Sultry | S.B

Sultry | S.B

Paring: Young!Sirius Black X Fem!Lupin!Reader

Summary: One argument gets a little too detailed.

Every sibling had a counterpart. Whether it be one was nice, and one was mean. Or one was smart, and one was incredibly dumb. Every sibling had their contradiction. Remus and Y/n Lupin were no different in the grand scheme of things, but on the outside, they were different people.

Remus wore robes of maroon and gold. Y/n wore robes of green and silver. They were only a year apart, but they were so incredibly different. Remus felt like from the minute she was born, they were meant to argue. Her sarcastic comments were unmatched, and her wit was incredible.

To be frank, it brought great smiles to James and Sirius’ faces when the Lupin siblings got into it. It was undoubtedly funny and incredibly jaw-dropping to watch them argue. It was a constant back and forth argument with how they differed. If one said something snarky, the following comment would be even better.

Sirius had never been on the receiving end of it until he had, and it brought a bright red flush to his face to get told off by the female Slytherin. Now Remus understood what was so fun about watching them argue. Remus and James had never seen Sirius look so flustered before.

This argument was supposed to be no different, “Are you fucking daft?” Y/n retorted, “Merlin, your voice makes my ears bleed.” Sirius muttered.

She quirked an eyebrow, “Does it now? Maybe you should listen to yourself. All you do is blah blah blah. You never shut up.”

“Well, maybe you should shut me up!” Sirius shouted, and Remus stilled, “Should I now?” Y/n approached slowly.

Sirius was quickly backed up against the wall and gulping down breaths nervously, “And what makes you think you deserve that?”

“Cat caught your tongue, darling?” Y/n purred, twisting his tie, “So tough on the outside, but as soon as you get what you want, you can no longer talk.”

Y/n leaned to whisper in his ear, “Maybe I should go talk to Regulus. You wouldn’t like that would you?”

Hands tightened on her waist as he clenched his jaw, making her chuckle, “That’s right. You wouldn’t like that, mm?”

“You forget Regulus is one of my closest friends.” Y/n teased, “Maybe, you’d enjoy the same things he does.”

“What is that suppose to mean?” Sirius growled, “What do you think, love?”

People gathered, watching them do this in the middle of a corridor, “Maybe if you use your words like a good boy next time. I’ll do what you want.”

Y/n pulled away with a wink leaving Sirius speechless and blushing like mad. Remus was appalled. Yes, he knew that Y/n could have any guy she wanted in the castle. That wasn’t new knowledge. But watching it happen, especially to Sirius, was an entirely different process.

“Alright.” James coughed, “Now that we know Sirius has a crush on Y/n and that your sister has slept with Regulus, I think we can move on.”

Star Struck

| 1 |

↳ Summary: You’re a creature of habit, you plan everything from each hour to each day, so you can imagine the chaos which ensues after you discover a random guy leaking black goo in a ditch- who just so happens to be an alien.

↳ Pairing: Jungkook/Reader

↳ Genre: lowkey strangers to lovers, alien!jungkook, fluff, smut,

Word Count: 12k

Tags: before anyone asks, yes tentacles are involved because I’m a proud monster fucker, jungkook has separation anxiety from Mc :(, he’s immediately whipped, and he can’t speak any human language at first oops, he like,,,tries it for a second before MC goes 🏃‍♀️ this is unedited and for that im sorry bc yikes

___ | Next

In many cases, you could recall how you got into situations. For instance, when you were late to your mid morning lecture, you had zero excuses- not that the professor cared at all when you walked in with a bag of mcdonalds and a venti latte from starbucks. But the principle of the situation remained the same, you knew your actions would cause you to be late. You understood the consequences of your actions. 

The same could not be said for when you took in the curious male who didn’t understand a word you said.

“What do you mean you just- picked him up off the side of a fucking ditch!” Jimin flailed his hands as you twisted around to face you, the male was examining his hands as if he had never seen them before, not paying either of you any mind. 

You held up your hands as you replied, “I did!” You shouted back, immediately gaining the males attention as his eyes flashed between you and Jimin, “He was just…! Laying there! I don’t fucking know! What was I supposed to do? Leave him, look he’s hurt.” You pointed out the obvious wounds he sported. 

“…He’s bleeding black goo Y/n! Have you never seen a horror movie before oh my god!” Jimin grabbed his head as his voice became dramatic and peril, “You’re practically number one on his kill list! He’s probably here to abduct us and- and butt probe us or some shit!” 

You raised your brows defensively as you crossed your arms, “Look at him!” You pointed a finger at the male making him flinch a little, leaning a little away from you where he sat as his expression shifted, looking as if he was a kicked puppy at your tone, “Does that look like a butt probing alien to you shit face?” 

“Maybe!” Jimin snapped back, “He ain’t human that’s for fucking sure! Just…!” Jimin flailed his hands, “Just look at him!” 

Keep reading

Bakugou x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.1k

!!: sex 18+

Part of the Mixtape Melodies Collab! Also thank you Kitten for helping me figure out a damn banner because my brain didn't know what to do.

Bakugou doesn’t want to be here, and he’ll do almost anything to leave

Leaning against the bar, you scrutinize everyone in the club. Hazy red and blue lights light up a dance floor and some of the plush, black seating surrounding large tables. Off in the corners of the room, business meetings pass, men in suits posturing to each other. Groups of friends flow from tables to the dance floor, some of them breaking off for the bar.

Mina sidles up beside you and loops her arm through yours. Leaning against you, one of her bright pink space buns tickles the exposed skin at your shoulder. “There’s a lot of potential here tonight.” 

Three more friends return from the bathrooms and join your small group. Drinks ordered, you all settle in and survey the prospects. “Anyone in particular catch your eye?”

“There’s a cute redhead out on the dance floor,” Ochako gestures to a tall man with red hair dancing without a care in the world. 

“I might just stay here at the bar…” Jiro’s voice and eyes drift off to the bartender – a woman with jet black hair whom she’s been crushing on since your friend group started coming here.

“And you?” They look at you expectantly. You scan the crowd one more time. Plenty of people for you to choose from. But you’re looking for a challenge. Lifting your drink to your lips, you let the amber liquid warm you from the inside out.

And then you see one stubborn asshole glued to the wall. Target acquired. You nod in his direction. “Blondie against the wall.” Four sets of eyes follow your gaze. Yes, he’d be a fun challenge. “Alright ladies.” You tip the last of your drink into your mouth and smile. “Stay safe, good luck, have fun!” With that, the five of you spread out with a deadly grace – searching for a little fun.

Across the club, Bakugou scowls at anything and everything. He doesn’t want to be here, but Kaminari and Kirishima abducted him from his apartment saying that he had moped too long and needed a change of scenery. 

Bakugou does not mope. He does not sulk, nor does he lick his wounds over his recent breakup. He spends his time outside of work brooding and making sure that he won’t run into her any more than needed.

The bright lights and pounding bass do nothing to help improve his mood, and his ‘friends’ who brought him here have left him to his own devices while they party it up. If they wanted to go out, they could’ve done it without the pretense of ‘cheering him up’.

It’s just a bunch of drunk people grinding on each other to feel alive. Bakugou runs a hand through his hair and checks his phone again. No missed messages, no notifications, and only five minutes have passed since the last time he checked. Great.

A voice barely reaches his ears above the music. “All on your own?” He looks up and sees you standing in front of him. Your black dress hugs your body in all the right places, and your heels look dangerous enough to stab a man in the heart.

“Not interested.”

“Would you be interested if it would get your friends to stop paying attention to you so they could actually look at the women trying to flirt with them?” you raise an eyebrow in challenge. Bakugou barely manages to hold back an eye roll. You don’t know him at all. He couldn’t give two shits if his friends got their dicks wet or not. Hell, cockblocking them sends a vindictive zing of pleasure through him. 

“Don’t care.” He returns to his phone, expecting you to take the hint and leave him alone.

There’s a small puff of air at his side as you lean against the wall next to him. You purse your lips and cross your arms. That might work on other dudes, but he’s so not interested right now. “I’m playing wingman tonight,” you complain, “And your mood is killing it.”

“‘S not my problem.”

“What if I can get you out of here so you can go back to whatever man-cave bachelor pad you crawled out of?” Bakugou’s thumb hovers on his phone screen mid-scroll. That got his attention. A free pass to leave this hellhole?

He slides his phone into his pocket and truly looks you up and down for the first time. You’re a stunner, he’ll give you that, but he’s had enough of people who look beautiful on the outside only to be rotten at the core. Nothing in life is free, so what blemishes are you hiding beneath your carefully manicured exterior? “What’s in it for you?”

Your eyes lower to half-mast. “You gotta show a lady a good time.” Your smug smile sets him on edge. “Dance with me first.” Bakugou stares at your stretched out hand. You drive a hard bargain. But if he can get out of here, he can spin you around the dance floor for a minute or two. He stares at your upturned palm. It’s only one dance. He can do that.

Putting his hand in yours, he lets himself be reluctantly dragged out to the dance floor. You lift his hand and spin yourself before getting a feel for the beat. Bakugou stands there, jostled by other bodies around him. 

His brain might as well be screaming like dial-up internet right now. Dancing? He agreed to dancing? He doesn’t fucking dance. Why make a fool of himself where anyone can watch? 

The song blends seamlessly into the next one and the beat speeds up. “You better not stand there like a stick the whole time,” you laugh and throw your hands into the air.

“I don’t dance,” he replies gruffly.

“C’mon,” you sidle up to him and put his hands on your waist. With how close you are, there’s barely any room for a piece of paper between your bodies. Your fingers trail up his arms before lightly resting on his shoulders. You start moving with the beat and guide him into a groove.

He’s stiff at first, unsure of how into it he should be and how long to keep his hands in one spot. He spies Kirishima across the room casually bobbing to the music and Bakugou imitates his movements; if he doesn’t know what he’s doing, then he can fake it till he makes it.

A brunette in a pink crop top and high-waisted black pants dances past you and whispers something in your ear. Even with the loud music, he can’t make out what’s said, but based on the way you laugh, you must know the woman. You step back out of Bakugou’s personal bubble and dance with your friend for a beat or two before she disappears back into the crowd.

On your own, you move more freely, and Bakugou uses the time to let his eyes roam your body. You seem confident out here like you don’t give a shit about what’s going on around you or who’s looking.

God, the way your hips sway mesmerizes him. He reaches out and steps closer to you, your ass lightly grazing the edge of his crotch. Bakugou pauses for a second as if waiting for you to pull away. That’s all he’d need right now; to be branded a creep and more fucking rejection — and from some rando at a club no less. 

You surprise him by leaning back against his chest, your arms making their way up to lazily wrap around his neck and head. The movement pushes your breasts together, and what a sight they are.

You tug his head toward your mouth to be heard over the music. “I promise I won’t break.” One of your hands trails down your chest and covers the top of his hand before moving it down to your hip. He can take a hint. Pulling you flush against him, he grips you and lets your ass grind into him. His other hand wanders up your side, grazing the side of your breast – an action that has you pressing harder into him.

Bakugou doesn’t even care that his erection is straining against his pants or that you can feel it. He chases the intoxicating, subtle scent of your perfume and finds his face almost buried in your neck. The red and blue lights aren’t as annoying now, and the music moves through his body. 

Fuck it. He can relax for one night. He can not think about work, his love life woes, or the fact that he was brought to a shitty ass club on the excuse of his friends wanting to get their dicks wet. If he can imitate Kirishima’s dancing, then he can borrow your carefree attitude until he leaves.

Jasmine.

With a hint of rose and sandalwood.

Fuck.

That scent was once ingrained in his soul. It wove itself through the spare set of linens that are now buried at the bottom of his closet. He used to associate it with the blissful euphoria of being buried deep in the woman he loved.

And now it causes his stomach to churn and a sense of dread to trickle down his spine. The cloying scent sticks to his lungs and makes it hard to breathe.

Bodies jostle him as he abruptly stops moving on the dancefloor. This isn’t a trick of the nose. She’s here somewhere. He knows it. He nearly gives himself whiplash searching the whole damn room searching for her.

And when he sees her… his brain stops.

Bakugou wipes his sweaty palms on his pants. “I gotta fuckin get outta here.”

Your lips form a perfect pout. “So soon?”

He looks around wildly and sees a swath of red standing stock still against a moving crowd. Kirishima’s ruby eyes stare at him in panic. He promised. He and Kaminari fucking promised that Bakugou wouldn’t see her again. And they couldn’t even deliver on it. 

He can’t leave. She’ll see. She’ll know that she won the breakup. That he has to run away from his memories and her.

A cool hand touches his flushed cheek. “Hey.” Your touch grounds him in the moment. He almost reaches up and cups your hand to his cheek just to keep it there a moment longer. Almost.

“What?”

“Do you think I’m hotter than her?” You nod towards the bar. Were you paying attention the whole time? You had to have noticed when he stopped trying to cop a feel and rub up on your ass. Did you see him staring? Did you see the panic?

Bakugou snorts. “After the shit she put me through, anyone’s hotter than her.”

“Fine,” you huff and casually loop your hands behind his neck. His body starts swaying with yours. Just another couple in the crowd. “Will she think I’m hotter than her?” Would she? Bakugou runs his hands down your side and across your ass. You definitely have confidence that rivals hers.

One stiff nod is all it takes for a smile that rivals the sun to spread across your face. “C’mon big boy,” you tap his cheek affectionately. “It’s time to go make a scene.” You loop your arm around his waist and lead him over to the bar. Over towards her.

Oh fuck no. Instead of grabbing your waist in return, his hand finds and squeezes your shoulder. What kind of scene were you planning on making? He didn’t want to get within ten feet of her, let alone inches from her at the bar.

Flagging down the bartender, you pull a wad of cash from who knows where and slide it across the sleek bar top. “For my tab.” Pressing your chest against Bakugou, you press a kiss to his cheek and stage-whisper loud enough to be heard over the music – and by his ex. “Bathroom first. Then my place.” 

He plays along and pulls you against him. As you lead the way to the exit, his insides are roiling. He can’t stop replaying that little scene over and over in his head. Did his ex notice them? Did he manage to hide the fact that she makes him want to puke? Did it look too forced? God, would she know that it was all for show?

The heavy doors to the bathroom swing closed. All the noise from outside as well as inside Bakugou’s head fades away. You make your way over to the bathroom mirror and check out your reflection. The sudden lack of noise and movement leaves him reeling. Checking the stalls and finding them empty, you casually stroll back over and stand across from Bakugou.

“Not at the point where you can talk to her? Get that closure you need?” you lean against the counter, a wry smile curling the corner of your lips. Bakugou scowls and you have the audacity to laugh at him. “What? It’s written all over your face.” 

“No,” he snaps. Heat floods his cheeks as the truth tumbles out of his mouth. “I don’t think I’ll be able to face her again.” 

“You just need a better cunt to get her out of your mind,” you purr.

“And you’re offering?” Bakugou raises an eyebrow. He holds your stare as you shift your dress up your hips slightly and reach under the hem. He doesn’t miss the way you smirk at him as your fingers drag black lace down your legs. Stepping out of the barely there underwear, you toss them at him, and of course he catches it. Smooth lace warms his fingers. Opening his palm, the bathroom lighting catches on a shiny streak on the crotch.

Bold.

Hopefully you can’t see his blush deepening, or if you can, maybe you’ll chalk it up to his drink finally catching up with him.

“I may have planted that seed in her mind, but it’s up to you what to do with it,” you tease.

It takes two strides for Bakugou to go from the wall opposite you to having his hands on your waist. He inhales deeply, trying to get the wretched stench of jasmine and rose out of his nose. You’re sweeter and softer than his icy ex at the bar. He wants to forget her. And he wants you.

For the first time since he had his heart shattered, he wants something.

His lips brush the shell of your ear. Bakugou swears you lean into him as he murmurs. “‘M not doing it with you looking at me.” He spins you around and pins your hips with his against the counter.

Just like on the dancefloor, your ass rubs against his stiff cock. “So you’re interested?” you laugh lightly. Spreading your legs more, he lifts your dress to reveal your ass in all its glory. His skin prickles in anticipation.

You’re warm under his palms as he slides his hands across your butt up to your hips. Bakugou slides his cock through your folds and bites back a groan. How long had it been? 

“Still with me?” you ask impatiently. 

“Shut the fuck up,” he growls. His hands grip at your waist as he sheaths himself completely inside you. He doesn’t want to pull out of your warm walls, but shallow, fast thrusts won’t suffice this evening.

He pulls out except for just the tip, leaving it nestled in your clenched entrance. “God you’re fuckin tight.” He watches his cock disappear into you, the way you suck him in and desperately hold him. White stars cloud the edges of his vision. Fuck he could nut right here. A goddamn two pump chump.

You moan as he pulls out again. “You’re just like everyone else out there.” Another fast thrust. Your legs shake against his. 

His cock comes out shiny, covered in your juices as he pulls out a third time. “Looking for a quick hook-up.” His next pump elicits a needy whine from you, and Bakugou almost relaxes his bruising grip on your hips, but your voice floats into his head. I promise I won’t break.

Bakugou sneaks a peek at the mirror in front of him. He didn’t want to see your face during sex — see some manufactured expression you think he wants to see.

But fuck, the face you’re making right now; eyes closed, your teeth tugging on your bottom lip. You’re absolutely glowing. Even the way you arch your ass for him so he hits that much deeper. You’re going to make him lose his goddamn mind. 

His chest leans against your back as he ruts into you animalistically. “And I fell for it.” The sound of his hips snapping against yours fills the small room. It’s a frantic pace as Bakugou chases his high. He can feel it building deep within him, and your cries of pleasure send him over the edge. Climax rocks through him, sending shock waves through all his limbs. 

It takes him a moment for his nerves to calm down and for you to start moving restlessly to remind him that you’re still under him. He pulls out and watches white cum drip out of you. 

He hadn’t planned on fucking anyone tonight. To be honest, he hadn’t planned on fucking anyone for a long while. 

“I may be here looking for a good time, but I’m not the one who decided to stick my dick in a random chick.” You adjust your dress and stare at his reflection in the mirror. You got him there.  “Is that enough time for your ex? Or do we need to make awkward chitchat for a while?”

“Fuck you,” Bakugou huffs, but he’s all bark, no bite. Based on the way you loop your arm in his, you know it too.

“Y’already did.”

The two of you leave quickly, spilling out into the night with other couples. Neither of you check to see if his ex is looking. Noises of the city surround you both. Conversations float by with passing pedestrians. Cars putter past. 

You untangle yourself from Bakugou and straighten your clothes one last time. “Well, that was fun,” you say smugly. “We should do it again.”

“Not likely.”

“Whatever you say,” you smirk and walk off into the night.

Bakugou watches you go, his eyes glued to your body until you disappear around a corner. He’d never see you again. Didn’t even get a name. Just a one-night stand that’ll never turn into more. You even lived in the opposite direction from him.

Whatever. Bakugou pulls out his phone and sees a folded piece of pink paper flutter out as well. Snatching it before it can hit the ground, Bakugou unfolds it and sees a phone number.

XXX-XXX-XXXX we can also just talk!

When the hell did you slip this in his pocket? He can’t stop himself from letting out a little laugh. Well played. Maybe he would see you again after all.

Yes he kept your panties.

Scene of Love // The Darkling x Reader

Summary: The moment Aleksander realizes he’s in love.

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova (The Darkling) x GN!Reader (Shadow and Bone)

Word Count: 797

Warnings/AN: None. P.S. running out of Aleksander gifs that include just him so if you are a gif creator... hint hint.

Quick Links: Masterlist // Request Guidelines

Beyond the Little Palace laid a pond.

The pond was small, the color of sage, but reflected the sun as it shone above. Its alcove covered by heavy yields of trees; every one different. Their barks bending or white, leaves turning from green to an alluring array of autumn shades.

The cove was the color of the golden sun.

From the distance he kept, Aleksander reveled in the silhouette of you.

As the water nearly glowed, your face had been turned aside. A slight overturn on your right shoulder, Aleksander found himself incapable of looking away. His gaze set, drawn to the creature before him that illuminated with the light. Your distinctive features ornately carved by the beauty of the early afternoon, drawn to life by a slight movement of your lashes fluttering, the tilting of your head upwards toward the sun. A brilliant shining diamond amidst a sea of natural occurrence.

Your head jutted over your shoulder, etching him into your vision with a coy, demure smile before shifting forward once more.

It was so simple, so easy to imagine the joy you emitted.

Aleksander had forgotten what that was like. How it felt to be free of burden or task; his duty to his goal was too great of an accord to focus on something as benign as love. Aleksander had resigned himself to a life of distance, of apathy and sorrow. Needs met and fulfilled by passing faces to never be thought of again, reticent to the defining moments of life missed. Aleksander had never allowed himself to love—until you.

You were everything he was not. You were kind, good. A warm heart and hand to hold when days carried that burden too heavily; a forgiving smile for the mistakes he had made in the past. You learned from him, talked with him, understood him like no other. The blame of his choices were not scolded onto him. The one he loved did not act superior to him or ask to be treated as less. You were an opposite equal: someone who demanded the same respect and status but held hands instead of breaking them.

Your heart was amiable.

The way your eyes shone in the light of the golden forest, he wondered how they could gaze upon him with an affectionate lust. He was bad. A clichéd villain of type, while you provided his good. Yet you remained standing as he drank in the sight, relishing in your own mind how his eyes ranked over your form over and over in complete adoration—even if he hadn’t vocalized it just yet.

It was a rather simple concept, love. The action was difficult. A process of understanding another’s faults and convictions, truths and hardships. In the end, Aleksander would realize he needn’t know any of those things about you to love you. Love didn’t have to be complicated. It could be as simple as admiring another from a far and falling in love with their minute movements and playful gaze.

It was enough to make the heart pump faster. Enough for his words to cease and grow forgotten in his memory. His palms perspired further, his stomach feeling lighter and tougher at the same time. Hypothetical, banal butterflies filled its space with a realization that he had never felt such a way before.

Aleksander was in love. He was in love with you and while he may not admit it aloud in a few moments or months ahead, he would never forget the second he realized the feeling was real. It wasn’t a children’s story or fairytale to expand upon with lies, it was absolute. A near palpable emotion that invaded every sense and smell. Everywhere he turned, you were lingering in his vision or nose. The scent of your body, the trail of your fingers or eyes, the romance that flowed freely from them; easy to give, to maintain and protect, although he hadn't ever realized it.

How easy it had been to give his heart away when the right one stood lengths away, your own heart already given and captured by the shadowed man aside the trees.

As the emotions breached the stone-cold fortress around his heart, Aleksander forever engraved the sight before him as the sun encapsulated his reason for further existence. Purpose flowed with love, surged his desire to protect and ensure a prosperous future. For a man who had convinced himself he was not suitable for love, not worthy of feeling the very vulnerable emotions that accompany it, Aleksander had found it. Locked safely in the golden woods beyond Os Alta, a memory secured in his heart and mind eternally.

Aleksander may have lived many lives, had many names, but he would only ever have one love: you.

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Dusk Till Dawn - Chapter One

Pairing: The Darkling x reader

Summary: Your relationship with General Kirigan only exists after the sun goes down and you begin to wonder whether he loves you beyond the night calls. Before you can find out Kirigan’s true feelings, you’re tied up and thrown into the back of a van.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: Human trafficking, forced drug use and a lot of non-consensual stuff. Please don't read if you get triggered by anything of that nature, it gets pretty dark.

A/N: This is heavily inspired by Taken. Don't @ me

Let’s just pretend jurda is similar to heroin.

There was no hiding from the sun. Sweat beaded your forehead as you pushed through the market square. Everything seemed too bright. You distracted yourself with a crate of oranges, running your fingers over the bumpy peel and squeezing them gently. After discerning which were of the best quality, you placed three in your wicker basket and smiled at the man behind the stall as you handed over several coins.

You came to the market to escape your room. But the hot air was stifling, making it difficult to breathe. Now you wanted nothing more than to escape the heat. You didn't belong in any environment, it seemed.

All energy dripping from your body, you turned to go back the way you had came.

General Kirigan had left the Little Palace on business. He'd taken several of his army with him, including yourself. Wandering the back alleys, you pondered the question: had he invited you as a member of his army or as something more?

Your hands idly turned the oranges in their baskets. You'd worked your way up the ranks. You weren't Grisha yourself but you'd studied international relations all your life and it only took a few years before you were appointed diplomat.

You met him the day you were due to make your first important speech at the Little Palace. He had such a powerful aura that the moment he walked into the room, your entire attention was commanded by him. You couldn’t understand what was happening to you. This man’s presence made you feel something you’d never felt before. You were so desperately hungry for him to acknowledge you.

Those obsidian eyes finally – finally – looked at you when the time came for your speech. Gripping the podium to keep from shaking, your knuckles turned white. Your words were off-kilter as they pushed past the swarming nerves in your stomach. But it didn’t take long for your practice to kick in and your speech fell into an easy rhythm. It was difficult to keep on track when your eyes constantly gravitated back to General Kirigan. What made it even more difficult was the small smile playing across his lips, the slight upward tilt of his jaw. He was… proud?

Giddy, you left the hall as soon as you'd finished the speech. You couldn’t socialise after that and pretend that your feelings weren’t eating you up inside. The only thing you could handle was solitude.

You came to regret that decision. Because for days, growing to weeks, you were haunted by a craving for his eyes to find yours again. You wanted to see him smile one more time and for you to be the reason why.

One long sleepless night, you found yourself restlessly walking the corridors, hoping your thoughts would fall away from you with each step. You didn't get your wish. Your thoughts materialised.

General Kirigan turned the corner.

You weren't sure how it happened. You weren't sure whether it was the best or the worst thing that happened to you. But you suffered many more sleepless nights, entangled in his dark sheets.

You couldn't believe it. Your hands roamed his raven locks, his hands explored every inch of your body, memorising each dip and curve. You moved with perfect synchronisation, slotting together perfectly. Everything seemed to make sense. It felt so right. You belonged.

But during the day, you would pass in the hallways and he wouldn't so much as glance at you. Completely devoid of recognition. Of course, you understood at once, you were nothing more than a night call. You had been delusional. Those nights where he stayed up listening to you talk about your life, your worries, your dreams, they had been nothing more than two people who couldn't sleep.

Alekesander with his stupidly beautiful face never loved you. And Aleksander with his ridiculously dulcet voice never would.

Footsteps quickly approached from behind. An arm wrapped around your neck.

“Alekshmnr-!”

You tried to call out his name but was muffled by a rag pressed against your mouth.

You thrashed your body and kicked at the legs of the man behind you but within a few moments your nose began to burn and your vision was stolen to darkness.

***

There was nothing. Then gradually, the thrum of an engine.

Head lolled to one side, you toed the line of consciousness. That was until the van drove over a bump, jolting you awake. Your eyes flashed open but your vision was obscured: a sack had been pulled over your head. You went to remove it but your hands were bound behind your back.

Panic shot through your blood. You couldn’t understand what was happening.

“Is she Grisha?” A voice asked, coming from the front of the van.

“She didn’t raise her hands to attack,” someone answered.

The voice replied disappointedly, “We won’t get much for her then.”

You hadn’t thought it possible but your panic doubled. Slavers. They clearly didn’t know who you were. No one in their right mind would think to kidnap the Darkling’s diplomat… Who were you kidding? A diplomat was replaceable. They were right. You weren’t anything of value.

Whatever fate awaited you, no one would come to your rescue. You curled your knees to your chest.

After a long while, the roads grew jagged and rough. Overgrown hedges swished across the van doors and stones rattled beneath the tyres. Then the van came to a slow halt.

Adrenaline had been pumping through your veins for so long that it felt like your limbs were made of static electricity. Men rustled around you, getting out of the van, then strong hands hooked beneath your arms and dragged you out the back. You tried once more to struggle free. But no one believed you’d be able to fight him off, especially not yourself.

The breeze disappeared from your skin once you were pushed inside a building. Heavy doors closed behind you and then the bag was ripped from your head.

Blinking away the painful glare, you assessed your surroundings. The walls were browning and the paint was chipping away. Not much decorated the room, just cardboard boxes strewn around. Whatever this place used to be, it was certainly abandoned now.

Before you could decipher any more, a hand on your back shoved you forwards. You were pushed into a makeshift meeting room. Your eyes whipped around, trying to soak in as many details as possible. A table - covered in documents - sat in the middle with rat-bitten chairs scattered around it.

The men filed into the room. You counted six of them.

The man with the broadest shoulders made a ‘come hither’ gesture to a man at his side. The broad man was handed a needle containing a milky orange liquid.

Your eyes widened and your mouth let loose a “no.”

You’d heard horror stories about it before, you’d even lost friends to it: jurda.

You flailed once more, stronger now the sense of threat was striding towards you. From behind, a man clutched your shoulders, keeping you in place. That made it easy for the broad man to jab the needle into your neck and push the syringe.

Jurda grasped you quickly, spreading through your limbs and turning them to mush. It even reached your brain, slowing your thoughts and making it impossible to think coherently. And yet the panic remained.

Another order was barked, “Strip her.”

“No!” The words sloshed from your mouth.

The straps of your summer dress slid from your shoulders and the rest of the garment fell to the damp concrete. Even with the jurda, you could feel the cold prick at your skin, causing your hairs to stand on end.

The broad man gave a subtle nod of his head. Frowning, you weren’t able to figure out the meaning. It started to become clear when the man behind you gave you a sharp shove down onto a chair. And then a man dropped down in front of you. Placing one hand on each of your thighs, he pried your legs apart as far as they would go. Then he crawled between them so you were unable to close them again. Not that your limp muscles could put up much protest.

He dragged your pants down your legs and left them at your ankles. You’d never felt so exposed in your life, so vulnerable. You couldn’t bring yourself to look down at your vulva, on display for all to see. And you couldn’t bring yourself to look at the expressions on the men’s faces, you were sure you’d find pleasure there, glinting in their eyes.

Bile rose to your throat. Grimy, unfamiliar hands were slithering up your thighs. Fingers traced your vulva and pried your labia apart. He dipped his head in for a close inspection, breathing faintly onto your sensitive skin. Your mind thought back to the man whose hands, whose face, had been there only a few nights ago. Tears stung your eyes but they didn’t fall.

Withdrawing his hands, he stated – devoid of emotion, as if he’d done this a hundred times before - “Not a virgin.”

“Alright.” The broad man gave another nod.

Your pants were pulled back up and then you were hauled to standing and dragged away. Your feet staggered one after the other. You couldn’t even dream of fighting them off anymore. It was hard enough fighting to keep your face from hitting the floor.

You were barely able to process your surroundings. The lines demarcating the ceiling from the wall seemed to shift and blur. You had to squint to have any hope of figuring out where you were. All you could make out was that you were in a corridor lined with doors. One of the doors pushed open. Before you could refocus your eyes, you were thrown onto a bed. The change in orientation made the room swim violently.

You tried to wriggle into a position where it didn’t feel like the world was spinning but firm hands grasped you, keeping you still. The ropes were removed from your wrists and then quickly replaced by metal chains spreading your arms out to each bed post. You felt like a frog being pinned down for dissection.

There was movement in your periphery and you turned your head to see a man sliding an IV drip into your wrist. More jurda. You’d promised yourself you wouldn’t do jurda after what had happened to your friends. The tears fell freely now, dripping down the sides of your face and wetting the pillow. Jurda was the least of your concerns.

The men gathered around you, staring at their job well done. You could no longer make out any details, just six faceless bodies looming over the bed.

“Please,” you begged weakly.

They turned their backs and the door closed behind them, leaving you shrouded in darkness.

Focus

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Warnings: Smut, Hand Jobs, Semi-Public. Word Count: 900 words.

Summary: Squad movie nights sure are more fun with Kirishima trying to stifle his moans.

A/N: Ft. A little surprise in the end.

On nights like these, when the rest of the squad are settled down in the living room watching another mind-numbing action flick, you're glad that you and Kirishima started to fool around.

'Focus Eiji... Or, someone's going to find out.' You coo into Kirishima's ear, shifting your chair to press in even closer. Your shoulder is flush to his, allowing you to lean forward and pitch over the table to peak into the living room, perfectly hiding the way your hand snakes down his stomach and over the growing bulge in his basketball shorts.

He tenses, shoulders locking up around his ears as you squeeze him. The adrenaline coursing through him makes his leg bounce, but he keeps his wiggling to a minimum. The last thing he wants is for you to stop, even if the group is only a few feet away. 'Baby...'

'Mmm.' You hum and press down with your palm, causing him to groan at the touch. 'Want me to keep going, Eiji?'

Nodding, he shifts bucking his hips into your hand to punctuate his point.

'Ask nicely...'

'Please...'

Pecking him on the cheek, you work your hand under the waist band of his shorts and boxers, feeling the wiry curls of black pubic hair scratch at your fingers as you move to take hold of him. His cock is warm and wet, heavy in your palm when you gently roll your hand down the shaft. 'You gotta stay quiet, okay?'

There's a fine sheen on his shoulders where he's almost sweating through his tank-top and his teeth are clenched so tight that he thinks they might slice his gums, but even that doesn't stop the almost silent whimper that leaks past his lips when you begin to move. His back curves as he plants his elbows on the table, hands balling up into fists on top of the wood. 'I – I c-can't.'

'Sure you can, baby...' Pre-cum coats your palm, making each achingly slow slide of your hand along his shaft easier. His cock twitches, desperate for a rougher touch, but you're nowhere near done with him yet. Squeezing at him, you twist your wrist encouraging another bead of pre-cum to leak steadily from the swollen head. 'Just let me take care of you.'

'I – fuck...' He jerks, body betraying him as heat pools in his stomach forcing his abs to tense. There's a shake in his voice when he tries to speak again, swallowing hard as another moan threatens to bubble up his throat. ''m not – not gonna last long if you – holy shit – if you keep going like that.'

You smile, biting your lip as you lean in close. At this distance you can feel each of his ragged breaths fan across your cheeks, see the desperate glint in his eye as his pupils blow out eclipsing the deep carmine of his iris'. 'Want to cum?'

He nods, not trusting himself enough to speak.

With a single peck placed just below his above his cheekbone, you pick up the pace. Each pass of your wrist makes him tense, his body lurching as you work him up, closer and closer to the edge.

Squirming, it doesn't take long before he's cumming. A rumbling moan bursts from him, barely smothered by the tension in his jaw. Thick white spurts from his cock, coating your hand in his release as you stroke him through the last throws of his orgasm. His breath rattles in his chest when he finally begins to come down, unlocking his muscles as they begin to turn to jelly.

'Shit, Kiri.' You chuckle, pulling your hand back and holding it up to the dim light into the kitchen. Sticky webs coat your fingers, dyeing them in a translucent glow that shimmers faintly as you bend and twist your fingers. Raising your hand to your mouth, you let your tongue poke out from between your lips to gently lap at a droplet rolling down your finger. A burst of bitterness spreads over your tongue, but that doesn't stop you going back in for another, longer lick.

Groaning, he watches as you diligently lap at the rest of the cum coating your fingers. His cock twitches back to life when you swallow, loudly before letting you jaw drop open to show him the empty cavern of your mouth. A sigh breaks through his lips. 'I'm – fuck – I think I'm getting hard again.'

The kitchen door clicks shut, causing both you to snap towards the sound.

Bakugo snorts, leaning back against the door. His eyes roam over you before flickering to Kirishima and scrutinizing the blush coating his cheeks. 'There room for one more?'

'Yes – uh - I mean, it's – it's not really up to me - I...' Kirishima is sent scrambling, struggling to piece sentences together as he realises that his half-chub is still out in the open, only half obscured by the table.

You smirk, reaching under the table to palm at Kirishima's cock, working it back up to hardness in a few slow tugs. 'Got my hands full.'

Bakugo arcs his eyebrows, tongue licking at the side of his lip before he pulls up his own chair beside you and throws himself down into it. He looks you dead in the eye as he slips a thumb under the hem of his sweats and boxers, yanking them down until both his balls and cock are freed. Reaching for your other hand, he takes you lightly by the wrist and wraps your palm around his cock. 'Aint you got two hands for a reason?'

-> Masterlist