Immediately, a fresh buzz of excitement surges through you. There is a whole new layer of thrill to this invitation now.

After driving over, you send Wooyoung a text that you’ve arrived. He opens the door for you with a bright grin, and puts a quick finger to his lips to indicate you have to be quiet. His sunglasses have disappeared somewhere between making a selfie and your arrival, saving him a roasting from you. He gives your dress an appreciative once-over, and casually kisses your cheek as he lets you in, resting his hand on the small of your back. His good mood is incredibly obvious, fingers brushing against the top of your ass.

You slip off your shoes and step further into the apartment. The place is a bit messy as always, furnished with a combo of thrift-shop finds, stuff they won off bets, and random things donated by friends. (Even their old van is a hand-me-down, though you have no idea where they got it from.)

The result is a home that’s chaotic, but friendly. Shelves piled with keepsakes, stories attached to everything they own. And for all the messiness, at least they do keep it somewhat clean.

There is a desk in the corner, with a few neat piles of paper money on top. Clearly Wooyoung was in the middle of counting — and accounting, his books laying open with a pen next to them. Despite all his antics, Wooyoung is actually pretty responsible with money. He knows that he needs to be, never sure when they’ll get their next win. (You suspect they run a few less-than-legal stints on the side, but neither seems too keen on making that their main gig.)

And then there is San, sitting on their old couch. Still fast asleep.

“Look how tired,” Wooyoung murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. “He worked so hard today, I thought we should reward him. How about it, hm? Don’t you think he deserves a prize for taking home the victory?”

You lick your lips, a sharp craving growing in the pit of your stomach at the sight of San’s soft, sleeping face. As far as you are concerned, you are the one getting a prize here. It’s been a long time since you last had the chance to indulge in this particular kink; it can be tricky to coordinate when you don’t actually live in the same house.

And San makes such pretty noises when he’s asleep.

Wooyoung grins at the expression on your face. “Good girl,” he whispers indulgently, pressing one last kiss on your cheek before he playfully slaps your ass, pushing you towards the couch.

You glare back at him, even if the slap sent a crackle of pleasure through you. Just out of principle, to let Wooyoung know he can’t get away with everything. (He can absolutely get away with everything.)

But then you shift your focus to San, getting on your knees in front of him as quietly as possible. He usually is a deep sleeper but still, you are not about to risk waking him too early. You do take a moment to just look at him; to take in the way his broad chest moves with slow, even breaths.

The hard, battered muscles of his body are completely relaxed now, arms laying uselessly on the couch. There are marks on his knuckles, and it’s odd to think he was using those same fists to beat someone up, all for a cash prize, just a mere few hours ago. He looks so soft now. Not for the first time, you marvel at how handsome he is, the sharp cut of his jawline, pronounced cheekbones and pouty lips. So damn gorgeous, even with bruises marring his face, a particularly nasty one on the corner of his mouth. You want to kiss it, but you tuck that thought away for later.

San’s legs are already conveniently spread for you to shuffle close; could be a happy coincidence, could be that San was expecting this. Expecting you.

(This was a conversation you had long ago, where he’d given you a free pass to ‘wake’ him if an opportunity presented itself. It is entirely possible that he and Wooyoung discussed this before contacting you, and something about the idea of San falling asleep while thinking of your mouth on his dick makes you squirm in the best way.)

You press a hand against the front of his sweats, feeling the outline of his cock. You squeeze it with a light touch, give the impressive length a gentle stroke, and delight at the little “Hmm” that San sighs out.

Encouraged by the sound, you pull down the waistband of San’s sweats just enough so you can take his cock out, heavy in your hand. Still soft, though he gives a beautiful twitch when your thumb runs across a vein across the underside.

Your eyes glance up when Wooyoung sits down, just as carefully as you had been. He is slouched next to San with an arm slung across the back of the couch, fingers ghosting against San’s hair but never touching, while he raises his other hand to bite at his thumb. Uncharacteristically quiet, watching with rapt attention.

Heat pools between your thighs, you love being on display for him, teasing a sleeping San. You’re keenly aware of how your dress has ridden up, your ass sticking out, your neckline low enough for an ample view of your cleavage — though you’re sure it’s your hand that has Wooyoung’s full attention right now, wrapped around his lover’s slowly hardening dick.

You gather saliva in your mouth, then let it dribble down on your fingers and San’s cock. He moans, shifting slightly, lips parting a little wider as you take advantage of the easier slide of your palm. The sound goes right to your core; San’s moans are just a bit shallower when he is asleep, a bit more high-pitched. More needy.

More noises start to slip from his lips as you slowly stroke the length of his thick cock, thumb playing against his slit. Sometimes his hips shift to follow your movement, but he does not wake, his conscious mind unaware of your fist working him to full hardness.

San is getting beautifully flushed, a redness blooming across his cheeks and neck as he lets out a faint whimper, brow furrowed. It is always a fun game, to see how far you can take him before he wakes up — before you are treated to that toe-curling moment of aroused disorientation on San’s face, that split-second where he can’t quite figure out why he is so fucking horny until he sees you, nested between his thighs, and a sleepy yet cocky grin breaks out on his face.

But it’s not come so far yet; San is still under the hold of his tired slumber. His breath hitches as your fist twists around the head of his cock, almost like a little hiccup, precum mingling with your spit. You know you can’t hold off your impatience for much longer.

Wooyoung is still staring, though his eyes wander between San’s cock and the wiggle of your ass, his cheeky tongue dipping out to wet his lips. His gaze is heated, intense, and the slight asymmetry of his eyelids makes his stare only more attractive and striking, dotted by the little mole under his eye. He worries his bottom lip with his teeth as he watches, but grins when he catches you watching him in turn. He leans forward, elbow on his knees, and beckons for you to offer your hand.

You do so, and watch how Wooyoung decadently works his mouth and lets a thick globule of spit fall past his lips, onto your waiting palm. His grin widens when you moan weakly as his saliva mingles with yours, with San’s precum, and generously gives you more until your hand is messy and slick. Finally satisfied, Wooyoung leans back with a flirty wink.

You make good use of Wooyoung’s ‘contribution’, pumping San just a little faster now. His noises start to pick up, face contorted with unaware pleasure as a small trail of drool escapes the corner of his mouth. It won’t be long now before he wakes. Honestly, you are surprised it has lasted this long at all; San’s fight must have been particularly strenuous tonight.

Just when you contemplate whether it’s time to get your tongue involved, Wooyoung suddenly gets up from the couch.

You try not to get distracted by him moving around behind you, keeping your focus on San, but then you feel a little tap against your ass. You turn your head to see him lying on his back, head between your feet with a shit-eating grin on his face.

Lift your ass up, he mouths and gestures simultaneously.

You do exactly that, allowing Wooyoung to slide under you with his hands on your waist, his face right underneath the flimsy scrap of lace that covers your dripping core, barely worth the name ‘underwear’. “Seriously?” you whisper, though even just the sight of him, raised eyebrow and ready to eat you out, has more arousal leaking into your panties.

“Hey, San isn’t the only one who worked hard for this match,” Wooyoung whispers quietly, wetting his lips. “Don’t I deserve a reward, too?”

Well… If Wooyoung’s idea of a reward is to have you ride his face, then who are you to deny him? You really keep getting the better deal out of their hard-earned victory. Still, you roll your eyes at him, just to let him know how ridiculous you think he’s being, though the increasingly damp spot on your underwear tells Wooyoung all he needs to know.

He lets out a pleased, dark chuckle as you lower yourself down, his hands gripping tighter onto your waist as he positions you for the best angle. He does not even bother to pull the scrap of lace aside, happily eating you out through it.

San whines when your fingers squeeze around him, liquid oozing from the tip, his hips stuttering lightly before he settles back down. His cock is flushed dark, pulsing in your hand, but it is hard to focus on him right now. A lazy hand continues to stroke him while you struggle to focus on anything but Wooyoung’s muffled moans against your sopping heat.

You bite your lip to keep silent, hips moving on their own accord as Wooyoung’s nose presses against your clit, his mouth undeterred by the obstruction of lace as he makes a sloppy mess of your cunt, eagerly lapping away.

Wooyoung is rarely this quiet, but today he foregoes his usual dirty talk and running commentary to direct his full attention on reducing you to a mindless mess. He is a fiend with his mouth either way, thick swipes of his tongue and grazing teeth, mouth suckling at you through the now-ruined lace.

It takes all your self-control to stay on task, to not get distracted by the sound of a zipper, and soon after the wet noise of Wooyoung jerking himself off, still moaning against your leaking cunt. You shake yourself out of it, wrapping your lips around just the head of San’s cock, licking at the steady stream of precum while you use both hands to work his length. He twitches in your mouth, and for a moment you wonder if he’s going to cum without even waking up at all.

But then Wooyoung uses his nose to nudge your panties aside and sucks directly at your clit, and you moan loudly around San’s cock at the sudden stimuli.

San starts awake at the vibration, his hips reflexively jerking forward. You happily meet his thrust to gag on him, making San hiss a throttled curse. “F-fuck, what’s-ahhh—”

His hand flies to your hair, instinctively holding you in place. Your eyes tear up as he hits the back of your throat and stays there, but you can still glance upward to look at him — and he’s a fucking sight to behold. Bleary-eyed and disoriented, his mouth slack and panting hard for breath as he tries to get his bearings. Eyes landing on you, his cock twitching as understanding dawns. The moment is every bit as beautiful as you had imagined.

“Look who it is, Sannie,” Wooyoung grins when he notices San is awake, taking a break from tongue-fucking you. “Came over just to congratulate you. Ain’t that sweet?”

“Fuck,” San chokes out, his voice gravelly from sleep. He hisses sharply when you hollow your cheeks and give a light suck, drawing a low groan. Slowly, the sleep retreats from his eyes and is replaced by a dark alertness, though his face is still flushed, his body tired.

Lazily, he lets you continue doing what you do, only stroking your hair in encouragement as he releases you, letting you return to shallower bobs of your head. “Fuck, baby, just like that,” he groans, biting his lip. Once again, your attention is drawn to the bruise on the corner of his mouth, aching to be kissed — but your own mouth is preoccupied. Later, you promise yourself. There will be time for that later.

As expected, San’s moans are a little deeper now he is awake, slowly rocking his hips as he watches you take him further with every pass of your mouth. You wonder if he’s even aware of the difference in his sounds, or if that’s just a little secret for you and Wooyoung to know.

Speaking of Wooyoung — now that he doesn’t have to keep quiet for San, he gets talkative again. “Use me, baby,” he groans, his fingers digging into your ass. “Come on, ride me a little harder. Don’t be shy. Smear that wet pussy all over my face.”

You don’t need to be told twice, enthusiastically granting Wooyoung’s request. He moans happily as you fuck yourself on his tongue, any further words muffled between your thighs. You’d worry about whether Wooyoung can even breathe, except he has a death-grip on your hips and refuses to let you slow down. His nose repeatedly bumps into your clit, sending sparks through you every time, your moans reverberating around San.

San grunts at the feeling, voice husky and low. But as attractive as the sound is… some part of you wants to hear his whimper again. Just to see if you can make him do it.

Well. There are a few sure-fire ways you know to push San to the very limit and beyond — and one of them is immediately available to you.

He was already pushing deep inside your mouth, but you do your best to relax your throat and surge forward, your nose brushing his pelvis as you choke yourself on his cock, then pull back to do it again. And again. A lewd, wet gurgle filling the room every time, your throat constricting as you strain around his thick shaft, tears burning in your eyes.

San groans at your renewed efforts, a greed shining in his sharp eyes when he realises what you’re doing, what you are asking him to do. His fingers scrape your scalp as they embed tighter around the strands of hair. Recognising the unspoken invitation to fuck your mouth as hard as he wants.

“That’s it,” he growls, “you know how I like it. Choke on my cock, hm? I’ll stuff you until you can’t breathe.”

You can barely breathe already; it’s hard to pull in air through your nose like this, with San steadily rocking his hips forward. You go slack in his hold, just letting him use you to his liking, trying to curl your tongue around the underside of his cock in the way you know drives him up the wall.

Wooyoung makes a noise when you slump down on his face, and you try to catch yourself but he won’t have it, only sucking more eagerly onto your clit as he grabs onto your thighs to keep you in place. You moan loudly, and San curses in response, his breath getting pitchy.

It’s working, you realise. It’s not as much as when he is asleep, but slowly a whiny lilt creeps into San’s voice as he uses your throat, his face contorted with pained pleasure.

Your head starts to spin, the barrage of sensations threatening to overwhelm you. Slick sounds and deep moans, a heady scent of arousal permeating the air. San’s cock obstructing your breath, his little whines; Wooyoung’s tongue nimbly flicking against your clit, his hands squeezing at the soft meat of your thighs. You’re tilting, slowly but surely, right over the edge when Wooyoung sucks harshly, exactly when San whimpers.

It hits you like a freight train, the violent force of it enough to have you sobbing around San’s cock. You tremble and shake as electricity surges through you, only held up by San and Wooyoung’s hold on you.

Your garbled cries take San over the edge with you, though he still has enough restraint to pull back slightly, no longer nudging against your gag reflex. He shudders with a tight hiss, clumsy fingers catching in your hair as he spills hot seed inside your mouth.

You almost choke again; it’s messy, and there is a lot, leaving you to wonder if San has been abstaining before the match. Lately you certainly haven’t done more with them than casual texts or hangouts, but can make no assumptions about what he and Wooyoung get up to when you’re not around.

You try your best not to swallow it down — and not spill a single drop, either. At the latter, you don’t succeed entirely, a thin wet trail dribbling down your lips when San pulls out and slumps back onto the couch with a final, loud groan. But when Wooyoung gets out from underneath to sit next to you, and pushes a thumb on your bottom lip to show him, you can proudly stick out your tongue to him, sticky whiteness on display.

“Good girl,” Wooyoung purrs, fondly cupping your cheek. “Don’t even need me to tell you anymore, huh? So well-behaved for us.”

You moan contently at the praise, and again when Wooyoung eagerly puts his lips on you, sloppily lapping up San’s cum from your chin, your lips, until his tongue invades your mouth for a proper meal. You can taste yourself on him while Wooyoung tastes San, who is watching it all with a small, cocky grin, teeth flashing at you.

Wooyoung lets out a needy moan as he drinks deep, his tongue sliding against yours in a heady dance. He grabs for your hand, guiding you down to his still-hard cock, hot and weeping precum. Your fingers are still messy and slick, making it easy for you to jerk him off while he continues to hungrily kiss you, licking up every last drop he can reach.

It’s less of a challenge to make Wooyoung whimper, but the sound is no less exciting for it, his high-pitched moans like music to your ears. He cums messily in your hand, some spilling onto your dress. With a final bite to your bottom lip, he pulls away from your mouth, eyes heavy-lidded and looking thoroughly fucked out, lips swollen and shiny from the essences of both you and San. You grin at him, lifting your hand to suck his cum off your fingers.

Only then do you turn to San, who is indulging himself with slow strokes on his cock while he still watches you and Wooyoung intently.

“Congratulations on the match,” you say casually, cum-stained fingers lingering on your lips.

San’s grin returns to his face and he grabs your hand to pull you into his lap…where you finally get to kiss that bruise on the corner of his mouth. He winces as you press up to him, and you can hear Wooyoung grouse next to you.

“Be careful with him, alright? That’s my meal ticket you got there,” he complains, dusting himself off as he gets back on his feet.

But San wraps his arms around you, keeping you captive. “You don’t have to be that careful,” he murmurs against your mouth, his hands firmly planted on your ass as he grinds you against his crotch. The night is not over quite yet.

-☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧-

An indeterminate time and a thorough shower later, you are sitting snugly between San and Wooyoung on their shabby old couch. They graciously borrowed you some clothes, leaving you cosily wrapped in a pair of San’s sweats and one of Wooyoung’s oversized hoodies. In your hands you have freshly delivered takeout, enjoying a hot meal together with the guys.

Their treat, of course.

[soulc-hilde]

Ignorant Grandmas

Pairing: Eminem x afab!reader

Synopsis: Based off of this request and inspired by mood yesterday in the grocery store.

Warning: Ignorant grandmothers, imaginative violence towards elders, cursing

You weren’t typically like this – agitated and just seconds from swinging on somebody. You were a bit more passive, on the contrary, more invested in smiling in the face of stupidity than allowing someone to snap you out of character all because they can’t act right. Now, it might just be the heat ‘cause Lord knows that there’s not a reason in the world for it to so damn hot or maybe, just maybe, you’re getting old. 

And you pray with Quran and the Holy Bible, that it’s the heat that’s got you ready to be locked up and going viral for stuffing someone into the asphalt. 

Now, outside of the external forces pushing your buttons, there’s a force much closer that just can’t back the fuck up with his loud ass laugh and even louder conversation on that overdue for an upgrade iPhone that he still don’t know how to use after the brand being out for damn near two decades. 

“Haha!” Marshall laughs into the phone, walking behind you as you push the buggy. “That’s what I was sayin’ man, shit’s crazy.” As you go to stop, picking up a box of penne, he smacks into your backside with a smack of the teeth. 

In front of you, an old white lady and her oxygen tank stand pointed your way. Her sad excuse for lips curl up in disgust, her body ordering for you to move out the way so she could look over the pasta. You know, in an aisle filled with several different brands and types of pasta, this dying bitch just must look at your box. Rather than back up off you, your husband wraps an arm around your waist as he continues chatting with Denaun. 

You set the penne down, going to look for some type of deal from another brand. Hey, you may be rich, but you’ll be damned if inflation’s gonna catch your ass paying damn near twelve dollars for a box of pasta. Nope, just the thought pisses you off even more. As you go to grab another box, a buggy taps against yours, causing your buggy to swerve and trap you between the shelves and the cart in a tight space. 

You look up to see that dead bitch going gone-ho over her pasta selections as if she ain’t just pop your privacy bubble. You freeze, gazing at her oxygen tank with a blank stare, barely blinking. 

“Bitch, fuck you!” You shout, pushing your buggy across the aisle. You kick her oxygen tank out of her hands and toss that bitch across the floor, making sure to donk Marshall in the head with it. 

“Baby?” A voice cuts in, “Baby, you good?” You snap out, looking up to Marshall’s scrunched eyebrows watching you with concern. “You good, mama?” You simply shake your head, standing up, “let’s just go. I ain’t in the mood to make pasta tonight.” 

Fast forward, y’all stand in line at one of the registers, waiting patiently. As you were raised, you made sure there was enough room for the person in front of you to back up and walk out of line. Unfortunately, other people weren’t raised the same way which must be the reason why homeboy damn near shoves his buggy your ass cheeks.

Your lip turns up, your skin turning hot as the bones under your skin feel as if they’re trembling. Well, damn, at this point just go on ahead and take me to dinner if you’re just gonna invade my anus. You side eye Marshall, in hopes he’d be actively scoping the scenery out to find an open register with a shorter line, but no. This old motherfucker is chilling on his phone, texting Hailie. 

So much for comradery, you scoff. 

Just as you decide to stay in the spot, you feel homie behind you breathing and huffing with impatience as the cashier then leaves their station mid-transaction only to return with another employee. Obviously, they were either new to the job or an incident out of their control took place, which is understandable.

What isn’t, however, is the smell of rotten catfish lingering around her neck because this Slim Jim with the jalapeno cheese wanna shove his way up people’s asses. You peep the newly deserted scenery of self-checkout and with a heavy sigh, you swerve out of line and make your way to the secluded section. Flabbergasted, Marshall nearly runs to keep up with you. 

As you reach the register, swiping and tossing the groceries into bags as if the world was about to end, he tries to help sort the bags for you. “Boo, you okay? Why didn’t you wanna stay in the lane, the kid was almost done with those other folks.”

You simply shake your head, “not now.” He raises an eyebrow, taken aback before nodding, helping you bag the items. 

As y’all walk out the store, searching for the car in the lot, fans and a few paps were recording and taking photos of you two. That was normal to y’all, but what was abnormal was your enraged expression. As they stuff the trunk of their SUV, she looks up just in time for a perfect picture of her scrunched face to be taken.

Has Slim Shady Upsetted the Ever-So Precious Y/N? What Could the Controversial Rapper Possibly Have Done?

Eminem and Wife, Y/N, Prepared for a Divorce? Click Here to Read More

The children send y’all one link after another to multiple articles speaking on the one day you stood outside, visibly ready to beat someone’s ass and now, in their minds, it was not only Marshall’s fault but it also must’ve meant a divorce was in the work. You shake your head, texting in the family groupchat. 

“Watch this.”

You open your camera roll, getting a perfect shot of Marshall sleeping in your lap and your wedding ring. You open Instagram, creating the post and writing a simple caption – “I’m nice and still happily married. However, I would advise y’all to keep your ignorant grandmothers the fuck inside if they can’t say a damn excuse me.” 

Tbh y'all, I'm not really motivated to write Eminem anymore. Like, without a doubt I'll still do him here and there, but like after a while, I get bored. So, I'ma focus a bit more on my series that I'm writing as well as promoting my works on both AO3 and Wattpad.

[ari-freeworld]

'*•♡Finding Space In Your Heart ♡•*'

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01 - Unexpected offers

Pairing - Biker/Roommate!Bakugou x Fem!Reader

An - After debating whether or not to post this, I decided to just go for it! I’m excited to share my very first published fic with you all. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it, let me know what you think! XO

Summary - After Kirishima moves in with his girlfriend, Mina, Bakugou finds himself in need of a new roommate. He’s on the hunt for someone who can tolerate his loud (and expensive) Ducati, his odd hours at the mechanic shop, and who is fairly tidy and able to pay their share of the rent. After having no luck finding the right person, his long-time friends Mina and Kirishima suggest an old friend of Mina's—enter you, a young professional writer looking for a place to live during your partnership with a publishing company.

Notes/warnings - Qurikless AU, aged up characters, drinking and smoking mentioned. Inappropriate language (its bkg duh) Slow build up (eventual smut).

wrds - 1.9k

02 , 03

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"Hello, earth to y/n!" A hand waved over your face, pulling you from your trance.

"Sorry, Mina," you said, stirring your milkshake with your straw.

You were sitting in Mina's local diner, catching up and drinking milkshakes—a monthly ritual you both had kept since your teen years. However, this particular meeting had been long overdue since Mina and her boyfriend, Kirishima, had been busy these last few months with their big move.

"What's bugging you?" Mina asked. Your friendship with her was a strong one, now going on eight years since you met in a softball little league at the age of fifteen. Ever since then, she had been your rock and you hers.

You didn't want to dampen the mood with your issues, especially when you were supposed to be celebrating her move. However, your current situation had you stressed for a couple of weeks now.

You had received astonishing news a few weeks ago: an offer from a publishing company you'd been dreaming of working with for a while. They would love to work with you on your book. It was the perfect opportunity, but life had thrown you a curveball. The company expected you to relocate within the next month, or they would reselect someone who could. All the places you’d looked at were way over your budget, and you didn't want to depend on your parents right after moving out from their place.

You sighed, "I've been having trouble with the new job."

"What!? Did they decide they didn't want you anymore? Those pricks!" Mina slammed her milkshake on the table, shooting a couple of drops of whipped cream onto her lap.

"No, no, it isn't that," you sighed again. "It's just that they want me to move closer to the site, and I'm getting nervous because I can't find a place yet."

"Well, why don't you stay with me and Kiri? We wouldn't mind giving you the spare room for as long as you need." You could tell she was serious. Bless her heart.

"I literally could not do that. After all, you and Kiri have been waiting for the chance to move in together, and I don't want to ruin that for you."

"Why not? It would be fun! Plus, you wouldn’t be a bother."

"I appreciate the offer, Mina, but I don't want to intrude." Maybe you'll just have to make the three-hour drive there and back every day, you thought to yourself.

"Gosh, y/n, you're so stubborn. The offer will stand indefinitely." She's such a good friend; you couldn't possibly burden her and Kiri. More like you won't.

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

"Fuck," Bakugou exhaled, wiping the grease and dirt off his hands with his white tank top.

"Hey, Bakugou! Are you closing up soon? It's late," Kiri entered from the semi-closed garage door after helping out their last customer for the day.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm just fucking replacing my bike's stupid-ass engine oil." Kiri could tell something was bothering Bakugou. He'd been trying to get it out of him all day. He hated seeing his friend this way: walking around with tense shoulders, snapping at people. He even drove away a customer this morning with his attitude.

"Dude, what's up with you today?" Kiri asked. "You've been... pissy."

Bakugou glared at Kiri, then sat on the stool by his raised bike. "I can't find a fucking roommate," he quietly admitted.

"Shit, man. I'm sorry about dumping the move on you." Kiri moved to lean on the large tool cabinet. "I could always help you pay for this month to help out."

"Don't be a dumbass." Bakugou ran his hand through his blonde locks, moving the parts stuck to his sweaty forehead from his face. "You're basically moved out; you would just be paying my rent for me."

Kirishima pondered for a moment, trying to think of some way to help his friend. Then suddenly, he remembered what Mina mentioned the other day.

"Wait! This is perfect. I just remembered!" Kiri stood up straight. "Mina's friend, y/n!"

"Who?" Bakugou asked, uninterested.

"You know y/n. I've spoken about her before. She's actually looking for a place but couldn't find any within her budget!"

"A girl?! I can't move in with some random chick!" Bakugou was surprised Kirishima would even suggest that.

"You have to meet her! She would be the perfect roommate for you. She's reserved and, from what Mina's said, a really good person!"

"Yeah, no fucking thanks." Bakugou got up to pack things up and close the shop.

Kirishima, on the other hand, did not care about what Bakugou said and proceeded to text his girlfriend, trying to come up with a plan to get them to meet.

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

Later that evening, Kiri and Mina's plan was in full swing. You were getting ready to meet Mina and some of Kiri's friends at a downtown bar. Unbeknownst to you, this was no ordinary hangout—there was a secret agenda at play.

Now here you were, about to enter some random bar, planning to have a stress-free night filled with fun before returning to reality tomorrow.

As you opened the bar door, the smell of cigarettes, greasy food, and alcohol hit your nose. You weren't too big on partying or getting drunk; Mina, on the other hand, was a pure party animal through and through. You often found yourself tagging along on outings like these, so it wasn't going to be a peculiar evening—or so you thought.

"Y/n! Over here!" You saw Mina practically jumping out of her seat, waving to get your attention. Making your way over, you glanced at everyone else seated in the booth. Familiar faces you'd seen at past hangouts.

"Hey, guys!" You stood in front of the table, and seated from left to right were Sero, Denki, Kirishima, and, of course, Mina. It seemed like there was someone missing who had been seated between Denki and Kirishima. Mina's face was dusty with a pink hue; you guessed she had probably had a few drinks before your arrival.

"You're just in time. We just sent Bakugou to get the shots!" she mentioned, looking past you towards the bar.

Bakugou. You felt like you remembered Kirishima mentioning him before.

"Here are your fucking drinks, assholes," you heard a deep, slightly raspy voice speak from behind you.

You turned and immediately faced someone's chest, holding a small tray of filled shot glasses and lime slices. Glancing up, you saw a man standing at a good six feet and three or four inches. His attention was focused on his friends, but he glanced down at you, and your eyes met.

Getting a better look at him, you noticed his very stocky build and his beautiful features. His eyes were a shade of red—not like blood, but the color you see during a sunset. His hair was blond and spiky but looked soft to the touch. You snuck a quick glance at his lips, which were soft and plump.

Bakugou's eyes had been latched onto yours since he faced you. Such a pretty, delicate face, he thought. His eyes ran up and down your body but quickly returned to Kirishima once he realized who you were.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Shitty Hair?" Bakugou's voice was loud but not louder than the music filling the bar. You glanced back at Mina, confused, and she gave you a cheeky smile.

Some hours later, after drinking with your friends, you found yourself sitting right next to Bakugou, practically on his lap due to the overstuffed booth. Mina took the time to explain that he was searching for a roommate and, since you were having trouble, you could move in with him instead of on your own. Hence, the orchestrated meeting.

You noticed his cedarwood smell, almost overwhelming your senses. You picked up on smaller notes of leather and coconut. The silence between you was a little awkward now that you both understood the situation. Your friends were having their own drunken conversations, but Mina was secretly peeping glances at you, hoping you and Bakugou would help each other out.

"I'm sorry Mina put you up to this. I didn't know," you decided to break the silence, speaking without facing him. If you turned, your faces would be inches apart. He side-eyed you, sitting with his body slightly leaned on the cushion of the shared booth. He scoffed.

"S'not your fuckin' fault. They put you up to this," his words sounded harsh, but his delivery was rather soft. From what Mina said about him before, he sounded like an overly aggressive guy.

"So, you're looking for a roommate?"

"Yeah, Shitty Hair decided to move out and in with Pinky," you chuckled at his nicknames for them.

"Yeah, no wonder that area is hard to afford on your own," you sighed, crossing your arms on the table.

"You looking for a place?"

"Kinda? I don't know. I got this job offer, but I don't think I can accept it if I don't find a place I can afford soon." You sounded worried, hoping it wasn't detectable in your voice.

"Hm," he gave a sound of acknowledgment. He watched you stand, his eyes running down your body again, this time much slower, drinking in your curves. He had been watching you all night, more like observing. Yes, he found you pretty, but meeting you was interesting to him. He didn’t know if it was because he hadn't felt a woman’s warmth for a year now and was craving it, or if he just liked the way you laughed with your friends and the way the dim lights made your skin glow.

"I'll be back," you said, the drinking giving you a buzz, and you couldn't stop yourself from overthinking again. Getting up from your seat, you squeezed past Bakugou, Denki, and Sero, heading to the door. You needed air.

Letting the nightly breeze hit your face, you pulled out your phone, thinking about calling your mom to vent your troubles. She and your dad had been away visiting family, letting you have the place to yourself. You couldn't bring yourself to tell them about the job before they left because you knew they would offer to pay for your place instantly, which was the last thing you wanted. So you settled for the cigarette in your purse that Sero had handed you earlier.

Lighting it, you inhaled and exhaled, hating the taste but finding it brought some comfort, like your worries were drifting away with the smoke.

"Disgusting habit," someone spit out. You turned to face them, instantly putting it out.

"Oh, I know. I don't smoke often, but this night called for one," you faced Bakugou, now out of the cramped bar. His figure stood a little taller and more comfortable. He walked up beside you, his scent hitting a little harder as the breeze carried it right to your nose. His clothes were black and casual, but you couldn't help but notice the tightness of his t-shirt.

Man, am I buzzed, you thought to yourself.

The silence now that you were alone was comforting. "If it's beating you up that fucking badly, I wouldn't mind," he said. You snapped your head towards him quickly.

"It would help both of us out," he continued. "You'd be saving me the trouble of finding some asshole roommate."

"Really...?" you searched his eyes for an answer. "You wouldn't mind?"

"How 'bout this: come look at the place with me now," he leaned close, his body looming above you. "And you let me know, princess."

Bakugou thought to himself, maybe he wouldn’t mind having a girl for a roommate. Regardless, he knew he certainly wouldn’t mind having you as one.

°。°。°。°。°。° 。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

Hope you enjoyed! Planning on releasing more parts soon <3

Btw lmk if you want to be added to the tag list :)

[evienicks]

In Dreams

Summary: The reader is a therapist for the academy; aiding any student or faculty member within it, she’s also Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr’s adopted daughter. One of her favorite patients is a newcomer to the school — Logan Howlett. He’s been having nightmares and asks her for help.

A/n: this is a little drabble from a series in the works for Logan x Fem!Original Character, however, this is a good Y/N insert for anyone to enjoy! Please be kind ✌🏼🤍 Also, Vatti is Dad in German(sorry if you don’t ship CharlesxErik but I do)

Warnings: Mostly fluff, some angst involving Logan’s past and guilt of being vulnerable around Y/N.

—

Click!

“So, Logan, how can I help you today?” He slightly bites his bottom lip and grunts; the one thing, the only thing, that feels like could possibly help Logan is sitting across from him, scribbling in her teal notebook. It was you. From the moment he saw you, Logan knew he would move heaven and earth for you.

But you’re his doctor. Worse, you’re also the only daughter of the men who graciously invited him to stay and offered him a steady job, food, and a place to sleep.

Sleep — the other thing that could help him. Since moving in, Logan has been having nightmares of a time he can’t recall, in a place he can’t describe; but he was there, covered in wires and tubes, in a glass tank encased in water…

His eyebrow twitches and he sighs, rubbing his face slowly with his left hand, “I can’t sleep, Doc.”

Click! He flinches, you gently place your notebook aside and give him a concerned look. “Is it the nightmares again?” He nods and you scooch your chair closer, giving him a gentle pat on his shoulder with a smile, “Well, if you’re up to it, I think I know something that can help. Or at least, give you some time to relax.”

His eyes widen a bit and his cheeks get flushed — if he wasn’t so sleep-deprived, he would reply with a cheeky innuendo, but his brain is currently frazzled by the stunning woman empathizing with his pain.

You respond with the same expression, your cheeks and ears developing a light pink glow, and laugh nervously. “N-n-no, no! Logan, no!” I would if I could. You sheepishly admit to yourself, thank goodness Logan can’t read your mind. You can, as well as lift him up with a thought, quite literally. “I mean, I can help you sleep.” You let out another chuckle, “Have you ever heard of hypno-therapy?”

“Is that a band?” Poor Logan can’t keep up with all of these musicians anymore, “Because, Y/N, I don’t think I’m in the mood for any of that techo-wacky-nonsense.”

You bite your bottom lip to try and hold back a cackle, “Oh Logan…”

He tilts his head back in confusion, “Wha—oh!” You lower his seat back with a snap, then dim the lights with a wave of your hand, and scoot back in your seat. “What in the fuck was that, bub??”

“I’m trying to create a peaceful ambiance.” You light a few scented candles then apply some eucalyptis hand cream, “I’ve had many success stories with this method; while you’re asleep, I’ll overlook what’s going on in your mind. That way, I can get a better idea of what exactly is making you feel distressed. With your permission, of course.” You scooch over to his head and place it in your lap, Logan’s breathing starts to get shaky.

“Hang on. Who exactly?” He looks up curiously, “Can you tell me?”

“It’s not Scott, Lo.” He snorts and you playfully pat his cheek, “It worked for my Vatti, Storm…and Jean…” Now he’s even more curious, “Jean?”

Ugh, of course he’s into her… “Yes Logan, even Jean.” Your smile fades and you take off your glasses, “So, you wanna try it? I promise I won’t hurt you.”

He gives you a little half-smile, trying to relax but growls a bit in exhaustion. “Go ahead Doc,” he yawns and closes his eyes, “I’m willing to try anything once.”

Who knows why, but that remark made the poor doctor turn beet red. You shake it off and gently place your hands between Logan’s head, your index fingers gently rubbing his eyebrows. He groans, “what are you doing?”

You stop, “I-it’s supposed to help relax you. My papa use to do it when I was a girl, and my clients seem to enjoy it.”

“I ain’t complainin’, doll…” he sighs in content, “just don’t stop…”

You are at work, you are at work. Don’t think dirty, you are at work. You continue and Logan lowers his hands to his chest. “Now Lo, you’re going to start feeling warm, like you had a nice cup of coffee.”

“Mhm…”

“Whatever comes in your mind, just know I am right here.”

“Mmm…”

As you gently rub his eyebrows, you can’t help but admire his features; his brown hair freckled with gray, the lines on his forehead, his well-kempt sideburns, those pale-pink lips…

A low noise snaps you back to reality and you couldn’t help but giggle; Logan was out like a light, and his snores slowly start to grow louder in your lap. You can’t help but run your fingers through his hair and smile, how lucky you are that he feels comfortable enough to let his guard down for a second in your care.

You place your right hand gently on his forehead and close your eyes.

Click!

You are now within his dream; you walk along the lab hallways until you find two metal doors. Walking through them like a ghost, you encounter a giant room filled with different machines and tubes; one of the machines encased a silver liquid which had two big tubes attached along to the subject in the tank besides it. You look over into the tank and immediately are taken aback at what you find; it was Logan, the tubes were injected into him, and he was briefly lifeless in the tank, his heart monitor revealing a faint flatline.

No… You could feel tears starting to form when suddenly, the line starts to move. Slowly, then quite rapidly. The tank starts to bubble from the thrashing within, he jolts upright with a warrior-like scream, his claws unsheathed. He rips the tubes out of him and jumps out of the tank, toppling a few lab techs and slashing them to pieces.

You follow him with every move he makes, every life he takes, every cry of agony he exclaimed. His hands were bleeding from the claws, throbbing and shaking. He lets out one more howl then runs for an exit.

Okay, I think it’s time.

You snap back to your office, with Logan still in your lap but now panting and tossing as much as he could. You gently shake him, “Logan, you need to wake up.” He keeps tossing in your lap, his claws slowly poking out. You get up and levitate Logan to the couch, keeping a distance in case he strikes, “Logan!!”

He jumps up in a shriek, claws unsheathed, and looking around the room in distress. You get a bit closer, “Logan, you’re okay. Take a deep breath.” He shakily looks over towards you, claws slowly going back into his knuckles, trying to catch his breath.

You sit besides him and grab his shoulders, “Breathe.” He obeys, shakily through his nose and slowly out his mouth. After a minute or two, he sighs and lays back on the couch, “d-did I…” he gulps, “did I hurt you…?”

Your heart breaks. “No Logan, you didn’t do anything wrong.” With that remark, he holds back what sounds like a sob. He quickly stand up and heads for the door, “I-I gotta go.” He quickly closes the door and heads to his room, needing to kick the shit out of something for almost crying in front of the woman he admires. More so because he ran out of there without even thanking her, You blew it now, you idiot. He groans and kicks his wastebin.

Meanwhile, you were still in your office, going over the notes you’ve obtained during the session. You’re tempted to go over and talk to him, but he needs his space, especially after that jarring session.

You sigh, lean back in your chair, and open your teal notebook. There’s a knock at the door and a new mutant walks in, sheepishly taking a seat across from you, in the chair that once had Logan there.

“So, how can I help you today?”

Click!

[bitchyycapricorn]

Brooklyn Bridge

Peter Parker x Reader

Masterlist Word Count: 1.3k Synopsis: Peter faces one problem constantly: Aunt May knocking on the door at the absolute worst times. Fed up, Peter decides to simply show you off to the public.

Quote: “Good God, look at you you’re doing such a good job.” Warnings: Smut, public sex, praise kink, usage of slut, language, P in V AN: Obviously with my highlighted quote TikTok has reminded me how much of a praise kink I have. Not edited.

“Oh fuck babe, I’ve missed you so much,” You groan as Peter thrusts into you. Your whole body is on fire at the feeling of Peters lips leaving small kisses on the side of your neck as he pounds into you mercilessly.

“God, “Y/N, you feel so fucking good.” Peter groans as his hand wanders up and down your side, taking in every inch of your body. Peter continues to plant small kiss along your jawline before stopping abruptly at the sound of a knock on his door.

“Peter?” May calls from the other side of the door. “Peter open the door!” Peter groans as he pulls out of you, leaving your body aching for his touch.

“You have to get in the closet,” Peter whispers harshly under his breath, “quick grab your cloths.” You find yourself stumbling out of his bed, scrambling while you pick your discarded cloths up from the ground before making a beeline to Peter’s closet. Even though you now couldn’t see Peter, you could hear him fumbling around while trying to get his cloths on before unlocking the door for May.

“Why do you always keep that door locked Peter?” May stammers as Peter shifts uncomfortably.

“I was trying to get to bed.” He replies slowly, “also I like the privacy.” He admits sheepishly.

May stares up at him for a moment before letting out a sigh. “Yes, alright, well I’m going to bed. I came to tell you goodnight and if you need me make sure it’s an emergency.” Peter nods before giving May a hug and sending her on her way, making sure to tell her goodnight as well.

Peter shut the door, letting out a small groan before or opening up the closet to reveal a disheveled Y/N. You let a smile spread across your lips as you stumble out of Peter’s messy closet. “Well then,” you hum, “Is the mood ruined or…”

“Ruined? What do you think?” Peter mumbles. “Everyone in the world wants to watch us have sex I swear. Constantly needing us, constantly knocking on the door. Might as well just have public sex at this point so people can ask questions without any barriers.”

You let out a small laugh, running your fingers up Peter’s arm. “Public sex huh? Well, maybe let’s keep it tame and go ahead and finish in your bed since May is now asleep.” You suggest, trying to pull Peter with you.

“No.” Peter replies, a smirk forming on his previously solemn face. “Get dressed, we’re going out.”

“Going out? It’s almost 11 at night…” You hesitate as you slip on your pajama shorts and tank top, followed by your jacket.

“Don’t you trust me love?” Peter asks sweetly causing your stomach to erupt with butterflies.

“Of course I trust you,”

+++

“I do NOT trust you!” You shriek as Peter lands on top of the main upper platform on the Brooklyn Bridge. You look down at the cars zooming by below you, feeling your heart drop. “Why the hell are we on the Brooklyn bridge?” You cry, clinging onto Peters warm body.

“Since everyone wants to watch us have sex so bad, thought I’d give them a show.” Peter declares.

“You-You what?” You stammer feeling your cheeks heat up as you stare into your boyfriends masked eyes.

“Hold on to the rail baby,” Peter encourages as he flips you around so your frontside is pressed against the metal railing and you’re staring down at the cars and water below.

“P-peter,” You stutter feeling his cold hand slowly snaking between your spread thighs in order to push your shorts and underwear to the side. His fingers dance across your bare cunt, spreading your wetness in the process.

“Look at my pretty girl, all bent over for me like a little slut.” Peter purrs “Such a good girl aren’t you.” You could now feel his finger slowly entering you, dipping deep into your soaking core.

“Fu-fuck Peter, what if someone sees?” You sputter as your walls close around his slender finger.

His mask brushes against your ear as he whispers “That’s why we’re up her baby, so everyone can watch me fuck you like a slut.” You let out a gasp as his digits thrust in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace. “Mmm you like that don’t you?”

You let out a small moan in response, squeezing the railing as his fingers speed up. “Oh god Peter I’m close,” you cry at the feeling of his thumb now toying with your clit.

“Are you now?” Peter hums, smacking your ass as his fingers continue to violently thrust in and out of your heat. “Well then, if you’re so close, cum for me baby. Cum all over my fingers like a good girl.” He praises.

Throwing your head back onto his shoulder you allow your body to let go, convulsing as your orgasm washes over your whole body.

“Good girl,” Peter groans, slowly pulling his soaking fingers out of you. Your hands continue to squeeze the railing while you desperately try and catch your breath. Behind you you could hear Peter unzipping his jeans, shuffling as he removes his hard dick from its restraints. “Ready pretty girl?” Peter grunts as he lines himself up behind you. You nod, forgetting about the cars below you entirely.

Peter helps to bend you over slightly more, before grabbing yours hips and sliding into you with ease. “Oh fuck,” Peter moans as he bottoms out. “You feel so fucking good baby.” Peter slowly pulls out of you before pushing back in repeatedly. Your legs began to shake as Peter speeds up his movement, pushing deeper into you each time.

Small moans and cries escape your lips as you’re thrusted against the metal railing repeatedly. “Peter fuck” you cry. “God, oh, Peter.” Your whimpers fill the air as Peter drills into you without mercy, enjoying the feeling of your clenched cunt squeezing his throbbing cock.

“Good god, look at you you’re doing such a good job.” Peter praises, hands gripping your ass roughly. Your legs were shaking as Peter hammers into you from behind. Each thrust feeling deeper than the last, pushing you closer to your second orgasm. “Such a pretty little slut. Taking my cock so good in front of everyone.” Peters voice and hands felt hypnotic. The way he’s roughly grabbing your hips as he guides your body up and down his thick cock with every thrust.

“Peter-“ you moan, never wanting Peter to stop. “K-keep going please,” you whine.

Peter lets out a grunt, feeling himself getting closer to the edge. Your body capturing his attention as it knocks against the railing the deeper he pushes into you. “Shit-“ Peter mutters as his orgasm begins to creep up even more. “I’m close.”

You let out another string of moans knowing you’re close as well. You feel as one of Peters hands snakes around your front side, slowly rubbing your clit and adding to the pleasure. Throwing your head back you can feel your muscles begging to contract as a wave of adrenaline and pleasure washes over you. “Fuck Peter,” you groan as you finish around his cock.

Letting out a loud moan Peter releases inside of you, overwhelmed by the feeling of you squeezing around him as you ride out the last of your own orgasm.

Peter slowly pulls out and you can feel the hot cum slowly running down your bare thighs. Your body still shaking from the events just moments ago.

“You alright baby?” Peter whispers as his arms wrap around your disheveled figure. Planting soft kisses to your shoulder as he rubs your upper arms.

“I’m good, that was, that was amazing,” you reply, leaning back into his warm body.

“Good, I’m glad you enjoyed it as much as I did. Now let’s get you home and cleaned up hm?” He hums, turning you around so you’re facing him. You nod, allowing Peter to embrace you once more.

You look around at your surroundings for a moment, admiring the beauty of the city from so high up. “Hey Peter,” you whisper, “how many people do you think recorded us?”

Peter let out a small laugh before realizing you were right. “Oh fu-“

+++

TAGLIST @noakrootje

[harlowtales]

Jack needs Y/N more than he realizes when jealousy gets the best of him

18+ ONLY - Adult Themes

***Use of all names is purely fictional

“Where the fuck are you going Y/N?” Jack said surprised to see you packing. He just got back from recording in LA and was going to take a few weeks off.

“I actually made some friends and I’m heading off for a weekend in the country!” You squealed with glee, but Jack did not have a smile on his face. “…and nice to see you too sheesh.” You said rolling your eyes and pushing past him to get to your closet. You were forgetting your crocks and hoping to find a spot for them in your open and overflowing suitcase on the bed.

“No the fuck you aint.” He said like a domineering father.

“Awwww Jackman you’ll be fine without me for 72hours.” You said cheerily finally getting your suitcase closed by sitting on it.

“72 fucking hours ain’t a weekend last I checked.” He said grumpily

“You’ll be fine.” You said ignoring his exasperation and checking the group chat for any updates on who was picking you up when. Jack was a tad dramatic anyway so you didn’t really take him seriously at the moment.

“Not very professional coming from my assistant” he mumbled now distinctly in a bad mood.

“I’m not your assistant. I’m a house guest remember?” You responded now getting irritated that Jack refused to give you any titles in his life whatsoever. Long story short, something happened one night that you both agreed should not have, and had not happened since.

You were renovicted from your apartment as the building was being turned into fancy condos so Jack offered you a place to stay until you found another place. While staying with him you started helping Kat with some work and his team realized how good you were at helping him stay organized. They offered you a job and Jack said no. He was developing feelings for you and didn’t want to mix business with anything more complicated personally. This caused major tension as you felt he was unfairly blocking you from an opportunity and you had a huge fight. He wound up confessing his feelings and makeup sex didn’t make up for anything as he still would not define your relationship.

You were still helping Kat as now an unpaid intern and Jack felt that one night was a mistake and he needed to focus on his career so nothing happened again. He would lay in his bed alone trying to shake the memory. So many nights he texted you to come to his room but deleted it. You both talked about when you would leave and you told Jack about your other plans but he put a stop to that and said he could find you other opportunities and for you to stay in Louisville.

To say you fell hard for him was an understatement. The whole situation was confusing and you didn’t realize how much it was draining you. You started writing a book but having to move short notice derailed the whole thing. You had a publisher waiting and were panicking. Jack suggested you stay until you finished it. He believed in you and didn’t want to be the cause of you loosing your focus either.

This limbo with him had become your new normal. Stolen glances across the breakfast table, incidental brushes passed in the hallway never amounting to little more than frustration but both of you were dedicated to your dreams so didn’t cross the line again. You had to avert your eyes when he would be rushing to get ready drinking tea and checking his phone while fresh out of the shower in a towel around his waist and wet curls.

He had to do the same seeing you prance around in a tank top and sleep shorts with a bonnet on and fuzzy slippers. The way he wanted to bend you over sometimes was too much. In a weird way though you two became happy roommates. There was only one thing Jack wanted and that was for you to be around when he was in town. He said this was for work purposes but it was because he missed you so much when he was away. To see you packing now when you knew he was back made him downright angry.

You hadn’t done it purposely but you had made a new group of friends in the writing community in Louisville and everyone was going on this retreat to work on projects in an idyllic Kentucky country setting. Jack didn’t like there were guys in this group. Sensitive types that were accomplished authors. Just the type that you could bond with intellectually and leave him forever. He knew conversation was your love language so even while he was away he called often but felt like he didn’t have what it took to really stimulate you mentally like those guys.

You felt like you were starting to slip away and maybe it was for the best because nothing was possible with Jack anyway. This one guy in the group Jason was so engaging and you were looking forward to his reading circles and getting to know him this weekend. Jack knew how much you liked Jason’s new novel. He felt so jealous every time he caught you curled up with pups reading it.

“You really like this Jason character huh?” Jack said one night as he had his feet up watching soccer and you were deeply immersed in Jason’s book. He felt like swatting it out of your hands.

“It’s such a moving story. I hope to be half as good as this” You said wistfully smiling showing your one dimple and pushing up your glasses which drove Jack crazy.

“I have no doubt you’re way better than that.” Jack said disdainfully of Jason.

“I’m honoured to even know him. Want some popcorn?” You said cheerily getting pups off you and heading to the kitchen. It was one of your more lazy days at home and you had no idea that Jack was in heaven there with you. He would occasionally glance at you and smile while you were reading wishing you could lay on him and he could hold you giving you kisses on the top of your head as he watched the game. He snapped out of his delusion with the Jason conversation.

“Hey missy did you write at all today?” He would often chide when things he didn’t want to think about crept in or uncomfortable feelings.

“Nope. I’m chilling today.” You said happily taking a huge handful of popcorn. Jack promptly ripped the bowl away from you.

“You want to be as good as some dork Jason? Get off the couch and go to your room and write” he said firmly.

“Fuck you.” You said defiantly grabbing another handful before heading for your room. You knew he was right but didn’t like his bossy tone.

He settled in with pups with a smile on his face knowing he had disrupted your time with Jason’s book and knocked it off the couch for extra enjoyment.

Fast forward back to now. He felt a tightness in his chest with anxiety creeping in. “Does Kat know you’re doing this?” He questioned

“Doing what?” You said distractedly with air quotes as you texted Emily you were almost ready.

“Y/N.” Jack said trying to get your attention “I need details. You live here, and I kinda feel responsible if anything happens to you.” He said concerned

“Jack it’s all good. Emily will be here in like 15mins don’t worry there’s going to be 20 people there. Jason is leading the whole thing for up and comers like me and I’m so excited to learn from him. I really need his advice.”

“You won’t be up and cumming at all at any point on this trip understand?” He said looking down on you every bit asserting his 6 foot 3 frame.

“Relax alpha male” You said touching his chest in a way that made him raise an eyebrow and tingle. Old Jack would have you on your back so fast it would make your head spin, but he had matured and just hoped one day when he had more time for a relationship he hadn’t permanently fucked it up with you.

“I’ll see you in a few days. Only call me in an EMERGENCY. Got it? And look after my puppy.” You said roughing up pup’s curly fur and kissing her while she panted joyfully in Jack’s arms. Emily texted she was downstairs. You gathered your things and stepped into the elevator that opened up directly into Jack’s penthouse.

“You’re upsetting pups but have fun.” Jack said cradling her as if protecting her from your cruelty.

You breathed a deep sigh of relief as the elevator doors closed. Jack was passed clingy now and totally dependent on you. “Well pups it’s just you and me here this weekend. Or does it have to be?” He said picking up his phone and scrolling to see what ex would answer and come over, but that didn’t feel right. He decided to order dinner since you weren’t there to cook a home cooked meal and write some new stuff. A song about a girl he couldn’t be with but couldn’t leave.

PART 2

Jack was miserable the entire 3 days. Nobody could get him out of the house. He sank into a place where he just wrote songs in the dimly lit studio. He rejected offers to play soccer, to go to the Hub and DJ, to hang out with one of his exes who was just “checking in” that he easily could have had swing by and scratch his itch. The problem was he had nothing to scratch. You were on his mind heavy and he couldn’t shake it.

“Hunny Urban called me and said you’re in a funk. Want to talk to your old mom about it?” Jack’s mom said in her loving way when her son was in a low mood.

“Naw I’ll be fine I just…I need to just be more my own man.” He said reflectively

“Who is she this time?” His mom said completely unaware of the whole dynamic but had suspected Jack and you had something happen at some point. She just knew her son too well. You were completely what he was looking for and it bewildered her why you weren’t a couple already. “Did you and Y/N have another argument? Hunny you know she’s headstrong but she’s an intelligent girl. You’re a writer you get it.”

“We didn’t have a fight. She’s a good roommate.” Jack said dismissively

“Ok I’ll pretend that’s the truth.” His mom said

“She just…she doesn’t understand certain things, like it’s not important to her, she just flounces around foot loose and fancy free ya know? Like her book is due and she’s reading another book by some fucktard author she’s crushing on. Makes no sense. She lacks discipline ya know?” Jack said way more than he wanted to.

“Oh I see.” His mom replied pensively. “She’s a fly by the seat of her pants kinda gal but works for you for free tending to your business everyday but she’s not responsible. As I understand she cooks too with her busy schedule that revolves around you and looks after the dog? Is it maybe this little crush on someone else your issue?”

“You know what? I need to focus and she needs to focus. She could never be my girl because I need someone so opposite to her. I mean the other day I walked in on her feeding pups extra treats and singing and dancing with her like what?” Jack said critically but obviously in pain missing your sweet goofiness.

“Wow sounds like a real bad situation.” His mom said rolling her eyes on the other end but Jack could feel it.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me mom.” He said defensively. “It doesn’t sound like a big deal but it is. You know what? As soon as she gets back imma tell her she needs to find somewhere else to go because this ain’t working. I can’t even have girls in my crib anymore like a normal man.”

“So she’s away? And where’s all these girls in your crib as you say.” His mom asked. She had a way of talking to Jack that made him come to his own conclusions.

“Mom don’t start.” He said “She’s irresponsible. She knows she’s supposed to be here when I’m here. It’s unprofessional for her to just bounce and be out in god knows where countryside retreat or wherever the fuck she went with his Jason loser. So he’s written a few books. Does he have platinum records? Does anyone know who da fuck this guy is?” Jack fumed his anxiety on full display.

“Wait. Y/N is on a writing retreat with THE Jason Meyers??? Hunny this is great for her! He’s a 4 time New York Times bestselling author! This could be Y/N’s big break!” His mom said excitedly

“You know, why am I even talking to you? I gotta go pups is hungry and needs a walk.” Jack said using his dog as an excuse to get out of a conversation that was bringing up all his insecurities.

“Ok hunny I’m here if you need me I love you!” His mom said cheerfully

Jack was so frustrated nobody understood him. The walk with pups did him good and he went to the gym to work off some steam. He felt much better and was lying on the couch drifting off when he heard the elevator doors open and you rustling around. He jumped up and startled pups who ran to greet you. “Hello pupsy wupsy!” You said so happy to see her.

“Hey.” You said cooly to Jack

“Sup” He said ultra casually, not moving from the couch.

“It’s ok don’t move to help with my suitcase.” You said sarcastically as you struggled with it down the hallway to your room.

“Wasn’t planning on it.” He said after you lazily snuggled in a blanket.

You had a great time, but wasn’t going to tell Jack about the offer you had from Jason to read your manuscript and pitch it to his publisher to get you more money and way more exposure. Jack didn’t seem to like Jason and it would only put him in a pissier mood than he already was these days. You decided to stay in your room away from him and got comfortable in bed so tired from the long drive.

You heard a soft knock on your door. “Come in.” You called out as you changed channels on the TV.

“Does my breath stink or something? Why you didn’t come out of your room?” Jack asked sitting on the bed. He was waiting for you to tell him all about it.

“Jack. Leave me be please I’m exhausted, and no time for whatever mood you’ve been in.” You said honestly

“Y/N can we talk?” He asked softly. You immediately knew it was important by the scrunch in his brow.

“Of course are you ok? I’ve been concerned. You’re always so supportive and the minute I have this big opportunity to network you’re so down on me. Did I do something wrong?” You asked looking him directly in his warm blue eyes

“Y/N….this thing we’re doing… or not doing…I can’t do it anymore. While you were away I had a chance to think and talk to my mom and ummm, I hope we can still be friends but…” He hesitated

“Say no more. I’m as good as fucking gone. Lucky I haven’t even unpacked because I won’t. I’m out. If I can just sleep that would be great and then say no more. I’ll leave in the morning.” You said completely done at this point. “Get some other flunkie to watch your dog and make your breakfast, and schedule your life. I have things to do in MY LIFE!!!” You yelled and burst into tears. “…and fuck any deals. Fuck Jason fuck Kentucky!”

“Whoah whoah whoah what? Fuck Jason what happened? Did he…did you guys…”

“No. Jason is engaged to a ballet dancer he is very much spoken for. I just admired him and his work.” You said now a teary mess. “He offered to read my book and pitch to his publisher but fuck all that now. Every time I get something good I have to move again. I hate it here!!!! Kiss my ass bluegrass!!.” You said now full on bawling.

“Y/N that’s fantastic!!” Jack said but realized what he had done and how he had been making you feel for months. “I’m so sorry I’m a complete fool.”

“You’ve always got me on some rollercoaster. I’m the fool!” You said hitting him now in frustration “Get off my bed! Your bed…what the fuck ever! I don’t fucking care anymore!” You yelled but Jack interrupted you with a massive tight hug and you collapsed in his arms so weary from fighting him and this “arrangement”.

“I can do no right with you. You’re sooooo fucking bossy!” You said but it felt so good to be hugged by him, to feel his warmth.

“Y/N please I ain’t that bad, am I?” Jack asked kind of knowing the answer.

“So bossy.” You restated calming down now and blowing your nose.

“Ok damn. I get it I’m bossy.” He said partially offended but knowing he was hard on you because he didn’t want to wind up in bed and in love. You had the potential to hurt him more than he could handle. With both of you distracted with work it was his hope it would prevent anything from happening “Kiss my ass bluegrass is next level though that was too far.” He laughed.

“I was wrong.” He continued “I can learn from you and relax sometimes and I been an asshole pushing you. I thought you were hung up on Jason and I couldn’t take it. I was a shell of myself when you left. I barely left the condo.”

“Are you serious?” You said between sniffles. “I was literally only gone for 3 days. You’re kind of pathetic”

“Thanks.” He said sarcastically “I’m just so dependent on you now and that’s my fault. If you want to leave and find a real relationship I can’t hold you, but if you give me a do over I would really really love that and I would show you I love you because I do. I realized how much the last little while so I amped up being a hard ass to run from my feelings. Matter fact, I got you something months ago and been too scared to give it to you. One sec” He said and disappeared. He returned with a jewelry box and gestured for you to take it.

You froze. Was this happening? “One minute this man was ready to kick me out and now a damn near proposal?” You thought with your head pounding from all the crying and screaming. You waited for him to open the box.

Inside was a blinding diamond fountain pendant and chain. “Welcome to team Private Garden Y/N, my new Senior Assistant. I hope a salary of $150,000 a year is helpful and Kat now reports to you. I hope the title permanent live-in girlfriend suits you as well. No hiding, this our shit now and everyone will know. You cool with that?”

“Well…I don’t know I might be on a book tour but I’ll see if I can pencil your little job offer in.” You said lifting up your hair as Jack placed the stunning piece around your neck. The fans seeing that symbol of being team PG was going to send the internet into a frenzy but for now you were savouring this moment.

“Take it or leave it, but please never leave me and pups again. I had left over pizza all weekend.” Jack said tackling you and planting a deep kiss on your lips with pups barking excitedly.

“Wow. You are so sad.” You said teasing him and kissing him with his full weight on top of you, he started to rise and you knew it was the time you both had wanted for so long. You turned off your bedroom light “Oh Jack” you moaned.

@itsyagirljaz @okaaay-mice @ride4harlow

[lululandd]

whiskey sour;

pairing: simon ‘ghost’ riley x gn!reader

word count: 1577

warnings: meet..cute(?)

note: my heart said angst but my brain said fluff, and i cant write without a brain so… (also on ao3)

summary: the man at the bar never talks. not to women hitting on him, not to the men squaring him up for fights.

You see him every weekend for 3 months straight, sitting at the same place, wearing some rotation of dark hoodies, and sporting some manly drink that seem like they taste as angry as he looks. You notice the only one he talks to is the bartender. And now you, apparently.

You trudged into the bar with a sour face and a sour mood and sat next to him, which you wouldn’t do if there was legitimately any other seat. “I’ll have whatever he’s having.” You pointed at his drink after getting the barkeep’s attention.

It surprised you when the drink came less than a third of the glass it came in. Did the bartender think you’re a pussy and gave you less? Whatever.

So you downed it in one go.

Horrible idea. It burned from your tongue down to your esophagus, and you coughed your lungs out for a solid minute while tears streamed down your face before the fire dissipates.

“You’re supposed to sip.” You heard someone mutter after your body stopped being dramatic over the drink.

Who the fuc—

“You savour it.” He chided. Oh, it’s the quiet man. So the reason no one talked to him is because he’s some kind of obnoxious fuck?

“No ‘you allright’ or ‘you okay’? Straight to the lecture?” You bit back. Fuck, you feel like purposefully bumping into him as you slid off your seat, but he’s built like a tank and you’re not going to test whether you’re wet noodle or wet tissue against him right now. You trudged out of the bar you entered not fifteen minutes ago, and out of anger you promise to never go back.

And by never you mean like two years. You’ve changed jobs, moved closer to work, and now you literally live above said bar you never wanna go back to.

Fuck.

A few weeks went by before seeing him again. Still sitting in the same place, still wearing dark hoodies, still staring daggers at everyone. You changed your mind on drinking that day, not when he’s around.

But the next day you weren’t so lucky. Thinking he wouldn’t be there—since it was a weekday—you plopped right in front of the barkeep and asked him about rumours and gossips of the week.

“Well, that hot widow I kinda fancy got a date yesterday, seemed like it went well.”

You rolled your eyes, “If only you asked her out first.”

He laughed as he slides you a glass of water. “Did that at a previous place, people think they get free drinks when they date a bartender.”

“Wait, you don’t?”

“Nah. I mean, I’ll give them some but lots take it too far and think they can order for a group.”

You scrunched you nose, “I think you just dated shit people, Sam.”

He scoffed, “Shut the fuck up.”

His attention was away from your a second and you decided to take a glance at who ordered. It’s him. You didn’t even notice when he came, to think someone his size would make a lot of noise when they walk. But you were too caught up in conversation, you guess.

When he got back he grabbed two glasses and filled it with a big ball of ice and poured very little of what you think was bourbon into the glasses. You had learnt a little here and there, since you do live above and spend some time with Sam on slow days. To your surprise he handed one to you.

You immediately looked towards the man’s direction and he waved his glass at you.

Oh no.

Taking a deep breath, you grab the glass and place yourself next to him.

“Allright?”

You sighed, “Yeah, don’t worry, I remember this is a sippy drink and not a gulpy drink.”

“Good.”

“Thanks, by the way.” You raised your glass and started sipping. You can’t hide your wince. This would definitely be a good if you were depressed or sad or trying to forget a horrible incident or getting over a breakup, but things are way too nice in your life for you to enjoy it properly. “Would you be offended if I asked the barkeep to make this into a whiskey sour?”

He answered by waving Sam down.

As your drinks slowly diminish, you learn exactly two things about him. His name is Simon and he likes dogs. The man dodged so many questions like Neo and those fucking bullets, and if Sam didn’t somehow made the previously godawful whiskey taste so goddamn tasty you would’ve probably gone upstairs and to bed by now.

But Simon is a good listener, so whenever you feel like having a drink, you sit next to him. It’s definitely a biased opinion, but you think it’s highly unfair that he is as funny as he is attractive. He’s cracking jokes as if his life depended on it, like an ugly kid that had to make his way through school being funny to avoid getting bullied. You also learnt one new thing about him, he has a friend called Soap. Of course you didn’t ask about him, because you know he doesn’t divulge any information, but it’s really funny that the other man calls him quite often lately and then hearing them bantering back and forth for a couple minutes before you can hear the scot on the other end of the phone yell something so scottish you couldn’t understand a word. For a little while you fall into this fun routine, until he stopped coming one day. You think nothing of it at first, like he is a grown man and he could have those seasonal jobs, but weeks turned to months and you miss your drinking buddy.

~

It was a rainy afternoon, and you opted to wait at the office an extra two hours for the rain to lighten up at least a little. Regret settled deep in your bones for rejecting so many ride home offers, as you wrung what you could of your wet clothes. Some fucker in a pickup truck thought it would be funny to drive at sixty by some puddles and splash everyone at the sidewalk. Everyone huddled under the same awning to try and clean themselves up and share their plight. After feeling dry enough, you started to head back when you heard your name being called by a familiar voice, and then a hand on your shoulder.

“You look like a wet rat.”

Fighting words. Those are fighting words. You did the one thing you know is appropriate for such a greeting.

You hugged him. Wet clothes and all.

He was tense for the duration of the hug, and ended it quickly with pats to your upper back. A wide smirk graced your face as you looked up at him, and you can immediately tell—albeit covered by a face mask—that he’s unhappy of the outcome.

“Hi.” You greeted, the smirk getting wider at his apparent annoyance.

“There’s a kebab place nearby. Let’s go.”

It was a seven minute walk, and you were glad the place he led you to was rather dirty, cramped, and two girls were doing their homework on a table at the back. The food will definitely be good. You looked around for a place to sit after telling him what you wanted. Scouting for a table with no food left, you stood near a family of four and waited for them to leave.

Simon came back with the food you ordered and some drinks you definitely didn’t tell him to get. But it was apparently some foreign soda that you’ve never seen, and you were happy to get to try it. Halfway through your meal someone clapped his shoulders and you swear he was about to stand up and do something until he saw the other man’s face.

The man with a mohawk started, “Who’s this, LT?”

Simon skipped too many beats to answer, and looking at his face, you swear he was legitimately about to throw down, so you did what you think would be natural at a time like this.

“Oh, uhh… I don’t know him, I just sat here because the place was full.”

He then introduces himself. “Hi, I’m Johnny. This here is my mate, Simon.”

“Piss off, Johnny.”

Johnny laughed, and when he went to the cashier you were afraid he would join you, but he said goodbye as soon as he got his order.

Both of you ate in silence for a bit. “So you don’t know me, huh?” He finally cracked, smiling at you.

Oh thank god, you thought he was mad, “Sorry, you looked really uncomfortable.”

“That bad?”

You slowly nodded, “Honestly, yeah. Scared you were gonna beat him up on the spot.”

“Nah.” He sipped on his soda, contemplating something. “Do that at work though, not here.”

You blinked. “You’re gonna beat him up.. At work?”

He raised his eyebrows as a confirmation, and you can see he’s not gonna elaborate.

Leaving the place, he walked you back to your place, under the guise of needing a drink after having such a ‘rough night’.

“Why?” You teased him as you two walked in, “Is it rough because now your friend thinks you like people that looks like a wet rat?”

“Nah. He already knows I do.”

“What?”

He doesn’t say anything else, but he did tell Sam to make two whiskey sours.

[lace-coffin]

How would the collector react with a very Neuodivergent m!reader who has a hyperfixation on things like barbed wire, eye, scorpions and centipedes (totally not projecting or anything) but anyways, after a few months Asa had kidnapped him he's picking up all of the curious looks and sudden happy moods at seeing certain parts of the hotel.

Asa Emory x Neurodivergent!M!Reader with a fixation on centipedes, scorpions and barbed wire

Hi thanks for the request! What’s the point in fanfiction if not projecting onto your fav characters? Hope u enjoy this!

Requests are open!

Asa was beginning to think something was different about you, something separating you from the other hoards of hopeless fodder projects in the basement. You’ve quickly become Asa’s favourite for reasons he can’t really place.

You tend to keep to yourself most of the time whether this is out of fear or general boredom he has no idea, only jumping in when a subject you care about is raised. Once you start it’s hard to get you to stop, not that Asa minds, it can get lonely in this dilapidated hotel in the middle of butt fuck nowhere, even for antisocial people like himself. So it’s nice to keep someone around to fill the silence.

He’s realised by now the younger man in his possession seems to light up when certain subjects are spoken about, it’s happened so many times in the same kind of environment that he’s been trying to dwindle down the variables to pin the behaviour down. Asa loves to dissect people hypothetically and physically so this is just the icing on the top for him.

“Come on pup, we’re seeing over the specimens today.”

Asa tugs the lead connected to your collar harder than necessary just to watch you stumble and try keep up behind him on all fours, being the merciful master he is, he’s provided you with knee pads as not to mark your pretty skin. How kind. Unseen on the other side of you a dumb sweet smile graces your owners lips, loving the way you gasp for air.

Asa knew the mention of the specimen room would have you excited, pace quickening on the other end of the lead as suddenly unable to wait. This he already had figured out, you love bugs and invertebrates,doesn’t matter what kind, however some clearly stood higher in the hierarchy in your brain.

Holding the dense metal door open for you to crawl through, you both enter into the dim room, the lights from the tanks and vivariums providing a warm and cozy atmosphere. Instantly perking up you come to a stop Infront of the masked man, moving to sit on your knees.

“Can I check the centipedes and scorpions please? I’ll do such a good job sir I promise!”

You beg, practically vibrating from your spot on the ground.

“Calm down pup, of course you can, just be careful and if you’re unsure of anything ask for my help, understood?” Your sir asks, holding your chin between his fingers, tilting your head up to look at him.

“U-understood! Thank you thank you!”

———————————————————

Outside time was important for your health and important to Asa’s schedule, he loathes being made late or doing something in the wrong order, it can ruin his mood for hours.

Usually a walk around the perimeter of the hotel suffices a few times a week, this can be on or off lead, depending on how well you’ve been behaved. Unharnessed time is reserved for good boys who know where they belong.

If you’ve been particularly well behaved recently or seem like you could use a pick me up then Asa will walk you down to the garden-esque area out the back of the hotel. there isn’t anything specifically special about this area, overrun with weeds and over grown plants that are hard to see through, just as broken down as the rest of the building, however the perimeter is lined with barb wire. Just your typical cheap barbed wire to keep pets in and keep pests out.

To you it was more than that, you could wonder the edge of the garden for hours at a time, running your hands along the chainlink and gazing at the twisted patterns.

Sometimes he would ask you about, listening along contently as you ramble about barber wire, hopping from subject to subject as they enter your mind. This is how Asa loves to see you, carefree and expressing your passions out on the makeshift patio, it wasn’t a lot but it keeps you happy. Asa would do anything to keep his boy happy.

[dance-to-mythoughts-blog]

Pro- Hero Todoroki x Black Fem! Secretary Reader

From Secretary to Pro Hero

Hey guys! Long time no see. Sorry. Haven't been in a writing mood as of recently. So here is something for our little icy hot friend. I went down a rabbit hole with our favorite icy hot bastard lol. I got this idea from a Todoroki imagine I read a while back about them hate fucking and this was the inspiration for it. When I find the story, Ill link it.

AGED UP CHARACTERS!

Warnings: D in P, degrading, cream pie, spiting, hardcore, backshots, mating press, dick sucking, choking, hate fucking, office sex

"Are those papers ready? Mr. Todoroki needs those ASAP for the meeting."

"Yes. They're on my desk. Grab them please"

"You cant get them? Mt. Todoroki needs them in his office ASAP" Carla, the secretary complained. Slightly rolling her eyes.

"Again, I'm working on finishing touches for the meeting that he is likely to request 5 minutes before the meeting. Please get that stack of papers of my desk and hand them to him. Advise him that his notes will be done in 2. Thank you, Carla. For actually doing your fucking job" Y/N said. Carla was upset and she rolled her eyes, huffing and puffing. Knowing her, she will more than likely exaggerate some shit. Sure, enough I get a phone call from the infamous Todoroki himself.

"Carla informed me that you were working on some last minute things. Why would u do that?"

"Because sir, you always do that? Every time you have a meeting, you decide that you want certain things to be in order, right? So, before your meetings, I prep your regular notes and then print out extra notes. Anything else? If not, I'll be there in 45 seconds goodbye" Y/N hung up the phone annoyed. Making her way to the room where the meeting was, she was in for a pleasant surprise. Hawks is your fav. hero and he is also here with Deku and Ground Zero. And nothing could've prepared you for how fine they were in person. Hawks was so damn fine. He stood tall at 6'3, with beautiful crimson wings that stood out like the sunset, golden eyes, and spiky golden blonde hair with red shades that complemented his pale yet toned skin. Showing several tattoos. Deku looked just as good. Scars covered all of Deku's body, spiky black and green hair, and big puppy dog green eyes. He had on a tank top and he had some black joggers on with a black tank and showed his back tattoos as well. Then there was the infamous Ground Zero. Spiky blonde hair, piercing beautiful Crimson eyes, tattoos, and a scar that comes from the left-side of his jawline to his left pectoral chest muscle. They all had earrings in both ears wearing street clothes because Todoroki's father called a quick meeting about a villain attack. They looked so fucking good that it hurts and had my pussy throbbing.

"Hello. Sorry to call you guys in on such a short notice, but we needed to discuss the villain attack that recently happened." Endeavor started.

"There has been a constant focus on attacks in the minority of Japan. We have to figure out a way to combat this. Otherwise, our minority citizens will not trust us to help keep them out of harms way."

You heard they just started and attempted to sneak in to not disrupt the meeting but that was unsuccessful. Forgetting that this meeting room had a squeaky door and you're black so you kind of can't go unnoticed until Endeavor called you out. Now all eyes are on you.

"Y/n, what is your opinion on the issue? We know you're a minority and we want to hear from your perspective of things. I know you were sitting out there listening to the briefing like you always do"

Well shit. Now all eyes are on you and this is your chance to make a name for yourself and actually be useful for once instead of just handling papers n shit all day.

"Well, I think the first thing is to figure out why they're targeting black people. Once you guys figure that out, then you can move forward with trying to make it up to your supporters. After all, you guys were sworn in to protect just like the police and y'all work with them correct?" All eyes were on you. Even the heterochromatic eyes from the infamous Todoroki were staring at you intrigued. You can't even lie, Todoroki looks good just like the other heroes. He had on a white T-shirt with some black joggers and some Nike slides. The shirt was tight enough to see his muscles.

"It would be crucial to make sure that you dont leave your black citizens out because they need you just like the other citizens do as well. Oh, Here are your notes on the matter and Carla gave you the papers from my desk. Does anyone need anything while I am here? Sorry to interrupt."

"Do you have a quirk?" Deku asked?

"What the fuck do you need to know if she has a quirk for nerd?" Ground Zero said.

"I agree" Todoroki mentioned. "What is the purpose of her quirk being known? If she has one."

"Well, I do have one. It's similar to telekinesis. When I just do it, my body produces a dark blue aurora around my body, and my eyes turn dark blue. I have Sai swords, a staff, and fans that I use similar to Mileena, Jade, and Kitana from Mortal Kombat. Idk how, but this blue aurora can also help heal the injured too."

After I explained my quirk, they got so off-topic that they kept staring at me. I left and heard them asking Todoroki how come he hired me as a secretary and not a sidekick. They finished their meeting, and I was in my office packing up. Today was only a half day, so we could wear casual clothes. The heroes were not in today because they had press, they were doing while we stayed behind to make sure they were not double booked and doing sectorial things. As usual, I was the last one to leave even tho it was a half day at the office. As I was gathering my things and cleaning up, I heard my door open and close. Who did I see to my surprise? Our favorite Icy hot bastard. Looking slightly annoyed.

"What the fuck was that?" he asked

"Have you ever heard of knocking? That's number 1. For 2, what the fuck you mean? Deku asked me a question and I answered it. Was I supposed to lie to the man?"

"Because now they voted to have you come for this mission. They found the hide-out and they think you'd be a good asset. Your quirk intrigued them for some reason. Did you do this to spite me?!"

"TO SPITE YOU? YOU THINK I WANNA GO ON THIS MISSION?! I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW ABOUT THIS UNTIL YOU SAID SOMETHING YOU CUNT. SO HOW IS THIS MY FAULT? But I guess it would be good to show you up in front of daddy's baby huh?" you asked as you knew you struck a nerve. We all know Todoroki is sensitive about his family and what he's gone thru. We all know his father is extremely overprotective after what happened.

"Yes Y/N. To spite me. you have been a pain in my ass ever since you have been hired. Fuck. The only reason you are still here is because you do good work and you make the place structured."

"So, your business would crumble to shit if I was not here basically huh?" as you walked around your desk to meet him halfway..

"Fuck no. This shit can stand on its own. Don't fucking play." he said meeting you halfway as well. Before you know it. he was towering over you. He smelled good. You can give him that. He was 6'2 towering over your small 5'2 frame. I guess the shirt that you wore made him stare because you could clearly see him staring at you in a way you'd never seen.

"Suck a fucking prick. I bet you are scared huh pussy. It's ok. We're going to do the mission and then we can find you a cat after. I think a kitten is the closest thing you would ever get to some pussy huh?" you said striking another nerve. You have to admit, he is a man and most men are sexy as fuck when they're angry. He looks so fucking goood but you will not fold. your pussy has a fucking heartbeat now and it's becoming louder and louder.

"The fuck you say to me!? Y/N don't fucking play with me." he took another step closer and was all in your grill. He scoffed "I bet you can't even handle this dick if it was thrown at you. just a crybaby who can't do shit." He stood over you grabbed your throat and kissed you. He finally kissed you. You kissed him back. The kiss turned hungry as you wrapped your arms around his neck and also, he put his hands on your waist and grabbed your ass. You were so taken back that you are making out with Pro-hero Todoroki in your fucking office, and he is about to fuck your brains out soon.

"You *kiss* are *kiss* a *Kiss* good *kiss* kisser. Shit." you giggled.

"Hmmm. Much more than that princess." He smacked your ass. "I knew you had a fat ass. Always teasing me with them tight ass skirts" as he grabbed your ass again, harsher this time to where you were on your tip toes and your pussy lips spread open a little. He kissed your jaw to your neck and started sucking on it. You ran your hands down to his pants and started rubbing the clear bulge in his joggers. He felt big, even though he was clothed. He bit your neck just a little.

"shit" you moaned out. "Feels good"

"What you want baby? Are you to be finger fucked in the office like a whore? hearing him talk dirty was a treat and a complete turn on.

"Yess baby" you moaned. "finger fuck me please."

"your wish is my command" he slid his long thick fingers in and out of your wet hole. Here you are, being Shoto's good little slut like he wants you to be. He finger fucked you so good.

"Uhh Shit babbbbbyyyy....I-I" you moaned in broken moans.

"You gone cum for daddy?" he said in your ear. " cum for daddy all over his fingers" after he said that, you came everywhere. His hand was soaked up to his forearm and the area on the desk was a mess.

"Fuck that was good. Let me suck it" you begged while panting for breath.

He chuckled a deep chuckle like you knew yo ass was in trouble.

"Another time baby. I wanna fuck you so bad. Can I fuck you Y/N?" he asked lustfully.

"Yes daddy." He slid right on in. He fit like a fucking glove. He slide all the way in and bottomed out.

"Please move" you said breathlessly.

"As you wish" and he started thrusting slowly. Letting you get adjusted to his dick. Now, you talked all that shit but you sure were wrong about how his dick looked. He was big. He was long and thick with a nice vein you could feel on the top of the shaft. His tip oozed with precum because you were so fucking sexy a moaning mess under him. He started to pick up the pace.

"Fuck you feel good To- Uhh" you moaned out.

"Fuck you tight. Shit. It's Shoto from here on got it?" He hit you with a hard thrust.

"Yes daddy. Sho you feel good baby." you whined. "keep this up imma cum"

"Already? Just getting started love." He had you in missionary on the desk. Ass hanging off the table while your legs were on his shoulders and he was drilling your shit.

"Fuck *thrust* you *thrust* feel *thrust* good." he panted. "Gonna make me bust in the pussy huh baby?"

"yes cum in me," you whined desperately. "Fuck Sho I'm Cumming, Fuck!" you screamed out.

"Shi baby. Almost there. Gonna fill that pretty pussy with my seed."

His thrusts got sloppier and sloppier and he finally came.

We stood there. Trying to catch our breathes quickly.

"I got to go get ready for this mission. We leave tomorrow. Do what you need to prep Y/N" he said as he gave you a kiss. "When we get back, we can go on a proper date. Would you like that?" he asked? As he grabbed your waist and pulled you close to him for another kiss.

"I'd love to go on a date with Pro-hero Shoto." you kissed him back. "See you tomorrow solider" you winked.

"Sure will." he winked. Smacked your ass one last time and kissed you before he left. "We leave tomorrow night. Meet me here around 8:30 pm. "

After he left, you went to get ready for your mission tomorrow. Hoping that everyone remains safe. Especially him.

AN:

Here you go, everyone. Sorry I haven't been on in a min. Got the urge to write and went for it. I think I might make a part 2 as a follow-up on this. Let me know if I should.

[ikkosu]

MY DARLING MEDIC

(fem.human.medic.reader x pharma)

summary : tarn strikes up a deal with pharma. but when he refuses, the tank takes up a more personal measure to confront him.

warning : angst. fluff (if you look real close💀). blood. this is the DJD what'd you exoect. bro I fucking died writing this. wanted to cut this in like several parts but decided to merge it together. wanted to write this into a multi-chaptered fic but my commitment could never. could be a series ig. lovely headers by @cafekitsune

One moment he's caught Ambulon at gunpoint, then the next he’s scampering down the halls, clutching the vials close to his chassis as he tears through for an exit. The game is up. He should've known better than to nab the easy path. Responsibility purges itself a mile away when confronted at the baseline of his problems. Now, it's got him cornered and Ratchet — who barged into the room — his friend, his oh-so-dear friend, pulls up a blaster.

PHARMA doesn’t know what to say.

Points it at his face.

His own mirth were flaked with rust, crinkled into a grimace, where along the crevices, the miniscule cracks, oozed spatter of crimson. The gun was unsteady; he’s shaking. He's infected. The uncomfortable feeling of your insides twisting punched him back. It gutted him more than he could realize and he’s got no guts, just thrumming circuits struggling, and failing, to prevent the inevitable.

So he does just that— prevent the inevitable.

A, one, two, three BANG of bullets barrage the other side of the room. Disregarding the startled shout of surprise, he stepped round the corner, making a beeline for the shaft. Storms of remorse whirled around his processors as he pulls himself up the ladder. It jostled and creak, much like how his jitter palms does when he's drunk on andrenaline.

He’s made that mistake again. He should’ve known better. He should’ve. Impulse stumps logic and now, he's outside. In the cold. Digits clinched the edge, close to slipping. Close to falling. Ratchet is aboven and where his optics catch below, he can see the fall, the descending vertigo of ire before his eyes.

“Pharma, buddy — what the hell happened to you?”

YOU scroll aimlessly through the datapad.

He doesn’t know; he might never will.

Propped against the armchair, legs crossed and ankle bobbing, the screen flared your face with a soft blue-ish glow as the lines of words blurred together the more you strained to stare.

You're bored. Tired, too. But mostly bored. You were able to rest in your office after a tough match with several unruly patients. They were mechs. Pretty big mechs. And, they were a little, ah, how do you put this, organicophobes?

One of them had a more dire diagnosis : a t-cog malfunction. A type 3 kind. One that involved the t-cog overheating from too much usage, causing it to, in a way if you were to explain in human terms, like an organ, rot. It was deteriorating quick and the metal shards, miniscule ones, had already infected the internal circuitry.

A kind of job that required smaller, steady hands.

In short, they required humans.

You can handle a bit of discrimination — resentment against Organics was normal here despite the rules ensured to prevent so — but it still gutted you, knowing these mechs can do better than to hate another race from their own.

Especially when the said race tried to save their life.

A little bit of acknowledgment doesn't hurt from time to time.

You hope they were doing well, though.

The silence of the room was broken by footsteps approaching your office. The sliding doors opened with a swish and there you could discern the wide Cheshire grin of smugness amidst the slight darkness of the room. You should really stop shutting the lights, its begging to hurt your eyes. His teeth were practically glowing and was obvious he's quite in a good mood today.

You tucked the datapad inside the cabinet and caved against the cushion of the armchair, tipping your chin up into a smile, brimming with curiosity. One much as a 'whats he gonna pull this time?' type of curiosity.

“Working hard, I presume?” He croons, slinking across the room to your cubicle with several strides.

You quirk a brow; he's got something behind his back but you don’t press.

“Depends on which report you’re haggling me about,” You reply back, a playful smile. “Though, I can’t say for sure which region I am currently hard in, doctor. Would you like a scan?"

It catches him off gaurd for a moment — a simple one, two, three blink of his optics and your smile prods wider upon the not so subtle twitch of his wings. It sags in frustration.

“And here I thought I might have, for once, an appropriate greeting from my darling. I can never grasp your vulgar little mind, no less the entire mapping of your organic, squishy little brain,” His optics twitches as he vents. "But I’m not here to lecture you on prudence, no. I’ve got you a little, ah, herbal gift from my trip off world. The one you adore so much.” Then he adds with a mumble. "So much more than me, apparently.”

You perk up, and if you’re anything like a bunny, those ears would straghten right up to the brim. "What, like tea?”

"Even better, dear."

A ceramic mug is quickly perched onto your desk with a clink. You can't help but to coo in adoration at the utterly adorable little thing. It’s those tiny little teacups with teal blue flowers pasted across. A petite like holder, round and smooth, accommodated the curl of your finger. Nostalgia wrings you nto its clutches, back to teatime with your stuffed animals. You'd always be the princess.

You inhale the drink, warm steam wisps from tea, the color is an emerald-like-ore cadence under the stark white light.

"Since when did they have green tea in Nexus?"

"Earth, apparently. Globalization this, Space-localization that. Ignore the specifics. I'm sure you're better off without another lesson in economy?"

"I'd rather keep my thinking intact."

“Hm, that's a lot less fun. Anywho, I've taken some of my time to make it myself.” He pronounced, optics closed, regarding the cup with a theatrical wave proudly. "In fact, I have purchased the finest, well-endowed tea packet from the best of the best merchants. Never mind the cost, it's a splendid little thing, no?”

You’re still a little stunned admiring the cup but you blurt the first thing to mind.

“Smells fruity, for sure.”

He snaps one optic open, then entire look falls into offense. “Fruity is not what I had in mind.”

Ah, fuck.

"....nice?”

"Not that, either.”

“Ah, er, well — Great....?"

“Try again, dear.”

“C'mon docbot, what do you want me to say?”

”I’ve bought a tea packet that costs more than what this entire hospital is worth and you're describing it as 'nice?'”

You scrambled for words, fishing for the right one until— “Fragrant!" You snap your finger. "Right, fragrance.”

He stares.

You stare.

His rigidness loosens a little.

“One of these days I should really lecture you on the essence of compliments. See there? The mug is a ceramic. I’ve taken much care to handle it. It's from a lovely old organic. Her little shop in Nexus are a must to visit again."

You lean against your palm, eyes crinkled, cheeks round with warmth. “Is this a compensation?"

"For breaking your bed, yes—" you choke a little at that "—Now, go on, taste it.” He bends over to rest his elbows on the table, perching his chin on his two servos like a girl would, kicking their little feet during a sleepover.

“Don’t you have to buy me a new bed to compensate for that?”

He huffs, “ I already did. This is a bonus. Now, stop stalling. I have a patient to tend in a few hours and unless you've not taken a sip, I'm not going anywhere."

"Right, right. No pressure, doc."

"Very much."

You pinch the cup between your index and thumb. A pinkie is jutted out the for dramatics where you caught his lethargic look of disdain to it. And the final act concludes when the rim kisses your lips and you take a sip.

"Well?"

You stare at the ceiling for a moment.

"s'good...woah, real good." You blink in surprise, licking your lips to process the taste. "It's like my mother's! How'd you make this?"

“I was hoping you’d ask that.” He takes it upon himself to sit on your desk, inching close. "It's a, well, how do I put this — an obscure ingredient I am not willing to disclose."

"...You didn't lace this with laxatives didn't you?" You challenge.

"Laxatives?" He almost balks. "No, of course not. Why would I ever do such a thing? Think again."

You squint like that'll help you think. "Vanilla extract?"

"No."

"Oh, come on! Sugar?"

"Not a chance, dear."

"Milk."

"Far from close."

"Salt?"

"Are you serious?"

"What is this, 20 questions? I'll die by the time I cover the whole list of ingredients." You stand up with a huff.

All he does return, however, is a bemused crinkle of mirth from his eyes.He says nothing, only curling out a digit where it prods the area just above your chest. He taps it. Once. Then twice. It took a moment before the cogs turned on its own, and when it does, your cheeks flared up much to your chagrin.Oh. Oh. Your heart. The secret ingredient is—

—love?

You slumped to your chair, clutching your face to fight away the embarrassment at his audacity. You wanted to say it was the lamest, cheap, heart grabbing compliment of all time but you can't.

You just can't.

It's too....sweet.

"I swear Pharma...." If anything, you're reduced to a sputtering mess.

"Pharma? Not so much. I think 'God' would be the latter end. I swear to God, no?"

"Okay smartass."

"I know my rear-end is quite fine. Though, reduce your compliments to the bedroom, please."

"Pharma!"

There was something innately fond with how he’s fixated upon your scrunched up faces and agitated eyes.

Your eyes, they were always so expressive, so bright, much like stars when they flicker amidst the darkest night. A miniscule notion yet so wide in prominence. A haven he could dwell in when plagued upon with sullen days.

He couldn’t resist, and with his digits squishing your cheeks, he pulls you close. The agitation melts the moment you feel his lips against your temple, cheek, nose then your lips.

You glare at him when he pulls away."

"...You’re really making it hard for me to focus my angry molecules into an explosive blast, you know."

“Blast? Please, the least you can do is wield a knife and you're horrible at combat.Also, that's scientifically inaccurate.”

“Oh, shut up.” You look away, faltering at the sight of the door. “....You know what I meant.”

“How about you, as the humans would say, shut me up for a change?" His eyes became playful, tone borderline seductive. You're still fixated on the door. “On the topic of something explosive. Since we’re getting off our shift early today, I was wondering if you’re willing to test the new coils on our bed—“

“….Pharma?” But your eyes on fixed on somewhere else, or someone behind him.

"Doctor."

That isn't your voice.

Pharma’s sensor flares much as his wings did when he whirled around. His spark churned at the sight of the engraved decepticon insignia on his chassis and the gruesome signature mask upholstered on the mech’s face. A mask intended to revel fear, douse the flames of sanity.

Instantly the atmosphere shifted.

It dawns upon him how vulnerable he currently is. How close youre in proximity to the tank. How easily he could tear through the room and kill you. Lodge a knife through your chest. Leave you there on the floor. Skull, cracked. Brains, spooling. Blood agash. A simple red stain on the rag.

Pharma is terrified — he’s terrified of his unpredictability. Whatever thoughts are churning in his head are reduced to a blank slate as his shadow looms over, dwarfing his frame. He's not even moving. Just lingering there by the door. Any second now he could lose his temper and any second later you could be dead. Reduced to atoms. When crimson eyes flickered over, leaning to the side to get a better look, Pharma steps aside to shield you from his gaze.

“I’ll be there, Tarn.” He says stiffly.

The mech regards you for a moment before striding off. Away. The doors swished closed. How'd he knows where he was?

“Who’s that?” You ask, an innocent question he wished he could answer but Pharma pulls you up to your feet, his optics locked on the door.

“No one important, darling .” He replies yet he's already packing your stuff, pulling and shoving everything from your desk. His servos are jittery, wings twitching, brows furrowed.

You follow him around, wringing your hands. "Pharma? I thought you said—“

“Go home without me, dear.” He whirls around after tucking in your jacket into the last slot of your pouch and slips the bag over your shoulder. "It’s late and you have an early shift tommorow, no?"

You deflate, defeated. "Yeah, but i—"

"I have a meeting to attend. It'll be be fine. I won't stay up too late, I promise."

You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He’s composed but you know he’s not. You know from the twitch of his digits he’s hiding something. He's a cunning deceptive man amidst all the layers but he's never a good liar. You wonder if it’s a reasonable time to press but in the end he’ll just figure out another lie to deceive you.

It'll hurt to leave.

You give him a wry grin. “Don’t stay up too late then or she’ll hog the covers.”

“Fortify the bed for me.” He pulls you for a kiss. "Get home safe."

PHARMA doesn’t want to open the door.

"Will do, doc bot."

Instead, he's pacing the front, wringing his servos, muttering to himself. He knows he should. But the temptation to stride in, get it over with, then walk back out was inviting. An in and out kind of ordeal wasn't the kind Tarn tolerates, much rather, he's mech hiding behind the facade of patience.

He's the worst to impatient.

Steeling himself, Pharma juts his chin up, bearing his usual haughty demeanor and barges through the door. Tarn's imposing presence was enough to halt his circuity but he pulls on the act, pedes an impatient thunk against the floor he rounds the desk, slumping on the chair. Unbothered.

“Make it quick. I have my duties to attend. Another influx of patients up from the east were admitted today. My schedules are full."

Tarn says nothing, regards him for a moment before tossing a deception insignia onto the table. It skidded across, bumping his elbow. By the scrapped off sheen of metal surrounding the symbol, it appears to be ripped out. There’s still energon on it. Barely dry. Pharma pulls away with a grimace. He needed air.

"One of your patients that I've taken care of."

By taken : unruly, unethical forms of torture.

“You ruined a nicely done table in favor of your dramatics.”

“Dramatics to which I prefer not to be taken ever so loosely, doctor." He flicks off a chip fron his talons. It plinks on his desk.

“You’re hiding them here.” He grits, a smooth croon of his voice. So deep, relaxing if not for the fact that he's close enough to snap his neck broken.

“No, I do not,”

“You know better than to lie to me, Pharma. You see, I know everything and it doesn’t take long for me to wrench that truth out of you, I assure you. So, answer me : are you hiding them here?"

“What does it matter to you?"

"A whole lot if you're anywhere close to the ranks of a deception warrior. But, for this circumstance, I will turn a blind eye to it and leave you alone."

Pharma straightens up, surprise. "Impossible. There should be a catch."

He can imagine how smug the smile behind the mask is. A crinkle of his eyes, a gentle prod of his lips — a facade so deceiving it was hard to believe this mech was the cause for all the sufferings they've imposed upon those traitors.

"Yes. And I'll get to the point. I accepted your rejection to your proposal last week because I understood your hesitance. I gave you time to think about it and right now it is dire I require more stocks of the T-cogs. Refuse me and I'll have to take up a more, personal counteractive measure to persuade you."

Pharma stiffens. He tries not to glance at your framed picture on his desk.

"You wouldn't want that would you?"

He narrows his optics. “I don’t know what you mean,"

Tarn shoots out an arm, wide digits curled around his neck cables before he yanks him close, clamping down, choking him. The doctor struggles, clawing at his chest.

“You’re meddling with an organic, Pharma—"Tarn croons, squeezing tighter with every disgust that laced his word. "—That is what I mean and while I prefer not to cut out the pleasantries, she will suffer from the consequences of your actions if you’re not going to concede. So, I’m going to make myself clear. Do you accept that deal or do you not?’’

Pharma tugs on his wrist to loosen the grip

“Please, anything, please, I—“ He holds up his hands placatingly, choking down his last grip of pride. "I'll do it. I'll do it! Just don't..."

Please, don’t hurt her.

"....Just don't. She's innocent. Don't bring her into this, Tarn. She's a remarkable doctor, please—"

Tarn releases his hold. Pharma drops to the ground, clutching his neck.

"I'll send you the list of requirements and a few donors willing to concede. You know where to find me when a problem arises."

Pharma is still on the ground, shaking, pressing his helm against the cold, metal floor. The footsteps disappear much like the diminishing hope in his chassis.He shouldn’t have listened, he shouldn’t have. Tarn and his sweet, sweet lies that’ were always so alluring, drawing him into the abyss.

You're in front of him. Behind was Tarn. He's got a blaster. And from the core were wisps of smoke,

THE tea cup, the one with the flowers painted across were discarded shards on the floor. Fragmented much like the reality he denies as he's wrangled behind. Arms tied. Wrists bounded. He stares, distraught.

”Ph..Pharma…” You’re confused as your palm hover overs the stain, the hole on your torso, the white a crimson red. You look down then up, expression contorted like you're asking him why. “I- I don’t understand…” You ramble and three frantic steps back you collapse, stumbling to the floor.

"What have you done....." Pharma tries to wrench away from Helex's grasp, voice rising to octaves. "Organic internal structures are weaker than a Cybertronians! This blow is fatal, do you not realize she'll die?!

Tarn steps over your body, and marches over to the jet, grabbing his face with a forceful shove. "Think again before you lecture me about those flesh-like scum. Why do you think I've chosen this method of action to condemn your actions with?"

"I couldn't get hold of the corpses in time!" He's frantic, shuffling, leaning aside to peer over the wide shoulders of Tarn. " They're not easy to get when you're a doctor every hour. I couldn't possibly kill the patients, cant I? Please, she needs medical attention, Tarn."

"And it's delayed, much like how you delayed my commodities."

"A deal is a deal. You should know better than to disrupt it."

He should've known better.

Pharma shoots out an arm, he clutches the white jacket, the sleeve, pulling the body. He ignores how heavy, how limp and lifeless you were, compared to the motning when you were just laughing, rolling around on the bed that smelt like lavender, smiling about some pointless joke you scoured from the net.

With each pull, crimson stained and scraped the concrete floor, grime collecting at the base of your body. He doesn't seem to mind. He's too tired. Much too lethargic. When he's got you in his arms, he cradles you, holding you. His digits pinch your cheeks, You’re not warm anymore. You’re cold. Just like his armour, just like the air, just like your eyes. Much like a star, it's doused. The brightness — it's gone. No longer flickering. A mass, the singular speck, gone.

“Pharma, buddy —what the hell happened?”

“Everything. Everything did.”

He cups your jaw, presses a kiss to your temple, your nose, then one last lingering kiss to your lips.

[imdoingsortagay]

OH YES HI MAY I PLEASE REQUEST YOU WRITE FOR COWGIRL!AGATHA

IT CAN BE X READER ORRRRRR

IT CAN BE X EVE WHO'S SUPER INNOCENT

Cowgirl!Agatha headcanons

Warnings: Smut, 18+, dirty things, cowboy talk

She runs Westview like the back of her hand

Rides her horse if she can because cars are too much to deal with most of the time

Refers to you by pet names exclusively.

" Well look what the cat dragged in, didn't think I'd see ya here darlin".

Yes, she knows your name but nothing beats making you blush like crazy.

Has a pretty farm with many animals, including a fantastic area for Señor Scratchy.

Tank tops during the summer which shows her muscles so mf well bark bark.

Once a week she gets in a barfight at the Local saloon

" I am not gonna let that man in the saloon bad mouth my pretty darlin"

Looks super great in chaps I'm telling you.

Very sassy and mouthy.

She meets you when you show up in town for a new job at the local newspaper and she takes a liking to you.

" Most of the time the city folks that come rolling in here with too much confidence but you're all right Darlin".

Horse riding with her because she doesn't want you wasting your money on classes with Dottie.

" that sage hen can barely drive a car darlin, trust good ole Agatha with the lessons".

Months of slow burn which involve many dances at the bar on Saturdays and her helping you out.

Agatha asks you out after Wanda tried to get you for herself.

She distracts her friend with another woman she can talk to at the saloon ( Natasha) as she takes you home.

Agatha is hot when she's super jealous.

" I can't let that Scamp of a woman get to you after all these months"

Agatha asks you out after a picnic date and you happily say yes.

Defender of people that she's close to.

Can fist-fight any man without even messing up her hair which shocks the hell out of you.

All she drinks is Beer and Jack Daniels and always makes fun of you for your mixed drinks but all in good fun.

Looks hot repairing her car

Now for the smutty part

Top of course

Depending on your mood she will praise or degrade the hell out of you.

Straps with cum reservoirs all the way.

Big ass breeding kink.

an ass woman for sure.

Loves to slap your ass all the time.

she is a fan of leaving hickeys all over your body to show ownership of you.

Possessive as fuck.

Loves when you give her head all the time.

" Making daddy real proud there licking her pussy real good there sugar".

Pulls your hair so much LIKE AHHHHHH BARKS.

[weixuldo]

Linecook Anakin HCs

pleaseeee i cannot get this idea out of my mind (maybe i’m just tryna romanticize my job lol) also lemme just say this list is hella unorganized ( just like my brain lol)

warnings: cursing, ani is a typical horny young adult, smoking; weed

Muscular arms, veins!!

Beautiful blue eyes look up at the screen to see the next meal prep (you imagine those same eyes looking up at you like that if you ever get him on his knees)

He always finds something to compliment you on (even though there’s not much room for expression due to the standard comply uniform)

He’s almost always working cause he wants money and honestly doesn’t mind the atmosphere of the kitchen. 

Plus weed isn't cheap and he likes to smoke :)

On breaks you’ll often see him out back smoking a cig or a vape (depending on his mood).

“You know that stuff is bad for you right?” 

“Yea, i dont really give a shit tho”

You roll your eyes, “well don’t tell me I didn’t warn you when you’re carrying around an oxygen tank in thirty years”

He sent a play sad face your way and exclaimed “That’s so sweet, you’re looking out for my health”

“You’re so full of shit Skywalker” you say as you go back inside.

Though, after that encounter you notice he started to chew a lot more gum and smoke a lot less

He flirts with other waitresses too, but you are definitely his favorite

Reaches stuff on the top shelf when you can't. 

“Need some help princess?”

Winks at you from behind the window

Before you got to know him, you were a little afraid of him

He’s honestly so good at his job that it’s scary- he rarely messes up an order and if it's messed up it’s usually ‘cause someone rang it in wrong.

He’d be messing around one minute then barking orders at people when it got busy- he was always so focused on whatever he was doing whether it be cooking the meat, tossing salads, making desserts, etc

You used to see him roll his eyes or talk shit to other waitresses when they didnt do something right. 

“There’s a button for that ya know-”

“You didn’t tell me no onions”

“Ring it in if he wants it that way- I got too many orders to keep up with the shit you’re tellin’ me”

But he seems to be nicer to you…

“Hey Ani- could I get no tomatoes on this please”

“Sure thing, sweetheart”

“There’s my favorite girl” he says when you walk into the back. 

Some servers get jealous of his blatant favoritism (he takes longer on their orders when they’re nasty to you)

The other cooks get along with him fine

You can often find them goofing around in the back

But they think he’s waaaaay too handsome for his own good.

“Why you workin’ here when you could be on the cover of a magazine?”

“He’s here cause Skywalker’s got terrible manners and no game” another cook laughed.

“the fuck I dont” Anakin responded as the rest of the cooks all laughed along. 

His coworkers like to tease him when they see how flirty he gets when you come around. 

Nicknames include: “Pretty boy”, “player”, “heartthrob”

The heat of the appliances mixed with the rush of the night end up giving him a sheen of sweat and a warm blush to his pretty face. 

Ngl, this man would get greasy by the end of the night…

Dried food, condiments,and oils staining his black shirt

By the end of the shift he would have a lingering smell of char from the grill as well as a combined smell of all the food in the kitchen and his own musk from his sweat.

But the blend of labored scents mixed with his cheap cologne and deodorant made for an oddly enticing aroma.

You would joke with him during closing about how bad he smelled, though deep down you knew you liked it. 

“Yea, well we can’t all be in the front smelling like daisies and sunshine” he joked. 

He thought you smelled nice? You had worked a full day too- there was no way.

You insisted you didn’t smell much better than him but he shook his head, “nah princess, I could breathe you in all day”

That may have been a little creepy coming from anyone else, but it was anakin… the hottest guy in the restaurant, the talented cook, the guy you had a huge crush on. 

He’ll saunter into the back while you’re rolling your silverware and chat with you

“Ugh, I’m so ready to ge the fuck outta here” he sighs.

“Tell me about it, today has been so long” 

“Have you atleast made decent money?” 

“Yeah”

He laughs

“What’s so funny?”

“I don’t know why I even asked if you made good money- I should know the answer to that when talking to a girl with such a pretty face,” he says, before slipping back into the kitchen, leaving you with a heavy blush. 

He loves when you’re on ice for side work because the ice machine is right by him in the kitchen 

He likes to watch your ass as you bend down to shovel the ice- if he’s lucky he catches a glimpse of your lacy panties as they ride up your hips. 

When it’s not busy he carries the bucket for you and revels in all of your adorable “thank you’s”

His least favorite side work for you is when you are assigned to the front house because that means you’ll be spending most of the night in the dining area rather than in the back with him. 

Asks what you’re doing on your day off. 

“Probably gonna get high with some friends”

His eyes widened, “you smoke?!”

“Occasionally”

“Weren’t you the one who told me i’d be toting around an oxygen tank?” he quipped and you rolled your eyes. 

“Chill out pretty boy, I mainly just do eddies”

“And you never told me this?!” he grabbed at his heart with a dramatic expression. 

With the new info he spends the next few days working up the nerve to ask you to smoke with him sometime. 

Lucky for him, you’re closing on Saturday and so is he. 

After you check out all of the other servers and do your side work, you head to your car but Anakin calls your name before you leave the kitchen. 

He invites you to hot box in his car before you go and to his surprise you agree (you had a rough night, so why not? plus he is your crush after all)

You get into his car and unbutton your top a bit, it was hot in the restaurant today. 

He turns on the AC and steals a glance at the lacy bra you have on. 

After passing around a blunt the two of you are getting up there; maybe it’s the delirium or maybe it’s the weed, but he is looking finer than ever

you can’t help but hold the blunt between your fingers as you lean across the center console and press your lips against his

he sucks in a breath in surprise before he returns the action.

soon you’re on his lap, grinding on his growing bulge as he runs his strong hands through your hair and all along your body

tbh, you don’t even care that you have open shift tomorrow- this is worth being sleepy

[theloveinc]

bakugo x reader - i guess a lil drabble related to my succession!au here! caitie writing? it's more........ no jk im just as surprised as you...

(warning - toxic relationships, sex as business tactic, you wear a thong but gn otherwise i think, made up business lingo idfk)

-

You’re already waiting for him by the time Bakugo makes it back to his office. 

Blazer off and strewn across the arm of the leather armchair you lean against, fingernails clacking away as you type a message on your phone; you look busy, you look sexy, you look mad, though he already knows why you’re here and you waste no time either in looking up from your device to absolutely scour. 

 “Fuckin' what?” he grumbles, throwing his own jacket and stack of files next to yours, refusing to give in to the thought of looking into your eyes, something he knows will cause more of a fire to light up in his veins rather than put him into a business-like mood.

“You said no.” 

“‘Course I did," he responds before you can say anything else. "Your write-up was crap, and I don’t feel like wasting time entertaining unnecessary shit.” 

“It’s a good plan. Would make up the public outburst you had that tanked our stock fifteen percent. You and I both know that.” 

He does, but he doesn't care enough to risk another move that might cause more harm than good. It's not like his sour personality is a secret from the business world or has stopped him from getting what he wanted in the past.

“If you care so much about it just go ‘n get Deku to approve it. Fuck knows all you do when I disagree with your stupid ass ideas is cry and get him to start signing shit, anyway."

“That is not true!” you hiss, one of Bakugo’s very-clearly-plucked eyebrows immediately raising at the annoyance in your voice. “My advice is great, and yeah, I do think you should take it sometimes.”

“It’s average at best and you fucking know it"—it's actually better than average, way better, it's just hard to say now that Deku's got top spot in the running for CEO, a fact that pisses Bakugo off so badly that he can't even think about your talent lest he lose his mind even more—"You’re just one of the board's little brats. Spoiled rotten.” 

You purse your lips at that, eyes narrowing as he stands up tall. “Like you’re any better. Getting mommy to call competitors anytime one of your shitty deals doesn’t go through.”

He approaches you, hands leaving his pockets as he walks you back into his desk—your ass meeting the oak just as he begins unlocking his cuff links and pushing his sleeves up to the bend of his elbows. You stand there in silence, in faux-battle through your glares, though it’s not much longer before he puts his hands on your waist and jerks you to his chest. 

“Least I do my damn job instead of sucking dick on company time.”

(You don’t remind him that it was actually him on his knees the last time any inappropriate workplace intercourse occurred… nor that it was Kiri’s idea—not yours—to screw your way into Yo Shindo’s board of investors. He already started a fight the first time it came up, lord knows he’d have an aneurysm if used it against him in an argument, too.) 

“Fine,” you wiggle your hips in an attempt to loosen the static between your bodies, but he only seems to get closer: the newly-tenting fly of his slacks digging into the soft dip of your own pants, instead. “Next time I’ll go ask Todoroki for advice then and you can work alone.”

He nips at you where his mouth presses against your cheek, hands splayed on your back to keep you from being pressed into the hard line of wood at your hips. You inhale at the contact, turning your face away from him if only to let his mouth fall next to your ear. 

“Talk to that half and half fucker in front of me, baby,” he whispers, “and you watch what fucking happens.” 

His fingers dip themselves into the band of your panties, tugging the elastic away from your skin in such a manner that the string of your thong gets pulled taut between your ass cheeks. 

“Bakugo…” you warn, pulling back to glare at him though simultaneously giving into the fight, your hands leaving your hips to swat his away from behind you before they’re allowed to do anything more lewd.

He huffs, though his chest rumbles in the most silent of laughs as he catches your palms in his, swinging them back around til he’s holding them between you at your front. 

“You’re such a damn tease,” he leans down close enough to touch his nose with yours, your breath warm and enticing on his lips. “Gimme a kiss for wasting my time.”

You roll your eyes. “No. I’m reporting you to HR.” 

“Like hell you are. Kiss me.” 

 “I’m gonna kiss Deku.” 

Hands still tangled with yours, he tears away for only a moment to fake a gag over his shoulder. 

“That’s even worse!”

"You deserve it."

And he doesn't exactly disagree.

[medusapelagia]

A Magnet For Trouble: CH 1 Are you looking for trouble?

CH 2

First of all.... Happy Stranger Things Day to everyone!

To celebrate I did one of those things that only I can do... which is... writing a prequel spin-off of my own fic Steddie BB fic XD Getting To Know You (Again)! Is it crazy? Definitely! Did I have fun? A LOT!

That's why I'm super happy to announce that the first chapter of A Magnet For Trouble is finally here!!!!

Thank you thank you thank you to my super talented artist @akichania who did such an amazing job and I can't wait for everyone to see! You can find the first art they did HERE!!!

And a big thank you to my beta @ghostdeb who is an incredible beta!

Another thank you to the @billybigbang2024 mods and the entire Billy BB server...

... and here we go!

TW: gun violence, teenager death Rating: E

Read here on AO3

The air is thick with steam when Jason finally steps out of  the shower. He’s alone, his coworkers long gone to drink themselves stupid after the particularly hard day they’ve all endured. They asked him if he wanted to join, but he is still trying to shake the lingering effects of his final call of the day. A code 10-13 with a fifteen-year-old threatening a seven-eleven owner, ending in the worst way possible. Blood was shed and the kid - because that’s what he was, after all - ended up in the morgue  with the coroner.

Fuck.

On  days like this, Jason regrets having decided to join the police force. Shooting kids wasn’t exactly what he signed up for. He was lucky enough today not to have been  the one doing the shooting, but still, the empty eyes of that kid will haunt him for days. If he breathes deep enough he can still smell the gunpowder in the air, even after having just showered.

He yanks  the door of his locker open and the sound of metal slamming against itself reverberates through  the empty room.

Fuck.

He can’t stop thinking about the kid. Just fifteen  years old, no father, a mother who works three jobs, two little siblings, and not enough money to feed them all. Just a number in the crime statistics among young individuals that will leave a big hole in his family's heart. Jason was the one who had to give the news to the boy’s mother, a lovely woman with a toddler in her arms and another kid behind her legs. She just saw Jason’s face and whispered “I knew it would happen,” even before Jason said anything.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

His damp hair drips onto the  shoulders of his  white tank top. His mobile phone starts to buzz while he’s tying his laces. It’s Chrissy, his cousin.

Jason holds the phone in his hand briefly before hitting the green button and answering the call.

“Hard shift?” A sweet female voice asks before he has the time to reply.

“Yeah.” Awful. But he doesn’t want to dump all his problems on her, so Jason takes a big breath before adding, “Sorry if I didn’t call. I don’t think I’ll make it.”

“Don’t worry about that. Robin and I were just leaving. Do you want to stay at ours?”

It would not be the first time that he slept  at his cousin’s place after a hard shift, but tonight the girls are celebrating Robin’s promotion and Jason really doesn’t want to ruin the mood, so he responds softly, “No, I’m very tired. I’m going to bed.”

“Jason…”

“I promise. I’m going to bed,” he  insists, grabbing his bag and closing his locker before leaving the station, phone propped between his  shoulder and ear while he fishes for his car key in the back pocket of his jeans.

“Call me if you need anything. Ok? Anything at all.”

Jason smiles, Chrissy is a few months younger than him, but she’s always looking out for him and that’s the sweetest thing ever, especially after their parents kicked  them out of their homes.

He shivers for a moment, remembering a cold voice calling him “ Church boy ” and the keys fall on the ground.

“Fuck.”

“Jason? Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, just dropped my keys. I have to go, Chris, but I’m fine. I promise.”

Chrissy doesn’t seem convinced when she says her goodbyes and closes the call.

Jason kneels on the sidewalk and gets the keys from under the car, puts his bag in the trunk, and then drives toward his place, looking absent-mindedly at the colorful neon bar signs lining the street until one catches his attention: The HideOut. 

He stops the car, trying to remember the name of the previous bar that was there, until someone starts to blow the horn at him. Putting the car in drive he reminds himself that he should go home, that he already had an awful day, and that the last thing he needs is to get drunk in a seedy bar, but before he can finish these thoughts he’s already parking and getting out of the car. The policeman takes a good look at the people in line, all of whom  are young and loud, and he feels so out of place with his white polo and his washed jeans.  He gets in line nevertheless, ready to be removed by the bouncer, but the big man at the door gives him a good look and then tilts his head toward the door.

Inside, the music is low and the strobe lights make him nauseous, but that's exactly what Jason needs to escape from his thoughts. The crowd pushes him from every side while he tries to get to the bar so he can order a beer, nothing too fancy, just something to help him calm down a bit.

A huge pride flag on the wall tells him what he needs to know about the place, and he finally relaxes a bit looking at men and women kissing under the vibrant lights. The place smells of sweat and cheap perfume and the ground is sticky, and still, this is the best place he could hope to be right now.

He turns to look at the crowd, and a beautiful blond-haired man dancing in the middle of the dance floor catches his attention. He wears an open red shirt and his wide chest is covered in tattoos and glitter. He dances like he has fire inside him.

“That’s Billy,”  a voice behind him says, and when Jason turns the Mexican young man who took his order is smiling at him, “He’s trouble. Are you looking for trouble?” 

Jason shakes his head — he has had enough trouble for a lifetime. 

“Well in that case stay away from him, huh?” the man smiles at him, offering another beer Jason had not yet ordered, “It’s on the house. You look like you need it,” the man says with a wink, before moving to serve another customer.

Jason continues to drink his beer, his eyes pinned on the stunning man, and for a moment their eyes meet above the crowd. It’s just a moment, but Jason shivers, his grip on the bottle of beer tightening as he feels the cold of the glass and the drops of condensation dripping around his fingers.

He shakes his head, drains the remaining beer, and goes toward the bathroom so he can  wash his face and calm down. 

The bathroom is covered in colorful writing. There are a few Sharpies on a little table on the side for anyone who wants to leave a sign of their passage on the wall. There are doodles, names, and dates.

“What’s a preppy boy like you doing in a place like this?”

The voice is warm and thick, and Jason has to suppress a moment of disappointment when he sees that the man behind him isn’t the blond dancer but a tall man with a mustache.

“Going to the bathroom?” Jason replies, turning his back and starting to wash his hands.

“All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy,” the man mocks him, pressing against Jason’s back.

“Listen, I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but you need to stop it right now.”

“Come on, doll, don’t tell me you’re not here for some fun. With those plump lips… I’m sure they would be perfect around my dick,” the man insists, pushing his erection against Jason’s ass.

He’s not the tallest cop ever, but he’s been well-trained to disarm people and he’s not going to let this dickhead grope him in a fucking bathroom. He  turns like a snake and pushes hard enough against his assailant’s chest that the man falls on his ass.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Jason growls.

“Who the hell do you think you are? You’re just a fucking whore like all the others!” The man yells, getting ready to fight, and Jason is more than willing to fight back when another voice interrupts them.

“What the fuck is going on?” 

And this time Jason’s heart starts to beat faster while he stares at the sweat-slick face of the blonde dancer who caught his attention on the dance floor.

“Billy, this whore…”

“I’m not a whore!” Jason yells, “And I’m not going to suck your dick, so go find someone else!”

“Calm down, tiger.” Billy replies, laughing, “Robert here was just joking, weren’t you, Rob?”

Robert glares at Jason but after a long moment of silence, he nods, taking the hand that the blond tattooed man offers him, helping him get up.

“Good.” Billy replies with a smile before he turns toward Jason and his smile fades a little, “Come with me.” 

Something inside Jason hurts. He feels ashamed and hurt. Did he already fuck up? Yeah, that’s not surprising. After all, Jason was always a big disappointment.

“Hurry up.” The blond dancer insists, and Jason follows him like a loyal dog.

The crowd seems to part to let the blond man pass through, and after a few steps Jason finds himself back at the bar.

“Hey Argyle, can we have two bottles of water?” Billy asks with a smile. 

Jason frowns. He  doesn’t want any stupid water, he wants to drink away all the memories of his shitty night, but the blond man - Billy, he reminds himself - is holding his wrist and dragging him toward a quieter corner. He plops down onto a fake leather couch and drags Jason along with him.

“I’m Billy,” he says, offering him one of the plastic bottles, “what’s your name?”

“Jason.”

“The Lord is salvation. Are you religious?”

“My parents are.”

Billy nods, sipping some cold water and Jason stares, enchanted as he watches  Billy’s pink lips and the gentle bobbing of his Adam’s apple as he sips from his bottle of  water.

“You have a crucifix,” Billy observes, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Jason lowers his eyes to his own chest where a little golden cross is half hidden behind his polo.

“Yeah. Wearing it has become more of a habit at this point.” Jason replies, hiding the necklace under his polo.

“I’m sorry for Robert, he drank too much, but I can totally see why he approached you.” Billy snorts, drinking more water and gesturing to Jason to do the same.

“I’m fine.” 

“It’s important to keep hydrated.” Billy insists, his mesmerizing blue eyes pinned on Jason. To  avoid his scrutiny, Jason cracks the bottle open and sips some water.

“Good boy.” Billy smiles at him and Jason feels something warm blooming in his stomach. 

He turns his head toward the dance floor to avoid Billy’s stare.

“You don’t look like the kind of guy who likes  to dance,” Billy comments, “Are you here with someone?”

“No.”

“So what brings a pious boy like you to the HideOut?”

Jason could be offended, could reply with some snarky comment, could lie. But instead it’s  the truth that comes out of his mouth while the other man seems to read into his soul.

“I had a bad shift. A very bad one. And I just needed to forget about it.” He replies, gulping down the bottle of water, wishing it was vodka.

“Paramedic?”

“Policeman.”

Billy nods quietly. He doesn’t ask about Jason’s shift and he doesn’t make any obvious comments.

“My father was a policeman too,” He quietly states, “it’s the kind of job that can kill you. In more ways than what most  people think.”

Jason nods; it’s a dangerous job where you can find yourself on the wrong side of a gun, but Jason feels even worse when he’s the one pointing the gun.

“Let’s get some fresh air, huh?” Billy proposes, and without waiting for an answer he intertwines his fingers with Jason’s, guiding him through the maze of sweaty bodies. Someone waves at them, but Billy simply nods and keeps going until they are standing in the cold air of the night in the alley behind the bar, next to a dumpster.

“Better?”

For the first time since he saw that kid holding the gun, Jason can breathe. The smell is far from pleasant but the cold air wakes him like an electric shock.

He nods, looking at Billy’s long fingers as he fishes a lighter and a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pocket.

The warm glow of the lighter enlightens Billy’s face for a moment and the glitter on his chest shines while Jason stares at the big letters tattooed just under Billy’s clavicles. Even though  some of the letters are covered by his shirt and Jason can’t read the entire sentence, it looks like a statement, but before Jason can ask him any questions Billy quickly closes a couple of buttons.

“Shit. It’s cold out here.” He chuckles, and without even thinking about it the policeman takes off his jacket and puts it on Billy’s shoulder.

“Thanks.”

“Can’t have you freeze to death because of me. Too much paperwork.” Jason jokes, smiling for the first time.

“I knew it. You have a kind smile.”

Jason feels himself blush in the fresh air.

“Billy! Where the fuck are you?” A female voice asks and a brunette peeks from the door, staring at them, “Is there a  problem?” She asks, stepping closer to them.

“I was just grabbing a smoke with Jay,” Billy says, pointing at him with his burning cigarette.

“Jay, huh?” The woman asks before shaking Jason’s hand, “I’m Heather, Billy’s partner.”

Jason's smile dies on his lips while Billy chuckles, “She’s my business partner,” Billy explains, “but she’s really possessive of me, as you can see.”

“You still owe me half of this month's rent, shithead.” She growls, before turning toward Jason, “Isn’t he too pious for your tastes?” she asks, popping her gum.

Billy winks, “Maybe.” He replies with a smirk before turning toward Jason again, “My carriage awaits” he says, pointing at the brunette, “I have a long appointment tomorrow. Are you going to be ok? I can call you an Uber if you need it,” Billy says, scrutinizing Jason’s expression .

“I’m fine. I’ll be ok. Thanks,” Jason replies with a nod. 

Billy studies him for a moment and then nods, “Great.” he replies, stomping out his cigarette and giving Jason’s jacket back. 

For a moment their fingers brush and Jason shivers as he takes back the jacket, “I’ll see you around,” Billy says with a wink before disappearing back into the club, leaving Jason flustered and confused.

“See you around,” he says to no one, before walking back to his car, still feeling the warm sensation of Billy’s fingertips on his skin.

***

A one-to-one mandatory counseling session for the next two months and a couple of weeks of suspension, that’s what Jason earned for doing his fucking job. He was too slow, his partner complained, he hesitated and almost compromised his partner's safety. And now he’s suspended. Well not really suspended, because he didn’t do anything wrong, but he’s on a mandatory paid leave for a couple of weeks. To make matters worse, he  has a weekly mandatory session with the fucking therapist, a nice woman who wants him to talk about his feelings even though the woman has never held a gun in her manicured hands.

She told him that union rules dictate that he’s provided with time to relax and process what happened so he can  come back with a clearer mind, or so they pretended. Jason saw the way his partner glared at him when he got out of each weekly  session. He knew. Everyone at the fucking station knew. Fuck them all. Was he really supposed to shoot a teenager in the face without even trying to de-escalate the situation?

That’s not what he signed up for.

The point is that Jason hasn’t mentioned that he’s been suspended to Chrissy, so now he’s trying his best to pretend he’s still busy with work even when he definitely isn’t. But  there’s a limit to the number of silly romantic comedies he can watch on Netflix before he loses his mind.

It’s Saturday night, one of the nights Jason hates most when he’s on duty because they always mean trouble, but staying at home watching television isn’t helping. The policeman grabs his phone, wondering if he should just call Chrissy and head over to her place so they can  watch a movie and drink some of the expensive champagne Robin’s brother brought. 

The guy — Steve —   isn’t really Robin’s brother, but there’s no doubt they are attached at  the hip and that he’s very protective of her. Steve insisted on meeting Chrissy’s family, which basically means Jason, before letting Robin move in with Chrissy. It was sweet. Strange,  but sweet. Maybe he should call Steve — he seems like  the kind of guy who knows how to have fun. 

Scrolling his phone, he sees on the HideOut’s Instagram page that they are hosting a party to celebrate their first birthday. Argyle, the barman, has prepared two new cocktails to celebrate the night: the Upside Down and the Right Side Up. In the Instagram stories, Billy is smiling while sipping a blue and red cocktail that’s apparently called the Upside Down.

For a moment Jason wonders if he should go to the club. He had fun last time after all, and it definitely wasn’t just because he met a beautiful man who is conveniently still haunting his dreams. He shakes his head. There’s no point in going there —  he doesn’t know anyone, the club will be packed, Billy will have forgotten about him by now, and- 

Jason’s finger slips and sends a heart reaction to one of Billy’s pictures. 

He freezes, trying to delete the reaction before anyone sees it, but before he can make a coherent thought he gets a notification: 

Coming  to join the party?

Jason might not know the screen name  of the person who is writing to him, but he definitely knows the blond man in the picture, so after long deliberation, he types back:

It looks like a private party.

It’s not. Move your ass and come. You still owe me a drink. I offered you one last time.

Water. You offered me a bottle of water.

Still something to drink. I’ll wait for you, but not for long ;)

Jason stares at his phone, still unsure. He’s known he’s gay since he was a kid, and even though that’s the main  reason he and Chrissy were kicked out as soon as they graduated, he hasn’t really had a relationship since they moved and he feels unsure of himself. His flirting skills are rusty and no one at the police station knows about his sexual proclivities. He knows he would definitely prefer to keep it that way. For a moment he holds the crucifix he has around his neck, finding comfort in the warm metal that’s always on his chest.

It’s not true that he’s not religious, but his relationship with religion has changed a lot since the first time he kissed a boy in the high school locker room  after basketball practice. 

For a moment he thinks about his cousin and how happy she is now that she finally found a girl she loves. He takes one last look at the picture of the tattooed man with the cocktail in one hand and the other raised above his head.  He looks longingly at Billy’s face turned to one side, his mouth open, maybe singing, and makes his decision: he grabs his jacket and his car keys  and starts out  toward the club. 

*** 

As expected, the street in front of the club is crowded with  people, but  what he wasn’t expecting was that Heather, the brunette he met the other night, would be there  waving at him and getting him inside the club ahead of  the long line.

Once inside, the loud music and the lights overwhelm Jason for a moment, and he shields his eyes with one hand. That’s when he sees him: this time Billy is dancing on an elevated  stage. He’s wearing a mesh black shirt and a pair of very tight black jeans that hug him perfectly while he runs his fingers through his blond curls.

“Don’t drool on me, church boy.” Heather chuckles, pushing him toward the stage.

Jason glares at her, offended. This time he’s wearing a black designer t-shirt emblazoned with a skull that Steve bought him for his birthday, and a pair of blue jeans. Not a church boy, but still a far cry from Billy's style. The people around him move to the beat  of the music, but Jason’s eyes are locked on the beautiful man dancing on the stage. When Billy finally turns toward him, almost as if  he could feel Jason’s eyes on him, he smiles at him. A big bright smile that makes Jason smile back like a fucking idiot. With a graceful leap, Billy gets off the stage right  in front of Jason.

“Are you gonna offer me something to drink?” He almost screams in Jason’s ear to overcome the loud music, and Jason nods while, once again, Billy intertwines his fingers with Jason’s and drags him toward the bar where Argyle is busy pouring the cocktail he created to celebrate the event.  When  Argyle  sees Billy he gets a couple of glass bottles from the back. Jason frowns, confused, but pays what Argyle asks him and when he sips the cocktail he’s surprised to find out that there’s no alcohol in it.

"Alcohol-free?" He asks, confused.

“I have been sober for three years, not gonna fuck up now, you know?” Billy replies, studying Jason's reaction, but Jason simply nods in agreement.

“Three years is a long time. Congratulations.” He says in Billy’s ear, cupping his hand around his mouth and brushing his fingers against the shell of Billy’s ear.

“I knew I liked you.” Billy winks, before dragging Jason back out to the dance floor.

Jason doesn’t dance. He doesn’t go clubbing. He doesn't hook up with random men who just admitted being alcoholics. If Chrissy could see him, she would not believe her eyes.

They drink their cocktails, leave the glasses on the bar, and then jump right back out to the dance floor.

Jason’s far from being the best dancer, but he’s doing his best, and honestly having Billy so close to him —  sensually moving around him, rubbing his legs against Jason’s — is enough to  make him shiver from the friction and proximity. And then he moves away, but always stays close enough  that they can breathe the same air.

They both have blue eyes, but Jason’s are calm and quiet like the blue water of a swimming pool, while Billy’s are deep like the ocean and bode of storms and mermaid songs. Jason can’t resist either.

When the song changes to a slower tempo and all the couples hug each other and start to sway  gently, they stare at each other, embarrassed.

“May I have this dance?” Billy asks, offering Jason his hand, and when Jason nods he holds him tight. Billy’s body is a little damp and smells of a mix of sweat and cologne and his heart beats so fast that Jason can feel it pumping between them. Or maybe it's Jason's heart beating so loudly to fill the entire room. It doesn’t really matter. Billy’s lips are on Jason’s ear when he whispers, “Can I kiss you?”

Jason nods, it’s almost imperceptible, but it’s enough for Billy to gently tilt his face until they are facing one another and put a soft kiss on his pink lips. It’s just a peck, the same kind of kiss Jason gave to Lawrence in freshman year, but the effect is so much different. Billy keeps holding his chin, staring into his eyes like he was searching for something. And he might find it because the next thing Jason knows is that those hot lips are back on his, while a curious tongue is asking for permission to enter and he grants him immediately, opening his mouth and letting Billy explore and taste everywhere he likes.

The music changes again, another fast song, but they are still kissing as if  time had stopped at that very moment. Billy’s body is warm and soft around him, like a fluff blanket, and Jason lets himself be held for the first time in a long time. Held like that, he doesn’t feel shame or guilt, he feels seen and cherished like a precious possession.

When the kiss ends, for a tiny little moment their mouths remain connected by a little thread of spit that breaks when Billy’s tongue darts. “Strawberries and peaches.” he says, and Jason stares at him in confusion before understanding that Billy is referring to the alcohol-free cocktails they just drunk, “So much better than vodka or whisky.” He winks.

Jason doesn’t reply, he feels like all his words have been swallowed up by Billy’s mouth and all he has left is a fuzzy brain and a pleasant warmth spreading in his stomach.

“You ok? Did I go too far?” Billy asks, unsure for the first time, and Jason is quick to smash his lips against Billy’s. He might not have words or thoughts at this moment but his body knows what he wants. They bump into another dancing couple that loudly complains, but they don’t care. Pushing their way through the sweaty bodies they get to the opposite side of the room and Jason pins Billy to the wall, grabbing his wrists and holding them over his head while he keeps exploring and tasting until he feels they are one being.

“Should have known you’re stronger than you look.” Billy chuckles, breathing in some air.

“Policeman,” Jason replies, before starting to kiss him again.

“Do you want to move this party to somewhere quieter?” Billy asks once Jason releases his wrists.

The policeman nods eagerly and Billy smirks, tugging a lock of hair behind Jason’s ear, “Let’s get out of here, huh?” He suggests, and then he guides Jason out of the club, waving  at Heather as they leave. .

“My place is nearby.” He tells him, grabbing their jackets from the cloakroom, “Is that ok?”

Definitely better than some seedy motel, but-

“Are you sure?” Jason asks, “You don’t even know me.”

Billy pinches Jason’s chin, turning his face toward him, “I am. Are you?”

Jason gulps. He is. He wants Billy more than anything in the world. He wants his hands, his mouth, his dick.

Once outside, the fresh air helps clear Jason’s mind but it doesn’t affect his desire. He’s already hard and the lust in his eyes must be obvious because Billy grins and chuckles while they run into  the night like teenagers.

[tlou-reid]

scaredy cat ✰ jj maybank

warnings ✰ mentions of abuse, only what’s shown in the obx show this is my first piece of writing on this account please be nice lol

summary ✰ jj has a lot of fears, kooks make a lot of them come to surface

jj maybank has a lot of fears. most people, even his closest group of friends, wouldn’t believe this to be true. jj maybank tries to appear as fearless as possible; that’s his whole schtick. he drives really fast on his dirt bike. he has fought his own abusive, piece of shit father. he was arrested for something he didn’t do. he’s fought so many kooks. he stole a gun. he stole an ambulance. he’s done so many things that make him out to bethis fearless, adrenaline-searching, asshole.

but that’s not who jj maybank is. jj maybank is scared of losing his friends; that’s why he took the fall for pope, that’s why he stole an ambulance, thats why he stole the gun. he’s afraid of not being good enough, that’s why he sticks up for his friends so hard and drives so fast. he’s afraid of turning out like his dad. that’s why the resentment he had for his dad festered and he took a swing at the object of his fear. he has multiple deep-rooted fears that present in chaotic, dangerous ways.

that’s how he got where was his right now. you’d think he’d have learned by now not to fight at his job. or, jobs, he guesses. but damn, when the kookiest motherfuckers he’s ever seen waltz into the outer banks’ newest restaurant, where he was working as a food runner, his mood is already ruined. when they ogle their waitress, a sweet girl named Marlee that he’s seen around the cut, his hand starts to tense and his fists start to ball. but, when you walk in, wearing his muscle tank with a visible sports bra underneath, carrying a brown bag with his lunch in it, all of that negative energy seems to wash away. he notices when the kooks start to stare. he doesn’t mind stares, stares give him a sense of pride. yeah, he thinks, look at my fine ass girl that you’ll never get to touch.

but, then the stares turn into words. jj can tolerate stares, but he absolutely does not tolerate disrespect when it comes to his girl. just as you approach to hand him the bag, the kook boy in the baby pink shirt hollers, “damn, you can almost see her entire ass out of those shorts. good for us, though.” and, suddenly, jj’s looking right past you, straight to the table where 6 kooks were sitting, staring at you. “shut the fuck up, man”, jj shouts and waves an arm at them. you reach up to pull his arm out of the air “j, it’s fine, i’m only here to drop this off.” as you speak, you’re holding up the brown bag for him. “yeah, j, it’s fine. she’ll be leaving with us anyways.” one of them yell, mocking your tone.

and jj was off. he jumped right at them, not tolerating the way they were speaking about you. his fists were flying and the manager slammed the kitchen door. the older man races over, pulling jj off of the kook. “get the fuck out!” he shouts at jj, pointing to the door. jj glanced at the table of kooks, smirking at the black eye forming on pink-shirt’s face. he then glances at you, seeing your shocked expression. then, he turns around and walks out. you sheepishly follow, leaving the brown bag somewhere in the restaurant and avoiding the now-angry looks from the table.

“what the fuck was that?” you ask jj, not quite raising your voice but definitely in an authoritative tone. “i was protecting my girl.” he smiles like nothing is wrong. your fold your arms over your chest, “i wasn’t in danger.”

“yeah,” he moves forward to pull your arms apart and stand closer, “but you would’ve been if i didn’t stick up for you.”

and there it is. there’s the fear behind his actions. there’s the fear that drives the way he thinks. there’s the fear that dictates the outcome of any situation involving you: losing you. whether it be to a kook, or really any person in general, or if it’s you getting hurt. that was his fear. honestly, if you asked him and a managed to get a real answer out of him, he’d say that was his biggest fear.

“but where are you going to work now?” your priorities shift, basking in the sweet sentiment of him wanting to protect you, even if it wasn’t the best course of action. he just laughed, “i’ll figure it out. i always do.”