#especially fives face in the second one loll

[bruisedboys]

over the influence — remus lupin x reader

summary: remus lupin is not your boyfriend, but he sure knows how to act like he is.

contains: friends to lovers, friends trying really hard to be lovers, fluff, mutual pining, lovesick oblivious remus, drunk!reader, modern!au, rugby!james cw implied fem!reader, reader wears a skirt, alcohol consumption.

note: um welcome to my first ever remus fic!? if I’m being honest I have no idea if it’s good but I’m posting it anyway yolo

fem!reader 2.9k words

You’re plastered when Remus finds you. Absolutely hammered.

He can tell because you’re giggling madly at one of Sirius’s jokes, which you never do, because Sirius’s jokes are awful and you thankfully have a good sense of humour. But, you’re a giggly drunk, who finds just about anything anyone says absolutely hilarious. It’s adorable, usually. But right now, it’s blowing Sirius’s ego out of the water.

Remus dives in to save you as Sirius roars with laughter at his own joke.

“Dove,” he says, clasping your shoulder. You’re slumped into the sofa, your head lolling against the cushions. “There you are.”

You twist to look who it is, your face all scrunched up as you take him in. You blink very slowly. Then, just as slow, your face lights up.

“Remus!” You gasp happily. “Hi, baby. I was wondering where you went!”

Baby. Remus’s face burns and his heart does a triple backflip. You’re drunk, he reasons. Super drunk.

“Are you okay?” He asks you, bending at the waist so you can hear him better. It’s loud, the music and the people and Sirius, especially.

“I’m perfect,” you say, words all slurry and sticky and ending in a sort of ditzy hiccup.

Well, you’re not wrong about that. Remus takes the seat next to you and your droopy eyes follow him down.

“How much have you had to drink?” Remus asks, trying for curious but coming out a bit concerned. “What did you even drink?”

You shrug and hiccup again. “I don’t know.” Your shoulders drop and so do your lips, a sort of confused frown washing over your features. “Sirius made me some weird concoction … it was kinda gross, Rem.” You look at Remus very seriously, your eyelids low. “Don’t tell him I said that.”

Remus laughs and pretends to zip his lips. “Your secret’s safe with me, babe.”

Chances are it’s not, and Remus will mock Sirius about it endlessly. Not tonight, though. Tonight he’s mainly focused on making sure you don’t touch another cup of anything other than water.

You’re giggling again, though Remus isn’t sure what at. You’re just gazing at him and giggling your head off like a maniac.

“What’s so funny, pretty?” He asks fondly, a grin tugging at his lips. He knows you don’t have a chance of remembering any of this by tomorrow morning. Hence the pet names.

You stop laughing abruptly. It’s alarming and then not, because your big grin stays put. You lean in close, your chest pressing into his side. Remus smells all your smells, your perfume and your hairspray and the mystery drink you’ve definitely had too much of.

“You’re pretty,” you say, completely ignoring his question.

Remus flushes. You’re never this forward. It’s driving him nuts, the way you’re looking at him. How close you are. The way your scents wash over him and make him feel almost as drunk as you are.

“Whatever you say,” he says, brushing off your compliment because what the hell is he supposed to say to that? “I think you need some water.”

Remus gets up but you catch his wrist before he’s fully standing, your soft fingers pressing into his skin.

“Wait, don’t leave!” You sound desperate and you look the part, too. Your pretty eyes are blown wide as saucers.

Remus falters. “I’ll be five seconds, dove. M’just getting you a glass of water.”

You pout in such a way that makes Remus want to kiss you silly. “Take me with you, then?”

Remus finds he physically cannot say no to that look. He hauls you up by the forearm and you cling happily to his arm. Remus makes his way to the kitchen with you attached to his arm like a barnacle, your fingers pressing into the crook of his elbow, your thigh brushing his as you walk far too close to him. It’s dizzying, and Remus is surprised he’s managing to walk in a straight line.

In the kitchen, it’s much quieter but you’re not any less drunk. You detach yourself from Remus and skip over to the kitchen island. Before Remus can stop you you’re hauling yourself up onto the bench, so unsteady on your feet that you almost topple right off. Remus catches you by the elbow just before disaster strikes.

“Oops,” you giggle, breathless and totally out of your mind. “Sorry.”

Remus’s heart stops racing with worry and instead races with infatuation with you. Even in your drunken state.

“S’fine,” he says kindly, patiently, because you’re too sweet for your own good. You almost went toppling to your demise and you’re apologizing. “Just be careful. Please.”

You nod and sit pretty while Remus retrieves a glass and fills it with cold water from the fridge. When he turns back you’re making grabby hands for the glass. Remus looks at you, your wobbly state and your clumsy hands, and holds the condensation-ridden glass closer to his chest.

You pout and drop your arms. “Remus.”

“You’ll drop it, honey,” he says, as kindly as he can without sounding like he’s babying you. He is babying you, actually. Not that he’s gonna tell you that. “Let me.”

You let him. He brings one hand to rest at the small of your back, his fingers brushing the strip of skin just shy of your skirt’s waistband. He tries not to think about it as he brings the glass to your lips.

You drink like you’ve been stuck in a desert for six days, gulping like your life depends on it. Remus is grinning fondly until you finish and dip your head backwards. Your neck is bared to the kitchen lights and your chest is heaving dramatically, and Remus feels so lightheaded he actually has to grab the counter.

You notice, because of course you do, even in your tipsy state. You frown and put your hand on Remus’s where it’s gripping the counter for dear life.

“Remus? Are you okay?”

Remus blinks rapidly, hitches a grin onto his face. “I’m fine,” he says, fake grin at work. “Do you want more water?”

You think about it for a second. Then you look at Remus like you’re about to deliver the worst news of his life. “I need to pee,” you say solemnly.

Remus almost laughs. Almost. “Well, c’mon then.” He sets your empty glass down and grabs your forearm. “I’ll get one of the girls to take you.”

“No!” You say desperately. You throw your arms around Remus’s neck and tug him into you, and Remus is so startled he doesn’t have time to think about how close you are. You push your face into his neck. “No,” you say again, quieter this time. “I don’t want them to look after me. I want you.”

Your closeness catches up with Remus in a rush of heat all over his body. Your thighs press into his sides and your arms are like a vice around his neck. His heart thrums and his chest burns and it takes him a while to figure out what he’s saying.

“Dove,” he says gently. He pries himself off of you, albeit reluctantly, and puts his hands over your biceps, squeezing lightly. “I can’t take you to the bathroom.”

You frown. “Why not?”

Remus stutters. “Well, because. I’m- I’m not—”

“Please?” You beg, looking awfully cute when you clasp your hands together between yours and Remus’s chests. “You can just stand outside the door and wait. I’ll be fine.”

Half of Remus thinks it’s a bad idea, you might trip on your own feet and whack your head on the bathtub. The other half of him can’t ever say no to you, not even when what you’re proposing is totally dangerous and an awful idea. He’s not exactly proud of himself when he nods.

“Yeah, alright then,” he says, and you beam. “Come on.”

Remus ends up looking after you for the remainder of the night, you’re so drunk. He drives you home not long after your bathroom break. Sobers you up with some tea which you barely touch, and more cold water which you skull like you’ve been deprived of it for days.

He deposits you in your bed and you’re already half asleep by the time he does it, but you manage a sleepy, “Thank you,” that’s so sweet Remus feels his chest ache. He leaves you fast asleep in the comfort of your bed, ignores the urge to crash on your couch, and double checks he’s locked your doors on the way out.

Not that anyone’s asking, but he’s maybe just had the best night of his life.

-

Remus gets a call from you the next day and his heart skips. He thinks, stupidly, that maybe you’ve decided you hate him after last night. He picks it up anyway, because he misses you.

“Remus,” you say, as soon as the phone’s on his ear. You sound somewhat anguished. “Was I awful last night?”

He laughs, surprised. “What?”

“Was I awful to look after?” You ask like it’s obvious. “I barely remember anything. James said I was clinging to you for half the night.” You’re moaning like it’s a bad thing. For Remus it wasn’t. “And I’m sure I said some weird shit, I was so loopy off that stupid drink Siri gave me. I—”

Remus saves you before you fall into a self-deprecating waffle.

“Y/N,” he interrupts your rambling. “What’s gotten into you, dove? You were fine. It was fine.” I like looking after you, he doesn’t say.

“But—”

“You’re being ridiculous.” Remus tries not to laugh because you are being ridiculous, but you also really do sound quite worked up about it. “It’s fine. I wasn’t about to leave you to the crows.”

You giggle, thankfully. When you speak again you sound much happier. “‘The crows’ as in Sirius?”

Remus snorts. “Yeah. The crows as in Sirius. I think I’ll have a word with him about the drinks he passes around.”

You huff, and Remus can picture your pout. “Please do. I’m never drinking with him again.”

Remus laughs, a mixture of amusement and fondness and agreement. You’re much more yourself this morning, perky and a little dramatic and a bit of an over-thinker. Though admittedly, Remus didn’t mind loopy you last night.

“Are you going to James’s game tonight?” You ask, a smile evident in your voice.

Remus snaps out of his lovelorness long enough to reply, “Are you?”

“Yeah, why?”

“‘Cos I’m only going if you’re going.”

You laugh loud and the heat in Remus’s cheeks only grows. He loves making you laugh more than he’d like to admit.

“That’s mean, Remus,” you scold, with less heat than a block of ice. “Don’t you want to support your friend?”

“Friend isn’t really the right word,” Remus jokes. He’s happy to make you laugh at James’s expense. He’s sure James can take it.

You laugh again, and Remus knows you know he means it jokingly.

You’re still giggling when you talk again, breathless and adorable. “Alright, well. Would you mind picking me up?”

Remus agrees far too quickly to be normal, with far too much eagerness. He gets off the phone after agreeing on a time to pick you up, and knows he’s a total goner.

-

Remus isn’t your boyfriend. He’s your friend. And yet here you are, sitting very close to him in the stadium stands while you watch James’s rugby game. Only last night, he’d looked after you and driven you home when you got too tipsy. He’d also, at your request, given you a ride here, telling you all the while that you were the only reason he’s coming to the game at all. So maybe he’s closer to being your boyfriend than you think.

You watch James score a try and your row of seats erupts into cheers, Lily’s the loudest. The big screen above the field shows the camera panning to a close up of James. He whoops and pounds his fists in the air and blows a big smacking kiss in the general direction of your group of friends.

“He’s such a show off,” Remus drawls into your ear. You can hear him smiling.

You giggle and twist in your seat so you can look at him. He looks extraordinarily pretty tonight, in dark brown pants and a forest green t-shirt, his dark hair (in need of a cut) windswept and going in every direction possible. You want to kiss him so bad your chest burns. On the way here, he’d had his hand on your thigh for half the drive and you didn’t say a word the entire time. You think maybe you’re unhealthily obsessed with him.

“What?” Remus asks curiously, lips parted, and you realise you’ve been staring too long.

Heat washes over your cheeks. “Nothing,” you say as nonchalantly as you can.

“Have I got something on my face? You’re staring at me like I’ve grown two heads.”

The way he says it is like he knows exactly why you were staring at him. Desperate for an escape, you stand before you even know what you’re doing.

“I’m going to get more popcorn,” you declare to your friends in general. You purposefully avoid looking at Remus, afraid you’ll keel over and die. “Anyone want more?”

You get a few yes’s and one “I’m coming,” from Remus, which completely ruins the point. You’d tell him so but that would mean admitting you’re sickeningly obsessed with him. You allow him to tag along.

Sirius gives you a look as you leave with Remus, eyebrows raised like he knows exactly how much you like his friend. You’re sure he does. He doesn’t miss much, that boy. And he’s been giving you looks ever since you arrived. You flip him off behind Remus’s back.

Once at the popcorn stand, Remus insists on paying. It’s irritating, really, how sweet he is.

“Remus,” you groan, swatting his wallet away. “I can pay for myself.”

“I know you can, dove,” he says. “I’m just trying to be nice.”

And he gives you a smile so staggering that you let him pay for the popcorn. You’re still grumbling about it on the way back to your seats.

“You’re too nice,” you tell him, plonking down in your seat with a frown. “Stop being so nice, I’m sick of it.”

Remus laughs, really laughs, the kind that has you fighting a smile even though you’re annoyed at him. He’s got a lovely laugh.

“Sorry,” he says, sounding the opposite. He’s got a smarmy grin on his mouth, all teeth. You’d pummel him if he wasn’t so pretty. “Do you want me to be mean instead?”

You glare. “You’re mean to everyone else,” you say, which is entirely true and you both know it. He wouldn’t look after a drunk Sirius like he did you if his life depended on it.

To your surprise, Remus flushes. “Well, I—“

He’s interrupted by a yell of his name from Sirius, and then you realise they’re all calling your name, too. Shouts of “Remus!” and “Y/N!” and “Look!”

You twist in your seat, confused.

“What—?”

And then you see it. The kiss cam is on the big screen, colours and words blazing. And just your luck, it’s your face blown up ten times as big on the screen, your eyes wide and your lips parted as you stare back at yourself, caught mid-sentence. You think maybe you’re dreaming, because right next to your face is Remus’s. He’s just as shocked as you.

You turn to look at the real Remus, just as he turns to look at you. Your friends are having a field day, shouting, “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

You ignore them.

“I …” You’re not sure what to say, your mouth filling with nothing but silence. You want badly to kiss him. You’ve always wanted to kiss him, and you think everyone but Remus knows it.

“We don’t have to,” he says quickly, mistaking your silence for unwillingness. “It’s just a stupid kiss cam.”

But you do have to, because he’s Remus, and maybe this stupid kiss cam is the only chance you’re ever gonna get. You swallow the nerves that are building up in your throat and ignore the fact that Sirius is practically screaming at the two of you from three seats down.

“I want to,” you say quietly, too quietly, and Remus doesn’t hear you over the hubbub. So you try again. “I want to.”

Remus goes very still, his lips parted and his chest heaving. Suddenly it feels like it’s just the two of you. He stares at you like you’re made of gold and your heart does somersaults.

Then he smiles. “Me too.”

He brings his hand to your jaw and you barely have time to bask in his touch before he’s kissing you. Really kissing you. He tastes like butter and sugar and he smells exactly like he always does. His hands are soft but sure where they cup your face and your chest is on fire, your heart is punching and kicking and you worry you might pass out in his arms you’re so giddy.

Your friends are screaming bloody murder, Sirius the worst of them all, and you’re sure the kiss cam has probably panned away from you by now but you can’t stop kissing him. You kiss him and kiss him and kiss him until you can’t breathe anymore. You’d go on forever but you’re losing breath and you really do think you’re lightheaded now.

You pull away before you pass out from lack of oxygen. Remus looks as frazzled as you feel, pink in the cheeks and his lips all swollen and his eyes are bright and burning and holy shit, you just want to kiss him again.

You almost do, but then Sirius and Frank and Lily appear and clap your backs, shout words you can barely hear and Sirius is so happy he looks like he might burst into tears. You laugh, half-delirious and sick as a dog in love with Remus, and somehow your hands end up tangled with his in his lap and your thigh is crushing his and he’s looking at you like he wants to kiss you again.

Lucky you, he does kiss you again. And many more times after that, no kiss cam needed.

thank you for reading! feedback & reblogs are appreciated 🤍

#★ mal writes! #ღ remus #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin fic #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x reader fluff #marauders x reader #marauders fic #marauders #marauders x fem!reader

[bakubunny]

give and take

a/n: retired (disabled) shota x disabled reader hurt/comfort fluff. pls read all the tags; this is very self indulgent bc that’s how i feel like writing today. also i did a quick grammar check but this is generally unedited.

tw: neurological disorders, tics, muscle spasms, speech problems, dissociation, functional seizures, established relationships, l-bomb, reader is called baby, babygirl, daddy as nickname/title (used once)

You stood in the kitchen, chefs knife in hand as you cut the last of the vegetables out before you. Shota rinsed rice at the sink on your right. You froze briefly before a muscle spasm shot through your hand, then a small tic. It was hardly any movement, but he caught it in the corner of his eye. Five years into retirement, you’d swear Shota was still sharp as ever.

“You okay?” he asked.

The sound of water stopped.

There was a slight hesitation in your voice. “Yeah. I’m good.”

With a few measured slices, the job was done. Your hand seized again. The large knife clattered onto the counter.

“Shit, sorry,” you said. More for yourself than him, perhaps.

Another small vocal tic.

Shota glanced your direction. “Let me take care of the rest.”

“Really, I’m-I’m fine, Sho,” you replied, transferring the cut onion onto a plate.

The subtle shift in his face told you he held his tongue this time when he’d rather not. Sure, you had a bad habit of pushing yourself too hard, but Shota had no room to talk on that. He knew - especially now - that life didn’t stop just because you did.

You shut your eyes; one pulled back and rolled for a second. Your body grew tired and heavy. “Just been a long-”

One moment, you were standing, the next, your legs gave out beneath you. There was a clang when the metal bowl of the rice cooker hit the floor. Rice and water splattered nearby as Shota caught you, body limp in his arms.

“Baby?”

An eyebrow twitched in response. Your head lolled forward painfully. Shota pulled you back into his shoulder and carefully lowered you to the floor, your head in his lap. A muscle spasm ripped down your spine as your back arched, muscles so tight that your extremities shook and your vision blurred once it passed once your eyes opened. Head foggy and empty, you fought your body to respond. A small groan left your throat.

“I’m right here. I love you,” Shota said, running his fingers through your hair.

Another look of fear crossed your face with a whine. You wanted to apologize and crawl into his arms, but your body stayed still. And your husband knew you too well.

“Don’t be sorry.”

You laid with him as spasms came and went, along with your awareness of the things around you. When you came to a little, your fingertips stretched out seeking his hand, so he reached for yours.

“Hey, babygirl. You with me?” he said.

“Mhm.” You still couldn’t move much. But this was something.

“Am I okay to carry you?” Shota asked.

“I… think so,” you said.

With relative quickness and the ease of a practiced hero, he gathered you up in his arms and carried you to bed.

･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆

You laid in bed with Shota, your head on his shoulder, finished dinner plates on the tray he’d set at the end of the bed, and sighed.

“Sometimes I really hate all of this,” you said. “I hate that you have to do so much for me. You’ve got enough to handle.”

“You’re the love of my life. Why would I leave you to suffer?” he asked.

When you stayed quiet, he continued. “It’s give and take. You do just as much for me.”

“I know…” you replied. “Sho?”

“Mm?”

“If… if I take care of the dishes, will you take a bath with me?” You played with the hem of his shirt.

Shota smiled softly. “You want daddy to wash your hair, baby?”

A grin pushed at your cheeks. “Maybe, yeah.”

“You don’t need to do anything to have that,” he replied. “I have the energy tonight. Let me take care of you.”

You hugged him tighter. “Thank you.”'

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#i don’t miss days like this #and i’m glad they’re rare now #but here you go #hope u like it #aizawa shouta #aizawa shota #aizawa x reader #f!reader #x reader #disabled reader #disabled characters #bakubunny

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

I'm Your Man - Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal x OFC - Chapter 10

Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 |-| Chapter 11 | Chapter 12

AO3

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 3.5k

Tags: @mads-weasley @xxluckystrike @curaheehee @footprintsinthesxnd @dcyllom @storysimp @latibvles @love-studying58

The room was silent, nothing but the sound of calm, steady breathing piercing the air, a single beam of sunlight stretching through a gap in the curtains, snaking across the bedsheets in a thin, golden ribbon. Frankie was sat up, hunched forward slightly, picking at a frayed edge of the blanket as she stared blankly down at the foot of the bed. Laid back against the pillows, Rosie watched her intently, his thumb rubbing slow, gentle circles against the skin of her back, poking up beneath the hem of her shirt.

The second floor of the village pub consisted entirely of various bedrooms, a makeshift bed and breakfast, intended to make money out of the encroaching military population. With the Nissen huts so strictly segregated, the place had become a popular haunt for anyone hoping for a little 'alone time'. They came often. He liked to sleep beside her the night before a mission - to hold her close for what could always be the last time, to sit and talk somewhere entirely alone. Rosie did his best to avoid thinking about what else might have taken place in this bed - for now, it was simply their refuge.

Twenty-five missions. It was an impressive credential, a staggering achievement considering the almost impossible odds every pilot faced when he took off each day. And with it came the ultimate prize - a ticket home. Any man among them would give a limb for the chance - to never have to go up again, to truly live a life back home with their family.

It felt almost criminal not to want it.

But how could he? How could he burn for home the way the others did, when she wouldn't be there? When twenty-five missions meant being an ocean apart from the woman next to him, twenty-five missions was a death sentence.

"I want you to do it," Frankie croaked, her voice strained and quiet. His palm flattened against her back, and with a sigh she lay back, hair fanning out against the pillow.

"What do you mean?" He asked, brow furrowed.

Her head lolled to the side, meeting his gaze. "When you make twenty-five. I want you to go home."

"... What?" Rosie swore he felt his stomach sink, nausea bubbling in his chest as it burrowed deep into his gut.

Frankie shrugged, the sheets rustling with the movement. "You deserve to see your family, Rosie. You deserve not to live in a place that smells like oil and shit, especially after everything you've done."

A deep frown tugged at his expression as he shifted, propping himself up on an elbow to get a better look at her face. There was nothing in her eyes but utter, uncompromising sincerity. "W-..." He paused a moment, waiting for his mind to stop racing long enough to form a sentence. "What about you?"

She smiled, lifting a hand to cup his cheek, and he couldn't help but lean into it, revelling in the feeling of warmth. "I'll catch you up when I'm done."

Rosie let out a huff of almost-laughter, flashing a disbelieving grin as he fought to fathom what she was saying. "Are you serious?"

A self-satisfied smirk had wormed its way across her face. "Why not?"

"You'd seriously come to America for me?"

"Well, I have always wanted to see the Statue of Liberty," Frankie teased, cutting herself off with a laugh as he fell forward, lips hastily colliding with hers, one hand finding her waist, the other clasping the back of her neck. Her arms snaked around his neck the way they always did, holding his head in place as she reciprocated the kiss, smiling against his lips.

He'd wanted to marry her then. It wasn't the first time the thought had occurred to him, nowhere near in fact, but he wasn't sure it had ever felt so strong. If he asked he knew she'd say no - she'd say they needed more time, that they needed to wait until this was all over. He understood. If something went wrong, if he didn't come back, he didn't want her to carry his name like a badge of un-belonging for the rest of her life. If he could give her anything in death, he wanted it to be a clean break.

The kiss ended, and she was beaming at him, combing a hand through his ungelled curls as he pressed his forehead against hers. She would have given anything to just stay there, tucked beneath the blankets, feeling his breath against her cheek. Every time he climbed into that cockpit, his plane disappearing into the clouds over the horizon, it was like she was preparing for his death already, readying her mind for the news if he ever didn't make it home. Each return was a momentary relief, but it never lasted long. This was the last hurdle, the last bridge to cross before he was home safe, and she could put that constant, nagging fear aside.

A hurried knock came hammering against the door, and a groan escaped Rosie's throat burying his face in the crook of her neck, the weight of his body preventing Frankie from being able to move. She let out a grunt, shoving at his shoulders. "Get up!" She chuckled, and he reluctantly rolled over, pushing himself up off the bed with a huff.

The floorboards creaked beneath his feet as he padded over to the door, prying it open only a few inches, his shoulders blocking the gap in the doorway and shielding Frankie from the view of whoever was outside. Pappy was already in uniform, foot tapping irritably against the floor as he answered. "Just checking, you do actually plan to fly your twenty-fifth, right?" He asked sarcastically.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be there in a minute, just lemme get dressed," Rosie nodded, waving a hand of dismissal. Pappy didn't move, clearly waiting for him, and he began to frown as Rosie didn't move out of the doorway.

"Mornin', Frankie!" He called over Rosie's shoulder into the room behind him.

"Hey, Pappy!" Her voice rang out in return, and Rosie sighed, ignoring his friend's smirk as he closed the door on him.

"Y'know, it definitely would've looked weirder if you were just up here on your own," Frankie pointed out as Rosie began hurrying to grab his uniform and put it on. "That'd raise some questions."

It was later in the day than he'd thought, and he almost tugged his trousers on backwards in an attempt to get dressed as fast as possible, stuffing all of his belongings blindly into a bag as he raced to make his mission. Frankie was only half ready by the time he was done, and he pulled her attention away from the tying of her boot by capturing her lips in a quick goodbye kiss.

"Alright, I gotta go. I love you, I'll see you later."

His hand was already on the doorknob by the time he realised it. Turning his head, she was staring back at him. He'd never said those words before. In a million different ways he had made it abundantly clear that it was true, but this was the first time he'd truly looked her in the eye and said it.

"Yeah?" Frankie grinned.

"Oh, you have no idea," Rosie beamed, slipping out into the hall. Pappy was still waiting, a confused look contorting his expression as he noticed the red flush that filled his face. Making a beeline for the stairs, his copilot was close behind, the question lingering on the tip of his tongue.

"Are you... ok?"

Rosie reached the bottom of the stairs, turning back to look up at him, slightly out of breath. "Told my girl I love her. First time."

"Oh! Congrats?"

"Thanks, Pap," He nodded, clapping him on the shoulder, unable to tear away his grin.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It had been over an hour since the planes departed, and George and Frankie were sitting in the field that ran alongside the airstrip, propped up on their elbows as they lounged in the grass, sharing a bag of peanuts between them. The sun hung high and bright that day, and sunglasses rested on the bridges of their noses despite the slight chill in the air.

"So he told you he loved you," George nodded. "But you guys have been a thing for a while now, was that seriously the first time?"

"Nah. First time he'll remember, though - he says it a lot when he's drunk, but he's shy when he's sober."

She chuckled, red lips curling up in a smile. "Yunno, I always thought that guy was a bit of a weirdo, but you make me like him."

Frankie laughed, shaking her head. "God, you're a terrible person."

George gasped, head lolling to the side to look over at her friend. "Speaking of - you know Brenda? Red Cross Brenda? Well, apparently she-"

Before she got the chance to finish her sentence, Ken came bounding up, grinning like a lost puppy returned to its owner. "Heya!" He chirped, crouching down before the pair. It had become customary for the young mechanic to invade their conversations whenever he wasn't busy, eager for some company outside of his other sprightly, male colleagues. "What's goin' on?"

"Boooo!" George thundered at his intrusion, reaching for a fistful of peanuts and throwing them at him, a few pinging against his forehead.

"God, who invited you?" Frankie cried, her voice overlapping with George's. "Get your own friends!"

The hostilities were all in jest, the way a sister might poke fun at a brother, and neither woman objected as Lemmons wormed his way in between them, lifting their belongings out of the way to clear a space for him on the grass. Hands folded behind his head, he peered up at them, squinting in the sun. "So... what happened with Brenda?"

"Nuh-uh," George shook her head. "If you wanted to know you should've shown up on time. Those are the rules."

"There's rules now?"

"Obviously, we're not imbeciles," Frankie shrugged. "Get with the program or get fucked, Kenny."

"Jesus Christ."

"So, Ken, how's Fonda?" She asked, her voice taking on a singsong lilt, a teasing smirk curling her lip.

He let out a groan, folding his arms over his head so they couldn't see the red flush that had overtaken his face. "...She's good," After he wallowed in embarrassment for a moment, an indignant expression overtook him, and he bolted upright. "Hey, at least I'm married!"

"Yeah, at nineteen, 'cause that's normal," George snorted, fending him off as he tried to whack her over the head.

"I'm just sayin'! Frankie and Rosie gotta hurry it up a little, I think."

Frankie scoffed, throwing up her hands in surrender. "I... Actually, no, fuck off, I'm not going there with you - I'm sorry that I'm waiting to properly get to know the guy before I get hitched, ok?"

"Oh, she knows the guy, alright," George muttered, and Ken snorted a laugh, the pair letting out yelps as a fistful of peanuts collided with their heads.

"I'm content with my choices!" Frankie declared loudly, and the three of them stewed in silence for a moment before collectively descending into laughter, the sight of a dozen missed peanuts scattered in the grass only adding to the inexplicable hilarity.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It was as if they'd almost forgotten what they were waiting for by the time the sound of faraway plane engines began to split the air, a familiar thrumming sound that sent an involuntary jolt of panic through Frankie whenever she heard it, her heart immediately pounding out of her chest as she leapt up, accidentally sticking a foot into the empty bag of nuts as she scrambled to her feet. She'd never felt quite like it, an equal mix of terror and elation flooding through her - fear that it might not be Rosie flying one of the returning buses, but delight at what it meant if he was.

Half of Thorpe Abbotts seemed to have turned up for his return, and Frankie almost burst into tears the moment 'Rosie's Riveters' came into view, George's whooping ringing in her ears as she wrapped her arms around her shoulders, jumping up and down in ecstatic celebration. It took a moment for the gravity of their situation to dawn on her, but when it did she couldn't stop grinning, her cheeks beginning to ache. Rosie was going home. He was safe.

The moment he left the plane, he was swarmed, a dozen hands lifting him up off the tarmac, hauling him up onto the men's shoulders as the barrage of cheers and applause filled his ears. But the second he had slipped through that door, his eyes had found her, standing at the back of the crowd, clapping along, her shoulder leant up against George's. Their gazes met, and she rolled her eyes teasingly - he could almost hear her voice in his head, jokingly begging him to stay humble as he was carried aloft through the crowd.

They were cheering his name, shaking his hand and patting him on the back as he passed, but as soon as his feet touched the tarmac, none of it mattered. The second he was on solid ground again, he was making a beeline towards Frankie, brow raised in question. They were too far apart, too bracketed by ear-splitting cheers for him to simply ask 'Can I kiss you?', but she could always tell. With a smirk and a nod, permission was granted, and the moment they collided his lips were on hers, hands cupping her cheeks, her eyelashes fluttering against his skin. A second, somehow ever more raucous cheer erupted, and he could feel her smiling into the kiss as her hands found his collar, pressing against his jaw. In that moment, even through the cacophony of whoops and yells, she was the only person in the world to him.

The kiss broke, but his hands stayed firmly planted on either side of her face, their foreheads pressed against each other, eyes locked. "Hi," Frankie beamed, speaking so softly that only he could hear.

"Hello."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Frankie had never been quite so much at the centre of attention than she was that night. It was as if the moment Rosie had kissed her in front of everyone on the tarmac, it became her party as well as his, a celebration of just making it, of still having the person you loved at the end of the day. She'd showered three times that afternoon, desperately trying to scrub away the lingering smell of her work, and George had even made her put on lipstick. But Frankie couldn't deny it - she looked fucking good.

The band was in full swing, to such an extent that she had to yell over the incessant ring of trumpets just to order a drink, but as the night rolled on she never once felt Rosie's hand leave her - a gentle palm against her waist or back wherever they went, a quiet reminder that he was home safe, that they were going to be ok. Bailey had an arm around her shoulder, and her head tilted back as she laughed at one of Pappy's jokes, and for once they seemed to feel free - free to simply be each other's friends without having to worry about losing one another.

"So I said to her, I said "Hey Betty, you're gonna wanna paint those ceilings your favourite colour, 'cause you'll be seein' a lot of 'em when I get home," Bailey joked, and she let out a groan as the others laughed, gently slapping his shoulder with the back of her palm. Across the circle they had formed, Croz went digging in his pocket for a cigarette, and she reached out, holding up her lighter for him as he nodded his thanks.

Rosie's hands on her shoulders caught her attention as he slipped around behind her. "I'm gettin' another drink - you need anythin', honey?"

"No, I'm good," She nodded, raising her half-finished beer as proof as he stepped away towards the bar. Turning back to the others, she found Pappy grinning at her, sipping smugly at his whiskey. "Oh, shut up - what're you, twelve?"

"So you've been keeping it under wraps since Christmas?" Crosby asked, raising a brow in alarm as Bailey guffawed.

"Oh, yeah, 'keepin' it under wraps'," He chuckled. "Jesus, we could all tell from the day he got back," The other members of Rosie's flight crew began to laugh, nodding in agreement.

"Well, what can I say? I'm just that great," Frankie grinned, squeezing Bailey's arm as she shuffled past him, moving to follow Rosie towards the bar.

She hadn't had a chance to thank Kidd yet for giving her Bucky's jacket, and was already poised to speak as she approached, a warm smile curling her lip. But then she heard his words.

"Brass is upping the end-of-tour requirements from twenty-five to thirty missions."

Her stomach sank. Not just for the poor pilots, for every man who had been so goddamn close to getting to go home. But because she knew in that moment that Rosie wasn't done. Even if he hadn't realised it yet, even if the decision to stay hadn't yet crossed his mind, she knew him well enough. He wouldn't leave because he couldn't - couldn't give it up and take the easy way out when so many other, less experienced men had to die as a result of this decision. She loved him for it, but maybe she hated him a little too.

Frankie hadn't realised she'd stopped dead in her tracks until Kidd spotted her, his brow furrowing. Rosie turned to follow his gaze, eyes softening the moment they landed on her. "Frankie-"

Her glass went down on the bar with a thud, her desire to drink suddenly evaporated. "Thanks for the jacket, Jack," She nodded, forcing a smile. "That was really nice of you."

Before Rosie got the chance to reach out to her, she had walked away, brushing past them both as she forced her way through the crowd, the thumping of her heartbeat in her ears drowning out the sound of the music. She had begun searching for George without even realising it, spotting her familiar golden curls among a crowd of Red Cross volunteers. Making a move towards her, George turned immediately on her arrival, brow drawing with concern.

"Can we go?"

"Yeah," George accepted without hesitation, casting aside her drink as she shouldered her way towards the door, clearing a path for Frankie to trail along behind.

She hadn't realised quite how tightly she'd been holding her breath until they stepped outside, the cold air hitting her like a wall as she let it out in a gasp, running a hand through her hair as she marched around to the side of the building, sitting down on the nearest bench she could find. The wood creaked as George sat down beside her, placing a gentle hand on her knee and waiting quietly for her to speak.

"I have washed... so much blood out of those planes," Frankie said, her voice uneven, letting out a long, shaky exhale as she spoke. "Before I got this job I didn't really understand how much blood a person could have. Sometimes when they get hit by shrapnel, it tears the leather on the seats, n' the blood soaks into the stuffing. It's really hard to get it out then - usually I just have to seal the hole and leave it in there. But then it's like... whoever gets in that plane next just has to sit on that blood, like there's this permanent reminder that someone died there, but I'm the only one who knows it's there."

"Frankie... what happened? D'you want me to get Rosie?"

"No," She spoke hurriedly, shaking her head. "No, I don't-... I can't talk to him right now."

George turned sideways in her seat to properly look at her, raising a hand to swipe the hair away from her face. "Why? Did he do something?"

Frankie took a deep breath, finally meeting George's gaze, her eyes red and filled with tears. "He's going back up, George."

"What? Did he tell you that?"

"They've upped the number of missions the new guys have to do to be allowed to leave. Rosie's in the clear, but... we both know he won't take it now."

She sniffed, raising a hand to wipe away the tear that trailed down her cheek, and George pulled her forward into a hug, cheek pressed against her scalp as she rubbed her back.

"I'm so tired, George," Frankie croaked, her voice scarcely loud enough to hear.

"I know," She whispered. "... I know."

#masters of the air #masters of the air oc #masters of the air fic #rosie rosenthal #rosie rosenthal x oc #pappy lewis #harry crosby #jack kidd #oc: frankie #oc: george #fic | i'm your man

[witchywriter18]

Dating Young! Sirius Black and being a Hufflepuff

Hufflepuff will always be my preferred house to write the reader in since I am a Hufflepuff.

First, a bit of background

You're a muggleborn Hufflepuff and have been friends with Lily Evans since you were five. When you both found out you were magical, the two of you were so excited (despite Petunia's bitterness)

When it was finally time to go to Hogwarts, both you and Lily boarded the train with Severus (your mutual friend)

You first locked eyes with Sirius when waiting to be let into the Great Hall for sorting.

You were looking around the place in wonder when your (e/c) eyes met a pair of gray ones.

Sirius gave you a smile and small wave, which you returned, albeit more nervously than he did.

Love at first sight, not that either of you knew that yet because you both were 11 but you both felt something in that moment.

You were disappointed that you weren't sorted into the same house as Lily but you still ended up loving Hufflepuff.

Over the years, you had ended up growing close with the Marauders; especially Sirius.

The two of you started dating in 6th year with him taking you to Hogsmead.

Because I can't get enough of this troupe, yes, you do swap scarves in the winter. He doesn't have a reason other than he thinks you look adorable in his red and gold scarf.

Before you started dating, this big black dog would prance up to you when you were sitting under a tree by the lake, some flowers in its mouth.

Once the flowers were plopped into your lap (the stems slightly slobbery), the dog would just stare at you with the closest thing to a smile it could offer, tongue lolling to the side.

The dog would bask in your presence almost daily, tail wagging at the great ear scratches and belly rubs you gave.

It always seemed to shoot off when James, Remus, or Peter approached weirdly enough...

It wasn't until after you started dating that you found out that Sirius was the cuddly black dog you doted on in 5th year. He gave up the game when he noticed you had a few of the flowers pressed between the pages of your favorite book.

"You still have the flowers I gave you back before we dated?"

"What are you talking about? You never got me flowers before we started dating."

"Yes I did! Then we'd cuddle by the lake!"

" No we didn't! I got these flowers from a sweet dog. Who strangely enough I stopped seeing once we started dating- wait a second. You were the- *mouth gets covered*

"Well, that'll teach me to open my big mouth before speaking."

So Sirius explained that he, James, and Peter were animagai to help with Remus's monthly problem (after clearing it with the three of course)

You later asked Sirius to help you become an animagus so you could also help, which Sirius didn't like the idea of at first leading you two to have your first argument as a couple.

Sirius did NOT want his sweet Hufflepuff to get into trouble.

After lots of convincing (in the form of smooches, leaving many lipstick marks on his face), he finally agreed to helping you in being an animagus.

His least favorite part of the process was you having to keep the mandrake leaf on your tongue because that means he couldn't hear your voice as often (or shove his tongue down your throat-)

Your animagus ended up being a dog as well which upon further research, meant the you and Sirius were basically soulmates.

"Looks like you're going to be stuck with me for a looonnnggg time, love."

"Oh please, like you could get rid of me that easily."

I've run out of ideas for now so here ya go

#harry potter universe #sirius black x reader #sirius black #hufflepuff reader

[mariaofdoranelle]

URDAD - part 4

Vaccine: I want you in my arms

Fic masterlist

There’s this super catholic holiday where I live and it’s the entire city’s personality. It’s this weekend. And I just realized I’ll spend the entire holiday writing smut for different fics while all my friends and family are praying and attending the procession. Am I going to hell

Words: 2,2k

Warnings: NSFW (I did my best to describe it but it’s an uncommon one so if you want to google it this chapter’s sex position is called Stairway to Heaven)

Aelin had to spend some extra energy she didn’t have to keep her legs from swaying. Her muscles were sore, more strained than any gym could make her feel, especially if she considered how tender she was between the thighs as well.

She went back to her bedroom to get a change of clothes and check on Fleetfoot, but her mind hadn’t left Rowan’s bed. The last 24 hours consisted of sex. And naps. And more sex. Eating leftovers of the barbecue with her dog. More sex. Again. Once more. Sleep. Morning sex—

Rowan trapped her against the hallway wall, making her squeal.

“What’re you doing?” Aelin’s head lolled against the wall as he untied her robe, his mouth on her neck. “I left your bed five minutes ago.”

“Too long,” Rowan grunted, grumpy enough to make her laugh.

Aelin pulled his face to her with both hands, and despite the urgency in which he trapped her on the wall, Rowan’s kiss was long and sweet. His teeth and tongue played with her lips when he wasn’t kissing her in tender and heated flicks.

But if his affectionate caresses were making her knees even weaker, she wasn’t ready for when he pinned her wrists above her head, against the wall.

Rowan kissed her collarbone, neck and jaw before whispering in her ear, “I can stop if you’re too tired.”

From under her lids, Aelin analyzed his eager yet careful eyes. How that brilliant mind of his might be planning to have his way with her. Was she tired? Yes. But too tired?

She arched her back, trying to shove their hips together since her wrists were still pinned. “C’mere.”

When Aelin thought his hands were freeing her, he just let her loose for half a second before gripping her waist as if it was his lifeline, Rowan’s hands sneaking under her robe.

His lips were halfway to her neck when Aelin redirected it to her mouth. Their kiss was long and thorough, Rowan taking everything from her while he clutched the shape of her, squeezed her ass and made her tingle all over.

His hand met her pussy, and he groaned at the wetness he found.

“Fuck,” Rowan said under his breath, his fingers sliding inside her with impressive ease. “I can’t get enough of you.”

“You’re insatiable, Doctor.” Aelin’s tone was hoarse and silky. “I didn’t know you were like this.”

“I didn’t either,” he murmured against her jaw before kissing, gripping, curling his fingers inside her and making her eyes roll.

Aelin took his cock in her hand and watched him roughen up his caresses with each pump.

She took a peak at the hallway they were at. The best place here to fuck would be the wall, or maybe…

Aelin took his hand, interrupting their hookup session to lead him to the stairs.

“You wanna fuck downstairs, baby?” Rowan whispered in her ear from behind, his breath against her ear and his hands on her hips being too much to handle.

Too far. Aelin was too horny to talk properly, but the couch was too far. So was the bedroom.

After descending a little, she stopped him in the large landing between the two sets of stairs. She took off her half-opened robe, letting it pool by her feet. Aelin got down on her knees before him, watching Rowan’s confused frown before she turned around to face the stairs.

Fuck, baby were his only words before he kneeled behind her and pushed his cock inside her, every part of it spreading her open for him.

Aelin moaned, holding herself upright by holding a step of the stairs, her knees too weak.

His pace was hungry, Rowan held her hip with one hand, this thumb grazing the top of her ass, and himself with the other, needing to hold on to the stairs if he was as wrecked as she did.

The apex of Aelin’s thighs were on fire, that burning feeling spreading through her limbs. But she still pushed against his thrusts, demanding as much as he could give her, even if she could barely take it herself.

Rowan’s grip on her tightened, and after one particularly merciless roll of his hips, she lost her balance, stumbling off her position.

He immediately stopped to check on Aelin, caressing her hair as he waited for her.

“You okay, baby?” he asked between pants.

The look Aelin sent him over her shoulder was nothing short of wicked. She purred, “Yes, Daddy.”

His eyes darkened, something sparking behind them as he took her in, all in fours for him and ready for more.

He slapped her ass, hard enough to sting.

“What did you say?”

“I—“

Rowan slammed his cock into her, making her lean against the stairs before her and cry out. Without easing his pace, he grabbed a fistful of Aelin’s hair

“What did you call me, baby?”

She had no idea where that pet name came from, but now that he seemed to be into it…

“Your cock is so big, Daddy, it tears me apart when you—“ He pounded into her, turning what she was saying into incomprehensible, strangled noises. “Yes,” she whimpered, “like that.”

“Yeah? How about—“

He sneaked his hand between her legs, pressing her clit. His rhythmic circles there added to his cock filling her in was too much. Aelin’s limbs were weak, all her blood rushing to her loins, and she moaned his name, very close to falling limp on those stairs.

Rowan’s hips stuttered, and the little more pressure he added on her clit made her go over the edge. Aelin clenched around him, knees buckling as her vision blurred, overwhelmed with sensation. He didn’t look much better, and they were both holding on to each other and to that damned staircase, calling each other’s names as they got through the peak together.

After he pulled out, Aelin sat on the bottom of that set of stairs, leaning on the steps with her elbows. Her breath was still erratic when Rowan sat her on his lap and nestled her on his bigger frame.

“My clothes are cleaner,” he explained why he put her over himself instead of the floor, even if his house was tidy. As if she needed a reason to sit on his lap after being fucked like that, repeatedly.

“I have a complaint.” Aelin bit back a mischievous grin while she watched his face grow concerned. “You have your clothes on.”

Rowan’s features relaxed, and he took his t-shirt off to give it to her. “We’re even now.”

The only real complaint she had is that she lost sight of his abs the second his cotton shirt crossed her sight, as she put it on. Truth was, Aelin knew exactly why he didn’t take any of his clothes off. He was too caught up in the moment to do it, and the only reason she took hers off was for that little show in this stairway.

Rowan was awfully silent, just staring at her in a way she’d just found out he’d do sometimes after an orgasm.

She leaned on his torso, running the tip of her finger on the bridge of his nose. “What’re you thinking?”

Rowan startled, realizing just now that he’d tuned out, and his lips tugged in a playful way that was different from his previous vacant look. “Of all parts of my house, I never thought we’d take my stairs’ virginity.”

She chuckled. “That was a first for me too.”

Rowan’s steady breaths were a balm to her soul, just as soothing as his pine smell and bare walls. Aelin used to criticize rich people who had nothing but neutral colors in their home, but she liked his house—especially the green pops of color, even if she’d still put more plants or colorful pillows. Fleetfoot loved it here too, mostly because of the garden and the pool—

Rowan cleared his throat. “But there’s this other thing I was thinking about.”

“Tell me.”

“What’re you doing tomorrow on your lunch break?”

“Why?” Aelin’s gaze roamed over his eager expression with alert eyes, the reddened cheeks framing his nervous close-lipped smile, and she knew exactly what he wanted. She shifted on his lap, straddling him now. “Why do you need me at work, Doctor?” She ran both hands over his chest, sending him a heated look from under her lashes as she said in a sultry tone, “You want to traumatize Anne Jausten?”

He swallowed, his thumb playing with the hem of her—his—shirt. “No, I want to have lunch with you.”

Aelin went rigid on top of him, blinking. “As in a lunch date?”

His mouth opened. And closed. Rowan nodded, his eyes intent on hers.

“I’d love to,” Aelin said around a grin wide enough to release the tension on his shoulders.

“Good.” Rowan showered her neck and jaw with quick pecks. “Good, I—“

“But it can’t be tomorrow.” She grimaced, just now remembering her scheduled appointment. “I have an apartment tour.”

His face fell. “So soon?”

Aelin wasn’t sure if he meant it as a question, so she decided to take it as one.

“Yes, because I’m homeless.” Rowan frowned, making her grin while she rubbed off the crease between his eyebrows. “And your deadline was one or two weeks, remember?”

“I… deadline?” He blinked. “I didn’t mean it literally, Aelin. I’m not kicking you out in eleven days.”

“I know you won’t, but I still need a home.”

“Alright, then.” He pushed back his shoulders, something shifting in his mind as his gaze levered hers. “Let’s see this apartment.”

She leaned away to carefully scan his face, trying to understand him. “You want to see the apartment with me?”

“Why not?” He shrugged. “It’ll be fun.”

��˜

“I hate this,” Rowan protested once more, “it’s unacceptable.”

“Can you explain your new concerns to me, Mr. Whitethorn?” The real estate agent’s tone was way too neutral, her smile way too strained.

The poor woman. Rowan was wearing her thin with his million complaints about her potential future house.

He gave the woman a surprised glare, as if he couldn’t believe she wasn’t seeing the same thing as he. “Why are these walls so yellow? It hurts my eyes.”

“It was inspired by a viral kitchen on Pinterest, sir.”

Rowan gave her a bored look. “It’s tacky.” He pointed at a small crack in the wall, between the counter and the wall cabinet. “And what about that? Are the cracks cosmetic, or does the building have structural damage?”

After giving a quick reassurance that she didn’t know about any structural issues, the agent excused herself. Good for her, since Aelin didn’t know what was going on with Rowan today.

The apartment wasn’t half as nice as his two-story house, but it was the closest from the hospital she could afford. It was a small, nice-enough middle-class place for a single, middle-class girl.

Aelin tugged on Rowan’s hand and stood on her tiptoes to whisper, “Take off your pants.”

His eyes bulged. “Here?”

“Well, I have to do something about this bug up your ass.”

Rowan crossed his arms, unimpressed by her snark. “If I have a bug up my ass, it must be because this apartment has bug issues.”

The slap on his bicep was gentle, but Aelin’s face was not.

He gaped. “The apartment is terrible, and I’m the one in the wrong?”

“It’s a perfectly good apartment!”

“The floors are too creaky!” He made his point by walking around and stepping multiple times on the creaks he found. “Do you think Fleetfoot is gonna like to run here? Can she even run in a place this small?” He dragged her by the hand to a window. “You see this alley?”

It was right under her window, even though the front of the building was on a bigger street. In fact, the alley was between two larger streets, and a big part of it was just the sides of bigger buildings that faced the main streets.

“What about it?”

“It’s the kind of place thiefs run to after mugging women like you. For all I know, there could be a crack house by the end of this alley.”

She crossed her arms. “A crack house? Seriously?”

Rowan shrugged. “Have you seen Mistward’s crack rates?”

“Have you seen Mistward’s crack rates?”

He squinted his eyes. “I don’t like this house.”

Aelin took a peak around the apartment. It wasn’t ideal, but it was as good as she could get given the time she had. But yesterday Rowan said there was no urgency at all, which meant Aelin had until he got tired of her.

And he was right about Fleetfoot, too. The house wasn’t ideal for her, the neighborhood wasn’t safe enough to walk her at night, and no thief would be scared of a friendly little mutt that looked like a golden retriever.

Imogen never mentioned anything about her father having girlfriends, which probably means Rowan gets bored of women easily. If Aelin played her cards right, she could even double her amount of weeks with him, finding a better place to move out in the meantime.

“Fine.” She pointed a finger at him. “But if you keep this up, I’m not bringing you to the next tour tomorrow.”

Rowan’s eyes widened. “Tomorrow?”

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#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #throne of glass #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan x aelin #aelin x rowan #rowaelin fanfic #throne of glass fanfic #urdad

[frenziedslashers]

Lead The Way

Pairing: Rhys Strongfork x Reader

Warning: Porn without Plot, Blowjobs, That's really it tbh. Mentions of it leading to more, but I didn't write the rest. I might make a part two, idk.

"Oh fuck, holy shit, this is happening," He stammered into the air, a hand hovering over your head while you licked up his shaft between his legs. His back pressed firmly against the wall. He couldn't believe this was happening. "Just relax, Rhys, I'll take good care of you." Your voice was in a tone that sent sparks shooting through his body.

If you had asked him earlier that day what the CEO of Atlas would be doing later that night. It definitely wouldn't be getting a blow job from his super, super hot partner. The two of you had only been in a relationship for what? About four, or five months now? And this was probably the second time he was receiving head from you. Let alone about the fourth time either of you had done anything inherently sexual together. He was just too busy. Or at least he told you and himself that he was too busy. It was mostly him being nervous. Too scared he wouldn't be all of your dreams and expectations in bed.

When your tongue flicked out to lick over his tip his head collided with the wall behind him. A groan left his throat. Your pause while looking up to see if he was alright made him peek down at you. Pink splattered across his face. "The walls closer than I thought," he muttered in explanation, and you chuckled. Continuing your activities.

Your mouth enveloped his length like no other, and he swore he was about to combust. His eyes fell half-lidded, then fought to stay open. All while staring down at you. You were too perfect to take his eyes off of. Plus, he had heard that eye contact was intimate and would prevent you from feeling like he was disinterested in you. It was just so hard for Rhys to keep doing, though.

He wasn't used to the attention, nor the pleasure that was coursing his body. His hand slightly tightening in your hair while his legs shook and his shoulder blades dug further against the wall. "Fuck, I don't understand how you do this so well." He rambled, trying his best to stay focused and not cum as quick as last time. You never said anything about it, but that didn't stop him from worrying that it had annoyed you. He couldn't help it with how good you made him feel. He swore you could bring him to orgasm just by praising him enough and looking at him just right.

"Fuck, holy shit, I'm so close." You knew he was by the heavy breathing from your lover above. Along with his head slowly lolling back and his eyes fluttering shut. One final bob of your head and his hips were stuttering. His release hit the back of your throat while he let out a cry that had your thighs clenching. His reactions were always your favorite.

When Rhys finally came down from his high, you had made the mistake of moving away from him. The lack of you helping hold him up against the wall caused him to slide down onto the floor. His pants still around his thighs. "Fuck, how are you so good at that?" He asked, and you snickered. Crawling on your hands and knees over to the man. Rhys keeping his eyes on you the whole time. Especially when you decided to climb onto his lap. Thighs straddling his own. His hands coming to rest on top of them.

"Well, it's pretty easy when you're so sensitive." A gasp left the man's throat along with a pout. "I am not! You're just using some sort of spell on me. I know it. You've got to be a siren or something. It would only make sense. I'm not sensitive." He told you, squeezing at your thighs which had you giggling. Your hands resting on his chest and trailing down further and further... Until they stopped to rest right above his cock which was slowly but surely twitching back to life. "Oh, you aren't?" "No," he stated a bit sternly with a small smirk. The tone of his voice and the look in his eyes made you shudder. Your action only made Rhys' smirk grow.

"How about I return the favor, now?" This was new. Yeah, he's sort of initiated sex before. He's offered to make you feel good, but he was so much more confident in himself than he normally was. You liked the change. Smiling while nodding your head. "I'm all yours, Rhysie bear," you teased with the nickname to which he rolled his eyes with a sigh. Moving you off his lap so he could pull his pants up so they rested around his waist. Pulling himself and then you up off of the floor.

"Well, we better get started then. I have a couple things I'd like to try with you. If you're up for it, honey." This was all new, and you definitely wouldn't be denying any of it. Nodding in confirmation with a smile. Rhys smiling back while taking your hand to lead you to the safety of your shared bedroom.

#rhys strongfork #rhys strongfork smut #notsfw #minors dni #borderlands 3 #tales from the borderlands #new tales from the borderlands #rhys strongfork x reader

[peppermintsparker]

this kiss [ E.MUNSON ]

SUMMARY -- you've been in love with your best friend for a while now. it takes almost losing him to confess your love. WARNINGS -- kind of angsty, literally tooth-rotting fluff, first kiss but kind of badly written because i don't know how to write them, explicit language AUTHORS NOTE -- first eddie fic babey!!!! dedicated to my fellow twisted sister (who somehow puts up with my chaos) @starbxcks

It had been Dustin to tell you what happened. You had already known all about the towns supposed curse, and you knew what happened to Chrissy Cunningham, but what you didn't know was that Eddie and the others were going to the Upside Down to stop Vecna.

In all honesty, you're pretty pissed that he didn't tell you before he went.

"Y/n." Steve stopped you before you entered the room they had put Eddie in to recover. He could see just how worried and angry you were, and he knew it could be detrimental to Eddie's recovery if he let you in like this.

"Don't try to fucking stop me, Harrington" you snarled. You were not in the mood for games, or talk to anyone that wasn't Eddie. But the anger came second place to the worry that threatened to completely destroy you. "Just let me go and see him. I need to see he's okay."

It was a thirty second stare down before Steve relented and moved his arm from blocking the door. He catches you by the wrist as you're about to walk through it, "just be prepared okay Y/n? It looks bad."

You thank him, taking a deep breath in and out before you walk in. Eddie's laying in bed, eyes closed with his wounds cared for. At first glance, you'd assume he was asleep but you knew him too well. "Oh Eds." You whisper, sitting on the chair next to his bed and carefully holding one of his hands.

"Hey, sunshine." Eddie whispered, gently squeezing your hand before he opened his eyes. He tries to smile, but you don't miss the wince as he does, nor can you stop yourself from crying. "Hey, it's okay. I'm okay. Just a little banged up, see."

With your spare hand, you wipe your tears away before smiling at him. "You idiot, moonlight." Your voice is thick, and you're in disbelief that he survived. Especially if the attack was as bad as Dustin described to you. "I thought I'd lost you. What Dustin had said. Please, just tell me before you decide to do anything like that again."

Eddie just about garners the energy to nod, and you can tell he's worn out, "Go to sleep. I'll still be here when you wake up, I promise."

It's five hours before Eddie wakes up again, you had dozed off in the chair. Head lolling backwards, mouth open with a tiny slither of drool at the side, but Eddie swears you're still the most beautiful girl in the world. "Hey, sleepyhead." He squeezes your hand again, hard enough to wake you but not hard enough to hurt you.

"You feeling a bit better now?" You ask, Eddie nodding earnestly in response. He looks better, you admit, less exhausted and more alert. It's the sleep, and the IV rehydrating him, which does it you suppose, but Eddie knows that it's your presence making him feel better. Not that he'll tell you anytime soon.

"They're saying they might discharge me soon. They want to do one more wound check, make sure there's no infection, and they want to administer more antibiotics but then I should be good to go." Eddie tells you, a hopeful smile on his face.

You know what that smile means, "good." You express your pure relief at the news, "I hope you don't mind me staying. Because I'm not leaving your side until you're recovered."

Eddie doesn't say it, but he doesn't mind at all. He'd do anything to keep you by his side forever.

It's a long one and a half weeks before the discharge papers are signed. Whilst he's being instructed on wound care, you pack up everything that the two of you had to keep you going during the stay. "Come on, let's go home." You sling the bag onto your shoulder, car keys in one hand and Eddie's hand in the other.

Part of you knows you should take him back to the trailer, but luckily for you, Wayne already knew Eddie would be staying with you for the foreseeable future. "This isn't the way to the trailer park?" Eddie reminds you, evidently confused as you drive in the wrong direction.

You don't say anything as you drive home. The surroundings became slightly more obvious to Eddie, and he doesn't miss the way your breath hitches slightly. It's another fifteen minutes before you reach home. Turning the engine off, you grab the bag from the back seat before helping the man beside you out the car.

"I thought you lived with your parents?" Eddie questions, as you take him on a general tour of the small one bedroom house. He knew he might have missed some things whilst he was hiding out, and then in the Upside down, but he also knew you'd have told him if something happened.

"They kicked me out. But aunt Marjorie left me this house in her will anyway, so I would have left sooner or later." You shrugged, kicking your shoes off before flopping backwards onto your bed. Eddie removes his shoes and joins you, letting out a sigh of relief to be laying on something other than an uncomfortable hospital bed.

Eddie hums in acknowledgement, before trying to conceal a very obvious yawn. The unspoken suggestion of a nap was thick and heavy in the air between you, but neither one of you were weirded out owing to the countless nap dates you'd had before.

Eddie's quick to shed his jacket, t-shirt and jeans before climbing into bed and you join him once you're in more cosy attire. Both exhausted from a weeks worth of lost sleep, you're out like a light in seconds.

"Y/n!"

It's the yell of your name which wakes you up thirty minutes later, and you're confused before you feel Eddie thrashing about. "Y/n. No please. Don't leave, Y/n! Wake up!" Eddie yells again, face screwed up in his nightmare state. Fear wraps its cold, clammy fingers around your heart, and you shake him in a desperate attempt to wake him up.

Eddie wakes with a start, eyes darting around the room until they settle on you. It's easy to see that he is so clearly afraid of something, and it hurts to see him like this. "I'm safe, moonlight." You soothe him, the two of you now sat up. Eddie's not shy about placing his hand on your fabric covered chest, feeling your heartbeat to convince himself.

"I thought Vecna had got to you and I was too late to save you. I can't bear the thought of ever losing you, it'd be like losing half of my heart." He admits, and you can see it now. Eddie's so in love with you.

You don't say much, just adjust yourself so that you can rest your forehead on his with ease. Eddie's in love with you, and you're in love with him. And even though it feels like the wrong time and place, you ask the question anyway. Because you nearly lost him, and it felt like losing half of your heart.

"Can I kiss you?"

But Eddie doesn't answer. Instead, he cups your face in his hands and you could have sworn your heart was beating so fast it felt like it would explode. Eddie's breath feels warm, and if you were living in a cartoon you're almost positive sparks would be shooting off the two of you. And then finally, not a moment too soon, Eddie's lips meet yours.

You had plenty of first kisses with boys over the years, but none had made you feel as safe and loved as this kiss.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson #stranger things oneshot #stranger things #peach writes

[chrissshub]

LOVE OR LUST

pairings: ex-husband!kuroo tetsurou x fem! reader

cw: talks of resentment, slight angst, possessive, unprotected sex, sexual tension between Kuroo and reader, Kuroo being a hellish tease

tags: @dejwrites @nanaminshousewife @gabzlovesu @rinhoes @indiecursor @aasouthteranoswife @po3ticb3auty @dabilovesme @devilgirlcrybabiey @ebiharachan @the-great-himbo @sweeneyblue1 @omniuravity @icelyn20

You hated it.

Hated how he wore that smug grin across his face with such undeserved glory. Hated how he never could free you from his reins, the birth of your child holding the both

In other words, you hated your ex-husband Kuroo Tetsurou.

Now here he was, twirling his daughter in circles as the eyes of her classmates gawked shockingly. you sat amongst the other parents, each one rattling off about how great of a father Kuroo was.

He did, in fact, make the perfect father. But Kuroo made the worst husband. Arrogance ran high, the unnecessary use of sarcasm, even the priorities of work took their toll on the relationship. In your mind, divorce that once seemed like a childish joke manifested into an unforeseen reality.

However, even after the five years of separation, in Kuroo’s mind: the divorce never happened. He didn’t believe it during the council sessions with the lawyer, he didn’t believe it when he had to cough up alimony every month, and he sure as hell didn’t believe it when he woke up this very morning.

Now here he was, standing from halfway across the backyard with his eyes set on you. His stare always did make you feel small, as if you truly were the only person on earth. He’d been like this for half the party, making sure you were watching him.

Biting back the spewing rant, you stood from your spot along the wooden bench, taking lolling steps towards the man. “Kuroo…can I talk to you for a second?” you lamented into his ear. He shook his head, turning his attention back to the giddy children clawing at his leg.

“Sorry guys, no more spinning right now. Me and the miss’ have something to talk about,” Kuroo grinned, snarkily glaring back at you. You reached for his hand, leading him back into the house and straight into the bathroom.

Locking the door behind you, you leaned against the cold wood, the brisk surface nipping at the opened-back of your red sundress. Kuroo stood before you, his arms folded across his chest.

“And what’s on your pretty mind?” He chuckled, but not a fiber in your being could fall for his sly nature.

“You’re acting like everything is great. Especially when you keep referring to me as your wife, knowing damn well that–”

Before you could finish, Kuroo placed a kiss onto your lips, overtaking whatever was to leave from your lips. His hands swarmed your waist, trailing down to grip at your lower back.

Immersing into his hold, your body fell victim to his sly advances. Kuroo always knew exactly what buttons to push and what words to say to have you melting at his touch. Yet, the resentment you held for the man served as your grounding.

“Don’t do that, you’ll try to win me back like that,” you shook off, breaking the kiss. A single strand of saliva stood between your parted lips, heated pants tingling the tips of your nose.

Kuroo’s golden imbues licked about your frame, intrigued by your words. “Fine then, what did you wanna talk about?” Kuroo questioned, finally giving in to your hardened exterior. You wheedled yourself from Kuroo, settling atop of the bathroom's sink counter.

“Tetsurou…I despise you, hate you, and dare say that marrying you is becoming a regret more than ever. But I–” you trailed off, prying your crossed legs apart. Kuroo kept himself above you, lips ghosting your own.

“And if you hate me so much, Y/N…why are your legs spreading for me? Hm?” He chuckled softly, slotting himself between your legs. You placed your hand onto his chest, the faint thumps of his heart pulsing beneath your touch.

“Why? Kuroo, as much as I don’t wanna say it but…I have this unshakable lust for you. And don’t act all coy, you know this already,” you returned, the flairs of heat surfacing to your cheeks.

The tips of Kuroo’s fingers laced around your wrist, bringing your supple hand into view. “Oh I know, just like watching you struggle to say it,” he surmised, placing a kiss on the back of your hand. You drew your hand back, bracing yourself atop the counter with a forceful grip.

Kuroo was all too quick to free himself from the ash-gray slacks, sitting around his ankles as he carefully flipped your dress up. He yanked your panties to the side, the muted tan thong clinging to his digits. He peered down between both of you, the swollen head of his cock nipping at your entrance. He knew what awaited him in the few moments that were to pass, the cushy warmth of your walls, ensuring that every single roll of his hips were as smooth as silk. He wasted no time, sinking into you.

A strained mewl sang from your throat, your teeth suffering beneath the tensed clench. Merely with Kuroo fitting himself inside was enough to ruin your withholding nature. With a girth enough to stretch and heavy enough to fill, it was the perfect mix for a mind-numbing orgasm.

Kuroo breathed in the timeless sight, coaxing a shuddering whimper from his lips. His hands raced to your sides, desperately clutching at whatever he could. His hips sated you with languid drags, each one slower than the last. Again, you found yourself shrinking beneath Kuroo’s sights, only to be paired with a set of words you couldn’t anticipate for.

“Kiss me.”

You whipped your head away from his dotting eyes, flames of unease wafting about your tummy. “N-No, don’t make this the last time we do this, got it?” you griped, fighting back the moans clawing at your throat.

“Fine, but won’t you at least touch me, Y/N? I mean I’d hate for you to hurt those delicate hands of yours with that grip,” he suggested, referring to the pale appearance befalling your knuckles. You were adamant on keeping some space between you and Kuroo, but his gift for foresight never served you wrong.

Before making the attempt to move, his hands slid down to your wrists, bringing your arms to rest along his shoulders. Kuroo took the chance to close the distance, snuffing both his chest and length into you. Through the gently deep plunges of his cock, an arch had carved itself into your spine. With your senses overwhelmed, you couldn’t dare part from Kuroo’s hold, the curves of your nails etching into his back.

“Just like that, Baby. Use me, fucking use me,” Kuroo seethed, the whites of his eyes teasing the forefront. You could only gape at Kuroo, your walls fluttering around him. He’d become so lost in the moment, having his desired fill of you.

Your eyes came to a screwed shut, “What’re you doin’ to me Tetsu? You can’t keep talking like this,” you whined, burying your head within his chest. He hadn’t bothered with a response, there wasn’t a need for one. What more could be said about how the strokes of his shaft, so tender yet revoltingly addictive. Of course, that alone still couldn’t stop Kuroo from wanting to pick at your unhinged thoughts, in hopes that an incoherent confession would come to light.

“Do you think about me?” Kuroo posed to you, his voice gracing the shell of your ear. You gave him a mere shake of your head, which only allowed for him to continue pressing on.

“Y’know…when you’re all alone and use those damned toys I hate. Do you think about me, about how I can only make you feel this good. You don’t even have to lie to me, Princess…we both know you do,” Kuroo deduced cunningly.

As your mouth parted to speak, Kuroo took it upon himself to hear your voice sing a different tune. His laggard strides quicken increasingly, the pornographic clashes of skin bouncing off the walls. Your thighs were caught in a seizing hold, strangled gasps keening from out your lungs.

Kuroo gawked at the scene unfolding before him, all by his own makings at that. He knew that just off the wet pecks placed onto your cervix, the thumping veins dragging against your walls and the angle he took with his hips delivered such relief to your poor pent-up cunny.

“Shh, not so loud. Don’t want our guests to get curious, don’t you?” he hummed, bringing his hopeful kiss to you at last.

“Y/N, you know how much I love you, haven't left me since the day you said yes. It’s sad to see that I’m reduced to seeking around with you. Just take me back already,” Kuroo huffed, resting his forehead within the crook of your neck. Through the staggered breaths, you gave him the one response that was laced with possibilities, drawing in the climax of both highs.

“It’s love or lust, we’re just playing for the opposite sides, Tetsurou.”

#anime #x fem!reader #x female reader #reader insert #x black fem reader #x black reader #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo x you #kuroo imagine #kuroo smut #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo tetsurō #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo scenarios #[ ⭑—ex husbands ]

[ragingbookdragon]

Friends To Arranged Marriage To...Wait, How Many Kids?

Bruce Wayne x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 3K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: Y'all ever write a self-indulgent Friends To Lovers fic? 'Cause that's what this is. Enjoy! -Thorne

It wasn’t unusual for her to suddenly appear in his office. She did it most days. Okay, it was more like every day but that’s not important. The fact is, she showed up and he wasn’t at all the least bit surprised when she barged through the office door and slammed it behind her.

“Morning,” he murmured, taking his eyes off the screen but a moment to lock them with hers.

“Good morning, Bruce,” she responded with a polite smile. “We need to talk.”

That wasn’t unusual either. When she came to the office it was because she wanted to either complain about something going on or because she was bored and didn’t have anything to do, so badgering her best friend seemed like the best option. It wasn’t, but he wasn’t going to tell her that.

“What do we need to talk about?” Bruce questioned, clicking at the mouse until his screen loaded.

“Something important. Something especially important.” She replied and with one hand reached behind her and flipped the lock on his door.

Now that was unusual. And Bruce saw this going one of two ways and he hoped it wasn’t the first way that involved her pulling a gun.

“Okay,” he said and watched her out of the corner of his eye as waltzed around his desk and perched herself on the corner. “Am I in trouble, (Y/N)?”

“If you disagree with me, you will be,” she retorted and she started fumbling in her tote.

“You sound serious,” Bruce noted.

(Y/N) harrumphed. “I am quite possibly the most serious I’ve been in years.” She pulled out three manila folders and handed them to him, watching as he opened the first and started reading through it.

He didn’t say anything as he opened the others and read them but frowned when he set them aside and went back to his computer.

“I’ve already planned on a new secretary, (Y/N).”

She watched him with careful eyes and explained, “Those aren’t secretary files, Bruce. They’re marriage candidates.”

At that, his entire body went rigid and ever so slowly he drew his gaze from the screen back to her, staring her straight in the eyes.

“I…beg your pardon?” he asked as if not understanding what she’d just said.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and picked up the files. “Each of these women are successful elites from either Metropolis, Star, or Central City. You have arranged marriage meetings with them Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday to decide which one you want to marry.”

This was happening way too fast, and he still didn’t know what “this” was.

“I’m not opposed to marriage, (Y/N), but why?”

She pointed to the picture on his desk, and he briefly glanced at it. Him, Dick, and Alfred on Christmas morning last year.

“Dick needs a mother.” She was never one to mince her words. “A father can raise a son, but the boy needs a mother’s love too, Bruce.”

“I think you’re a bit out of line here.” He remarked, brows pulling together. “We’re fine at the manor.”

“Bruce…please don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re not a soft man. You’re hard edges and firmness, and while that isn’t a bad thing, Dick needs a mother who can be the parent that isn’t firm. He needs a mother’s guiding hand.”

She handed him the files again. “I’ve met each of these women. They’re good women who will make wonderful wives and even better mothers.” She stared at him. “You should know how important it is for a boy to have a mother.”

Bruce was on his feet in an instant, in front of her, eyes narrowed into a glare as he bit out, “(Y/N), now you’re out of line.”

“Really?” she challenged, not at all threatened by his towering figure. “Look my in the eye and tell me which parent you miss more. Thomas…or Martha?”

“I miss both of my parents. Every day.”

“And I don’t doubt that. But I know you miss Martha the most. Isn’t she the one you promised to save Gotham for?” (Y/N) questioned and his mouth snapped shut, jaw clenching tightly as he averted his eyes because he knew she was right.

She reached out and rested a hand on his forearm, forcing his eyes to hers once more; her gaze softened and she murmured, “You miss your mother more than the world, Bruce. How do you think Dick feels every night when he goes to sleep? Fathers are the protectors for their children, but mothers are the comforters—there are going to be things that you can’t help him with, but a woman can.”

(Y/N) gazed at him and pulled her hand away. “At least go and meet them,” she requested and when he didn’t say anything, she sighed and picked up her tote, making her way to the door.

She flipped the lock and paused, glancing over her shoulder to say, “At least think about what I’ve said, Bruce. For Dick…and for you.” He met her eyes and she added, “I think getting married would be good for you too.”

He nodded, and since that was all they could hope for, she left the office and Bruce collapsed into his chair, turning around to stare out the window.

***

His theory that she would show up Friday evening proved true when she waltzed into his office and took a seat in one of the leather chairs in front of his desk, delicately crossing one of her legs over the other.

“How’d the interviews go?” she asked, not even bothering to ask him how his day was or how his week had been.

“My day was great, (Y/N), thanks for asking,” he mocked with a glare and she waved it off.

“Interviews, Bruce. How’d they go.”

He let out a sigh. “They went well. Each of them was polite and kind.”

“And?” (Y/N) gestured for him to continue.

“And nothing. That’s it.”

She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “Seriously? You just met them for a singular purpose and all you’ve got it, they’re polite and kind?” She glared at him. “What’d you talk about?”

Bruce sighed again and reclined in his office chair. “Humanitarian works, college days, high society—you know, the usual.”

(Y/N) gave him an unamused look. “Did any ask for a second date?”

“All of them in fact.”

“Did you agree?”

“No.”

Her head lolled back, and she glared at the ceiling. “Did you even think about what I talked about a few days ago?”

“I still am.”

“Then why didn’t you agree to see one of them again?”

“Because there wasn’t anything we had in common.”

“Most people who have arranged marriages don’t, Bruce. That’s why you go on dates and get to know them.” Her eyes were still on the ceiling. “What’s the real reason you said no?” She always knew when he’d lied to her.

After a moment, he murmured, “…I didn’t think any of them would be suitable to be Dick’s adoptive mother.”

“I guess that’s…fair,” she agreed and they both fell silent.

A couple minutes later, he said, “I’ve been thinking about what you said though, (Y/N). About finding a wife who would be a good mother for Dick.”

“Uh huh.”

“I think you’re right. I do offer Dick everything a father could. Support, protection, guidance…but he is missing that love only a mother can give a son.”

“And how’s that making you feel?” she questioned softly.

His voice got quiet. “Like how I was when I was growing up without mother. (Y/N), I…I don’t want Dick to feel that way.”

At that, she drew her gaze from the ceiling to his eyes and she reasoned, “Then I think you should call one of the girls back and agree to a second date. You won’t find perfection in one day, even with how intuitive you are.”

Bruce shrugged. “I just want to find someone closer to Gotham. Someone who is familiar with us already.”

(Y/N) grunted. “I purposely moved away from Gotham because no one is.”

“That’s fair,” Bruce chuckled, and they fell into a silence again.

Suddenly, a thought flashed across her mind and she sat up. “Us.” She blurted out and he looked at her.

“What?”

(Y/N) gestured between them. “Us, Bruce. You and me.”

“I don’t follow,” he replied with a confused expression and she huffed, rolling her eyes.

“You’re an idiot,” she griped, then she stood and planted her hands on his desk, leaning over to get in his face. “You and I are the closest to Gotham as you’ll get, and I’m familiar with you and Dick.” She smiled. “Marry me.”

She could count on one hand how many times she’d ever stunned her best friend silent and that was number two because his jaw went slack and his eyebrows shot up to his hairline, steel blue eyes wide.

(Y/N) frowned. “Oh, come on, you can’t tell me the thought didn’t cross your mind at least once.” Silence. “Oh my God, are you serious? You didn’t even think about it at all? Like ever?”

He shook his head, mouth still hanging open.

“Oh, for God’s sakes, close your mouth and wipe that stupid look off your face. It’s not a completely inconceivable idea, you moron.” (Y/N) held a hand up, counting off her fingers, “I’m of acceptable status, I dress well, I’m thoroughly educated, I do humanitarian work all over the world, I love your son, and I’m probably the one woman that doesn’t make you wanna stab yourself in the eye with a fork.”

She grinned at him. “You’re not going to find anyone better than me here in Gotham, Brucie-boy. Besides, I think (Y/N) Wayne has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

Finally, he managed to make himself speak and he blurted out, “I stopped thinking like five minutes ago. I’m not even sure how to do that anymore.”

(Y/N) pulled a face and griped, “You’re an idiot.”

“I am not,” he retorted with a glare. “You can’t just propose to your best friend out of the blue and expect them to function like it’s normal!”

“You’re Batman,” she whispered. “Figure it out.” (Y/N) pointed at him. “There’s another plus on my side! I already know your deepest secrets! See, aren’t I a catch?”

“Was this your plan all along?” Bruce suddenly questioned and she gaped at him for a second before shaking her head.

“…No.”

“(Y/N),” he drawled, and she sighed.

“Alright, it crossed my mind a couple times but that’s why I started with the other women first. I was kinda hoping you’d pick one of them.” (Y/N) looked at him. “I really don’t see anything wrong with us getting married though. We’ve been friends since we were babies, we have a lot of the same interests, and we both care for Dick.”

She shrugged. “I mean we might not be in love, but our marriage doesn’t have to be. We’re stepping up for a greater good. For a young boy who deserves to have two parents.” (Y/N) reached out and held out her hand. “So? What do you say?”

Bruce gazed at her for a long time, longer than she was comfortable with because she knew he was mentally pulling her mind apart. After a few moments he stood and walked around the desk to stand in front of her.

She pulled her hand back in and gave a curious look. “Bruce?” His hands gently took hold of her cheeks and he leaned forward, even as her eyes went wide and she whispered, “Bruce, what—”

He softly brushed his lips against hers and (Y/N) all but melted against him, her hands pressed flat against his chest. They pulled away a moment later and he rested his forehead to hers.

“I think we can make it work, (Y/N).”

She couldn’t fight the giddy smile that came over her face. “Yeah?”

Bruce matched her smile. “Yeah.”

***

“So, you’re tellin’ me,” he started dubiously, looking at him. “That you and Ma only got together because you guys wanted to make sure Golden-boy had two parents instead of just you?”

Bruce didn’t even take his eyes off the screen as he responded absentmindedly, “That pretty much covers it.”

Jason threw his hands in the air. “There’s no way! There’s no way that shit was arranged! You two make googly eyes at one another when you think no one is watching and you kiss Ma before you go to work every day!” he looked at his brothers. “Y’all know what I’m sayin’ right?”

Tim nodded. “Jay’s got a point, dad. For an arranged marriage, the two of you are really in love.”

Dick placed a hand over his heart and smugly admitted, “You’re welcome everyone, for bringing mom and dad together in real love.”

A chorus of “Fuck you’s” echoed from Jason and Tim, and Damian placed his hands on his hips.

“When did you know you loved Umi, Father?”

Finally, he pulled his gaze from the Batcomputer, and even behind his cowl, they could see the love he had in his eyes and in his voice as he said, “Your mother and I dated for a year before we married, but the night of our wedding, we spent it at the manor and Dick crawled into our bed and spent the night wrapped in our arms.”

Bruce smiled. “I woke up early that morning and saw him curled in (Y/N)’s arms and all I could think was that I’d never loved a woman more than that moment then.” His eyes shifted to all of his sons. “And I’ve only fallen deeper in love with her with each of you that’s come into our home. You make us better parents every day and I wouldn’t change what I was given for anything in the world.”

He barely had time to breathe before all four of his sons were crashing into him, squeezing him as tears spilled down their cheeks.

Bruce huffed a quiet laugh and took a moment to brush a hand through each of his sons’ hair. “I love you, boys.”

A chorus of “I love you too’s” came back at him and before anyone could speak, they heard someone coo, “Aww, that’s so sweet!”

They spun around to see (Y/N) with her phone out, a mile-wide smile on her face, eyes shining with tears.

“Ma…what are you doing?” Jason questioned and she clicked something on her phone.

“Oh, nothing, my sweet boy,” she smiled, and all of her sons started pulling away from Bruce.

“Did you just record that?” Tim asked and she took a step back.

“I would never!” and she stared them down for a split second before spinning on her heel and hauling off towards the stairs. Her sons sprinted after her and she let out a squeal as she skipped the steps two at a time to get away from them.

“Ma come back here!” Jason shouted.

“Umi! Our dignity is on that phone!”

“I dunno, I think it’s sweet!”

“It’s not going to be sweet when she sends it to the group chat that every superhero is in, Dick! We have reputations!”

“Oh…that’s a good point, Tim. Mom! Come back here!”

(Y/N) gasped as someone’s arms wrapped around her waist and she came face to face with Bruce—well, Batman, and she yelped when he pulled her phone out of her pocket.

“Bruuuuuuce!” she whined. “Please don’t delete it!” (Y/N) reached for the phone and he held it out of reach. “Darling, my sweet darling, Bruce, please,” she plead. “If you love your wife and mother of your children, you won’t do that.”

His gaze darted to hers and she pouted, sticking her bottom lip out in the way that she knew he’d crack. “Please, my heart. Let me have a reminder of my beautiful boys.”

“You won’t send it to the chats?” he asked, and she crossed a finger over her heart.

“Cross my heart, darling.” He handed her back the phone and she smiled, leaning up to peck the corner of his mouth. “Thank you, Bruce.”

He cupped her cheek with his gloved hand, thumb brushing over her cheekbone and he pulled her into a real kiss, ignoring the exaggerated gags behind him.

“I love you,” he murmured as he pulled away from her lips. “More than you know.”

(Y/N) hummed, her eyes still closed, and she whispered, “You might love me more, but I love you most.” She opened her eyes and gazed at him. “All my boys.”

Suddenly, her phone started dinging like crazy and he stared at her, his Batman voice coming out as he surmised, “You sent it to the chat, didn’t you?”

She gave him an innocent smile and giggled, “I might’ve.”

“You’re going to pay for all the teasing that Hal and Barry are going to give me, (Y/N) Wayne,” he warned, and she scoffed.

“Oh, boo hoo, I’m so scared of what the big bad Bat is go—” a gasp escaped her when he hauled her up against his body and she stared at him with wide eyes.

A siren went off down in the cave and he looked towards the boys. “Go.” They all hurried off, complaining about the various texts they were all getting.

Bruce looked back at her, voice lowering as he growled, “After patrol I’m coming up to the bedroom and you’d better be ready, because I’m not going to stop ravishing you until you’re begging me for release.”

Something hot, tight, and fierce shot through (Y/N)’s gut and she could only flounder like a fish as he pulled her into another searing kiss before he spun on his heel and descended into the cave.

She gathered herself and called out after him, “You can’t just say something like that and then leave! That’s not fair, Bruce! Bruce, are you listening to me!”

Only his laughter echoed from below.

“Bruce!”

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x reader imagines #bruce wayne x reader imagine #bruce wayne imagines #bruce wayne imagine #batfamily x reader #batfamily x reader imagines #batfamily x reader imagine #batfamily imagines #batfamily imagine #batmom x batfamily #batmom imagines #batmom imagine #batmom #batfamily #bruce wayne #batman #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #tim drake #red robin #damian wayne #robin #dc comics #dc #dc imagines #dc imagine

[titan-fodder]

Prima Vista Part I

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 9.7k Warnings: dubious consent (because of alcohol), just copious amounts of sex, oral, squirting, 69ing, college shenanigans, obnoxious frat boys, terrible fashion choices A/N: At long last, here we have the beginning. Massive thanks to @pleasantanathema and @whats-her-quirk​ who have been cheering for me since I told them I wanted to right a “little college AU” for a “little collab” June and I have been planning for a while. Also, I don’t know where I’d be without Lauren’s fraternity knowledge, so extra thanks for that, babe. I hope everyone has as much fun with this fic as I did.

God, you hate frat boys. 

Their sense of entitlement, all their fucking house pride. Brother this, brother that. It's annoying. Add in the factors of being an athlete on top of it, and they're downright insufferable. 

So it makes absolutely no sense that you're at a fucking Pi Kappa Alpha party. 

Your friend, Hitch, dragged you here (naturally), and it wasn't like you could really object considering she's the only real friend you have on campus. You study together and switch off between dorms to watch movies and bitch about classes. She's the complete opposite of you in many different ways, but you soul-bonded over biology and that was that. 

Unfortunately, Hitch decided she would leave you to your own devices almost immediately, opting to skip over to a game of beer pong and flirt with a boy in her statistics class. You have no idea why considering he has a fucking bowl cut, but she's been talking about him for weeks now. 

The party is filled with loud music and too many people with red solo cups. There's no way they're all of age, so you're already paranoid that the cops are gonna raid the place, but there's nothing you can do besides leave. It's a tempting thought. 

Before you can, though, there's an uproar in the kitchen, and curiosity gets the best of you. Moving from your place against the wall, you make your way over to peek in and see what's going on. A large group of frat boys, what you think are sorority girls, and whoever else wants to join are raising their cups to cheer. An especially loud voice rings out above the rest, "One win down, eleven more to go!" 

Claps and supportive shouts are nearly deafening. 

"I think we can do it! Do you think we can do it?" 

More cheers, more hollers. 

"Let's hear it for UC lacrosse!" 

You have to cover your ears this time. Should have known this party was to celebrate the win earlier that day. 

When the crowd parts, you see the ringleader, Erwin Smith who is very well-known on campus for three reasons: he will talk your ear off about history if given the chance, he's irritatingly gorgeous, and he will fuck any pretty girl with a pulse. 

Again—you fucking hate frat boys. 

To ease your bad mood and possibly encourage you to have some semblance of a good time, you shuffle further into the kitchen to grab a drink. You feel a little exposed, not dressed like many of the other girls who are either in rompers or the classic sorority chick outfit (giant college shirts that cover their shorts). You are in a crop top, torn shorts, and a floral cardigan. Not your best outfit, not your worst. 

There's no way you're touching any of the pre-poured cups or the jungle juice, opting for an unopened can of mediocre beer. 

You feel someone approach you from behind, glance over your shoulder to see nothing but a broad chest covered by a fucking hawaiian shirt. 

Craning your neck, you're met with another familiar face, one Mike Zacharias known as 1) Erwin's best friend, 2) one of the tallest guys on campus, and 3) the best lacrosse player on the team. 

You haven't spoken a single word to him but that doesn't stop him from grinning at you, flipping shaggy hair from his face, and chanting a low, "Shotgun, shotgun, shotgun!" 

"Are you god damn joking me?" You ask with a raised eyebrow. 

"Hell no!" 

"I have shotgunned a beer literally once in my life, and at least half of it ended up on my shirt."

"That's alright," Mike's smile shrinks to a smirk. "We're all about getting chicks wet in Pike." 

Face falling, you scoff, "Yeah, okay, I'm leaving." 

You sidestep him, cracking open the beer, but he follows close behind you. It makes a little bit of fear spike in your gut—everyone knows the horror stories that accompany many fraternities—but you're mostly just annoyed. 

"Hey, what's your name again?"

Again. As if you've actually formally met before.

"Why do you care?" 

Mike does not hesitate when he answers, "'Cause you look like you're having a shit time here, and I'd like to change that."

You roll your eyes, let your head loll over your shoulder to look at him again. If you're being honest with yourself, he's kind of extremely hot with his undercut and flippy hair, not to mention the stubble that's grown out just enough to make you think thoughts for a split second.  

"A noble cause," you quip. "Truly." 

He chuckles, watching too closely as you take a sip of your beer. 

"So? Name?"

After too big of a swallow, you answer him, and light green eyes brighten a little. 

"Oh, you're Hitch's friend, right?" 

Of course that would be your only identifier on campus. Hitch is insanely pretty and very outgoing. It makes sense that people just know you as her tag-along. 

It doesn't stop you from feeling slightly offended, though. 

"Yeah, and you're Erwin's friend, right?" 

"Among other things," he snorts. "Mike Zacharias." He holds out a massive hand that you eye before taking, figure you shouldn't be too much of a bitch and make a bad impression on the most highly regarded frat at the college.  

"I know who you are, dude. Not many people don't."

"Aw, flatterer." 

That grin is back on his face, lopsided and far too charming, and you definitely need to get away from him before you down a couple more beers. 

"Freshman?" He pries, and somehow you wind up at the staircase, leaning against the wall and praying he'll just stand beside you instead of caging you in. 

He does, and you let out a breath of relief. 

"Sophomore."

His eyebrows shoot up for a second. "Fuck, you've made it through a whole year flying under my radar?" 

You give him a wholly unimpressed look. "Wow, you really know what to say to a girl, don't you?" 

"That came off as shitty, sorry. I just mean, like, you're super cute. Feel like I would have committed you to memory if I'd seen you."

Your face heats up probably more than it ever has in your life, but you still snap, "We haven't had a single class together, I never go to your games, and this is the first Pike party I've been to."

Mike nods. "Ah, that explains it. Just haven't given anyone a chance to notice you." 

"Sure, let's go with that."

Another several sips. You hiss at the taste, and Mike laughs. 

"Can't handle beer?"

"Can't handle shitty beer."

"Ouch. Want me to grab you something else?"

He really doesn't seem to understand the warnings all girls have heard over the years. That, or he just doesn't care. You don't know him well enough to pass that kind of judgement.

"Uh, no. I always make my own drinks at parties."

"That's understandable." Except it isn't. He doesn't have a clue. 

"Well, you can go grab one, and I'll just finish this one for you. Don't want it to go to waste."

It's your turn to smirk now. "That desperate to swap spit, Zacharias?" 

"Like this?" He laughs through his nose. "Nah. But I can think of other ways."

"We've been talking for literally two minutes."

"I'm perfectly capable of making decisions in two minutes."

"Not any good ones obviously."

Tilting his head, Mike thinks out loud, "Can't tell if that's an insult aimed at me or yourself." 

"Take it however you want. I don't really care."

His eyes glint with amusement. There's no way you're escaping this any time soon. 

Long, thick fingers close around the top of your can, and he gently tugs it out of your hand then keeps those eyes locked with yours as he takes a sip. 

"Gross." You try to keep the teasing tone from your voice. 

"Just go get another drink."

You actually listen, mostly to get away from him but also because you could go for something easier to stomach. 

A game of King's Cup is going on in the kitchen, a five obviously being drawn because everyone suddenly pantomimes holding a steering wheel. It's surprisingly fun to watch, so you post up next to the counter after mixing orange and pineapple juice with rum. 

"Four's whores!"

"Categories! Different beers!"

"Seven heaven!" 

"Ayyy, waterfall!" 

You shake your head as everyone drinks for way too long. Some people are already swaying in circles where they're sitting. Others are simply red-faced. 

"Wanna play?"

"Jesus! You came outta nowhere."

Mike looks too smug for your liking, but doesn't say anything, just crushes the empty can in his hand and throws it into the trashcan next to the back door, all gooseneck and perfect arch. 

"Let me guess—you're reigning champ at beer pong."

"Nah," he waves you off. "That's Erwin and Nile. King's Cup however…"

"King's Cup isn't even a competition. It's just flipping cards and getting fucked up." 

"Well, yeah, but it's still fun."

You let out a heavy sigh, eyes still trained on the game going on, then concede, "Once this one is over, I'll play. Just to get you off my back." And because he won't have the chance to talk to you for the duration of the game. 

"Excellent."

You manage to finish your drink by the time the round ends, have to rush to make another as Mike strides over to the table and steals the two seats that have been vacated. They're right across from each other. You don't know if you'd prefer that or just sitting next to him so he can't stare at you.

Sauntering over, you plop down and place your drink in front of you. The guy to your right is quick to introduce himself with hooded eyes and a self-assured smile. You give him basically the same treatment that you've been giving Mike, making him pout and turn away as a freckled girl deals out the cards. 

It's fast paced, and you find yourself drinking more than you'd planned. Mike picks you as his buddy (of course), and the guy next to you makes everyone drink for nearly thirty seconds straight when he pulls an ace. 

Still, you find yourself laughing as people scream and curse. You catch eyes with Mike often, and as you finish your second drink, he begins looking very attractive. More attractive than before. So attractive that you allow him to pour your third cup. 

"If you roofied this, I'm gonna be real upset with you," you tell him just before taking a sip. He added more rum than you did, but that doesn't surprise you. 

"Hey, one of Pike's virtues is being a gentleman."

As soon as he says it, about seven people around the table shout, "Pi Kappa Alpha!" like some kind of sports team, and you roll your eyes so hard it hurts. 

You're drunk after this game. And, then you make another drink and get plastered. Meandering around the rest of the party, bodies begin to blur together, the music fades in and out, and you barely know what you're saying to Mike anymore as he follows you close behind in the same state. For every drink you've had, he's had two, and now he's walking around with a cup full of jungle juice nodding at his brothers, smiling at all the girls who look at him.

His room is downstairs unlike most of the others, right at the end of the hallway. It makes it far too easy to end up inside, but as soon as the door closes and his huge hands find your hips, your world disappears entirely. 

*

The first thing you feel when you wake up is a nauseating pounding in your head. The second is a very large body behind you. 

God dammit, you think, trying to recall the events of the night before. 

Pi Kappa Alpha. Hitch left you, so you hung out with… Mike Zacharias? From the lacrosse team? 

Frowning, you try to look over your shoulder, but all you can really see is a head of hair. However, you can feel the coarseness of his beard against your bare shoulder, and that's enough to solidify that it is indeed Mike behind you. 

Shifting some brings more of your physical state to your attention—your naked chest under the blanket, the way your legs are pressed together, your pussy between your thighs… swollen? Jesus, what did he do to you last night? You can also feel something dry and crusty on your stomach which is both disgusting and relieving. At least he had enough sense to pull out. 

Luckily, his arm isn't wrapped around you which makes it much easier to sit up on your elbow. It takes you a while to locate your clothes around the room from where you are, and even then, all you can find are your shorts, shoes, and bra. You peer around, trying not to groan at the headache threatening to make you black the fuck out all over again, but that pounding as well as the nauseating churning of your stomach is making it difficult. 

You slide out of the bed, basically crawling to the little pile of discarded clothes. As you fumble with fastening your bra, you glance around one more time in search of your shirt and cardigan, but it’s no use. What you do see, however, is the obnoxious Hawaiian shirt  Mike had been wearing the night before, and well… You’d rather not leave the Pike house topless, so…

Snatching it off the floor, you slip your arms through the giant sleeves and somehow manage to button up about half of it. Then, you’re flying out the door, desperate to be in your own dorm, curled over your own toilet, in your own clothes. 

Oh, thank god his room wasn’t upstairs, you praise, trying to remember the way to the front door. There are numerous bodies and tipped over cups to navigate through, and you cringe at the various odors that assault your senses. 

You see the door from across the room, so close and getting closer as you try not to trip over anything, but as you pass the kitchen, you hear a smooth, familiar voice greet, “Good morning,” in a smug way. 

Erwin is leaning against a counter, smirking over a steaming cup of coffee. He’s wearing only sweatpants, his hair is a little mussed, and for a split second, you understand why he pulls so many girls. 

Still, you roll your eyes and continue moving—a classic DNE situation, but the frat boy doesn’t seem to get the message, instead calling out, “Nice shirt!”

“Fuck off, Smith,” is the only thing you utter before leaving, slamming the door behind you. 

*

Mike easily catches the frisbee that spins directly at his face then quickly throws it back to try and catch Nile off guard. It works, and the brunet curses and has to go running after the flying disc. 

A few girls watching from the nearby fountain clap and yell his name, wriggling fingers in a wave as if he can actually see that far away. Mike gives one wave of his own hand then turns back to the grass where Nile is jogging back to his place.

“You did that on purpose, you asshole!” He spits.

Mike shrugs his shoulders, yells back, “Get better at frisbee, and you won’t have this problem!”

Nile throws the plastic so hard that it flies off toward the fountain, making all those girls scream and dive for cover. 

“Yeah, I’m not getting that,” Mike shakes his head. Nile drags his fingers down his angular face before setting off on yet another trek, apologizing profusely then standing around to flirt like usual.

Blowing hair out of his face, Mike considers joining his brother, but before he can, he sees a familiar figure turning on the sidewalk, about to pass the fountain and head toward Hartley Hall. 

His feet are moving before he really registers it, glad his long legs can carry him quickly even at a walk. Mike calls out when he’s a couple yards away, and you turn to him, eyes growing wide before you start to move faster. 

He can just barely make out the words, “Nope. Not doing this,” and chuckles, catching up the rest of the way.

“Hey, chill, I just wanna talk.”

You turn to look at him, head tilted up, squinting against the sun, and Mike has never been more thankful for his height because you look so god damn cute all small and irritated with him. 

“What is there to talk about? I don’t even remember anything.”

“Yeah, neither do I,” he says, lacing fingers together behind his head. “Shame.”

“Whatever.”

Mike tries and fails to hide a snort, nods at Nile as you both pass him and the gaggle of girls surrounding him. Mike has no doubt his friend will get at least one phone number out of it, if not all of them. 

“Did you at least have a good time before you blacked out?” He ventures.

You shrug your shoulders, hitch your backpack up a little higher. “Maybe. But, if I was just around you the whole time, probably not.”

“Aw, come on! What did I ever do to you?”

“You need a list?”

Mike nods. “Would probably help.”

“For brevity's sake, I’ll just say that you started the night trying to get a literal stranger to shotgun a beer and ended the night fucking said stranger and… Not holding back, apparently.” Mike frowns, about to ask what you mean by that, but you elaborate before he can. Voice dropping, you question, “Do you have any idea how fucking sore I’ve been for the last few days? What the fuck do you even have hidden in those stupid shorts?”

“I’d be happy to show you again.” He grins sideways, and when you shoot him a venomous look, he figures it’s time to change the subject. “Anyway, I may have done that and more, but you’re the thief.”

“Excuse me?”

Mike tries to sound nonchalant as he accuses, “Stole my shirt and everything." Honestly, he's a little upset that he didn’t actually get to see you wearing it. 

“I—”

“That’s my favorite shirt, you know?”

You laugh. Finally. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely.”

“That shirt is fucking heinous, okay? You’re lucky I didn’t burn it.”

“Does that mean I can have it back?”

You make a little noise in your throat, something between a grumble and a growl, but you check your phone and tell him, “Fine. My next class isn’t for another couple of hours, so just…Follow me.”

It takes immense effort to not skip to your dorm like a little kid, but Mike is excited. He’s not gonna try anything weird, but just seeing your space? He’ll be able to get a better feel for you. So far, all he knows is that you live and breathe sarcasm and can’t handle your liquor well. It’s enough to get him a little more than interested, but it’s not enough to go off of.

The two of you gain a few looks as you make your way through the shared study space of the dormitory, heads turning, eyebrows raising in recognition. No one should be all that surprised; it’s not like Mike and Erwin haven’t frequented a lot of these rooms. 

You lead him down a hallway, and Mike looks at all the little dry-erase intro boards hanging outside of every door. He’s a little surprised to see that the one by yours isn’t blank. Your name is written in bubble letters, surrounded by little hearts, and when you catch him looking at it, you’re quick to tell him, “Hitch.”

“Ah. Of course.”

He follows you inside, staying by the door to not invade too much of your space, but he doesn’t even try to be subtle as he looks around the small room. Pennant for the college hung up over a cork bulletin board that’s a mess of photos and sticky notes. Cluttered desk with just enough of it cleared to fit a laptop. Tiny succulents on the window sill. Double bed covered in a quilt. And there, in the open closet, Mike catches sight of his shirt—pastel pink and littered with palm trees. 

After dropping your backpack on your bed, you step over to the hanging clothes and grab it, muttering, “Ridiculous,” as you hand it over.

Mike laughs as he slings it over his shoulder. “You know what’ll make you hate it even more?” You quirk an eyebrow, probably doubting that anything could, but your entire face falls when he informs you, “I have matching shorts to go with it.”

“No you do not.”

“Definitely do.”

“That should be a crime. You should be arrested.”

He chuckles, has a retort on the tip of his tongue, but something catches his eye—a bookshelf tucked away in the corner by your bed overflowing with novels and knick-knacks. Mike sees a particularly thick paperback, recognizing the black background and small desert picture on the spine.

“Bro!” He walks over, plants a hand in the middle of your mattress, and reaches for it. “Is this fucking Dune?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“This is, like, my favorite book, dude.”

“Seriously?” You sound just as disbelieving as you do disinterested. 

Mike begins flipping through it, scanning over highlighted passages as he nods. “I have the whole series back home, but I only brought this one and Messiah with me to college.”

He straightens up but keeps a knee on the edge of the bed, and you plop down to sit on it, watching him closely as he continues to look over the notes scribbled in the margins. 

“I had to read it in high school," you tell him. "Then my cousin gave me a lot of the books after I talked with him about it one time. I haven’t gotten around to reading them, though.”

“You really should,” Mike urges. “I mean, I know you probably have a shit ton of reading for classes, but if you ever get the chance, you should at least read the next two.”

“You some kind of closet nerd, Zacharias?”

“Kinda,” he admits, putting the book back on the shelf only to grab a worn copy of Fellowship of the Ring. “I mean, Erwin and a few others are well aware, but I don’t really broadcast it.”

“Not good for the cool guy image?” 

“Nah, people are just more interested in other things,” he mumbles, eyes fixed on the tiny print.

“Mike Zacharias,” his gaze flicks to you as you laugh quietly. “Lacrosse god and big fucking geek.”

He closes the book and uses it to lightly hit you on the top of the head with it. You half-heartedly smack him right in his abs only to push against the muscle harder and ask, “Jesus Christ, what do you have under there?”

“You know, that’s the second time you’ve asked what I have under my clothes,” he points out, a little too satisfied. “Better watch out, or I’m gonna start getting ideas.”

You huff, but your hand is definitely still on his stomach, unmoving but warm through his shirt. Mike told himself he wouldn’t do anything weird once he got here, but you’re already on the bed and touching him, and he’d kind of really like to have this particular experience while sober, so he very slowly takes your wrist and moves it away. 

It makes you look up at him, a question dancing in your eyes as your lips part. Mike makes sure his own stare conveys everything he’s thinking, wishes he could just transplant his thoughts into your brain so that he can put you a little more at ease around him. 

You’re onto him, though, tugging your hand from his grip and blinking a few times. He figures you’re about to point to the door and tell him to take his fucking Hawaiian shirt and leave. 

Instead, you pull on the fabric covering his ribs so that he loses his balance and has to catch himself before crashing into you. It puts his face level with yours, and you take the opportunity to kiss him—hard, desperate, and a little confused judging by the way you’re frowning. 

Mike grunts, holding himself up with the arm on the side of your hips then uses the other to slide under the thigh closest to him and pull you further onto the bed. He’s straddling you in no time, up on his knees so that he doesn’t crush you. 

Hearing the sound of shoes hitting the ground, he tugs his shirt off over his head, and then he’s curling over you again. Your mouths grow slick with spit. He slides his tongue past your lips, and you arch into him, fingers tangling in his hair. Mike pushes you back down so that he can strip you down to your bra and panties then takes the time to rid himself of his shoes and shorts.

“Oh, fuck,” he hears you breathe, and when he glances up at you, he finds you staring at what he knows is an intimidatingly large bulge under his boxer briefs. “It makes sense now—the soreness.”

Mike chuckles, slots his forearms on either side of your head and mutters, “Yeah, sorry about that.”

You lick his lips and he bites yours, bodies clashing together as he grinds himself against your covered pussy. Eventually Mike is able to snake a hand down your body, making sure to brush over your ribs so that you squirm beneath him. Fuck, he already loves the way you squirm. And, when he moves your panties to the side and teases your little hole, already wet just from making out, Mike discovers that he loves the way you moan too. 

He’s slow as he pushes a finger in, groaning when you clench around it. Pumping it in and out, he gently works you open and wonders if he was courteous enough to do this the other night. He hopes he was. 

You spread your legs for him, start bucking into his hand, especially when he hits that special spot inside you. 

“Fuck, fuck, fu—” You grab his face, bringing it close to yours again so that you can muffle curses against his lips. 

When Mike adds a second finger, your jaw drops, and you start to tremble. 

“Too much?” He asks.

You shake your head, stutter a breathy, “N-no. Just—ah—slow. Go slow.”

He moves to suck on your neck, promising, “I will.”

Mike waits until you’re dripping into his palm and spread about as widely as you can be underneath him. Then, and only then does he shimmy out of his underwear and question, “Condom?”

“Bookshelf,” you huff. “In the jewelry box.”

When he opens it, a little ballerina spins, and Mike has to laugh at the ridiculousness of it. “That’s twisted.”

“Shut up.”

He grabs one of the gold packages and tears it open, then rolls the latex over his cock and discards the wrapper somewhere. 

Mike only gives you his tip first, sits right inside your entrance so that you can squeeze him and get used to the feeling before he pushes in any more. You barely shift your hips back and forth, like an experiment. It’s just enough for Mike to see slick coating the end of the condom, and he nearly starts drooling.

He presses in a little more, appreciates the way your eyes roll into the back of your head, then adds one more inch.

“Jesus Christ.” Your breaths are coming in short gasps, words slurring together. He’s not even halfway in, and you’re already fucked out. 

Your cunt is spasming around him, and Mike tries to get you to relax more by lightly rubbing your clit with the pad of his thumb. 

You leak around him, pussy slowly but surely opening up a little more so that he can slide in further. He gives a few shallow thrusts that make you whine, then reaches up to grab one of your pillows which only sends him deeper. 

“God dam—”

Mike lifts you and shoves the pillow under your hips, smiles in a way he’s pretty sure you hate, then jokes, “Better to fuck you with, my dear.”

“In...sufferable…” The annoyed tone is lost when you cry out. Mike buries himself as far as he can without hurting you. He isn’t quite balls deep, but you feel so fucking good that he doesn’t even mind. 

Starting a steady rhythm that has every upthrust dragging over your g-spot, Mike watches through foggy eyes as your mouth opens and closes, chest rising with stuttering breaths before you exhale and moan. He dips his thumb between your folds to gather a little bit of slick and return it to your clit. The circular motion makes you arch again, and Mike abandons the little bud for just a moment so that he can unclasp your bra and pull it off. The sight of your tits bouncing in time with his thrusts almost does him in, but he holds back, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to gather himself.

You’re just clamping around him so perfectly, pussy drooling and creaming on his cock, and Mike is not a quickshot, but for you—

He pulls out all at once, flips you so that you’re on hands and knees, then spreads you open to lick into you from behind. 

“Holy—” 

Mike’s cock is throbbing where it bobs against his stomach, but he can ignore it for the most part, focused on eating you out, sucking at your messy lips then dragging the flat of his tongue over your hole. He moves his face back and forth, wants to leave his mark on you in the form of stubble burn between your legs. 

“Mike, Mike, fuck, please.”

He’s positive you can’t actually hear him when he teases, “Please what?” right into the crevice of your ass. 

You growl, push against him, and swallow enough pride to beg, “Please fuck me.”

Biting his lip, Mike straightens up enough to watch his fingers disappear into your pussy. One, two, then a third that makes your messy entrance stretch for him. He lowers his face again, feather light licks around your sensitive hole, and when he twists his wrist so that he can tap on your spot, you come immediately. 

A mixture of slick and squirt drips from your cunt and soaks into your quilt. Mike pushes more out as he continues to finger fuck you, humming at the way your arms give out and you fall against the mattress. 

This is the perfect position for him. He replaces his wet fingers with his cock and ruts into you quickly, chasing after his own impending orgasm. Pretty little whimpers fall from your lips, fuck drunk as you babble, “Oh, god, Mike, Mike, fuck…”

He’s gripping your hips too tightly, pulling you back against him, shoving his cock deeper and deeper until he finally comes with a shudder and a low groan. 

Mike pants for a few seconds, then leans down to press a few kisses to your spine, but instead of the usual happy sighs he gets from most girls, you just roll your shoulders and mutter, “Stop that.”

He does, then pulls out, takes a second to stare at your pussy—worked open from his size and still dripping. It would make a very pretty picture, but Mike wouldn’t dare try that with you. 

You roll onto your back, a huff of air leaving your lungs as you scrub a hand over your face then tilt your head to him. It looks like you have something to say, but you just chew on your bottom lip, eyes moving from Mike to the door.

And, he can take a hint. You don’t have to say it. 

With a self-deprecating snort, he pulls the condom off, tying it then tossing it into the trashcan by your bed. 

“Yeah, okay,” he nods. “Let me just…” Mike tugs his clothes back on, kindly tosses you your top so that you can cover yourself like you obviously want to. 

He makes sure to grab the Hawaiian shirt that brought him here in the first place, tossing it over his shoulder then striding to the door. 

Chancing one more glance at you, you force a smile and try to pad his bruised ego. “Don’t worry, it was good. You were good. It’s just not gonna happen again.”

Mike fights a smirk, raises a hand in a wave, then steps out.

Not gonna happen again, he chuckles to himself. Yeah, right.

*

You don't understand how this keeps happening, how you keep ending up in bed with Mike fucking Zacharias. 

This time you had gone to the disgusting bar right off campus, got one whole drink in your system before the familiar trio walked in. They were all in khakis and pastels—Erwin in blue, Nile in yellow, Mike in pink. Again. 

You actually slammed your head down on the bartop because despite how basic he looked in his light polo, Mike was still hot. 

Is still hot. 

Back at the Pi Kappa Alpha house, you're a mess of limbs on his bed. You take immense pleasure in tugging his shirt off, and once his arms are free again, he's lifting the hem of your little skirt and mouthing over your thong. 

You're more than tipsy after a couple more drinks but nowhere near as drunk as you were the first night. It hadn't taken much convincing from Erwin for you and Hitch to play pool with them, and when Mike had come up behind you to help you line up your shot, you knew you were a goner. 

While he's busy between your legs, you take off your shirt and bra. Green eyes flick up as soon as you toss both articles on to the floor, and without any hesitation, Mike reaches up to grope your tits. 

He's clumsy and distracted as he tongues over the warmth pooling in your underwear, squeezing plump flesh and pinching your nipple so that you whine and push your hips further into his face. 

Mike groans, just as drunk if not more so. He's messy as he kisses your thighs, nearly rips your thong when he pulls it off of you. 

His tongue feels good, too fucking good as he laves over your entrance, soothing an ache that isn't quite there anymore but definitely was a few days ago. 

"Taste so fucking good," he grumbles, slurping and sucking and making you squeeze your thighs around his head. 

"Okay," you pant. "Okay, okay." You grab him by the hair and lift his head from you, stomach flipping at the sight of the bottom half of his face absolutely covered in slick. 

God dammit, why is he so sexy? 

Your mouth waters, and the thought of possibly giving him head this time crosses your mind. You're just inebriated enough to stay relaxed, didn't drink to the point of throwing up, and he has gone down on you the last two times so... 

Lizard brain taking over, you sit up, tell him to flip over, then start making your way down his body. 

Mike grabs you before you can turn to face him, fingers digging into your thighs and pulling you down to sit on his face. 

"Fucking—I'm trying to blow you, for Christ's sake."

He moves his head just enough to tell you, "So? You can do that while I do this."

And, he's not wrong. It just means that you're gonna get distracted. 

For a while, all you can really do is control your breathing and undulate on top of him, but eventually you fall to your elbows and lick up his shaft from base to tip. 

Mike really does have a nice cock—a beautiful cock—bigger than you've ever taken in terms of both length and girth, and veiny in the perfect way. Even his balls make your pussy throb, large and round, the right just slightly bigger than the left and now dripping with saliva as you lower your mouth further and further onto his cock. 

The feeling of his tongue buried in your cunt is making you delirious, eyes rolling, muscles going slack as you gurgle around the tip hitting the back of your throat. 

Mike groans into you, his legs starting to shake, and you assume in your half aware state that he's trying to not just skull fuck you into oblivion. 

You know you're making a mess, both on his face and on his cock. The fingertips that have been holding you open shift, one of them slipping into your clenching hole, and your hips begin to move on their own volition, riding what he'll give you while moving your tongue back and forth. 

You've only taken about half of him, doubt you can take any more. He's hot and heavy in your mouth, and when you pull off to breathe, you can taste pre cum on the back of your tongue. 

It triggers something in you, makes you raise up and clumsily turn around so that you can work him inside of you. 

Mike groans a long, "Fuuuck," and immediately starts thrusting upward. 

You're lucky you're as wet as you are, but the burn that comes with getting so stretched out still makes you hiss. You brace yourself on his broad chest, feeling the dampness of sweat forming a sheen on him, and your own body starts to feel too hot. 

You had wanted to ride him to feel in control of the situation for once, but you quickly realize it's not gonna happen, Mike gripping your hips and moving you how he sees fit. 

He's raw this time, a thought that should scare you, but he feels so good even through the discomfort. Every vein and ridge hits all the sweet spots inside of you, the flared head of his cock smooth as it presses just where you need it to. 

You're squirting again—he just seems to be able to fuck it out of you. It's not the high you're looking for, but the release in pressure still feels divine. 

Mike seems to enjoy it too because he looks down at where you're connected, swears at the way you gush on his cock, then starts swiping fingers over your clit so quickly it almost hurts. 

More fluid leaks from you, and Mike breathes a low, "Come on, baby, come on, 'm gonna fuck you dry tonight." 

Hearing him talk like that—his hand rubbing over your overstimulated clit, his thick cock threatening to split you in two—causes heat to travel up your legs and down your arms until it settles in your stomach and floods you. 

You cry out, stars and tears behind your eyes as Mike keeps going, taking everything he can from you until he's laying in a huge wet spot in his bed. 

He lifts you just in time to shoot cum upward on your chest, white splattering then dripping down in strands to pool on his stomach. 

You stare down at him, mouth hanging open and find him looking up at you with the same expression. 

It's hands down the best sex you've ever had, but you're not about to tell him that. Instead, you dismount him like the fucking horse he is and stand on weak legs, actually have to lean on the bed for support. 

"Just stay the night." His voice is deep and full of gravel. It's entirely too hot. 

"Absolutely not." You shake your head, grab your shirt and his boxers then ask, "Where's the nearest bathroom?" 

"Down the hall on the right, but you don't have to sneak out the window or anything. Just use the front door if you're tryin’ to run away."

You can't help but snort. Stupid. "I'm not trying to escape, dummy. I just need to pee." 

"Oh. Right."

You slip out of the room, hoping it's late enough for everyone to be asleep, but you have no such luck as the door to the bathroom opens and fucking Erwin steps out. 

He hums, looking you over for a moment as his lips lift on one side. 

"Don't say anything," you grit through your teeth. 

He holds his hands up in surrender, chuckles, acting all innocent. "Wasn't going to."

You squint, not believing him for a second, then move around him to get to the bathroom. Before you can shut the door, you hear him mutter, "Another one bites the dust," and consider running out and strangling him.

*

"Please please please come with me to this game," Hitch begs, her hands clasped together, imploring eyes wide and doe-like. 

"No. You have plenty of other friends to go with. You don't need me there."

"But, I want you to be there. It's gonna be such a good match. Rival schools and all that."

You roll your eyes. "Hitch, in all the time you've known me, have you ever seen me give a single fuck about sports?" 

"No, but you'll finally get to see Mike and Erwin and Nile play."

"All the more reason not to go."

"Do you not like them or something? Why wouldn't you like them? Everybody likes them!" 

She doesn't know, and you don't want her to. She had been too caught up with that Marlowe kid at the party, then was kept busy playing pool with Nile to see you and Mike slip out of the bar together. 

It's the only secret you've ever wanted to keep from her. You will take it to the grave. 

"I just… I just don't, okay? I get a… Sleazy vibe from all of them."

You really don't. Not exactly. You're not a big fan of the 'fuck-every-chick-on-capus' mentality, but most college boys think like that. Only difference is these three can actually achieve it. 

Hitch crosses her arms over her chest and gives you a look you've seen on your mother's face many times, usually when she has a point to prove. 

"You know I'm just gonna keep bothering you until you come to one, so why not just get it outta the way?" 

And, there's that point. 

"Ugh." You know she's right, and you really can't put up with this all semester. "Fine, but I'm gonna bitch the entire time."

Hitch squeals and claps, bouncing where she stands. "Yes! Wouldn't have it any other way."

You dress in school colors, put your hair up so that it won't be on your neck as the sun beats down, then take Hitch's little hatchback to the field. You try to talk her into sitting toward the back of the crowd that's gathered on the bleachers, but she just pulls you to the front without acknowledging your request. 

Even with the helmets, you can easily make out who's who, mostly because of their size. Mike and Erwin are doing some kind of pregame ritual where they hit their sticks together, shout something, and chest bump. It's the most alpha thing you've ever fucking seen and makes you question why you ever thought screwing one of them was a good idea. 

To be fair, you never really did think it was a good idea. It just kind of happened. Three times. 

But, it needs to stop. 

You repeat that thought to yourself as you watch Mike sprint across the field and launch the ball into the goal several times. You repeat it as he dances around his opponents with ease, quick footwork until he can throw them off. You repeat it as he stands on the sidelines and takes his helmet off to shake out sweaty hair and squirt water into his mouth. 

And, none of it really helps. Mike is pretty incredible on the field, especially with Erwin and Nile backing him up. Everyone in the stands is screaming, yelling their names and chanting. It's a little contagious, you have to admit. You get as far as clapping but refuse to actually cheer. 

At some point, Erwin jogs over to the bleachers and waves his arms for everyone to get louder, and they sure do. Even through his helmet, you can see his sparkling white smile, and your own lips curl up as you shake your head at him. Unbelievable. He has all these people at his beck and call. 

Erwin has to get back on the field, though, fueled by the crowd like the other nine players. They end up pulling ahead of the other team and finishing the game eleven to seven. 

Naturally, Erwin announces a party at the Pike house, and naturally, Hitch drags you to it. 

This one is even bigger than the last. It offends every one of your senses—too loud, alcohol permeating the air, bad drinks, worse dancing, and strangers rubbing against you as you pass them. 

You give up on your beer before you’re even halfway through with it, just set the can on one of the counters and start milling around. You’d rather be anywhere else but here. Your head hurts from the game earlier, baking in the sun and not drinking enough water. Should’ve taken an Advil… And some Benadryl. Hitch wouldn’t have been able to bring you here if you’d been unconscious. 

All of the lacrosse team is there, flanked with guys who won’t stop slapping them on their backs and girls who won’t stop batting their eyes and squeezing their biceps. It’s comical, really, the fairweather trend. There’s no way this would be happening if they’d lost their last three games. Instead, the team would be getting harassed and pestered, not so subtle comments about practicing more and replacing members. You’ve seen it all before. 

Leaning against a wall, you watch it all unfold. It’s probably the most entertaining thing at the party other than the group of sorority girls dancing on a table. Things are getting out of hand already, and you would prefer not be here for the aftermath, but just as you're about to leave, Mike breaks away from the group and strides over to you.

“Hey, didn’t expect to see you.” He takes a sip from his cup, smiling around the rim.

You use your usual excuse: “Hitch,” and he nods. 

“Right. Did you watch the game today?”

Crossing your arms, you mumble a, “Yes,” that Mike can’t hear but can definitely see.

He beams then asks, “You gonna tell me I played well? ‘Cause I did.” He’s all cocksure and giddy, and it makes your body run hot in a few different ways.

“I don’t think you need anyone else fawning over you,” you say with a condescending laugh.

“You mean you don’t want me to flex for you?”

“I’m leaving. Right now." When you push past him a little too roughly, it causes him to drop his cup, and your shirt is suddenly plastered to your chest and stomach. The white isn’t discolored, which leads you to believe, “Fuck, is this just straight vodka?”

“No, Christ,” he cringes at your wet state, looking genuinely apologetic. “It’s just water. Sorry.”

You scrunch your top up to wring it out, wondering what he’s doing drinking water instead of liquor, but you’re not about to pick on him for staying hydrated. 

“It’s fine. I was about to leave anyway.”

He’s quick to stop you with a, “No, don’t. Just… change into one of my shirts or something."

Narrowing your eyes, you contemplate how many ways this can go wrong, how much you should not allow this, and even go as far as accusing, "You're just trying to get me in your room again."

"You wanna stay in a wet shirt?" Not really. "Come on."

He jerks his head toward the hallway, and you end up following him, grumbling the whole time because you swear to God if you end up on your back for him again, you're going to be very upset with yourself. 

Mike beelines it for his dresser as soon as you're in the room, much quieter than the rager outside. He digs around in it, flipping all the way to the bottom then pulls out a heather gray tee. 

"It'll probably still be a little big, but it's from high school, so you shouldn't drown in it."

He tosses it to you then, to your surprise, turns back to the wall to give you the privacy to change. You eye him the whole time, peeling off your top as well as your bra since it soaked through. His shirt still covers your little shorts, and you assume you look a lot like one of those sorority girls, but it's good enough, has that super soft feeling from being worn too much. 

"Thanks. You can, uh… You can turn around now."

Mike looks over his shoulder, like he's making sure you're decent, then turns around fully. 

"I was trying to get outta there anyway. Spilling a drink on you was a good excuse."

You open your mouth, choking on a scoff, then ask, "Did you do that on purpose?" 

"No! It really was an accident. I'm glad it was just water, but I still feel bad."

You're squinting at him, but now you're curious about something else.

"Why'd you wanna get away from the party?" 

Sighing, Mike shows a tired smile. "Honestly, I'm still worn out from the game. I'm already sore and covered in these god damn bruises. I just wanna relax."

"If you're covered in bruises, I can't imagine how the other team feels. You smacked the shit outta some of 'em."

"So, you were watching."

"I may have glanced up once or twice," you lie. "Anyway, why don't you just hide out in here?" 

He shrugs his shoulders. "Erwin insisted I show my face, and I didn't want him to give me shit about being a recluse."

You can relate. It's why Hitch drags you everywhere. You wouldn't even leave your dorm for classes if you didn't have to. 

Still. "Dude. You're definitely not a recluse. You're fucking everywhere. All the time."

"So? I can get tired too."

He's got a point. 

"Can we just chill in here for a while?" He asks you. 

"Why do you need me to chill? You basically just said you needed a break from social interaction."

"Yeah, but not all social interaction," he corrects with a small grin. "Please? I've got movies and video games, Zelda and shit."

Again, the contemplation kicks in, all the pros and cons. You know very well what this can (will) lead to, but you also want to escape the party. And, if Hitch whines about you leaving, you can tell her you were there the whole time. Not like it's a lie. 

"Fine, but I have some stipulations."

"Oh, do you?" 

"I do."

Mike waves a hand for you to go on. "Let's hear 'em then."

Holding up one finger, you tell him, "You have to let me snoop around your room—" he laughs. You lift another finger, "—and we are not, under any circumstances, having sex."

"Deal." 

You tilt your head, taken aback at how quick he is to agree. "Wait, seriously?" 

"Seriously. Go ahead. I'll pull up Hulu."

You hum, still suspicious, but start making your rounds, taking in photos from what you assume to be the high school soccer team he played on, then a fishing trip with Erwin, a middle-aged couple with a dog, and some pinned up tickets to sporting events he's attended. 

He has a bookshelf against a wall, textbooks at eye level, but the top and bottom shelves are filled with sci-fi and fantasy novels that make you smile. His TV is fairly large, big enough to see the picture from his bed which is also sizable and draped with a plush comforter. The last thing that catches your eye is his closet, halfway open and full of jerseys and Polos. A few different pairs of shoes sit at the bottom, but pushed all the way in the corner are a few boxes of fucking Magic the Gathering cards. 

"Oh, man. You really are a closet nerd. Like, literally."

"Huh?" Mike looks over at where you're kneeling, realizes what you're looking at and actually sounds self-conscious when he admits, "Yeah, uh, I wasn't joking the other day." 

"I've never played—too technical for me—but my friends in high school did."

"There are baseball cards back there too if that makes me any cooler."

"It doesn't," you say bluntly before straightening up and reaching to shut the door to his room. Plopping down on the floor next to him (where he was smart enough to sit), you add, "But even I can admit it's kind of endearing."

"Oh yeah?" He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, that stupid lopsided grin on his too-handsome face. 

"Don't get cocky, Zacharias." 

"You wouldn't let me if I wanted to."

Both of you agree to a Batman movie, and you make yourself comfortable, kicking your sandals off and leaning against the bed behind you. You're a little too aware of Mike's body beside yours, but you're able to ignore it for the most part, keeping a few inches between your arms and legs. Of course, he still brushes against you when the movie ends and he takes the time to stretch. His shoulders roll, making his shirt strain over his back, and when he holds his arms out, linked at his fingers, you can't help but take a quick look at his bulging biceps. 

"Fuck, I'm gonna feel like garbage tomorrow," he complains. You can see the bruises littering his arms, some of them thick lines while others are almost perfectly circular from where he was hit with the end of a lacrosse stick. 

"You have any classes?" You ask. 

"Just my ten o'clock and three o'clock."

You make a noise of acknowledgement then fall silent. You're not sure how to hold a conversation with him that isn't sarcastic or snippy since you haven't actually done a lot of talking in the first place. 

"Sucks," is all you can come up with. 

"It's alright. I've probably dealt with worse."

"Probably?" 

"Well, nothing really comes to mind, but I'm sure I have."

You should get going. It's late, and you have a nine AM tomorrow. Plus, the longer you sit next to Mike, the more ideas pop up in your head. Dirty ideas. Ideas that will leave you disappointed in yourself. 

"Well, I'm gonna head back. This has been…" You're unsure of what word to use, don't want to get his hopes up by saying 'fun'. 

Mike figures you out and offers, "Tolerable?" 

"Yeah, we can go with that. I'll get your shirt back to you sometime soon."

Mike chuckles and gets to his feet. "Just whenever you can." He grabs your wet top from the ground and holds it out to you, then reaches for the door as you slip on your sandals. 

You feel him close behind you, close enough for his chest to push against your back when you straighten up. His arm is pressing into your side, hand curled around the knob and twisting it, but he's unable to open the door as you let your head fall against it. 

"God dammit." 

"Hm?" You can tell he's leaning down because his breath falls just over your ear. 

"I said we weren't—"

He cuts you off, "But, you want to."

He's too hot and too smooth, and you can’t stop yourself from turning around and breathing, "Yeah, I want to." 

It's different tonight. Mike takes his time undressing you, kissing and sucking your neck, your collarbone, your nipples that pebble against his tongue. It's unnerving even as you squirm and moan. 

He eats you out lazily, flattening his tongue against your folds then dipping into your slit so that he can slip into your twitching hole. 

When he adds a finger, you immediately grind down on it, silently begging him to work you open enough to take his cock, but he doesn't move any faster, apparently content to just drive you insane. 

You're nearly begging by the time he turns you on your side and moves to lay behind you, hiking your leg up and pushing most of his length inside of you in one faultless motion that makes you choke and sob his name. 

That stretch is back, delicious as it is painful as he splits you open. His thrusts are the same slow pace, cock dragging against gummy walls as he drapes an arm over you to toy with your swollen clit. 

It takes you both longer than usual to come, but when you do, your whole body trembles against him, and you have to suck in several deep breaths until you feel like your lungs start actually filling with air. 

Mike paints your back with warm cum, groaning right in your ear as he rubs against you, his cock sliding easily up and down your skin and making more of a mess. 

That unnerving feeling blooms in your chest again, crawls up into your throat. 

Tonight had been too casual, too natural. The way you hung out and watched a movie was already a little strange. Him fucking you from behind, holding you tight against his body, was too tender. And, now, after he leaves to grab a wet towel and uses it to clean your back, you find yourself searching for words again only to come up with passionate—intimate. 

And, words like that scare you.

[ n e x t ]

#miche zacharias x reader #mike zacharias x reader #aot x reader #snk x reader #aot fanfiction #attack on titan fanfiction #mels prima vista #mels frat house

[sweeterthansammy]

Sex Pollen || Loki Laufeyson

Loki Laufeyson x Fem!Reader; The reader is Loki’s enemy.

Summary: Thor decides that it’d be funny to pull a prank on his brother. Y/N happens to be stuck in the room with Loki at the time of execution.

Genre: Smut

Written in third person point of view.

Warnings: Oral (male receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, sex pollen (?), and mild language

Word count: 2.1k+

A/N: I'm not too sure how I feel about this one, I was kind of just writing a fuck ton of randomness that came to me. I hope it makes sense or it at least comes together :)

“And that’s why you’re adopted!”

Loki had no clue that earthlings could have such an influence on Thor, the words spewing out of his mouth sounding very much like something Y/N would say. He and Thor could spend hours jabbing hurtful comments at one another without letting it bother them but that cut deep for some strange reason.

He looked up at the series of chuckles and hisses and ‘oohs’ he’d gotten from the group around him. He especially looked at Y/N who broke into a full guffaw, high-fiving Thor before squishing into the free space near him on the couch.

“Oh come on, that’s not something he hasn’t said to me before,” Loki sassed, watching the way Thor rested a hand atop the spans of Y/N’s clothed knee.

The two were undeniably attracted to one another, but they were far too stubborn to actually say anything. They spent most of their time trying to take down the other and spiking petty arguments between themselves. Y/N’d made some quite suggestive moves before though.

As a recap, she’d handcuffed him to his bedpost, she’d used the excuse of someone being in her bathroom, his shower being the only available one at the moment, and she’d purposely use him as a partner on the rare occasions of him accompanying them on missions. She thought she was giving him the upper hand, making herself as available as she could be.

“Don’t be mad that I haven’t taught you good comebacks, Laufey,” she chuckled, adding a wink as he had failed to remove his eyes from her.

“I don’t need anyone to teach me anything. And I most definitely don’t need you to teach me anything.”

He stormed out of the lounge, the rest of the group stifling many laughs.

“Well that was something,” Nat chortled, breaking into a full fit of laughter the moment she looked at Y/N.

“I am so proud of you, Thor,” Y/N giggled, throwing her arm around the god’s broad shoulders.

“That was nothing, dollface. I’ve got a lot more up my sleeve and you will be so much more proud of me.”

She pat his back as he stood, everyone following suit as they all went off to do their own things. She muttered under her breath, the sound of the shower already running in her bathroom.

“Nat!” she called out, earning no response as the redhead was singing along to some old tunes.

She spun on her heels, throwing her towel over her shoulder before venturing off to use someone else’s shower. No one had an available bathroom...weird for a 93-story facility. Finding that there were no available bathrooms except for Loki’s, she rushed into the bathroom, trying to not be noticed by the God of Mischief. He laid on his couch, legs thrown over the armrest as his eyes scanned through a book.

There was something relaxing about his shower, or maybe it was just the scent of him that bounced off the walls, but Y/N pushed that thought aside, holding her hand out under the water until it was moderately warm, progressively getting hotter and hotter. She ran her hands down her neck, fingers prodding at the stiff cords.

She sighed as the water hit her back with comfortingly hard pressure. It was much needed after a long night of fighting off a Russian mob. She finished running her hands over her body, bubbles of soap tickling her leg as she submerged herself under the stream of water. She grabbed her towel, running her wet hands down her face before wrapping her towel around her chest.

As she stepped out of the shower, she hurled into her stomach, an intense throbbing sensation between her legs.

“What the fuck-”

She bit her lip, squeezing her legs shut as a sudden warmth shot through her. Her head was growing foggy, her skin feeling as if she were tossed into a sauna.

She felt dragonflies zipping through her guts, the urge to find immediate relief singing in her head. She held onto the rim of the sink, fingers digging into the fabric of her balled-up clothing as she bit down on the skin of her arm, silencing any moans or outbursts of profanities.

It was nearly dark in Loki’s room as she stepped out of the bathroom, nothing but a lamp faintly illuminating the large space. She reached for the doorknob, the sensation in her core becoming too much to handle. She cried out, silently begging the Lord to keep that towel up. She felt the heat crawling up her skin again, this time as she looked over to where Loki’s floor was exposed to the entrance.

“Oh my god,” she muttered, watching as his hands pumped up and down his cock.

Her airways were slowly shutting down and her hands were creeping closer and closer to her lower half. She let out a vulgar cry when her finger swiped up her cunt, collecting her juices, before slipping into the available spot between her walls. Her back arched, fingertips grazing against her cervix as she parted her legs.

“Loki – Loki,” she called out, eyebrows furrowing as her fingers worked to bring her to an orgasm.

She watched as he finally turned to look at her, pupils blown wide as worked to make himself cum, too.

“Fuck me, please,” she begged, knees bumping one another as her fingers’ pace never faltered. “I know you want to.”

He groaned at that, laying back on the bed before looking over at her again. She took that as her invitation, removing his loose white tee with much speed before she kneeled beside him.

“So fucking gorgeous,” he grunted, hands still pumping his cock as his free hand worked two fingers into her greedy cunt.

“Fucking hell, Loki!”

This was a different, very different, sensation. His fingers were long, his skin was soft, his veins were bulging out beneath his pallid skin. She put both of her hands to use, slapping his aside before pumping him into her mouth. She allowed her jaw to fall completely slack, fitting whatever she could into her mouth. He groaned at the feeling - a nice, warm place to nestle his cock, coaxing him further to a release.

His fingers curled inside of her, grazing against her g-spot. She groaned around him, back arching into nothing as he continued to nudge at that spot. He looked so gorgeous, his hair far more of a curly mess than before, the vein down the sides of his neck protruding as her cheeks hollowed out.

He pulled his fingers out of her, humming as he placed both fingers in his mouth. He placed his hand at the back of her head, pulling a gag from her as he pushed her head farther down once before completely removing her mouth from around him.

“Get on your back,” he spoke quietly, voice dripping in libido as she looked up at him.

“What?”

“On your back, doll. Wanna finish inside of you.”

Goodness, gracious-

“Now.”

She was too busy in her head, drooling at the sight of him kneeling in front of her. She just wanted him to fuck her face, but after all, she requested that he fuck her cunt. His fingertips were on her shoulders in an instant, gently shoving them backward.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, pup.”

She obliged in seconds, legs jerking as he hoisted her knees to bend above his shoulders, thumb immediately toying with her nub.

“Sensitive, are you?” he quipped, watching the way she squirmed about.

Her hands gripped the sheets, looking up at him through hooded eyelids.

“Fuck me into this goddamn mattress.”

“Or what?”

“Don’t tease me, Loki. I can easily get your brother to fuck me if I wanted.”

With that, his hips slammed into hers, nails clawing into her skin as his cock plunged in and out of her. She grinned gloriously, reveling in this sudden possessiveness from Loki.

His hands hooked under her towel, watching as the white cotton unraveled from her body. Her moans were glass-shattering, climax building up fairly quick in her lower abdomen. His words, his grunts, they were all music to her ears.

“Fuck my brother? Yeah, I’d love to see you try it.”

“Done talking back now, huh, doll?”

“Scream for me kitten, c’mon.”

“Let them know how good I’m fucking you.”

She couldn’t form one coherent word, nails clawing at Loki’s arms as he hovered over her flustered body. Her legs caged his hips in, back arching as her orgasm teetered over the edge.

“Loki!”

Her walls clenched around him, earning a groggy moan. He caught her by surprise when his lips latched onto hers, his tongue working wonders in her mouth. She didn’t provide much of a fight, an arm wrapping around his shoulders and the other remaining around his torso as their teeth clashed. It was a messy, sin of a kiss.

Her fingers got lost in his hair, tugging and pulling at the roots. His tongue never failed to leave her mouth, his own hands jostling with her breasts as he succumbed her into another orgasm. Her back lifted off the bed with little to no effort, legs completely submerging his waist as she used her strength to flip them around.

Their lips were still locked, one hand around his throat while the other rested on his chest. His lips left hers, lips puffy and red and wet as he hoisted her hips, lifting her and slamming her on his cock. Her eyebrows furrowed, his tip grazing against her g-spot while stretching her out even more.

The feeling was immaculate - her walls milking his cock of every spurt of cum as his head lolled to the side. His hand traced every curve, every crevice, exploring her skin as if he’d never do so again. He looked up at her, knees coming up to support her back as one hand dropped to her cunt, the other twisting and pinching at her nipples.

“This pussy, this...body. Whose is it?” he asked breathlessly, thumb working quick, taught, circles on her nub, daring her to give the wrong answer.

“Yours. Fuck, Loki- ‘s all yours!” she cried out, thighs sputtering around his torso as she came around his length again.

She came down with heavy pants, forehead right up against his chest.

“You’re still horny, aren’t you?” she asked, teasingly clenching around him as she lifted her chin to rest on his chest.

He hissed at that, hand laying a playful smack on her behind.

“Yes, and before I proceed to fuck you full of my children, I request that you become my wife, Y/N.”

“As if you didn’t cum in me already,” she retorted, rolling her eyes with a grin.

He chuckled, abdomen jerking against hers.

“I’ll think about it.”

With that, her hips lifted before falling back down onto his, eliciting a soft groan from him.

“I’ll definitely think about it,” she repeated, lips melting against his.

Her head spun as she opened her eyes, a sharp pain shooting up her center as she rolled over to look at the raven-haired man asleep before her. She rolled out of his bed, pulling his white t-shirt over her naked figure, stealing his boxers to serve as shorts as she got up to grab herself a glass of water.

No one in the compound would’ve been awake (or if they were awake, at least not home), she assumed seeing as it was nearly five o’clock on a Saturday morning. She was proved wrong, however, bumping into Thor who had an armful of junkies.

“Ooh, those don’t look good,” he grimaced, pointing at the load of hickies dispersed abroad her neck as he bit into a Snickers bar.

She chuckled, tilting her head down as if it would help with the warming sensation.

“When did you find the time to sneak a guy back over here?” Thor asked with a grin.

“Thor...I was with your brother. Put two and two together.”

He was quick to stop chewing on the chocolatey caramel peanut bar, looking down at her.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Who do you think your brother was fucking all night to cure that sex pollen?”

“Oh my god, no you didn’t,” he spoke mindlessly, not even questioning as to how she knew it was him that unleashed a dose of sex pollen into Loki's bedroom.

“I’m getting married to your brother, Thor,” she teased as she walked away, grabbing herself a bottle of water from the fridge.

“You were supposed to be on my side,” he whined like a five-year-old, cradling his snacks as if they were the most precious thing on Earth.

“I have to find a way to divide my attention amongst you two, don’t I?”

He nodded without any hesitation, popping the rest of his Snickers bar into his mouth as he watched Y/N giggle to herself.

Taglist: @ronbrokemyheart @quxxnxfhxll @eunoia-kth @siriuslyslyslytherin @dracomalfoys-wh0re @rudypankowisdaddy @tenaciousperfectionunknown @i-love-scott-mccall

#loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson imagine #loki laufeyson imagines #loki laufeyson one shot #loki laufeyson smut #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x you #loki laufeyson x y/n #marvel #marvel smut

[lailannajacobs]

Heart of the Night

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Summary: Bucky finds you after a mission that didn’t quite go as planned. 

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: lil bit angsty 

A/N: This is my submission for @wkemeup​​ 9k challenge, it’s not quite as edited as I would have liked but the end of the school year is always super busy so here it is! Congrats Kas, you are such an incredible writer, your talent absolutely blows my mind, it’s just unbelievable and I hope one day to have a tenth of your skill! You deserve everything great and more! <3

The needle trembled, metal glinting off the fluorescent light in your bathroom as it hovered just above the skin of your abdomen. The air reeked of copper. The pristine sink was marred with the dark red streaks of failure. You tried to swallow, but it felt like you were choking on your own throat. 

The needle approached the bloody canyon made by a knife you’d been too careless to avoid, and hovered there, trying to find its mark. The world swayed. You’d lost too much blood already. The needle clattered into the sink, black thread trialing behind it like a broken tether. You were somehow conscious — delirious? — enough to think you were lucky it hadn’t gone down the drain because you didn’t have time to call a plumber. Wait no. You’d just have to get a new one from the cabinet. You tried to reach for the needle. Your body didn’t react. Instead, it swayed dangerously, only your fighting instincts keeping you from tumbling to the floor by gripping onto the edge of the sink. At least there were some things blood could wash off from.

“YN!” that familiar voice burst into your apartment, “pool table. Five minutes. I swore to Sam that this was the day we finically beat Vision and his perfect calculations.”

You swore at the joyful ness in his voice. You couldn’t match that tone right now if you tried. But you had to. The mission had gone well. You’d done what you’d set out to do. Only you, the ever-present failure, had gotten yourself stabbed along the way. The only mercy was that no one else had noticed and you’d disappeared to your apartment without drawing suspicion. That was, until now if you couldn’t pull yourself together. You willed your body to close the bathroom door, but it wouldn’t move. If anything, everything only spun even more.

“Where the hell are...”

You felt his presence in your doorway. Felt his gaze like a physical thing. You were always aware of him. Even now was no exception. Maybe if you pretended he wasn’t there, he’d go away. Right. And the three-inch gash in your stomach would stitch itself up. You turned your head, not realizing how many abdominal muscles it took to look over your shoulder. Your pride and the death grip your slick fingers held on the porcelain were the only reasons the spinning didn't send you tumbling to the ground.

When your bathroom came into focus again, the only thing you really saw was Bucky taking up most of the doorway. And he was seething. His normally cool eyes were raging hurricanes, framed between hard lines of frustration on his face. They scanned you from top to bottom with deathly calm, from the sports bar you had on that exposed all your skin and the bruises you garnered during the mission to the sweatpants you’d changed into. An X-ray would have been less intrusive. You shivered. It was probably the blood loss.

You wanted to make up some excuse for your failure, but his anger was justified. You were a liability on the field. They were bound to have figured it out eventually.

He said nothing as he stalked over in a few brisk strides, fury emanating from him in waves. He stopped beside you, the pleasant smell of his freshly showered body chasing away the tang in the air. You closed your eyes. It was a coward’s move, but you’d take any peace you could get before everything you’d worked so hard to keep got taken away from you.

“Sit,” he ordered in a low, almost growly voice, “now.”

You went to sit on the toilet but tipped backward before you could make it. His arms gathered around you, easing you onto the closed seat. Your head lolled back and you squeezed your eyes shut.

“No.” He decided, “I need an explanation. Talk to me.”

It seemed like too much work. All you wanted to do was go to sleep.

“No,” he ordered as if you’d spoken the words aloud. Maybe you had.

You opened your eyes, caught in the crossfire of his icy stare, “Hydra agent during the extraction.”

“Shit,” he muttered.

The extraction of the French Prime Minister had been more than an hour ago. You should have been stitched up a long time ago. You should not have been dripping on the pale bathroom tiles.

“Surface wound,” you continued as professionally as your body would allow, knowing that even though you’d live, your failure was the reason for his fury, “came here. Was in the process of fixing it.”

“We have medics,” he growled, “what were you thinking?”

You didn’t answer. You weren’t about to tell him how your presence was a poison that would likely get them all killed eventually. Or that your constant mistakes were your own consequences to deal with — to fix. He probably knew that all ready. His question had to be rhetorical.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as if he were trying to steady his anger. You stared at him, the winter soldier kneeling before you, his calloused hands still resting on your hips. He let out a sigh, his breath warm on your stomach.

“I should call for a medic,” he still hadn’t opened his eyes.

“Please don’t,” you whispered, “I can take care of my own mistakes.”

His lids snapped open, piercing blue eyes pinning you to the spot with their ice cold intensity. He was obviously still pissed. But he didn’t call for a medic. Instead, he got up, warm hands leaving behind nothing more than goosebumps and shivers — from the blood loss, of course— and picked up the needle.

“This is going to hurt,” he murmured once he was kneeling in front of you again.

You tried to nod, but the motion sent your vision spinning again and you gripped onto his shoulder for support, the metal sturdy beneath your grip.

He looked up into your eyes, “are you sure you want me to do this? It’ll leave a scar and it won’t be pretty.”

“It’s only fitting,” you coughed a laugh, “at least the outside will start looking like the inside.”

His brows furrowed but he didn’t say anything. He knew what you were. You were a mutant who somehow got the ‘gift’ of being able to make anything stop functioning. You could make plans fall apart. Kill a software program. Stop a body’s functioning. Even ruin a functioning team like the Avengers. With skill, you should have been one of their greatest assets, ruining everything that threatened the world. But your ‘gift’ extended to yourself as well. You ruined everything you touched. Even the good. Especially, it always seemed, the good.

He pierced your skin without warning, but you were glad for the pain. It gave you something else to focus on than the echoing thoughts of your failure. But Bucky was gentle. Despite the anger you knew must still be there, his movements were delicate and focused, hesitating whenever you winced or sucked in a breath.

By the time he tied the knot, you were surprised you were still upright. He might have been efficient, but you couldn’t tell if it had taken seconds, minutes or even hours. His hands cupped your face and eyes you hadn’t realized you’d closed fluttered open. He was so close now, his expression pinched with worry. You couldn’t help but wonder how it could be for you.

“I’m almost done,” he said softly, “but you’ll probably need a transfusion.”

Adrenaline kicked in. You couldn’t. He couldn’t. Not when you could barely keep your eyes open.

“Please don’t take me there,” you begged, “I can’t hurt anyone else.”

Your abilities rarely activated while you were asleep, but you wouldn’t risk the lives of the other patients or the doctors by going down to the medical wing. Years ago, when you’d realized what your abilities were, you’d stopped sleeping anywhere near anyone else. Now, hurt, there was an even greater chance you might lose control.

If you hadn’t been working so hard for consciousness, you would have also told Bucky to leave. But it wouldn’t have mattered. For some reason, he always stayed. Even when he was within the radius of your power. Even when you told him to go. Especially then. He always stayed.

“I won’t hurt anyone else,” you choked out, “I always hurt someone else.”

His thumb brushed across your cheek, “and yet you saved me today.”

You looked away from his burning gaze, your tears threatening to spill.

He continued, mercifully ignoring your watery eyes, “even though you were hurt you dropped that Hydra agent before he could shoot me in the back. We didn’t lose a single agent today, YN. That’s because you were there.”

“No,” you tried to shake your head, but his hands held on tightly, “they — you — saved yourselves. I got stabbed.”

“You got stabbed because you were busy watching everyone else’s back,” he growled, that earlier anger returning.

“I ruin things,” you repeated for what felt like the millionth time.

But it didn’t matter. He never seemed to believe you. But he needed to. You desperately needed him to before you ruined him too.

“Please leave,” you whimpered.

His answer was simple, “No.”

He took his hands back, but it was only to find some gauze to place over your cut. Once he was done, he scooped you up so gently the movement only hurt a lot instead of blinding pain and brought you to bed.

You gripped his shirt, fist balling up at the hem with all the strength you had left, “you need to leave, Bucky. Now.”

For some reason, the bastard smirked, “Someone has to make sure you don’t die in your sleep.”

“I’ll be fine,” you snapped, though it lacked any kind of force.

He didn’t look impressed, “If you were fine you wouldn’t be begging me to leave. You’d be downstairs with me and we’d be getting our asses handed to us by Vision and Sam like every other Thursday night.”

You wanted to protest. You wanted to protect him, but you had no fight left in you. And with the plush mattress calling you to sleep, the world went dark before you could figure out a way to get him to leave.

“All right Destructo, show me what you’ve got.”

You weren’t a fan of the nickname, but you weren’t about to tell the Tony Stark to shut up and use your real name. And anyways, as much as you hated using your abilities, and how you were always overcome by the tidal wave of fear that sent fear rolling like waves throughout your body, you always felt better — healthier even — after using them. And he was giving you free range now.

Eight suits surrounded you in a perfect octagon, hands out like they were ready to strike. Tony had somehow altered his suits so that they’d shoot bubbles — of all things — instead of small blasts and said you’d only be alive if you managed to take them all down before a single bubble came out.

A small grin unwittingly made its way onto your face.

“Glad to see you’re having fun,” Tony remarked, “it’ll come in handy for future testing. Ready?”

You nodded and ignored the bit about future testing. They might have thought they wanted you now but after they saw how much of a curse you really were, they weren’t going to keep you around long enough for future testing. You prayed that day wasn’t any time soon.

But you were ready now. That was until Tony’s voice crackled through the intercoms once more, “just make sure you don’t kill anyone of us in the process. I’d hate to miss Taco Tuesday.

You lifted your chin, “Give me thirty seconds with the enemies and you’ll have your taco.”

“Such confidence,” he remarked with a chuckle.

It was false bravado but you wanted this. You wanted out of your hell hole. So you weren’t about to let him see any of the very real fear that you actually might kill him. in the process.

You let out your power in a giant blast.

You bolted upright, gasping for breath. Black spots clouded your vision but you forced through the waves of dizziness, looking for the one person you couldn’t bear to hurt. He was supposed to have left. Your next breath never came. Bucky’s long limbs spilled over the edges of the chair in the opposite corner of the room, his phone resting on his chest. His eyes were closed, a peaceful look on his face but that didn’t mean anything. The dead often looked at peace.

Then his phone rose and fell with his chest. You held back a sob. Your relief would have sent you tumbling if you hadn’t been sitting. He was alive.

Without your blinding panic, the rest of your room came into focus. He’d left all the clothes you’d strewn over the chair in a neat, folded pile on your dresser. You glanced over at your alarm clock for the time, which was…off. Your dread clenched it’s fist around your stomach. It had been on. So had your air conditioning unit. And where was the constant hum of your ancient refrigerator?

“They’re all fried,” Bucky’s gruff voice came through the silence as if he’d actually been sleeping, “the phone gave a nice little shock when it died. Snapped me out of my sleep that’s for sure.”

Your heart was still trying to hammer its way out of your chest when you said, “You could have gotten hurt. I don’t know how you’re not.”

��I do,” he replied simply, eyes finding yours.

“No, you don’t,.” you shook your head more than you had to, “No, you can’t.”

“I can because I’ve trained with you almost every day since you got here. I know that your gift,” you scoffed at the word but he kept going, “your gift works differently depending on who and what you’re targeting. And I know you don’t target people. Not unless you have to and even then I see that it kills you to do it.”

You looked down at your sheets, hating the way his words resonated through your body, refusing to go away. But you could still ignore it.

“That might be true, but Tony has been making his suits to withstand me. In case I can’t control my powers and they hurt anyone on our side. He might say it’s in case we meet another mutant with powers like mine, but we all know that’s not true.”

“Why can’t it be both?” he huffed then took in a slow breath. It did nothing to hide the growl in his voice when he asked, “None of us are perfect, why do you have to be?”

Because, even as a full grown adult, you were afraid you’d somehow end up back in that orphanage, unloved and unwanted because all you did was ruin things. And you didn’t know what you’d do if you ruined the closest thing you’d ever had to family. Perfect kept you here. Perfect kept you safe.

He stood from the chair, and came to kneel beside your bed. He brushed aside the hair that had stuck to your forehead with sweat, calloused fingers resting gently on your cheek when he was done.

“You’re one of us now” he whispered as if he could read your mind, “and I — we — won’t let you go that easily not matter what you think of your abilities. Even if that means I have to inspect you for cuts and bruises myself after every mission. You are good, YN.”

You could only nod, taken aback by the ferocity in his voice. Still, it didn’t stop you from looking him over head to toe once more just to make sure he was okay. Then you noticed something off with him.

“Where’s your arm?”

He ran his hand through his hair, a sheepish look on his face, “it might have fallen off a few seconds before you woke up.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach, “I hurt you.”

He shook his head fiercely, “you didn’t. I’m fine.”

“But I could have,” you protested.

“But you didn’t,” he said, “you never do. Because despite what you might think, you control this thing inside you and we all trust you with it.”

You were about to object but he stopped you by pressing a light kiss to your forehead, and when he pulled back there was that lopsided little grin on his face that made you realize how light headed you were feeling, “one day we’ll get to a place where you’ll find this funny. I promise.”

And somehow, you believed him.

#bucky #Bucky Barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #Bucky angst #fanfic #fanfiction

[andilovetowrite]

Controlled Freakiness (P.P x Reader)

Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

This can be read as a continuation of Initial Shyness, or as a stand-alone.

Summary: Confessions are cute, right? Especially when you have been waiting for years to say it out loud. But what happens when the initial shyness wears off? And we all know Peter isn’t as innocent as he seems ;)

Warnings: Mention of blood and knives. Also some suggestiveness and making out. Nothing too graphic though. A couple of bad words here and there as well.

Word Count: 3.4k

Based on a request, you can find it here!

Here is my Masterlist in case you want to find more of my work :)

If someone told you that one day, you and Peter Parker would be caught making out in your bedroom, you would’ve laughed at them. But...as it turns out, they wouldn’t have been too wrong about that.

Let’s go back to about five months ago, on the rooftop of Peter’s apartment, where he had met you with a bouquet of red roses and an even redder face …

5 months ago

“Why-why would yo-is this-u” you tried to speak, with little success. You could feel your face heat up in embarrassment, so you just stared at the flowers in Peter’s hands.

“I-uh really, um like you Y/N. Like more than an a-a friend. And much more than a best friend. I know yo-you may not like me back, but I couldn’t keep it in any longer-”

You know it’s rude to interrupt someone when they are speaking. But you couldn’t hear any other word come out of his mouth because otherwise, you would’ve melted. So you did the next best thing. You kissed him. Hard.

His words got caught in his throat as his lips met yours. And for a second, you were worried you went too far, pulling back. But as soon as he felt you doing that, his hands went to your hair, pulling you flush against him, kissing you back with fervour.

You wish you could’ve stopped time. Right there. During a beautiful sunset, on the roof surrounded by rose petals, and with Peter in your arms. And in your mouth. But sadly, you needed air to breathe, so you pulled away, probably looking like a fish straight out of the water. Opening your eyes, you could see Peter’s face. His pupils were dilated, and his entire face was a pink hue. His lips were plump and red but pulled up in a lovesick smile.

You knew you had the same expression on your face. Smiling softly, you looked at Peter, and at the same time, you both said.

“I really like you.”

“I really like you.”

Anyway, so that was probably one of the highlights of your day, but possibly one of the happiest days in your dad’s life. His little apprentice/almost son kissed and confessed to his only daughter. It couldn’t have worked out better. No boy would ever be good enough for you, and no ordinary girl would be good enough for Peter. So naturally, he was thrilled to hear that you two were now a couple.

And that’s why you wished he didn’t have to be the first one to walk in on you and Peter. So that brought you to the infamous Saturday that was now known as the Satisfying Saturday...

------------------------------------------------------------------------------Friday, 8:00 pm, Avenger’s Compound

“Hey Y/N”, Peter called out, walking through the open window. His Spidey suit was cut loose in different places, and the minute he stepped in, his mask disappeared, showing his tired and bruised face.

“What the heck Pete?”, you shouted, jumping up from your bed. “What happened? How did I not get an alert?”

Peter looked down sheepishly, which then made you realise that he was still standing on the roof.

“Peter! Get down, and tell me what happened?!” You pointed down sternly, letting him jump on the floor, wincing as he hit his leg. Running to the first aid kit you kept in your room for times like these, you picked up some hydrogen peroxide and cotton pads, letting Peter sit down on your bed.

“So, tell me, Peter? What was it this time? You asked, dabbing the disinfectant on his face first. He flinched as you pressed it, hissing softly as the pad made contact with his skin. Shushing softly, you focused on cleaning his wounds, moving your thumb over them to soothe them.

“Y/N, you know, it wasn’t as bad-”

“Really Pete? You are bleeding like a fire hydrant. Why didn’t Karen update my dad or the tower? Or me?”

“Yeah um, about that, I disabled the Careless Boyfriend command”, he said, looking at you expectantly. You scratched your head, scoffing.

“It was a great device! Plus, who do you think makes the suits with Mr Stark?” Leaning back, you grabbed some antiseptic cream, putting it over his face. “So, you still have to tell me whose ass to kick when I go out on patrol..”

“Actually, it was-”

“Wait, let me guess...old lady with a ferocious cat, both of whom thought you were a creepy Comic-Con freak!” Laughing slightly at the pout on his face, you pressed the tiny spider on his chest, watching as the suit untightened, falling from his body effortlessly. Now, usually, his abs and glowing skin would distract you for a bit, but it was different this time. Dark red blood oozed out from deep cuts on his abdomen, falling on the bed around him. Your eyes widened as they roamed over his injuries.

“Peter! Wha- what did they use? A normal knife wouldn’t cut you like this!” Peter’s face scrunched up in pain as he remembered it, but seeing the look on your face, he grabbed your hand, nodding at you.

“It-it’s fine Y/N. Um, actually, they were using some suspicious-looking gadgets, so yo-you have to tell Mr Stark about it so-”

“No Pete, I mean, I’ll tell dad about this, but first I gotta get you to the infirmary. Holy crap…” you rambled, pulling his suit off.

“Baby, if you wanted my clothes off, you could have just said”, Peter said, smirking at you. Hitting his arm, you glared at him playfully.

“Watch it Parker. I could leave you here!”, you said, throwing the suit into the wash, mentally reminding yourself to make him a more durable suit. Grabbing him, you made him hobble out of your room. In the light of the tower, you can see how fagged out he was looking.

“Hey princes- what the heck happened to you Peter?!”, you dad asked, walking over to the two of you. Taking some of Peter’s weight, he called out to F.R.I.D.A.Y, asking her to call the nearest medics. “How did this happen, Pete?”

“Well, I think it wassss-”, Peter began, but slumped down after a couple of seconds, falling in your arms.

“Dad! What do I do?”

“It’s fine, he’ll be okay, lets just get him to the clinic, um- Steve! Help us out with Spiderboy here”

Carrying him, you got him to the doctors, watching as his wounds already started to patch themselves up. Metal gadgets ran over his body as your dad spoke to the head medic, his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“What happened to him?”, you asked. It wasn’t the worst Peter had seen, but you had never seen him pass out before due to a cut.

“Um, so we are detecting some slight substances in his bloodstream, but we are working on removing it.”

“What substances?”, Tony asked, inhaling sharply.

“We aren’t sure yet, but the results should come in about a day.”, the doctor said, looking back at Peter, “As for Spiderman, he should take a couple days off.” He then looked at you. “Did Peter say anything at all about the weapons?”

You shook your head, thinking back. “Nothing much, except for that they were looking suspicious. Maybe the team can go and track back where Peter was patrolling, you know? To see if they can catch the guys who hurt him?”

Tony nodded, as he went back to the living room, probably to call all the Avengers. Trailing after him, you ran to get your suit, but was stopped halfway. “Hey, Tiny Stark, why don’t you stay with Spiderboy. To make sure he is fine?” Natasha asked, glancing at Tony as he slightly nodded his head.

“But you might need help?”

“We’ll be fine. Plus, if these are as dangerous as Peter said, then we wouldn’t want you getting injured. Best you stay here” Dejectedly saying yes, you bid them goodbye.

“Oh, and have fun with the kid. He is pretty hot, and I know you can hit that”, Nat said, winking at you.

Smiling shakily, you stepped back, watching as they left the tower, leaving only you and Peter back.

Fast forward to about 3 long hours later, Peter finally woke up, looking much better. “Y/N? What happened, where’s Mr-”

“Gone out to track down those guys, and they won’t be back till tomorrow”, you said, glancing at your comms. “Said that they were following them to the base”

Peter nodded, looking drowsy. “Can-can I please get some food?”

Smiling at him, you quickly checked if he was ready to be discharged before you got him up. A bit unsteady on his feet, Peter followed you to the living room, falling on the couch. “Whatcha want Pete? A sandwich, or some pasta?”

“Popcorn...caramel please.”

You laughed, grabbing some from the cupboard marked Movie Nights. “Really? You need protein!” Peter didn’t say anything, instead of looking at you with his famous puppy eyes as he pouted. “Fine fine! You win”

Smiling at you, he opened his arms. Hesitantly, you crawled into them, making sure not to apply pressure on his stomach. Times like these were rare. Sure, you and Peter were a couple, but PDA was little at the towers and you two were some of the shyest people when it came to displaying affection in front of people. So you relished times like these when you could just be close to Peter.

“So Peter, what movi-”

*Snore*

*Snore*

Amused, you peered back at him, your heart-melting when you saw Peter fast asleep, his arms wrapped around you and his head lolled back against the cushions. Shrugging to yourself, you quietly switched off the lights, getting up carefully, but almost immediately being pulled back.

“Petey, I gotta get up”, you whispered softly.

“Nuh uh, nope”, he said, his chocolate brown eyes sleepily staring at you, “stay here”

So you stayed. And it was one of the best nights of sleep you had ever had. Little did you know though, tomorrow would be one of the most interesting days of your life.

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

“Good morning Y/N Stark and Peter Parker. I just wanted to inform you that the furniture replacement dudes are on their way up. For Mr Parker’s identity to be kept secret, I would advise you to make your way to the individual rooms or the medbay.” F.R.I.D.A.Y’s automated voice floated through the air, waking you up.

Peter began stirring lightly from under you, making you sit up. His light brown curls sat on his forehead, falling into his eyes. He started mumbling words under his breath as he sat up, rubbing his eyes roughly.

“Ugh drool”, he muttered, wiping his mouth.

Leaning towards him, you brushed his hair out of his face. “Well, good morning to you too Mr Parker”

“Ms Stark, good morning”, Peter said, pulling you into his arms once more. Smiling, you hoped he wouldn’t see your face, as you push your face onto the couch. Pulling back just enough to see him, you leaned down to brush your lips against his, softly at first. Peter sighed into your mouth, and met back up with fevor, his hands tangling themselves in your hair. You could’ve stayed there, but Peter let go, his head still leaning against yours.

“As much as I would love to spend the rest of my day like this, w-we have to get up”, you said, hearing the guys come up the elevator, “like right now Peter!”

Jumping up, you both ran, laughing at F.R.I.D.A.Y as she tried to slow down the elevator without breaking it. “Oh and by the way, how did F.R.I.D.A.Y. learn to say, dudes?”

“Who do you think works with Mr Stark on Friday?”, Peter asked, referring to what you said yesterday to him. Which made you remember his wound.

“How’s your stomach?”, you asked, wanting to pull his shirt up and find out, but way too awkward to do it.

“It’s perfectly fine. Kinda bruised by the feels of it, but the cuts have gone..”, he said, walking back to your room. “When’s the team heading back?”

“Uh, I’m not sure actually, let me just-”, you said, calling Tony up. “Hey Dad, how’s the mission? Find anything yet?”

“Oh, hey sweetheart, uh, can’t talk right now”, Tony grunted as gunshots were heard from behind him, “but we’ll be home by tonight. How’s ugh, um Peter?”

“Oh yeah, Peter’s fine. We’ll probably just watch some movies or something. Do you need anything? Food, rations, help?”

“Esteemed Daughter, who are you talking to? I’m Iron Man, I don’t need any helppppp”, your dad yelled as the sound of metal was his before the line got cut. Peter looked at you with wide eyes, his face shocked.

“Will Mr Stark be okay?”

“Yeah, he will...probably. Nat will call in a bit anyway, so let’s just wait”, you said, jumping on your bed. Patting the place next to you, you watched as Peter shed his shirt, walking over to your bed in his grey sweatpants. Inhaling sharply, you pushed away any thoughts that were coming into your mind as Peter laid down, his arm going around you as he kissed your cheek.

God, you wish he would kiss you somewhere else.

Shaking your head, you asked, “So, which movie should we watch?”

“Um, how about...Hunger Games?”, he asked, slyly grinning at you. Damn him, he knew it was your favourite “nerd” movie. Nodding at him with a grin, you switched it on, falling back onto Peter as the movie started.

Sadly, you weren’t able to focus on the movie too much. Because you were too focused on your boyfriend next to you. Due to the fact that he was an Avenger like you, the timings for the two of you were cramped. With college, and patrolling, there were very different lifestyles the two of you led. As best friends you used to be inseparable but as a couple? Oh, it was a completely different story.

Whenever you two were alone, someone would always interrupt you. Whether it was May at Peter’s place or Ned at school, there was not a single minute the two of you could just hang out. So naturally, you two hadn’t gone to second base. Or even 1.5th place. But today, with the tower absolutely empty, you couldn’t say that your mind didn’t wander. And the clip of Katniss and Peeta making on the screen didn’t help either. So you said something you weren’t too happy about…

“Peter, I wanna jump your bones right now”

“Wha-uh, huh? Y-you wanna do wh-um, jump m-my bones...Uh, I don’t- uh what?!” Peter stuttered, his face bright red. But you were too far down that lane so you just nodded.

“Yeah dude” Peter didn’t say anything again, his eyes glassing over as he stared at you. “Fine...but couldIkissyouabitmorethanusualplease?”

“Uh ye-yeah, if if you want to?”, Peter said, his face flushed pink as he stared at you, adoration in his eyes. Smiling at him with what you hoped with an “I-wanna-make-out-with-you” look, you moved next to him, your face hovering about his. Kissing him lightly at first, it grew deep as Peter grunted softly under you, capturing your lips between his teeth. Suddenly, he grabbed you, pulling you down under him. Now he was the one over you, and when your hand went to his hair, he let out the softest of sounds. But you heard it...and god did it get a reaction out of you.

Now, if you were in your right mind, you would go and put a sock in the door, or tell F.R.I.D.A.Y. to disable the elevator to your level. But you were too preoccupied with a certain someone to even bother about that. That is how this entire whole thing started.

Coming back to you and Peter making on your bed, your legs were thrown over his waist as he pulled you to him, your back hovering off the bed. Oh, the joys of having a superhero boyfriend. Anyway, just as he was about to leave your lips to trail kisses down your neck...the door opened.

You didn’t hear the door open though. What you did hear was the multitude of voices, and your dad’s one the loudest.

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!”

You couldn’t blame him. It did look bad. With Peter not wearing his shirt and his back bare, it looked like he wasn’t wearing any clothes since our lower bodies were under your cover. Peter also covered you the minute he heard your dad’s voice, which further implied that you both were very very naked.

“DAD!”

“MR STARK!”

You stared at your dad, noticing now that the entire team was standing outside the door, their breaths held and eyes peering. “It-it’s not what it looks like! I promise…”

“Peter, get the hell out of my daughter”, your dad said calmly, his eyes looking everywhere else but at us.

“Dad, he isn’t i-in me. Look!”, you said, pulling the cover’s off you two to show your very covered legs.

“Fine, at least I won’t become a grandfather tonight. But why were you on my daughter Mr Parker?”

Poor Peter, he looked like he was about to faint. “Uh, Mr Stark w-we were just um, hugging? Tightly-”

“With what? Your mouths?”, Sam called out, laughing with Bucky.

“Not now Sam!” you yelled, shooting them a glare.

“Now, I don’t care what you do...but don’t you dare touch my daughter in a harmful way. Got it Parker?”

“Y-yes Mr St-Stark. I won’t, I love your daughter t-too much”

Looking at Peter, your eyes filled with love as you hugged him, kissing him softly. “Aw, I love you too Pete...even if you tried to fuck me right now!”

“WHAT?!”

“Kidding kidding. Anyway, let’s get outta here...please!”

Tony scoffed, turning around but then glanced at Peter. “Take care of your “little” problem before you come downstairs, Peter.”

“Huh? Oh…”, Peter said, hurriedly covering up himself. Giggling, you tried to go closer but were pulled back by your dad.

“Nuh-uh. He’s gonna take care of it. By. Him. Self.”

Rolling your eyes, you walked out, winking at Peter before you walked out. Catching up with the rest of the group, they all grinned at you, making you worried. “What?”, you asked, backing away slightly.

“I think we can all call this day a…”

“Satisfying Saturday!”, they all yelled out, with Natasha bumping shoulders with you and Steve shaking his head behind her.

You sighed, copying Steve. “This isn’t gonna go away, is it?”

“Nope”, Thor said, laughing loudly.

And it didn’t. But thank god they only caught you making out. The next time Peter and you were caught, it was much much worse. But that’s a story for another time.

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Ooh, that was the longest fic I’ve ever written, but boy, was it a fun one to write. Thanks so much for reading it, and if you liked this one, you can be added to the Taglist for the Caught By Them series. My requests are also open if you have any ideas, but if not, then see you next time!

BTW: Spent about 20 min trying to figure out the type of disinfectant used to treat stab wounds. That’s 20 minutes I’ll never get back, but if I ever do get into a fight, at least I’ll know what treatment to use…

Tagging some people from my last series in case they would enjoy this one :)

@idkatee @eternalscribblesforthesoul @loudbluepancake @poisondevotion @scram1326 @t-hollanderr @305weasley @starknik22 @marvelfansworld @lou-la-lou @lomlparker @marvelfansworld @wowitsel @vanteguccir @fullcheesecakeengineer @ladykxxx08 @allegras-sunflower @ifyouknewhowmiserylovedme

#peter parker x reader #peter parker smut #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker fluff #peter parker fanfiction #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland blurb #tom holland #peter parker x reader imagine #peter parker x bestfriend reader #peter parker #avengers #spiderman #peter parker angst #peter parker series #peter parker drabble #peter parker blurb #peter parker imagine #peter parker headcanon #iron

[scxrsgxrd]

*poke poke poke*

*whispers* please write for Eric Northman

*runs away*

I’ve been having a lot of Eric related ~thoughts~ lately (I blame yours and @skarsgard-daydreams drabbles) and they are ready to be released. Your Eric Northman wishes are my command ;)

18+, mentions of blood and blood kink

You looked up impatiently at the clock hanging on the office wall for the fourth time in a minute. Eric was late, again. The incessant ticking was beginning to seriously bug you, and there was a chill in the air that made every hair on your body stand on end. Another thing you cursed Eric for, recalling the same answer he gave you every time you complained about the temperature in his office. 

“I’m a vampire, why would I need to get the A/C fixed?”

Eric had recently fitted a mirror behind his desk for your activities, as he called them, and you gazed at yourself while you waited for what felt like hours. After all, someone had to appreciate the lingerie set you had just completed some sort of gymnastics to get into. The crimson lace fitted you perfectly, and you knew that Eric had had this made especially for you, knowing exactly the type of fit and material you liked, which in turn had cost him a small fortune. You often wondered his motives for paying so much for something you could only ever wear once, as it took a mere matter of seconds before your panties were torn and your stockings had five finger shaped holes ripped into them. To your surprise when you had opened the box, there was a studded collar sitting atop the lingerie with a buckle at the back. It had taken you a while to psych yourself up to ask Pam to fix up the buckle for you, but she simply laughed and pulled the buckle tight, stating “he’ll like it like that.” 

Your teeth had begun to involuntarily sink into your lip, the more you thought of Eric, the harder you bit down. The only thing that snapped you out of this trance-like state was the feeling of a warm dripping down your chin and onto the exposed skin of your upper thigh. As you focused your eyes against the mirror once more you noticed a crimson trail running down your chin, matching the shade of your underwear. At that second you realised exactly why Eric had chosen to dress you in red.

Almost instantaneously the office door swung open, hitting the wall with such a force that you were surprised it remained on its hinges. You didn’t want to look into the doorway as you heard a low, animalistic growl. You had disturbed Eric from his work, and you knew that you had to pay the price.

“Well, well, well.” 

You gulped as you heard that voice. That voice that caused a shiver to ripple through your entire body and make your pulse quicken. Taking a deep breath, you slowly turned your gaze over to the doorway where Eric was stood. His head was cocked slightly to one side, his eyes darkened with lust and his fangs already out. 

Just as you were about the wipe the blood from your chin he grabbed your forearm, his sudden movement making you jolt as you had never quite gotten used to his vampiric abilities. 

“I think you’ll find that’s mine.” His tone startled you slightly, his fingers gripping at your arm tighter as he studied the trail running down your chin, watching intently as another drop landed on your thigh. He stepped closer to you, parting your legs with one hand as he moved with ease between them, his bulge pressing against your crotch as he dragged his tongue up your chin, his eyes rolling back as though he was already in complete ecstasy.

Your breathing quickened as he reached your lips, his tongue trailing over the small nick in your bottom lip as you felt your chest heaving against him, finding it a little difficult to breathe properly as the collar sat tightly around your neck. Eric could feel exactly what you were feeling. Every beat, every deep breath, every acceleration of your pulse. That was what he thrived on, the humanness of it all; each beat of your pulse anchored him back to his own humanity, something which he had deeply struggled with before he had met you. It was so long ago, so buried, that he never expected to be able to feel its warmth again. 

He pulled back to gaze at you, his eyes raking up and down your semi-naked body as he studied the set of lingerie he had envisioned for you. His imagination hadn’t done you any justice, as you looked ethereal in the specially crafted lace design that fitted every part of you perfectly. A small smirk began to creep onto his lips as he his eyes caught onto the collar that had been tightly buckled around your neck, just as he had pictured it.

“Are you going to be a good little girl?” He grazed his long, cold fingers against your neck and traced along the collar.

“Yes, Eric.” Your voice was faint and your throat felt dry as you watched Eric begin to kneel before you.

His eyes never left yours as he knelt down, hands on your knees prising your legs further apart as he breathed in deeply, inhaling your sweet scent. He began to walk his fore and middle finger up your thighs, humming mischievously as he reached the waistband of your panties. His forefinger curled around the elastic, giving it one slight tug, filling the office with a tearing sound. You gasped as you felt the cold air hit you, and Eric let out another growl, wasting no time in burying his face in your inner thigh.

The sharp pain was one that had taken some getting used to at first, but now you barely even flinched as you felt Eric sink his fangs into your flesh. You were a little surprised when he pulled back so quickly, as he usually fed for a few minutes, sometimes even longer, when he had been busy with Fangtasia’s accounts paperwork. You furrowed your brow, about to question him when he dipped his finger into the small wound on your inner thigh, collecting up a small pool of your blood. He proceeded to then move his blood-coated finger against your clit in a slow circles, the sensation making your toes curl and your head fall back.

“Mmmmm, tasty.” 

Eric’s tongue then began to lap at your clit, his hands firmly gripping your thighs as he muttered soft words of appraisal against you. When your head lolled forwards you caught a glimpse of the debauched scene in the mirror before you, the visual element of the act providing you with a new wave of pleasure. 

You could feel a knot beginning to form in the pit of your stomach as Eric wrapped his lips around your clit, delivering a mixture of sucks and gentle bites as his guttural groans caused small vibrations to course their way through your lower body. You were getting closer and closer to your climax, and Eric knew it. Once again he pressed his middle finger against the still-bleeding wound on your inner thigh before smearing the slick of blood against your clit, working it into the most sensitive part of you with his ever-skilled fingers. You threw your head back once more, long strings of moans leaving you as you felt every muscle in your body tense and every nerve begin to quiver.

Then he stopped.

“You didn’t think it’d be that easy, did you?” Eric stood up and straightened his jacket, licking his lips in what felt like an attempt to mock you.

You felt your bottom lip wobble as the aching sensation between your thighs only worsened, reaching out your arms as you attempted to grab onto his jacket, but he simply took a step backwards so he was out of your grasp.

“N’aw, poor little girl. You thought I was going to let that pretty little pussy of yours come, didn’t you?” 

You nodded, not knowing what else to give him as he gazed down at you with a glint in his eyes.

He was then back between your legs in an instant, his right hand swooping behind your neck as he took hold of the buckle on the collar, making a strangled squeal form in your throat.

“Then maybe next time you’ll think twice about disturbing me.” He lifted his left hand and traced his forefinger gently across the small slit on your lip.

You wanted to protest, to tell him that distracting him from his paperwork wasn’t your intention, but you knew it would be futile. Instead you knew you’d have to wait, and as Eric walked out of his office and closed the door behind him you once again watched yourself in the mirror, the smears of blood further reminding you that you were Eric’s, and that however annoying, patience and delayed gratification were key elements of your relationship. 

#eric northman #eric northman drabble #eric northman smut

[mangozcat]

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. huang renjun x fem!reader 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄. smut, smut, smut

𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐎 𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐘.

you had decided this, for probably the millionth time in your life, when renjun decided to wear that one outfit that made you crazy. you wanted to touch him, leave marks from where your nails dragged down his back, wanted to make sure he felt the same pain you were feeling as you were forced to sit back and watch him discuss songs with his bandmates.

you were so sure the dreamies could wait and that he too, from the various heated glances that had been thrown your way, was as needy as you were. you had whispered in his ear earlier that night that he looked handsome, even mentioning how sexy the dark tones of his outfit made him look.

of course, renjun being the absolute tease he was, he simply gave you a “thank you” and turned back towards jaemin, continuing their conversation. you were rather baffled, wondering how your boyfriend could just avoid giving you attention, even when you were sure he wanted to.

you wanted to stop thinking about him, wanted to be able to strike up a conversation and give it your full focus just as he had.

but, over time, you found that increasingly more difficult.

with a wandering hand settling itself on your knee, thumb rubbing comforting and slow circles every now and then. not only was your very attractive boyfriend beside you, close enough to smell; a scent you had fallen in love with, but he was also refusing to give you upfront attention, all while maintaining the secret attention to your body.

did you like it? of course.

did you want his eyes on you instead of his friend? of course.

were you extremely conflicted? unfortunately, yes.

when renjun realized you were deep in thought, he decided to slide his hand a little bit higher, resting on the inside of your thigh, dangerously close to where you wanted him. you quietly inhaled a deep breath, giving the boy beside you a glare. he simply gave you an innocent smile, leaning in to dot a kiss on your cheek, making it seem as though nothing interesting was happening.

but you knew, when his lips left your skin for a split second and he whispered, “naughty girl,” ever so quietly, that something very interesting was certainly happening.

the band never would’ve guessed that a mere five feet away from them, you were so easily dripping for your boyfriend, who hadn’t even touched you. maybe you were a naughty girl, feeling so filthy from only a simple, affectionate (though it was laced with a much deeper intent) touch such as a hand on the knee.

when jaemin finally turned towards jeno instead, you looked towards your boyfriend and narrowed your eyes. he smirked in response, tracing his fingers over the zipper of your jeans and downward, right over your heat, a smug gleam in his eyes at your visible stall.

your brain was in overdrive as you tugged lightly on his jacket, wanting to whine out as he moved his hand away, tutting under his breath. “so needy,” he muttered, shaking his head. he brought you in for a hug as his lips came to your ear, saying, “you couldn’t even wait until we were done talking, huh?”

you nodded, setting your chin on his shoulder and feeling his sigh. he pulled away after telling you to meet him in the bathroom in five. watching him walk off, you felt your body throb with need. you tugged your bottom lip between your teeth, mentally counting down the time.

after all, late girls are considered bad girls. and bad girls don’t get rewards, as renjun had once said.

watching the dreamies interact with each other, eating their food in distracted bliss, you were sure no one would even notice if you left. so, as the time ticked closer to five, you eagerly got up and started heading towards the bathrooms in the back.

you hadn’t even made it to the doors when you were pushed against a wall, a leg forcing yours apart as lips hurriedly rushed to kiss your neck. shivers went down your spine when you felt him, getting carried away by his sweet scent of candy. your head lolled back against the wall as renjun pressed his body closer to yours.

you let out a shaky breath, air catching in your throat as you eyed the bathroom door, nodding your head in it’s direction. you didn’t quite feel like being kicked out of the restraunt, and judging by how renjun grabbed your hand and tugged you inside, he didn’t either.

it was messy, so incredibly messy. your mouths found each others, tongue toying with the other. you let out a quiet whine into his mouth when his hips ground against yours, forcing you to feel the bulge in his jeans.

god, he was so fucking hot.

eyes closed in bliss, tongue tracing his lips, and small gasps escaping his mouth at every movement you made against him. he was outlined in black, his outfit dark shades of blues and blacks that blurred together. renjun was by far the sexiest man you had ever seen.

you gave him a lazy smile, bringing his face closer to yours for yet another, far sweeter kiss. he nuzzled his nose into your neck when the two of you pulled away, gathering his breath as he dotted kisses on your skin.

the gentle moment didn’t last long, however, as renjun tapped his fingers on your jeans, just over the skin of your thigh. you obeyed eagerly, lifting your leg and wrapping it around his waist. he hummed in delight, starting to rock his hips into yours.

the feeling was dulled through your pants, but that didn’t stop you from gasping out his name, making him hush you quickly, placing his lips on your own. “can’t be too loud, babe. don’t wanna get caught, do you?” he muttered, looking up into your eyes.

you shook your head.

“then be quiet for me, baby.”

putting your head on his shoulder, just so you could muffle your sounds with his soft shirt, you hummed to him. slowly, he worked his pace back up, making you force your eyes closed as the pleasure slowly began picking up.

renjun wasn’t the type to hurry sex. he liked working you up, working himself up, and letting the two of you crash together. which is why as soon as your body curled into him, clinging on for dear life, he stopped completely. you whined out at the loss of contact, feeling your slowly approaching high drift away at once.

“you’re such a jerk,” you complained, hands inside his shirt, running up his sides. he chuckled at the comment, only saying, “you love it.”

“I love you, not your methods.”

he only grinned at the confession.

putting a finger under your chin, he pulled your head up, forcing you to look at him. your eyes were half-lidded, and you already looked fucked despite him not even touching you for five minutes. “so responsive,” he tutted, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, “so cute.”

you only whimpered.

his next kiss was on your nose, slowly going up to your forehead, and then your cheeks. renjun was taking his time, and you both loved and hated it at the same time. you both knew you had a limited time in this bathroom, closed off from the world, yet here you were, succumbing to bittersweet patience.

finally, his trail led back to your lips, making you melt in his arms. he kissed you slowly, filled with desire and passion and suddenly your head was swimming from all the different sensations.

then, as if a fire had lit in his mind, he started unzipping your jeans, undoing the top button. “you look lovely in these,” he said in your ear, nibbling on the outside, “but I think you should take them off.”

almost immediately, he lifted you up, setting you on the counter as your jeans slid off your legs. renjun’s fingers traced your skin, making you shiver as the cold air hit your warm skin. you wouldn’t be cold for long, though.

your mind was so clouded when his fingers slipped into your heat, slowly pumping in and out of you. everything was slow when it came to renjun’s pleasuring; from the way he kissed up and down your collarbone to the way he curled his fingers upward, hitting that perfect spot inside you.

he knew your body better than you did at this point, always knowing just how to make you whine out. he shushed you immediately, snapping, “quiet.” he didn’t stop moving his fingers, keeping them moving at a gradually increasing pace. biting your lip, you felt your orgasm approaching steadily.

but, as quick as it came, it was gone again, renjun removing his fingers almost immediately at the signs.

it was utter torture.

you hit his shoulder as a frustrated sob wracked your body, making you cling to him for comfort. he was undoing his belt, whispering sweetly in your ear short praises to make you feel better. you should’ve been used to it, with how often renjun pulls you away from your high just before it crashes, but your body would never.

renjun’s dick was almost comforting at this point, with how needy you were. so when he slipped into your heat with little to no resistance, he let a little moan in your ear as you sighed in relief at the feeling of being filled.

for once, renjun started fast. he was eager, almost as much as you were, for release. he had watched you cry out, struggle to contain the pleasure- that only he could give you. he had to admit, it was something that boosted his ego, and only made him want you more.

with your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling his lips to yours for desperate kisses, his cock thrusted into you roughly. you wanted to moan, wanted to whine out his name, only to find yourself breathless as the release that had been worked up for so long was finally set free, making your face contort as you sliently cried out.

renjun was far from his release, but he gave you a moment to relax as he slowly worked you through your high. his eyes bored into yours desperately; he wanted to cum, but to do so, he’d have to force your body to take more than he thought you could handle (especially since you had to walk out of the bathroom on your own two feet).

you gave him a small nod of approval, making him sigh out. furrowing his brows as he focused on getting himself off, he abused your already overworked heat, but the look on his face, the sounds escaping his lips, made it all okay.

when he finally did release, covering your thighs in his cum, you had managed to cum again, your own essence dripping down your leg.

“I love you too, by the way,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your cheek. you smiled lazily, threading your fingers through his hair comfortingly.

“did I ever mention that you look hot in black?”

#renjun smut #nct smut #huang renjun #nct renjun smut #nct dream renjun #nct dream #kpop #writing #smut #nct

[sxfik]

you're the sunshine in the rain when it's pouring (won't you give yourself to me?)

read on ao3 • masterlist

summary: Kang Sol A was not afraid, she wasn’t built to be afraid. But what else could you call the pang that rippled through her heart as she noticed the two figures huddled at the cafe near the entrance of her school?

a/n: hello! this is my first solhwi fic i've written and if i'm being honest, it's kind of a mess but i have so many ideas for them, especially after these last few episodes! honestly, the two of them are the epitome of idiots to lovers so i just had to write this! the title of this fic is from best part by Daniel Ceasar ft. H. E. R.

come interact or drop a request if you want to see more solhwi content :)

Kang Sol A was not afraid.

She wasn’t afraid during her yearly doctor’s appointment, the glint of the long needle threatening to pierce through her. She wasn’t afraid when she stood up for her sisters, time and time again, until she was beaten and bruised protecting them. In the face of any adversity, she was taught to stand strong and fight, no matter how big or small the enemy. Even at the face of losing her scholarship and being expelled from Hankuk Law School, she knew she could pull herself up.

No, Kang Sol A was not afraid, she wasn’t built to be afraid. But what else could you call the pang that rippled through her heart as she noticed the two figures huddled at the cafe near the entrance of her school?

It’s been a week since Ye Seul’s trial, five days since the incident, and four days since she started avoiding Mr. Second Round Judicial Exam, Han Joon Hwi.

His presence was bearable prior to Ye Seul’s trial. Actually, more than bearable. It was a comfort, a person she knew she could let her guard down with. His teasing smiles or his love for ramen at any time of day.  As her days and her mind got busier day by day, his presence was unyielding. Every late night in the library, he was by her side, explaining the codes over and over again. Even when she got frustrated, or whiny, Joon Hwi was infinitely patient with her. With Joon Hwi by her side, everything seemed so easy. She saw the light at the end of the long tunnel she was dragged through. Still, with Kang Dan’s sudden appearance, Mr. Yang and Ye Seul’s trial, her mind was too busy to think clearly. To see clearly.

But when his gaze shifted to her and her roommate when he stood as a witness during Ye-Seul’s trial, her breath caught in her throat as she imagined, just for a moment, that he was going to say her name. That he was looking at her. That he was in love with her.

It was as if something clicked, like the puzzle pieces coming together in her mind. In an instant, she saw him in such clarity, every action, every smile and gesture passing through her mind. Cliche as it seems, it was as if she saw him for the first time all over again.

But of course, that gaze was not meant for her. Why would it be? Han Joon Hwi was meant to be with Sol B, not her. The students who were born to work with the law are perfectly suited for each other. It was obvious that he wanted to protect Sol B. Yet, in her weakest moment, her heart yearned for it to be her.

Forcing herself to breathe, she continued on after the trial as if nothing had changed between them. Because, well, they haven’t. The view had shifted but only for her.  At first, it was easier than she expected, teasing him about her roommate. Sol would be lying if she said it didn’t come with a twinge of jealousy but what could she do, but continue to be loyal to him. So on she continued, with Joon Hwi blissfully unaware that she was falling deeper for him, day by day.

Of course, nothing ever goes her way. Five nights ago, Sol was seated at her usual desk at the library, the rows of desks unoccupied. It was another late night for her, as she poured over her case files for a quiz the next day. Despite being a breeze for the other students, Sol had to study for a 110% in order to score an 80%. Sol set up camp in the library, her texts haphazardly strewed across the desk, highlighter in hand, as she buckled down for a long night of studying.

As the hours passed, her vision slowly blurred, the words on the page meshing together into a blob of black squiggles. She blinked, forcing her eyes to focus but to no avail. Sighing, she shut her eyes as she slumped back into her chair, allowing her head to loll off the edge of her chair and stretching her arms out.

“Still studying?” Joon Hwi’s familiar voice startled her, her head jerking back and almost tipping her chair backwards. “Whoa, Sol, be careful!” he lunged, catching her chair before she had the chance to stabilize herself.

“Yah, Han Joon Hwi, why would you come up suddenly like that?” Sol wrinkled her nose at him in annoyance, getting a teasing smirk in response. Sol turned towards her desk, pulling herself closer to the desk as he looked over her.

“Are you studying for Professor Jung’s quiz tomorrow?” he questioned, his head tilting in a familiar way as she sighed once more.

“Of course I am. Not all of us are law geniuses like you, Mr. Second Round Judicial Exam,” Sol huffed as she looked up at him but she softened her face as she saw the smile on his face.

Joon Hwi let out a small laugh as he stepped closer to her, clapping a hand on her shoulder in reassurance. “Well, then I’d be more than qualified to help, don’t you think, sunbae?” he quipped back.

“Hey, I can do it myse-”

“Hm, let me see,”  he cut her off, his eyebrows furrowed. Her heart stuttered as he leaned forward, over her shoulder, looking onto the texts that lay in front of her. “Oh, this one isn’t as bad as the others, you should start with this and then…” he rambled on, but every once of her concentration was on his proximity. The warmth of his hand on her shoulder bleed through her shirt, the feel of his palm burning her skin. He was close enough that she could hear the soft puffs of his breath, his warmth radiating off his body pulling her body towards him like a magnet.

It’s okay, just breathe. You know how to breathe right, Sol? She slowly instructed herself on how to breathe like she suddenly had to learn all over again. And wow, was that a bad idea. His cologne is even more intoxicating up close, and so is Joon Hwi. Every one of her senses was overloaded, her mind blank save for him.

“Yah, Kang Sol? You better be paying atten-” he turned his head towards her, and she forgot how to breathe all over again. His brown eyes widened in surprise as his face just centimeters away from hers. Sol parted her lips ever so slightly to speak but his gaze dropped her lips and her mind was blank again as she blinked at him. His features were so much softer up close, as she watched his face relax. His long eyelashes brushed against his cheek as he blinked. His eyes flitted back to her, but his familiar honey eyes darkened. Her eyes drifted over his face, and then dipped down to his soft lips. If she just moved closer, she could feel how soft his lips were...

And suddenly, reality slapped her in the face. What would Sol B think if she caught her boyfriend so close to her? Even with her roommate’s cold behavior, Sol knew just how much she suffered and how much it would break her to know how she felt about Joon Hwi. Despite every molecule in her body begging her to move closer, she couldn’t do that to Sol B.

So she moved away, stuttering out some lame excuse as she gathered her books and stumbled out of the library. But as she lay in her bedroom, staring up at the ceiling as she imagined all that could have happened between them, the warmth of the memory spread across her body.

And Kang Sol A knew that she wasn’t just afraid. She was terrified.

When she couldn’t stand and fight, she did the next best thing. She ran. She intricately planned everyday to minimize her contact with him as much as possible. Obviously, step one was to sit away from him in class, to avoid his gaze in the halls. She would leave her dorm as early as possible and hide until he was finished with his dinner to sneak in and grab herself something.

But it wasn’t until she tried to avoid him that she realized just how much space in her life was occupied by him. He used to always sit next to or across from her. Always looking over her shoulder, or leaning over  to see the textbooks clearly. Every time she turned to ask a question, or make a snarky comment, there was an empty space reminding her of her decision.

Still, even if he wasn’t physically present, he occupied a corner in her mind. His voice was in her head, echoing responses to her every thought. Her mind would fill with things she wanted to rant about, to ask, to share with him. When she closes her eyes at night and drifts into sleep, he would be there, his signature teasing smile on his face.

And he didn’t seem to be making it any easier on her. It seemed that Joon Hwi took it upon himself to magically appear whenever she least expected him to. If she went to the copy room to print a case file, he was sitting there, looking through a stack of papers or in line to print a copy himself. If she decides to have a late night study session, there he is across from her, books in hand with his legs propped up on a table.

Han Joon Hwi was the constant, unavoidable presence that she can’t seem to get rid of from her life. From her mind. From her heart.

“Unnie?” a soft voice snapped Kang Sol out of her thoughts, and Ye Seul appeared in front of her, near the entrance. How long have I stood here? Sol blinked.

“Ah, Ye-Seul,” she smiled at her best friend. “Let’s have some coffee today? At the cafe?” she asked, her shoulders relaxing after flitting up to where Joon Hwi and Kang Sol B stood. Well, where they were standing. I guess they left. Ye Seul’s eyebrows furrowed as she followed Sol’s gaze but before she could respond, Sol A hooked an elbow through hers, dragging her toward the cafe.

But of course, nothing ever goes her way.

“Ah, Ye-Seul, can I borrow Kang Sol for a moment?” Joon Hwi asked, suddenly appearing in their path, his eyes strictly focused on her best friend. Sol squeezed her arm in alarm, everything in her body pleading for Ye-Seul to say no so she can just avoid him until her crush fades away.

“Unnie, buy me the coffee next time, hm?” Ye-Seul turned to her with an apologetic gaze. Betrayal. I’ll get you back for this. Sol A sighed as she turned her gaze to Joon Hwi.

“Yah, Sol, why are you avoiding me like this? Please, just talk to me so we can fix it,” he pleaded with her, wasting no time to get to the point. Sol A pursed her lips as she looked up at him, her mind too full for her to answer him. What could she say to him? That she likes him? That she’s found out how much she needs him in her life, but she was too late?

“Sol, please,” his voice broke slightly as the silence stretched between them but that was enough for her to sigh, her shoulders relaxing as she gave in to him.

“Okay,” she responded and that was all Joon Hwi needed to grab her wrist and walk towards the corridor between the stairwells.

“We can talk more privately,” he answered her before she even voiced the question. “Now, why are you mad at me? The last time I saw you was at the library and then you disappeared,” Joon hwi ran a hand through his hair nervously as he rambled on and for the first time, Kang Sol took him in. To say he was disheveled was an understatement. The usual calm demeanor was nowhere to be seen and his clothes were askew as his face showed the lack of sleep and exhaustion. Her heart clenched for him, but no, you can’t do this. You can’t betray Sol B.

“Don’t you think it’s best if we don’t interact with how we used to?” she asked, her eyes glued to the floor, ignoring her throat closing up at the thought of breaking their friendship.

“What?” his eyes zeroed in on her, and she could see the confusion running through his mind.

“What do you think Sol B would think if she saw us like this? We can’t be close like this with each other bec-”

“Who cares about how I am with you?” he cut her off, his jaw clenched as his eyebrows furrow in frustration.

“Ya Han Joon Hwi, how could you do this? I expected so much better from you. Don’t you understand, it’s terrible to do this to her!” she pleaded with him, her heart squeezing inside her chest. Sol clenched her jaw, willing herself to be strong for her roommate’s sake, for his sake, and for hers.

Silence stretched between them as she looked up to him. His eyes closed for a moment while he looked down to the floor. And then his eyes flitted up and into her eyes as his fist clenched, his brown eyes filling with an unreadable emotion. “Why is it so terrible?” he whispered.

“Why-” Sol started, her voice burning in anger and pain.

“Why is it so terrible that I’m in love with you?” Joon hwi’s eyes flickered up to hers, his gaze boring into her.

Kang Sol blinked. Her back straightened as her mouth opened and closed like a fish, as Joon Hwi took a step closer. “Me?” she stuttered out, her mind spinning, unable to process his words.

“You.” He stepped closer.

“But you like Kang Sol-”

“A. Kang Sol A.” Another step closer.

She closed her eyes as she shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts and to ignore his proximity. But all her attempts were futile as Joon Hwi brought his hand up, his touch feather light as he cupped her face, tilting it up to meet his gaze. Sol’s hands felt frozen as her breath lodged into her throat, her eyes meeting his. She could hear her heart thundering in her ribcage as Joon hwi spoke.

“I like you, Kang Sol. It’s always been you,” he whispered, his voice wavering as he grew closer, his lips just a centimeter away from hers. Never one with patience, she surged forward to meet his lips. Her imagination and dreams did not compare to how his lips felt against hers. It was soft and his kisses were just as unyielding as his presence. It was all consuming as her hands gripped his coat, pulling him closer. His thumb running across her cheekbones, he shifted his head pulling her in deeper as his hands cupped her face. Even though their lips just met for a few moments, it felt as though his soft lips were against hers for an eternity.

Sol’s eyes were still closed as they parted, not wishing to leave this moment and back into real life. Apprehensively, she met his eyes and a moment of silence stretched between them, as they caught their breath. A million watt smile stretched across his face, his contagious happiness brightening her up as she smiled back. But suddenly reality caught up to her.

“Wait, so you’re not with my roommate?” she questioned, confused about everything she had seen between them. Joon hwi shook his head.

“No, I was just with her because she asked for help during one of her legal research papers,” he explained, then paused. “Yah, wait. You avoided me this whole time because you thought I was in love with Kang Sol B?” a smirk spread across his face, his expression taunting. Sol bit her lip as she looked down, unwilling to admit her mistake.

“Yah, how can you be at law school and not figure out I liked you!” he asked, his voice incredulous.

“You were so ambiguous! Every time I thought you liked me as more than friends, you’d act close with Sol B!” she huffed out, pouting  and pulling away from him, embarrassed that she thought he liked her roommate. Before she could pull away, he wrapped his arms around her, drawing her into a crushing hug. Her body relaxed as she took him in, the way he felt against her intoxicating and comforting beyond description.

Kang Sol A was terrified. But having him at her side was enough to know that she could fight once more, together, as more than friends.

#mine #my writing #solhwi #solhwi fanfiction #idiots to lovers #han joon hwi #kang sol A #kang sol B #ryu hye young #kim bum #kim beom #law school jtbc #jtbc law school #law school netflix #kdrama #law school kdrama