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lemmesayimyourbiggestfan · 26 days ago

Note

frontman x reader whos a player but not because of debt but because she was investigating with gi-hun and ju-hon and got in the limousine and then in-ho falls in love with her and gets her out of the game with him like at the end of the season

can u also like not write it like a hate love relationship? like readers conflicted but still likes in-ho

Keeping you safe

Hwang In-ho x reader

hiii, pleasure writing your request! hope it’s the way you imagined :)

Word count: 3,3k

Warnings: violence, murder,…

Requests are open! i would also like to write something about Jun-ho or the salesman, so hmu

When you jumped into the limousine after Gi-hun you didn’t consider its consequences. Jun-ho trusted you to keep your eyes on Gi-hun at all costs and you were going to keep your word, even when it meant making yourself vulnerable.

The gas was sweet on your tongue and Gi-hun already slumped down on the plush leather of the limo seats. But you were wide awake, somehow defying sleep’s influence, shaking, still processing what the deep voice implied and Gi-hun demanded. “Put me in the game. But leave her out of it.”

Those words were followed by a dry laugh. You knew that meant there was no way out of it now. You started whispering into the intercom to Jun-ho, saying how sorry you were. His panicked voice was cut off by you turning off the device while you prepared yourself for the Frontman’s reaction, closing your eyes and taking shallow breaths.

“No. Those are my games and my rules. Might make them more interesting, don’t you agree, player 456?”

Then the gas started rising up from the floor. Gi-hun grabbed your hand, rumbling about how sorry he was. You smiled wearily, pressing his hand. “It’s okay, Gi-hun.” You both knew it wasn’t. It was as far from ‘okay’ as possible.

His fingers went limp and you resigned, waiting for the inevitable. With muted senses you watched the tinted protection shield go down. Behind it was the man in the mask himself, looking at you over his shoulder. Just when his gloved hand hovered over his mask, shrugging it off, you were engulfed in darkness.

***

After the first game, you thought that nothing could surprise you anymore. As much as Gi-hun tried to keep you from all the bloodshed, even he couldn’t cover your eyes and ears every time there was a gunshot. Still pale and shaken, digging dirt and blood from beneath your nails, you sat on your bed with the provided food in your lap, watching your surroundings. At least Gi-hun could be happy he found here his long lost friend, with whom he was now talking. You still didn’t speak to anyone else. You were scared that if you did, they would be dead by tomorrow.

You barely noticed there was any commotion until the sudden silence peaked your interest. There was a skirmish between three guys, two of them working together, which made the outcome of the fight quite obvious. There was another player stalking towards the group, trying to break up the fight.

“I said save the lecture for your own damn kids.” one of the guys shouted at him. That’s when you noticed the player’s still frame, like a cat before launching at its prey. And you were right; within a blink of an eye, he put both of the guys on their backs, not even breaking a sweat. You looked closer at him, reading the number 001 on his back. Even from afar you could see how deadly calm he was while choking one of them. After a moment the rage left his body and he released his grip. You didn’t expect the applause that followed his actions. You exchanged a look with Gi-hun. Were you the only one who sensed something foreboding?

You turned your attention back to the food in your lap and decided that even though you weren’t hungry, you desperately needed the energy. But in your mind, all you could think about was the player 001. Was he a police detective like Jun-ho or a former marine like Jung-bae or Dae-ho? Or something else entirely?

It took you a while to get out of your head and notice that his bed was right next to yours. With a sigh, player 001 sat down, grabbing his unfinished food. Just then he noticed your searching look and gave you a tentative smile.

“Hello, sir,” you began, looking down at your hands. A sudden wave of nervousness came over you. “I’m Y/N. Do you mind telling me your name?”

“No bother, Y/N,” he replied and you stared at his lips, at how perfectly they formed your name. “I’m Young-il. Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” you grinned at him in response, holding out your hand that he tentatively shook.

“Nice moves there,” you pointed your chin to the middle of the dormitory where the fight took place. “You could teach me if you had time, I’m terrible in combat.” A lie. Jun-ho himself taught you how to hold yourself and how to hold a gun. You were just trying to find out who Young-il was.

“If we have time, yes.” he nodded absentmindedly, scooping up a mouthful of rice.

“Do you mind me asking? I was just wondering if you have any children.” you said carefully.

“No, I don't.” Young-il replied, suddenly his gaze sharp.

“Well, I just thought that, based on your reaction to what that other player told you-“ you searched for the answer in his closely guarded expression. “You lost your child, didn’t you?”

Young-il didn’t say anything to that, his cutlery going limp in his hand.

“I just- I’d know that look anywhere. I know it’s not something to bond over,” you gave a startled laugh, fidgeting under his everlasting gaze, “but if you’d like to talk about it-“

“Thank you.” He reached out and squeezed your hand. His touch was calloused and warm. “I mean it.”

You smiled softly, squeezing his fingers in response. “I know.”

Preparing yourself for lights out, you couldn’t ignore his lingering gaze following your movements. Thankfully Gi-hun approached you and sat next to you on the bed, guilt visible in his expression.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I never wanted to drag you into this. And I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe-“

“Don’t worry about that, sir. I can take care of myself. Anyways, I was only following Jun-ho’s orders. It had nothing to do with you.”

Unconvinced, Gi-hun sighed and moved to his own bed, not having the energy at the moment to argue with you. You finally lay down, moving the thin blanket over your body, curling up on your side.

“I overheard you talking about Jun-ho, and I couldn’t help but notice how familiar that name sounds to me,” Young-il broke the silence, looking at you with curiosity in his eyes.

“Well, he used to work as a police detective so that’s why you might know him.”

“Oh, yes, that might be possible,” Young-il gave you a restrained smile. “And he is to you-?”

“A friend. I used to work as a secretary in his department, that’s all.” you smiled back.

“Oh, sorry to pry.” he looked at his hands.

“Not at all.” He looked into your eyes and your eyes crinkled with another smile. Only when he looked away did you turn around in your bed. A few minutes later you heard Gi-hun and Young-il talking and even though you didn’t want to, it was impossible to not overhear. Young-il was explaining the story of why he’s in the games and why he chose to continue playing - how his pregnant wife was gravely ill and he needed the money due to her medical bills. Somehow, this answer shocked you, even though you shouldn't have been thrown off by it. Of course he was married.

Only after the whole dormitory fell silent did you finally fall into a fitful sleep.

***

“Thank you, Young-il.” you whispered to him, gratefully touching his shoulder. Young-il turned his gaze your way and the corners of his eyes crinkled under the influence of a smile. Only his supportive words during the six legged pentathlon could calm you down, which resulted in you successfully completing your mini game. The memory flashed through your mind - tears welling in your eyes, hands shaking as you reached again and again for the gong-gi pebbles. You could sense your teammates’ growing unease but that even worsened your situation. After the third attempt, Young-il grabbed you by the elbow, leaning closer as he said: “Ignore everything else okay? Just listen to me and focus.”

You nodded, bewildered eyes setting again on the pebbles. You were kneeling in a puddle of blood, which didn’t exactly help calm your nerves.

“Just concentrate. I know you can do it. Look at you, all flushed red and focused. This look suits you.” The pebbles balanced on the knuckles of your hand, just one more throw. You looked up at Young-il, lips slightly parted. Were you hearing correctly? Maintaining eye contact, you threw the pebbles op with a sudden surge of confidence and caught them flawlessly. Everyone cheered and you were hoisted up by your team, but all you could hear were Young-il’s last words whispered in your ear: “Good girl.”

Now he was looking at you, this new tension between you two palpable.

“Anytime.”

***

While you tried to act nonchalant, it was just impossible. The way Young-il now watched you at all times drove you crazy, feeling his gaze like a branding on your body. You were grateful for keeping a watch during the lights off, thinking that it could distract you from your own dirty thoughts. But it was quite the contrary.

Overlooking the silent dark room, those words echoed in you even more soundly. Good girl. With a sigh you stretched out your legs, trying to ignore the tightness in your underbelly. You were annoyed with yourself. Why did the words of a stranger make you feel this way? Words of a married stranger, more like it.

“You seem distracted.”

You jumped at that impassive raspy voice. Thankfully, once Young-ho sat down next to you, he couldn’t notice your flushed cheeks due to the impassable darkness. Your shoulders touched and to your surprise he didn’t immediately move away.

“Oh, it’s nothing, really.” you smiled with your head bowed, nearly chuckling at how clueless he must be.

There was an awkward silence following your reply, so, without thinking about it, you said: “Thank you again for today, truly. You helped me a lot.”

Young-il looked at you, searching for something in your expression. Apparently he found it. “You think about that a lot, don’t you?”

“Sorry?” you stumbled over your words, not knowing how to react, what to say.

“My words alone made you quiver. Now imagine what my tongue could do.” he whispered, teasing you, a spark in his eyes.

“Young-il-“ you breathed out, suddenly aware of how close his face was to yours. You felt your underwear getting wetter by the minute. But you put that all in the back of your mind as you said: “I know you are married. Expecting a child, even. You shouldn’t say things like that.”

He blinked, taken aback. “Does that bother you? Or are you bothered by the effect I have on you?”

You sighed, looking away from his handsome face. Was he sent here just to test your boundaries?

“I still have enough self control to know right from wrong.” But your body wasn’t in line with your thoughts.

Young-il stared at you for a moment, then sighed, irritated. “My wife and my child are gone. I just don’t enjoy talking about them in past tense. I joined the games out of misery, nothing more. Are you happy now?”

You froze, looking at the way his arms formed into fists at his sides. It was like having ice cold water poured all over you.

“Young-il, I’m so-“

“Don’t be. It’s been a long time.” Eyes meeting, he smiled at you tentatively. You squeezed his warm hand and he relaxed, loosening his fist.

“Right now, I don’t care about anything but you.” He caressed your cheek with the back of his hand, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Moving closer, he kissed the bruise already blossoming on your jaw. And you let him.

“I don’t want to scare you away with my… infatuation. But right now, I’m so desperately weak for you.” Your breathing hitched as he moved his lips to your ear.

Just when you thought he would kiss you, he suddenly pulled away.

“I’ll take over the watch. You should sleep, muster some energy for tomorrow.” You nodded as if in a trance. He helped you stand up and led you to your bed. Young-il left you standing there, leaving only the whisper of his lips branding your cheek.

***

The third game was a whirlwind of movement. Only thanks to Young-il were you still alive and breathing. Every time a number was announced, he firmly grasped your wrist and dragged you with him wherever he went. Not that you were complaining - you were so overstimulated by all the commotion that you were glad you could keep up with him.

When one player tried to separate you from him, Young-il bared his teeth and kicked him square in the chest. “She’s mine,” There it was, the cold expression and clenched jaw. Even though you were on the brink of dying, a shiver ran down your spine.

You made it safe with your group into one of the rooms and soon were walking out to play the last round. You knew exactly what the woman’s voice was going to announce and you were right: “Two.”

Young-il was already moving, pushing people out of your way. Everything seemed to go smoothly, until you reached the room; a player was already inside.

“Get out.” Young-il growled and reached the man, trying to get him on his legs and out of the room.

“We were here first,” the player whimpered. You noticed other players running to the door you were standing next to and panicking, you closed it, pushing your whole body against it.

You looked over your shoulder at Young-il, wanting to see if he was any closer to pushing the player out through the doors. But you froze when you saw he was holding the man in a headlock, choking him. All you could do was stare.

Young-il was looking straight back at you. And with one smooth motion of his arms he broke the man’s spine, leaving him staring at the ceiling, going limp in Young-il’s grip.

“I’d do anything for you, Y/N.” Young-il said, slowly getting up. You couldn’t tear your gaze from the lifeless body on the ground.

Only when he knelt in front of you did your eyes meet his. He grabbed your cold, shaking hands, kissing the knuckles while staring into your eyes.

“You’re scaring me,” you whispered, a tear rolling down your cheek.

“You poor thing,” Young-il said absentmindedly, wiping your tears away. “I can keep you safe, Y/N. I promise. All I’ve done was to prove that to you.”

“It’s scaring me how far you’re willing to go for me,” you sobbed, fighting the urge to flinch when he caressed your cheek. Still, you couldn’t find a reason to hate him. All the things he was saying were true, he did all of this for you, he killed a man for you, for your own safety.

The lock on the doors clicked and you closed your eyes, letting yourself be guided by Young-il out of the room. You knew that if you looked once more at the corpse, you would never let Young-il touch you again.

So you kept your eyes closed, choosing the easier path.

***

When the lights went out, all you could do was hold Young-il as hard as possible and count the minutes until the slaughter was over. Head against his chest, you concentrated on the sound of his heartbeat, every other sound pushed into the background. His hand was on your lower back, holding you as close as possible.

“I want to go home.” you whispered, clutching the front of his T-shirt like a small child. It was all a mistake. You shouldn’t be here.

“Okay, you will, okay? When we disarm the guards, you stay hidden, but once we take control of the rest, you have to come to my side, you understand?”

You nodded into his chest. Young-il kissed the crown of your head before leaving you under the bed as the guards tried to take control of the situation.

After many gunshots fired, you were crawling to the group of players formed in front of the main doors. Without hesitation you claimed one of the smaller guns for yourself. Somehow, the familiar weight of it calmed you down a bit. Young-il looked at you with tenseness.

“Keeping secrets, I see.” In reply you just loaded the gun, staring back.

Gi-hun looked your way over his shoulder, sending you a quick nod. The group exited the room, moving quickly down the corridor. Young-il stayed back, moving slower than the rest. Once the first guards got in your way, he pushed you to the side, saying: “This way!” Looking over your shoulder, everyone was shooting at the enemy, moving the other way. You looked back at him, unsure.

“You wanted to go home, didn’t you? Well, this is it.” seeing how indecisive you were, he sighed, “You trust me, don’t you?”

Hesitant, you followed his lead. You took the side stairs up and you got a bad feeling in your stomach. Young-il didn’t bother to check the corners, nor the other stories as you climbed the stairs. He walked like someone who knew this place, someone who wasn’t scared that he might be shot.

You stopped in your tracks, aiming your gun with a trembling hand. Young-il, upon noticing you were not following him, turned around. There was something like betrayal shining through his demeanour.

“You’re going to explain.” you said, trying to keep your voice and hand steady.

“Oh, Y/N, I think you already know.” Young-il pointed out, a corner of his lips curling up. He took one step towards you.

“What. Is. Your. Real. Name.” you said through gritted teeth, cocking your gun.

“Hwang In-ho.”

All this time, he was the long lost brother Jun-ho was trying to find. You felt the sting of betrayal in your bones.

“Was any of this real?” Tears stung in your eyes and you hated yourself for being so vulnerable.

“Oh, baby,” In-ho sighed, walking to you, kneeling in front of you again. The muzzle of the gun touched his forehead, which he seemed unbothered by.

“Everything.” he said, looking up at you.

“I keep trying to hate you,” you whispered, trying to muster at least some hatred that would make you pull the trigger. “It would be so much easier if I did.”

In-ho reached out and gently took the gun from your trembling hand. He threw in on the ground, making it slide on the floor.

“I know,” he whispered, grabbing your hips with his hands. He stared at you yearningly. There was a burning ache in your chest clawing its way into your throat.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“I can’t. And I don’t think you want me to either.”

The worst part was that he was right.

“I know I should stay away from you, but I can’t. It’s not that simple.” A sob tore out of your throat, making it hard for you to breathe. There were so many emotions in you that your head was spinning. All you knew was the fact that you couldn’t hate the one person who deserved it the most.

“Stay with me, love. I beg you,” In-ho said hoarsely, gripping you harder, trying to make you understand. “You will be safe with me. I will not break that promise.” His eyes were filled with hope. “You felt it too, I know.”

You closed your eyes, composing yourself and your thoughts. You knew it was wrong. But you always had a weakness for the forbidden.

In-ho stood up, taking your face in his hands. He kissed your forehead, your temples, your jaw. And when he kissed you on the lips, you let yourself melt into the touch, forgetting everything else.

“You’ll be the death of me.” you whispered against his lips and he smiled into the kiss, knowing you were his.

#hwang in ho x reader #in ho #in ho x reader #hwang inho x reader #inho x reader #front man #front man x reader #young il x reader #young il #squid game 2 x reader #squid game x reader #squid game 2 #squid game

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officialaemondtargaryen · 8 months ago

Text

Dinner & Diatribes

❝i knew it from the first look of mischief in your eye.❞

Summary: You both swiped right and suddenly you're standing in a stranger's kitchen while he makes you spaghetti.

Pairing: Modern Aegon Targaryen x Reader

Word Count: 5.2k

Author’s Note: this might be the most self-indulgent fic i've ever written, so fair warning. also, thank you tom, who inspired this by saying that dinner & diatribes would be aegon's hozier song. it's just true. anyways, this was really fun to write.

Warnings: language, recreational drug use, alcohol use, fluff, intense sexual situations (including: oral sex - female receiving, sexual intercourse - p in v), just two single people who are horny, more fluff, aegon being so cute that i couldn't stop smiling the whole time i was writing this.

It was precisely 9:39 PM on a Tuesday.

You were sitting cross-legged on your couch, nose deep in a fresh murder mystery that you had been working through for the last two days. There was a lit joint between your fingers that you were nursing, taking little hits so that it wouldn’t completely burn out, and on the cushion next to you, your phone softly vibrates and lights up; a familiar icon flashes across the screen and you can easily make out the words, “It’s a Match” from the corner of your eye.

It’d been a regular occurrence since you had downloaded that accursed app.

You’d been single for far too long, according to your best friend, though you hadn’t really noticed. The sweet silence of a solitary life was something that you had enjoyed for the most part. It wasn’t even like your online dating life had really taken off, either. You’d get matches but hardly anyone would reach out in any way that made you feel like they were serious. They wanted your Snapchat username, or they were in an ‘open’ relationship or asking for a threesome, and one guy even asked if you would send him pictures of your feet. Even some of the ones you thought were serious about taking you out- or even just hooking up- would end up ghosting you before anything actually happened.

“It’s not supposed to be serious,” you could hear your friend’s words rattling around in your brain. You shake your head and focus once again on your book; they have a suspect, it’s the best friend! How fitting.

Once again, your phone lights up and vibrates. Not wanting to be distracted from the plot, you ignore your new match and get back to your mystery with anticipation; the best friend is about to confess. You go to take another hit of your joint and frown upon realizing it’s burnt out. As you move to grab your lighter, in comes another message, and another, and another. You stop what you’re doing and pick up your phone, swiping at the screen until you find the culprit. He’s known only as Aegon T, and according to the one sentence he has written on his profile, he has a dog. You swipe through his pictures- the dog is a golden retriever, the man looks like a golden retriever.

In the message thread, he’s basically talking to himself.

There’s four new messages waiting for you, while three little dots begin flashing at the bottom of the screen; disappearing and reappearing as you read what he’s already sent.

“So, I’m high.”

“And I am making spaghetti… and it’s really good.”

“At least I hope it’s really good, it could just be the weed…”

“I could use a taste-tester, if you’re up for it? I can’t pay you or anything, but it’s honest work 😏”

Aegon begins typing again and you watch the screen, a smirk on your lips. You are 99% sure that the spaghetti is truly an innuendo for what he really wants and have half a heart to just block him, but you watch as those little gray dots continue in the bottom left corner of the screen; he’s going back and forth with himself and you can’t help but find it oddly cute. Your fingers hover over the keyboard as you contemplate a witty response, but before you can even begin typing, he sends a fifth message.

“That was weird as fuck, right?”

Then a sixth.

“You probably don’t want to come over to some random guy’s house on a Tuesday.”

He finishes up with a seventh message.

“Unless you do…”

He almost sends an apology. After all, what's another message? He’s already fucked this whole thing up; not even giving himself a chance before he nose-dived. If he was being honest, he should just go ahead and delete his whole account; save you from secondhand embarrassment and save himself from repeating the same mistake again in the future. He sets the phone down on the kitchen counter and goes back to ripping bong hits to calm his nerves. Though, he’s unable to keep himself from checking his phone for a response; a response that likely wasn’t going to come and he’d spend the rest of his night feeling like a complete idiot.

Seven back-to-back messages should have screamed ‘red flag’, but you’re glancing at the clock as if you were seriously contemplating taking this stranger up on his offer. After all, you do have needs just as much as the next person. But, you’re wearing a sweatshirt and a pair of pajama shorts, your hair’s a mess, and you were covered in the crumbs of your munchie snacks. Meaning, you were nowhere close to being prepared for what was sure to happen between you and this random stoner offering you dinner.

Yet, you respond to him, “I could never turn down spaghetti”.

Aegon’s stirring the sauce when he gets your message. He’s instantly elated, thrusting a celebratory fist into the air. His fingers fly across the keyboard swiftly, sending another quick message, “Atta girl 🙃 My place is on the corner of 9th and 51st, above Jasper’s.”

“Be there soon,” you reply with haste.

It was apartment #4 and you made sure to text your friend the address, and given name of your potential murderer, and also share your location for her to keep an eye out. She says all you have to do is text her at any time if you need her to call and bail you out with a fake emergency. All she asks in return is for you to have fun and let her know if you are planning on spending the night- which was an idea that you weren’t opposed to, but it wasn’t something you were planning on.

You’re nervous as you stand outside of the door to his apartment, fist hovering for a moment. Now’s the time to make a fast exit- you haven’t met him, you could turn around right now and never meet him. You could wake up alive in the morning, safe in your own bed. Or, you can knock on the door and have what might be a really nice spaghetti dinner with a really nice guy. Hell, he could even be the love of your life and in fifty years you’ll both look back on this day and laugh about how you met on Tinder and how you were stupid enough to go to his house and not a public place.

Finally, you knock.

Aegon puts the lid back on his spaghetti sauce and shuffles into the living room. Sunfyre is on the couch with his ears perked; his tail’s wagging and he’s panting eagerly, waiting patiently to meet this new visitor. Aegon whispers over to him, “wish me luck,” and thinks to himself, please don’t be a catfish, please don’t be a catfish, please don’t be a catfish. He peers through the peephole when he approaches the door and there you are, a sigh of relief deflates his chest.

“Oh, thank God,” you can hear him say as the door swings open. His accent is surprisingly British. “You’re real.”

The very first thing that you notice are his eyes. They’re piercing; somehow blue and lavender at the same time– the color of a warm, summer sunrise and they’re crinkling at the edges as he smiles. He’s wearing a pair of dark gray sweats and a pale green hoodie, and the only word that comes to mind when you look at him is warmth. He’s somehow more attractive in person than he is in the pictures on his profile, which you didn’t think was possible, but he’s standing right in front of you and you can’t help but think to yourself, he doesn’t look like a murderer.

Then again, neither did Ted Bundy.

Aegon stands there for a moment, just staring at you, unable to do anything else. His words escape him, he can barely even breathe. You look exactly the same as your pictures; even without the makeup and even in the shitty, fluorescent overhead lights of the hallway. Even in a sweatshirt and pajama shorts, you’re stunning. He’s having a hard time believing that you actually showed up and he doesn’t realize that he’s been staring for much too long until you shrug back at him.

“Did you think I wasn’t?” You ask with creased brows and a lopsided smile.

The corners of his lips pull upwards as he looks at you, “I don’t know. You’re just so beautiful, I’m still not entirely convinced you aren’t some sort of hologram… or a robot.”

“Wow, you’re pretty smooth,” you say with a playful smirk, desperately trying to keep your composure— trying to play it cool, hoping that he hasn’t caught on to the fact that you’re secretly spiraling, because it took all of one smile and one compliment and you were done for. “But, I’ll have you know that flattery won’t work on me. I’m here for the spaghetti and the spaghetti alone.”

“My apologies,” Aegon says with a chuckle as he holds his hands up defensively. “Right this way, then.”

He steps to the side, allowing you to enter his apartment, and shuts the door behind you. It’s nice, clean, smells like fresh baked bread and tomato sauce. There’s niche artwork adorning the walls, he’s got candles burning, and there’s some lowkey, downtempo R&B playing softly in the background. He quickly moves past you and disappears into the kitchen, leaving you to follow him.

However, before you can take all of two steps into his apartment, a flash of golden fur is suddenly at your hip, pawing for attention. You drop down to a knee and happily accept any and all kisses from the pup. “Oh! Hi, what’s your name?”

Aegon sticks his head around the corner and says, “That is Sunfyre. In case you were wonderin’, he’s a very good judge of character and I will be consultin’ with him later where you’re concerned, fair warning.”

You roll your eyes and scratch behind Sunfyre’s ears, his tail thumps in approval.

“Would you like something to drink?” He continues and disappears back into the kitchen. “I’ve got wine and bottled water. Oh, and milk?” There’s a rustling in the kitchen before Aegon adds with a nervous chuckle, “scratch that, there is no milk.”

You politely excuse yourself from Sunfyre and step into the small dining room off of the kitchen.

There’s a grin on your lips, which you pursed so that he doesn’t think you’re laughing at him. Sunfyre joins the two of you and circles around his owner’s legs as Aegon empties an almost full half-gallon of milk down the drain. His kitchen is small but looks to be well used, which you appreciate. You know almost nothing about this man, other than his name- if ‘Aegon’ was even his real name- and the name of his dog, and yet here you were, standing in the threshold of his kitchen with a strange sense of comfortability as if you had been lifelong pals.

“Water is fine,” you tell him.

He produces a bottle of water from his fridge and tosses it over to you with ease and goes back to the stove. You step further into the kitchen, taking in your surroundings. The kitchen, like the living room, is covered in artwork and vintage decor- things you’d only find in some obscure thrift store or estate sale. On the refrigerator are a collection of magnets from different cities and countries, real touristy type shit. Some of them even had names on them; Alexander, Aaron, Alistair, Alan, Adolf.

Maybe these are the names of people he’s killed.

“You travel a lot?” You ask, trying to keep the conversation going.

“I try to,” he says from over his shoulder as he continues to stir the sauce. You can hear him set the lid back on the pot. “Most of those are from my sister, Helaena. She thinks it’s hilarious to give me magnets with random ‘A’ names since you’ll never find the name Aegon on any of those,” he says from behind you. He’s leaning against the counter with a half glass of wine. You quirk an eyebrow at him, not fully convinced. “She has a few from me that say Helen.”

“Is that her?” You ask, finger pointing to a pretty blonde in one of the many photographs he had pinned up.

He nods and takes a step closer to you. He’s so close that you can feel his warmth, smell his aftershave. The proximity causes you to blush and he smirks in response, leaning over your shoulder as he points to the other people in the pictures. “Those two are my little brothers, Aemond and Daeron,” he claims and then points to two women. “That’s my half-sister, Rhae, and next to her is my mother.”

“The redhead?” You ask surprised, given she didn’t look like she could be old enough to have four grown children. He nods and takes a step back, leaning against the counter with half-lidded eyes and a tipsy blush. “She looks like she could be your sister,” you say softly, turning back to glance at all of the faces; he seemed proud of his family, like they were very close.

You turn away from the fridge and lean against the counter at his side. It’s quiet for a moment, save for the music and the sound of boiling water where the noodles were cooking. You look at him and the corners of your lips can’t help but twist up into a shy smile, but you bite at the inside of your cheek out of nervous habit. He props himself up on his elbows, taking a sip of his wine, clearly comfortable with the silence.

“So,” you look up at him and his little smirk grows. “About the job…”

“Ah, yes,” he nods. “As I stated earlier, I won’t be able to pay you a monetary wage, but the position does come with a benefits package.”

“And what exactly would this benefits package include?” There’s an innocent flirtatiousness in your voice that only adds to the tension.

“Outside of the free gourmet meals that I would be providin’ to ya, which is obviously the most important part,” he smiles and steps to the side to grab a spoon from the drawer and holds it out to you. Your fingers softly close around his as you pluck the utensil from his grasp. He clears his throat to distract from the fact that he was visibly flustered from the slight touch. “There’s also unlimited cuddle sessions,” before he can finish, you shoot him a look. “With Sunfyre, of course! He’s the real boss ‘round here, after all.”

“Cuddling with the boss?” You quirk an eyebrow and look down at the golden retriever, his eyes round and gleaming; clearly waiting for a hand-out. “Sounds like a conflict of interest to me.”

“Well, if it’s a conflict of interest you’re worried about,” he counters quickly with a soft yet playful tone. “I s’pose we could renegotiate the terms of the agreement and you could have me instead.”

“I’m listening.”

“He might be better at cuddling for obvious reasons and he might be better lookin’,” Aegon continues. “But, I give better backrubs. I mean, I have thumbs and he don’t. You can’t give decent backrubs without thumbs, can you? Plus, he’s a sloppy kisser.”

“Oh, you’re really trying to sweeten the deal now, huh? Backrubs and kisses? I must admit, that is quite a compelling offer,” you muse. “It seems my decision hinders on whether or not you can actually cook, wouldn’t want to accept the position blindly, now would I?”

“Are ya doubtin’ my skills?” He asked playfully.

“No offense, but you possess the aura of someone who could fuck up a can of Spaghettios,” you tell him with a sincere smile. “So, forgive me if I don't get my hopes up.”

Aegon laughs and it’s a warm and infectious sound that fills the kitchen. It’s genuine, as is his perfect smile. You can’t seem to keep yourself from staring; eyes softly tracing every detail of his face– from his full, pink pout, to the scar above his right eyebrow, and the dimple of his chin– thinking to yourself that you’ve never seen a man more beautiful. His smile turns back into a smirk as he notices you staring at his lips and you look up to meet his eyes. There’s something about the way he looks at you that leaves you feeling vulnerable. His gaze softens as you look away, turning your attention back to the spaghetti sauce on the stove in front of you to distract yourself from the blush creeping up your neck.

There’s only one way this night ends.

It was obvious before you even left your house and it was certainly obvious now.

“Go on, then,” he prods, motioning to the pot on the stovetop.

His eyes are wide with anticipation as you dip into the simmering sauce, stirring it a few times before bringing the spoon to your lips. He’s nervous; it’s his mother’s recipe– one he’s spent years perfecting– but with his luck, you will most likely think it’s steaming garbage. Yet, he watches intently; holding his breath as your perfect lips curl to blow softly, cooling the sauce before you finally taste it.

The moment the spoon touches your tongue, you're determined to remain impartial. After all, you’ve had your fair share of disappointing meals from men who’ve claimed to be great cooks. Aegon certainly could be the very latest and you wouldn’t be at all surprised. So, you keep your expectations low, and try your hardest to remain stoic, but as the flavors begin to unfold, you can feel your resolve wavering.

It’s good. Better than most.

Reluctantly, you have to admit that this is the second-best sauce you’ve ever had, right after your grandmother’s. You glance up at Aegon, who’s watching you with a mix of anxiety and hope, and you can’t help but smile.

“I have to give it to you,” you say, your voice betraying a hint of admiration. “This is incredible. Almost as good as my grandmother’s.”

The relief and pride that spread across his face makes your heart flutter.

“Yeah?” He asks with a toothy grin.

“I’m still not completely convinced that you can actually cook, but you can– at the very least– make some top-notch spaghetti sauce,” you tell him as you place your spoon to the side.

“Top-notch, eh?” He asks playfully as he begins plating your meal. “I’ll take it.”

“Don’t let it get to your head,” you say to him with a laugh. “It’s just spaghetti sauce.”

“Just spaghetti sauce? Don’t let my mum hear you say that,” he says with a smirk, setting a full plate in front of you on the counter. “I guess I’ll just have to work extra hard on the next one.”

“Assuming there will be a next one,” you reply, tone dripping with playful sarcasm. “Though, you have set the bar pretty high tonight. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“Well,” he murmurs as he steps closer, his body brushing against yours as he reaches around you to grab a plate. His lips are hovering above the shell of your ear, his voice low and teasing, causing your cheeks to immediately flush as the heat between the two of you intensifies. “I’m nothing if not a perfectionist.”

For a split second you expect for him to lean in for a kiss. Your heart is simultaneously skipping beats and racing at the same time; your breath catching in your throat as he leans in— But then he smirks, grabbing the plate and taking a step backwards. He’s doing it on purpose, you realize; his proximity expertly calculated to keep you on edge. You look up at him with wide, sparkling eyes and he knows he’s got you right where he wants you. The soft blush of your cheeks has his blood pumping and sends a surge of adrenaline through him. He’s trying his absolute best to play it cool but the way you’re biting your lip and looking at him has him unraveling.

“Is that so?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. “What other skills do you have up your sleeve?”

His grin widens as he looks down at you, setting his empty plate to the side. His gaze, once again, drops to your lips. “I have a few tricks,” he says softly, his voice filled with promise. “But I doubt you’d believe me if I told you, so how about I just show you?”

“What?” You ask with a playful innocence. “Before dinner?”

“I’m not really in the mood for spaghetti anymore.”

“Oh?” Your smirk is only growing. “What are you in the mood for?”

Aegon says nothing, but a confident grin tugs at the corners of his lips as he rests his hands on your hips. He doesn’t hesitate to pull you in by the waist, until you’re pressed against him and his lips are on yours. The kiss is both gentle and urgent and a little bit awkward, as any first kiss should be. You felt like a teenager again, kissing a boy for the first time– butterflies in your stomach and all.

It takes no time at all for you to find your rhythm with him, and he deepens the kiss, pushing you up onto the kitchen counter to meet his height. Your arms naturally drape across his shoulders, your legs wrap around his middle. He’s completely taken over your mind, filling up every tiny space that he can fit into; the smell of his cologne, the scratch of his stubble against your skin, the feeling of his hands squeezing the flesh of your thighs– his fingertips teasing just underneath the hem of your shorts.

Breathless, he pulls away from you as he pulls your sweatshirt over your head. He stops for a moment to take in the sight of you; clad only in your bra and shorts, lips red and blotchy, swollen and full. You’re looking up at him from under your lashes, softly biting your bottom lip as you wait for him to continue. He gently lifts his hand up to your cheek and traces the curve of your cupid’s bow with his thumb, providing one last show of tenderness before he leans in to capture your lips in another searing kiss.

His touch is suddenly rushed; spreading a wildfire across your skin in the wake of his lips as he rips off the remainder of your clothes. It doesn’t take long at all before you’re sitting exposed on his kitchen counter in only a thong, blushing wildly and covering your face with your hands.

“No– no hiding,” he clicks his tongue and pulls your hands away from your face. “I want to see you.”

He whispers a string of profanities and compliments as his starving eyes roam your figure. Self-doubt creeps into your mind and you momentarily consider making a quick exit, convinced he won’t like what he sees, but the way he’s looking at you makes you feel desired in a way you haven’t felt in a long time.

Aegon’s gaze is electrifying and intense, drawing you in and silencing your negative thoughts instantly. His hands pull you in by the waist, sliding you to the edge of the counter as his lips work their way down your chin and neck; leaving a trail of red marks down to your chest. He hums, smirking as he takes one of your breasts in his mouth. His hand kneads the other, rolling your hardened nipple between two fingers. Your head falls back, lips parted slightly as you breathe out his name.

Each sound he elicits from you urges him on even further until he’s on one knee, looking up at you from his position with those pretty eyes. He runs a hand up the back of your calf, softly teasing you with his fingertips before tossing your leg over his shoulder. You knew where he was going, and yet, you were still surprised as he began placing open mouthed kisses on the inside of your thighs; shivering in anticipation as goosebumps formed on your skin.

“You’re so wet,” he says proudly, praising you.

His eyes are locked with yours as his fingers delicately smooth over your clothed clit. He hooks a finger around the dampened cotton and pulls your thong to the side, groaning at the sight of your perfect pussy. Without wasting another second, Aegon’s mouth is suddenly on you and your hands immediately find the back of his head; fingers curling into the roots of his silver hair.

You roll your hips against his tongue, cursing out as your legs begin to shake. He moans, face still buried deep in you and the vibrations have you writhing. Both of his arms are wrapped around your thighs now, holding you tight to him, not letting up for even a second. Then he stands, lifting you up onto his shoulders. You squeal in shock, holding onto him tightly, but he doesn’t stop; he continues to devour you as he blindly carries you towards his bedroom.

When his knees hit the side of his bed, he tosses you back onto the mattress.

You prop yourself up on your elbows and watch as he strips out of his clothes. . You can see the outline of his arousal; prominent and pressing firmly against the fabric of his sweats. You bite your lip at the sight and he smirks as he catches your stare. His movements are unhurried, giving you ample time to appreciate the sight before you. His hoodie and shirt come off first, then his sweats, and you can’t help but notice the way that his muscles flex with each motion. He’s not overly built, but there’s a solid strength in his frame that is evident in the way he moves.

Outside, headlights from passing cars cast streaks of light and shadows across the walls of his room. It’s quiet, the music in the other room has stopped playing and all you can hear is the sound of your own heart beating in your ears. You swallow thickly, encompassed by the tension of the moment as he crawls up the length of your body; placing tender kisses along your skin. His lips leave a trail of warmth, each touch igniting a spark that travels through your entire body.

When he reaches your face, he pauses, his breath mingling with yours as he hovers just inches away. The anticipation builds, thick and electric in the air between you. His lips find yours in a kiss that starts slow and tender but quickly deepens; fingers threading through your hair as he pulls you closer, his body pressing yours deeper into the plush mattress. Your hands explore his back, tracing the contours of his muscles, feeling the tension and strength beneath his skin and coming to rest on his shoulders; gripping tightly as he continues to worship your body with his mouth. Each kiss, each touch, is deliberate, heightening your senses and pulling you further into the moment.

You curse at the feeling of his girth against your entrance. Your hand moves up to the back of his neck, pulling him down to meet your lips as he presses slowly into you.

“Oh fuck,” he whimpers into the crook of your neck as his arms become weak.

He knows that he won’t last like this; it’s been a while and you feel way too good. He’s slow at first, wanting to steady himself and maintain control, but his rhythm picks up quickly; hips moving with an unrelenting rhythm, each thrust bringing you both closer to the edge. You can feel his muscles tense, his grip on you tightening as he buries his face in your neck. His moans are a mix of pleasure and desperation, and you can tell he’s fighting to hold back.

You tighten your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, feeling the overwhelming need to reach that peak together. His pace quickens, the tension in his body building to a breaking point. You feel the same pressure inside of you mounting before it’s suddenly crashing over you like a wave. He follows seconds later, a low groan escaping his lips as he spills into you. The intensity of the moment leaves you both breathless and clinging to each other, bathing in the afterglow.

“That was incredible,” he murmurs against your skin, head pressed to your chest as you stroke his hair softly. His eyes flutter shut as he listens to the sounds of your heartbeat.

You hum in agreement, smiling to yourself as you savor the peacefulness of the moment.

Suddenly, you’re joined by Sunfyre jumping up on the bed, his tail wagging enthusiastically. You smile at him and pat the empty space next to you, inviting him to join your cuddle session. He eagerly accepts the invitation, circling the bed a few times before snuggling up next to you. Aegon lifts his head and smiles, clearly pleased that you would be so open to having the dog in bed with you. He wraps his arm around both you and Sunfyre, pulling you closer.

“This is perfect,” he says softly, his voice filled with contentment as he lays his head back on your chest.

"So, about that job offer," you say playfully, your fingers tracing patterns along his skin. "I think I'll accept the position. When would you like for me to start?"

He lifts his head to look at you, a playful glint in his eyes. “How about tomorrow night at seven?”

Before you can respond, a distinct burning smell reaches your nose. Your brows furrow as you sniff the air. “Do you smell that?”

Aegon’s eyes widen in realization. “The spaghetti!”

He jumps up from the bed, pulling on his clothes quickly, and scrambles into the kitchen. You follow behind him, tossing one of his t-shirts over your head and meet him in the kitchen.

“I guess I forgot to turn off the burner,” Aegon looks disappointed but then chuckles, shaking his head. He looks at you with a glint in his eye and smirks. “Occupational hazard, I guess.”

“Oh, that sucks!” You laugh, playfully nudging him. “Is it too late to back out of the job now?”

“Way too late for that,” he says as he pulls you into a soft kiss, silencing any doubts immediately. “You’re mine now.”

“Mm,” you hum against his lips. “But I came here for the spaghetti.”

He chuckles and pulls back slightly. “Will you settle for pizza?”

“I’ll settle for anything, as long as it’s with you,” you say with a smile as you wrap your arms around his waist. “And as long as there’s extra cheese!”

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that-sarcastic-writer · 5 months ago

Text

A Ballad of Lost Souls

Eric Draven (2024) X f!reader

Summary: what happens when two lost souls find each other? Cling to each other? Love could be a very dangerous drug indeed. You and Eric meet during rehab.

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, p in v, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, brief handjob, hair pulling, choking, size difference, size kink if you squint, bit of inexperienced!reader, Eric is actually a sweetheart, unhealthy coping mechanisms, mentions of substance abuse, addiction, mentions of suicidal thoughts, this movie is dark what do you want me to say

Reader has tattoos, but has no further specifications, y’all get to be tattooed girlies today, you’re welcome

WC: 5.7K I’m sorry

Inspo creds @kingkat12, she also posted an Eric fic with the same concept and some of the elements of this story like some of the dialogue bits were inspired after reading hers. Please give her some love! She’s a great writer

A/N: NOBODY LOOK AT ME. idc, I love Eric okay, stfu. I just had to write him. He just needs love man. That’s all. I want to give him love. So here you go. I might make a part two if there’s enough interest. When I tell you the Eric fic supply is LOW, I’ve never seen one so LACKING. So I just had to yk? Enjoy and don’t cancel me alright.

You didn’t often dwell on the past. You had a live in the moment kind of mindset. You didn’t know where you’d be tomorrow so you made the best of the moment. But sometimes, you wondered just where your bad decisions were taking you. You didn’t mean to end up here, in this awful bubblegum pink sweater and sweatpants, surrounded by people who didn’t care why you were here, or if you got better or not. The disappointed words of your mother played in your head, and the angry words of your father hammered in the back of your head. You were a fucking disappointment, and that’s why you were here.

You thought about ending it. This mess your life had become. It wouldn’t be too hard to find a razor around here if you truly tried. Who would miss you anyway? What even was the point of it all? By day two you couldn’t take this shit anymore. And then you saw him in the yard. You were almost entranced by him. He was so tall, he towered over everyone he walked past, you couldn’t imagine how ridiculous you would look standing next to him. You could see his ink cover his hands and fingers, and you wondered just how far the ink traveled. You were intrigued by him, he was quiet, morbidly so, he didn’t say a word to anyone, no matter how much they pressed or tossed him around, he just stared. Whether it was the doctors, the counselors, the guards. He always chose silence. And he always had this look of defiance, of apathy, he took everything with a locked jaw and deadpan eyes. And that intrigued you.

Should you try to entertain anyone in this facility, let alone the loner covered in tattoos? No, absolutely not. But lord, something about him drew you in.

You caught glimpses of him for a few days, in the cafeteria when you walked past him to your table, maybe he thought you didn’t notice, but you caught him turning his head to watch you walk by. One time, your eyes met, they were a pretty shade of green. It was brief though, as soon as he realized you caught him, his eyes were in front of his plate, but not before you managed to flash him a tiny smile. Welcoming, playful.

Eric remembered that.

The next time you saw him was out in the yard. They encouraged exercise in this place, for some dumb reason. The most people did around here was stand in a corner, feeling completely miserable under the scorching sun. But much to your surprise, after some time walking around the yard you found Eric, lingering by the gym equipment. It wasn’t much, just a pull up bar and that was barely tall enough to accommodate him. No weights, of course, because someone could hurt themselves, or someone else with them. It wasn’t much, but you couldn’t help but watch as he pulled his sweatshirt over his head, revealing even more tattoos going up both of his arms. You stood in a corner like a fucking weirdo, watching as he did pull up’s, as best as he could having to bend his long legs to accommodate the short bar. Why were you just staring at this man you’ve never even spoken to? Of that you had no clue. But you couldn’t take your eyes away. He had his back to you, but even under the material of his white t-shirt you could see the muscles in his shoulders tense, his arms flexing with each pull. And you could only I magine the true sight of him. Sweat dripping down his forehead, lips pulled between his teeth as he did each pull. God, you felt like such a pervert. You shouldn’t be eye fucking him like this, but you couldn’t help it, something about him twisted the most secluded corners of your mind.

Ultimately your trance was cut short, since it didn’t take long for a group of guys to take interest in whatever Eric was doing and went straight to push him around some more. You frowned, almost upset by the sight of him getting tossed around and hazed like this. You couldn’t hear what was happening, but Eric had his head down, chest heavy as he clenched his fists at his sides, but he otherwise did nothing. You didn’t care, any fucks you still had to give were gone the moment your parents and your ex-boyfriend conspired to send you here. You were about to walk over there, not caring about what weird opposite sex rules this place had. But when you started walking, Eric did too, getting shoulder checked as he pushed his way past the group of guys. You felt awful, you wanted to say something to him, but you were frozen when he walked past you, his green eyes shooting a quick glance at you, a bit of curiosity laced in them. But you were more focused on how his shirt was clinging to his sweaty chest. And just like that he was gone.

The next time you saw him was during a group meeting that afternoon. You were almost disappointed at first when he didn’t show. You sulked into your seat for the first minute or two, upset you wouldn’t get to see him today again. And then you saw him. His expression as apathetic as ever, like he would rather get beat up than sit through this bullshit. His hair was soaking wet, small droplets of water still falling from the tips of his raven hair. Great, now the image of him in the shower was ingrained into your brain. As if you didn’t feel filthy enough.

You bit your lip softly, sitting up as he sat across from you, his expression blank with disinterest as his tattooed fingers played with the hem of his pink sweater. You weren’t paying attention either, you were more entertained by the way his long legs spread open as he slouched on his chair, taking as much space as possible. You thought about how nice it would be to sit on his lap. You glanced at his hands, they were huge. How easily he could grab a hold of your ass, or hold you still by your neck. How his long fingers would feel so deep inside you. You thought about how easily he was doing those pull ups, and you thought just how easily he could hold you down, throw you around to as he pleased with you. Truly, you would happily let him use you. You could feel heat rush to your face as you crossed your legs, trying your best to ignore the heat pooling between your legs. Why were you lusting so hard over him? You didn’t even know his name.

Almost as if he could hear your pounding heart, Eric looked up to find your eyes lingering on him, one leg crossed over the other tightly. He tilted his head with curiosity, and his fingers twitched around his sweatshirt as your eyes met. He didn’t feel like looking away this time. The longer his hooded eyes were on you, the more nervous you became. You could feel your breath hitch in your chest as his eyes burned you. You only looked away when the counselor said your name, followed by stares.

Shit, were you supposed to say something?

You opened your mouth, immediately closing it as you had nothing to say. You didn’t even hear the question. You pursed your lips and shook your head lightly. The counselor sighed softly and looked to the girl beside you instead. It was common for most people here to refrain from speaking so he didn’t think too much about it. But when your eyes found Eric again, there was a small hint of amusement in his eyes, a ghost of a grin tugging at his plush lips. For the first time since you’ve been here, you saw something other than disinterest on his face.

Perhaps he was just as drawn to you as you were to him.

~~~

You pulled your lips into a disappointed pout as you searched around the cafeteria for his black mullet, not being able to find him. And here you thought today would be the day you finally spoke to him. You were about to sit at the nearest empty table when you found him. Even sitting down he stood out. You smiled to yourself, your heart pounding in your chest with anticipation. You looked around for guards, none were paying particular attention to you so you did it.

He lifted his head slightly to glance at you, a quick second before his eyes were back on his plate. You saw the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. You smiled to yourself.

“I like your ink.” Were the first words out of your mouth. You said them in one breath, afraid he would get up and leave. His eyes lifted from his hands to meet yours, his eyes then fell to your own hands, one of them covered in distinct patterns and colors from your wrist up to your fingers. He wondered what else you were hiding under your sweater, like him.

“Hm.” He gave you a small nod, his plush lips pulled between his teeth in a way that had you clenching your thighs. “I like yours.”

You smiled, the first genuine one since you’ve gotten here.

“I have more.” You whispered, leaning close to him, like it was some secret only for his ears to hear. His eyes flickered with amusement and he gave you another hum, his eyes now looking everywhere they could in hope of finding said secrets.

“Me too.” His lips curved up the slightest bit as he lifted one of his sleeves up enough to reveal more tattoos going up his arm. Your eyes lit up as you excitedly leaned down closer with the excuse of getting a closer look. Your proximity was certainly way too close for this facility.

Leaning impossibly close to him without actually touching him, you looked up at him and with a playful smile you pulled down the collar of your sweatshirt to reveal more designs along your collarbone, the rest of the design hidden by your sweater as the colors continued down your shoulder.

“But don’t tell anyone.” You chewed on your bottom lip, trying to hide your smile. He gave you what sounded like a chuckle and he shrugged.

“Who would I tell?” Though his face remained expressionless, his eyes had a glint that mimicked your eagerness, he welcomed your proximity. “Here he comes.”

You were confused by his words and you opened your mouth to question him as he sat back, his head lifting in the direction behind your head.

“Males and females can’t sit together!” One of the guards, one you had noticed had a particular thing with Eric shouted, roughly grabbing the back of his chair to force him up on his feet.

“Huh? Wait, why are you taking him?” You talked back to the guard. “Hey, he didn’t do anything! I was the one that sat here. I—I’ll move. Don’t be such an asshole! Leave him alone!” You tried to help, even going as far as standing up but the guard was already taking the new owner of all of your attention away. Your heart sank as you watched the guard shout at him as he dragged him away.

He had managed to turn his head back for a second, and when your eyes met, he half smiled at you. He was almost proud of the fact that you tried to stand up for him. “I’m Eric!”

You smiled.

~~~~~~

“Found you.” You skipped into Eric’s room, finally seeing his door open.

You hadn’t seen him since you got him in trouble at their cafeteria the day before. You got in some trouble too. You had a one on one meeting with a counselor about your choice of words and your “temper” but it was nothing more than just a slap on the wrist. Truly, you felt worse about getting Eric in trouble more than anything. You didn’t mean to, you just wanted to talk to him. He must have gotten punished because you didn’t see him during gym hour. You leaned against the doorframe as he turned around to find you. Curiosity filled his otherwise empty eyes, and a glint of amusement replaced the usual apathy in his gaze.

“I never left.” He answered with a shrug as he shuffled through the mess that was made of his artwork. Sketch papers were scattered all over his room, torn off the walls. Perhaps after getting in trouble during lunch they used that as an excuse to go through his room.

“I’m sorry for getting you in trouble.” You expressed with genuine regret, shooting back a glance to the hallway before inviting yourself into his room. Much to the protest of the rational voice in your mind. You looked at the floor as you almost stepped on a piece of paper, you happily picked it up, admiring the black charcoal coating the page before you set it on his bed.

“Is that why you’re here? To apologize?” Eric asked almost cynically as he glanced over at you, not moving from where he stood.

“Well yeah. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.” You said sheepishly, a bit intimidated under his intense gaze. There was always a look of defiance in his green eyes, determination even. He gave you a sarcastic hum, which made you roll your eyes.

“Why did you yell at the guard? You got in trouble too, didn’t you?” He asked lowly, his head slightly tilted as he searched for that little thing you did around him, when you clenched your hands at your sides, or your thighs on your seat. His eyes irked with amusement when your fingers twitched at your sides and your lips parted open.

“‘Cause… You didn’t do anything wrong. You never do anything, or say anything. And everyone around here always pushes you around. It’s fucked up.” You answered quietly, daring to meet his eyes. He pulled his lips into a small pout and nodded slowly. His silence was always so nerve wracking to you.

“Yeah, so?”

You scrunched up your face, sighing heavily at his questioning. What did he what you to say? You didn’t know why you cared. You shrugged, picking up another piece of paper by your feet. You half glanced at it as you spoke.

“I dunno.. I just.. Oh my—” You cut yourself off as you gave the drawing in your hand a proper look. You narrowed your eyes, giving the drawing a closer look, and your jaw fell open. It looked like you, your hair falling over your face, dark scribbles covering your body symbolizing the unknown designs on your body, the only intelligible one being the patterns on your collarbone, the same one you had shown Eric. But what truly caught your eye was that you were in fact, completely nude. Truly, his imagination surprised you, he had imagined every curve of your body well, despite not having seen any part of it.

Based on your flustered expression, Eric could only assume which drawing you had picked up. He swallowed, his cheeks flushing pink being caught red handed. But he didn’t look apologetic, at all.

“This what you do in your spare time? Draw naked girls?” You asked with big eyes, the still working rational part of your mind screaming alarms, but a part of you also filled with excitement at his perverted mind. Almost as if you were on his mind as much as he was on yours.

He shook his head. “Just one.” He answered with a shrug, a challenging look in his eyes.

Either you walked out right then and there, and that would be that, or you would go all in. He was trying to figure out which one it would be.

“You are very talented, this is—” You dragged your tongue over your lip as you walked closer to him, catching glances at his other artwork. Your heart pounded in your chest as you approached him, his gaze making you shudder. He said nothing as you stooped in front of him, now having to tilt his head down to meet your gaze. God this man was so goddamn tall. “You could totally sell this for some money.”

“But,” you continued, swallowing hard as you looked up at him, and the way his green eyes looked at you made your mind all fuzzy. God, you haven't felt this euphoric since you got here. This rush of adrenaline made you dizzy, but you pushed through it. “I see one flaw in your creativity.”

“Oh?” He bit down on his plush lip, head tilted with curiosity. You hummed and nodded, daring to bring your fingers up his chest. His breath hitched in his chest, but he said nothing.

“I fear you don’t have the full picture. My tattoos are more than just a scribble of ink.” You stated matter of factly, making him breathe out a small laugh.

“Sorry. I work with what I have.” He shrugged his shoulders, trying to ignore the feeling of your hands itching up his chest.

“Maybe I should give you more to work with?” Your hands found the back of his neck and you instinctively stood on the ends of your toes, itching to get closer to him.

Eric glanced down at you, his eyes lingering on your own for a split second before glancing at your parted lips, soft breaths escaping you as you anxiously waited. He didn’t have to think about it, he didn’t want to. His mouth was on yours so hard you whined. His large hand found your hair, tilting your head back to meet your lips better.

You weren’t sure when you ended up against the nearest wall, your legs wrapped around Eric’s slim waist as he held you up. You were right, he could hold you up like you were nothing. Truly, the oversized clothes you were forced to wear didn’t do him any justice. You wondered what he was hiding under his sweatshirt.

His lips were messy on yours, his heavy breaths joining your soft whimpers. You were so caught up in the delicious feeling of his mouth claiming yours and his hands touching everywhere he could, you didn’t hear the loud voices of guards calling your name and patient number. Reality dawned on you when you heard shouting down the hall for everyone to get out of their rooms. You patted Eric’s shoulder, forcing your lips away from his.

“Eric—Eric.” You said his name with urgency, making him look at you, eyes filled with greed as he chased your lips. “I have to go. I don’t want to get you in trouble again.”

He nodded after a second, setting you down on your feet after pressing one last kiss to your lips. You had a stupid smile on your face as you successfully sneaked out his room, the guards being distracted as they probably ransacked some poor bastard's room like they had done Eric’s. You glanced behind you as you hurried down the hall, catching a glimpse of Eric peeking his head through his door. He smiled. And it made your heart race.

You could not wait to see him again.

~~~~~~

“Eric!—” You slapped your hand over your mouth, attempting to quiet the desperate sounds leaving your mouth. But the way his tongue lapped at your sensitive clit and his long fingers rubbed against that one spot within your walls that had you squirming.

You didn’t mean to end up in this position, ass naked on top of one of the washing machines in the laundry room, with Eric on his knees and his face between your thighs. Truly you didn’t, you knew you would be in a lot of fucking trouble if you got caught. But the way his lips claimed yours, his tongue lacing with yours, his large hands grabbing at every part of your body like he didn’t know which one he craved to touch more. He just wanted you so fucking bad, your kisses and little rubbing here and there for the past few days wasn’t enough for him, or for you.

“I wanted to taste you so fucking bad.” He muttered against your clit, a groan rumbling in his throat when you pulled at the hairs on the back of his head, inadvertently holding his face closer against you. Not that he minded, he would stay here, with his fingers scissoring you open until you dripped on the surface underneath you.

“Please—fuck. That feels so good.” You didn’t remember the last time someone made you feel this good. Not that you had much experience in this area, but this sure felt right.

Eric wrapped his free hand under your thigh, pulling you to the edge, closer to his mouth. He lapped at your pussy like he needed it, like it was the air in his lungs. The sounds leaving his mouth as your juices seeped around his fingers were almost as filthy as yours.

You felt like such a slut, chasing his mouth with your hips, heaving like a bitch in heat, and quietly begging him to grant you your release, as quiet as you could be with his fingers so deep and his tongue drawing delicious circles around your clit.

“Just like that baby… Just like that.” Eric mumbled, his fingers slipping and crooking against that perfect spot.

Your release was so sudden, and it hit you so hard you were shaking, sobbing violently into your hand. Your head was thrown back, eyes rolled into the back of your head. Eric dug his fingers into your thigh, his tongue slipping into your hole when his fingers left you.

“Shit—Eric—” You gasped, your thighs shaking as you weakly reached to grab his face.

With a grunt he peeled himself from the warmth of your thighs, he stood to his full height before leaning down to capture your lips. The taste of yourself lingering on his tongue made you moan. Disoriented, you reached down to rub where his cock was straining against his sweatpants. He groaned into your mouth, his large hand flew to catch your wrist.

“It’s okay.” He gave your lips a soft kiss as he pulled your hand away. You gave him an adorable frown, your mind still spinning from your orgasm.

“But you—” He pressed another kiss to your lips, shutting you up. He moved his lips to your neck, latching on to that one spot that had you whining. Neither of you cared if everyone saw the mark he left.

“We’ll have time for that.” He mumbled against your skin. The way he slurred the words made your breath hitch. “Right?”

He pulled back to meet your eyes, blinking slowly as he waited for your response. You licked your lips softly, breath soft as you thought, how could he still question it. You were past the lusting. This was something else. You needed more of him, and it wasn't just sex you were craving. You wanted every part of him, even the parts of himself he didn’t want.

“Of course.. This isn’t.. Can’t you tell? What you do to me. I’ve never..” You couldn’t even form the right words, your mind still fuzzy with all these feelings you had no name for. You didn’t need to explain. Whatever it was, Eric felt the same. And he smiled, he genuinely smiled. And what a pretty sight that was.

“We should go.” He pressed his lips to the side of your head, smoothing down your hair and fixing your sweater. “Can you stand?”

You half nodded, gasping when he set you down on your feet and you instantly leaned on him for support. The sly smile on his face made you want to slap him. But deep down, you wanted to smile too.

~~~~~

The next time you saw Eric, he was walking down the hallway, his tall frame towering over the majority of people he walked past. He wasn’t hard to find. You bit your lip, unable to contain your excitement as you hurried after him. Your fingers brushed his, and almost as if he knew your touch by heart, he wasn’t startled, he didn’t flinch either. When he turned his head, his eyes grew big at the sight of you, the corners of his lips curving into a tiny smile. You flashed him a whole smile, unapologetic about how happy it made you to see him. Your obsession with him over the past two weeks wasn’t something you could explain, you knew it probably wasn’t healthy. But when were you ever known for having healthy coping mechanisms? You found something that filled you and you clung to it.

“Where are you going?” You asked him quietly as you walked beside him. He walked slower, but didn’t look at you much, as not to bring unwanted attention to yourselves.

“Laundry room.” He said quietly, his eyes dropping to meet yours. And you shared that knowing and malicious look. You couldn’t hide the smile on your lips. This time of day usually meant you could sneak off for a little while since most patients were having their once a week visitor, or phone call, which meant less guards were in every corner.

“I’m supposed to be out in two weeks.” You told Eric in between kisses, his lips trailed your jaw as his hands grabbed at your ass.

“I’m out in four.” He answered as he pressed you against the nearest wall. He grabbed your face between his large hands, pulling you to meet his eager mouth. You whined, fists clenched around the front of his sweatshirt. You couldn’t go two weeks without seeing him, you would go fucking mad.

“I don’t want to wait a month to be with you.” You breathed out, your chest heavy as the words left your mouth. “I’m supposed to go back to my parents when I get out. They agreed to take me in to follow my treatment, but I don’t want to go. They’re the ones that put me here.”

“I don’t have anywhere to go.” You barely heard him as he spoke, almost as if the words pained him, broke something deep inside him. It broke something in you, too.

“You can come with me. I have a little place and some money saved. It’s not much but.. If you want.. We could.. We could try something for real?” You trailed off, afraid he would reject you. It was one thing to mess around in here, where neither of you had anything else, anyone else to cling to, but this being anything other than a desperate bond by two lost souls was a different story. Outside of these walls, he could find anyone else, he didn’t have to keep the broken girl he fingered in a shitty laundry room.

“I would like that. I would like something real, with you.” His words were soft, as were his hands holding your face as he pressed his forehead against yours. You breathed out a laugh of relief. “Fuck this place. We’ll do it tomorrow, during shift change. There’s a vent up here that leads to the yard.”

You pulled him down by his sweatshirt, your lips crashing against his. He laced his fingers in your hair as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You welcomed it, lips parting as you locked your arms around his neck.

“Eric.” You said his name softly in a quiet plea. He opened his eyes to find your desperate gaze. He told himself he wanted to be better, he knew you deserved better, but when you said his name like that, when you looked at him like that. He was no better. “I don’t think I can wait anymore. Please, I… I need…”

“Need what?” His words were coated with arousal, he knew fucking well what you meant. But he wanted to hear you say it.

“Fuck—” You kissed his lips roughly, any sanity and restraint you might’ve once had, completely. You can’t trust an addict to have good self-control, now could you? “Take me. I’m yours, just take me.”

“Fuck.” Now it was his turn to lose his sanity. He gave your lips one last kiss as he squeezed your cheeks between his fingers, licking your lips before he spun you around to face the wall. “You’re a sweet girl, don’t forget that. I swear I will fuck you properly on a bed, with flowers and shit.”

His words were rough in your ear as he pressed his lips to your jaw, his hands making quick work of pulling down your sweatpants and panties. They pooled around your ankles as he kicked your legs open as far as they went.

“I like carnations.” You gasped as the cool air hit your exposed cunt. You heard him chuckle beside your ear.

“Those are pretty. They’re pretty like you.” He hummed as he brought two fingers up to your lips. You happily took them in your mouth. Eric almost moaned at the sight. One of these days he needed to have you sucking his cock. One of these days.

Eric pulled his fingers from your lips and with a kiss to the back of your head, he sunk his coated fingers into your hole. Your mouth fell open, your forehead falling against the wall. You were instantly chasing his fingers, soft whimpers leaving your lips as you happily rode them. You didn’t know how he did it, how he could have you dripping around his fingers in a matter of a minute or two. You were clawing at the wall, silent moans spilling from you when he pulled his fingers from you. He watched almost proudly as your slick coated your thighs.

“Can I take this off?” He asked quietly, tugging at the hem of your sweater. You made a humming sound, as best as you could. As if he needed to ask. Eric was happy to rid you of your sweater, more happy to find more hidden tattoos going all over both of your arms. He craved to find every single one of your tattoos, and kiss every one. But he knew it would be best to be quick.

His own sweatshirt met the same fate, and with a kiss to your cheek, he grabbed one of your hips as he pulled down his sweats enough to free his cock. A groan left his lips as he dragged his cock between your folds, coating himself in your slick. You gasped, not being able to see him, but already knowing he was big.

“Let me know if it hurts, hm? I’ll take it easy, I promise.” He pressed his lips to your jaw, inhaling your sweet scent as he slowly sank himself into you. Only his tip was in and you could already feel the sting of his cock stretching you wide open.

“Fuck. Fuck, oh my god—” You squeezed your eyes shut, fingers clenching around nothing as he slowly filled your further, inch by inch.

“It’s okay. You want me to stop?” He asked, shushing you softly as he sat still, allowing you to adjust to the burning feeling of his size. Fuck, you should have known someone as tall as him would be this big. Somehow, it didn’t occur to you.

“No. ‘m okay. Keep going.” You reached behind you to touch him, your fingers gracing over the side of his face. He nodded into your neck, one of his hands sneaking to the front of you to play with your clit to ease you as he sank into you until his hips rutted against your ass. He sat still, speaking filthy words into your ear until you were whimpering, needing to feel more. “Eric, please.”

You didn’t need to tell him twice. His pace was slow at first, slow strokes that allowed you to revel in the feeling of his cock in and out of your walls. But as you both began to grow desperate, pathetic sounds leaving your lips and groans of pleasure leaving him, his pace picked up. It was grueling, how he fucked you against that wall. You braced yourself with one hand, the other holding his face behind you as he leaned his head to capture your parted lips into a messy kiss. He swallowed your sweet sounds as the sting of his cock had you squeezing the life out of him.

“Fuck, I have been dreaming about this since I saw you. You always looked so pretty when you looked at me.” He whispered in your ear, his hand wrapping around your hair as he forced your head back, exposing your neck. You cried out, his roughness making you clench around him. He cursed, covering your mouth with his large hand. “I need you to keep it down for me, baby. You don’t want us to get caught, do you?”

You shook your head, doing your best to contain the sounds he was pulling from you. His hand slowly left your mouth, trusting you could keep your sounds to a minimum. You bit down on your lip, eyes squeezed shut as his cock split you open. You swore you had never been this utterly fucked out, so cock drunk before. You had never needed anyone so badly. You had never felt so strongly about anyone. You had always found something to cling to, pain, tattoos, in your more miserable and recent years—drugs, and now him. But him? This feeling he gave you, it was like nothing you had ever felt before. You wanted to hold on to him until your final breath of air left your lungs.

“I wanted this—you—so fucking bad. I needed to have you.” Eric grunted, lips latching on to that spot on your neck where the previous hickey he had left was starting to fade. “I’m so crazy about you, no amount of rehab could fix me.”

You moaned at his words, letting them sink in. He was down so bad for you, probably as much as you were. Two addicts, seeking refuge in each other, craving this adrenaline, it was a kick you had never felt before. It was a kick only lust and passion could bring. And he ignited that deep within your soul.

“Me too.” You panted, lips parting in ecstasy as one of his tattooed hands loosely wrapped around your throat. Fuck, the way his whole hand covered your entire neck made you gush all over his cock. “I’ve never wanted anyone this bad. You—ah!—I need you all the fucking time.”

“Then you can have me,” His fingers squeezed your throat tighter, his thick cock so deep you swore you could feel him in your fucking cervix. “All the fucking time. Forever.”

Tears filled your ears as you could feel your release near, your thighs shuddering as you felt your legs start to give out. Eric was quick to press you further against the wall, his back flush against your chest, sweaty forehead pressed against your cheek as his cock rutted against you, over and over, until you were chanting a string of uh-uh-uh’s, your mind too overcome with the pleasure he was giving you to even speak.

“I want you to come on my cock so fucking bad. I need it.” Groans fell freely from his chest as he once again slipped a hand to your swollen clit. The pressure of his rough fingers made you gasp, your throat closing under his grip. Your release hit you so hard you were sobbing, though mostly muffled by his tight grip. Tears fell down your cheek as your orgasm left you a shaking mess. You had never felt this way before—so overcome with pleasure you cried.

“Shh, it’s okay baby. Good girl.” The hand on your throat left to wipe at your tears, soothing you as you came crashing down.

Eric fucked you through your release, frantically chasing his own. His name left your lips with praise, sobs of your remnant pleasure as he pushed you to the point of overstimulation. But it wasn’t until he felt his own release near that he pulled out of you. Without saying a word, he grabbed one of your hands and wrapped it around his thick cock, his own hand guiding yours up and down his slick length, sweet praises leaving his lips until he was spilling himself.

Heavy breaths and pants of exhaustion filled the small laundry room, the air smelled like sex, and the remnants of your forbidden times were left as evidence. Eric eventually spun you around to face him, a soft smile on his lips. You had only ever seen it once, after he ate you out days ago. It was rare to see Eric smile, but you made it a vow to yourself that you would always make him smile like this.

“How fucked up are we? Finding comfort in each other like this. Did it ever cross your mind?” You said softly as Eric helped you dress. He was bending down to grab your sweater and he stood up to his full height, towering over you, and his eyes were laced with an indescribable feeling.

“When I first saw you, I didn’t know what it was, but I was so drawn to you, I looked for you everyday, and I thought I would go mad if I didn’t have you. And right now, I can tell you it’s not just lust. I’m entranced by you, I need you all the time. And if there’s one thing I learned from this fucking place is that you have to latch on to something, otherwise you’ll drown.”

You were speechless, nothing but your soft breaths could be heard. A smile fell on your lips and you leaned into his chest. Eric sighed softly, wrapping his arms around you, holding you close to his chest, he’d be damn if he ever let you go anywhere but here.

“Addicts will be addicts, no matter how much they try to fix us. But it’s not always to drugs we’re addicted to.” You sighed softly, closing your eyes as you sank into the feeling of his arms. “This feeling? I never want it to stop.”

“It doesn’t have to.” He mumbled into your hair, in his head reminding himself of your limited time, but he refused to let you go just yet. “Forever, right?”

“Yeah, forever.”

#eric draven x reader #eric draven smut #eric draven 2024 #Eric Draven #the crow 2024 #the crow

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beloveds-embrace · 2 months ago

Note

I dunno if I've harassed you yet buuuut,

I just read the newest take on the text and they'll be there guard dogish 141, and just. What if an anxious little bird just walks up to one it the group and just squeezes into the crowd and just.

"ignore me I'm about to lose my shit" or just stands there and gives a small hi cause they're overstimmed or need a break or someone's been creepy and they see that people keep a wide berth from said person or group.

Hi I'm excited I hope anything here made a bit of sense. Also possible reverse 'guard dog' distribution system, the small bird doesn't find a dog. The dog finds a bird.

You aren’t harassing me at all! Please don’t ever feel like that 😭💕 i love, love both scenarios, so I’ll do the second one later as well. Thank you for this wonderful ask!

The dim hum of the pub was comforting- warm light glowing against worn wood, the steady murmur of conversations buzzing around you. It had been your usual spot for a quiet drink after a hard week, but tonight was different, and not in a good way.

Someone had been watching you, and not in the harmless, fleeting way most people did. His gaze lingered too long, his smirk too wide, his attempts to approach you far too persistent even when you refused the drink he’d sent towards you. When you’d brushed him off the third time like that, you could see clearly on his face that he didn’t like that.

Men like him were common, but that just made them all the more dangerous.

The weight of his presence was suffocating, so you’d bolted toward the one corner of the room where you felt the most secure. Them.

You’d seen them here before- an unassuming group at first glance, but the way they carried themselves screamed “don’t mess with us.” Four men with their thighs each bigger than your head at the very least, and tonight, they were your only hope.

Standing up and doing your best to ignore the angry gaze practically boring into you, you approached their table cautiously, feeling several pairs of sharp eyes land on you. Mutton chops tilted his head, pretty boy stood from his seat slightly, brow furrowed. Mohawk’s wide grin faltered, replaced with curiosity, while the last one’s gaze, though obscured by his balaclava, was cold and assessing.

You should probably ask for their names. If they let you sit you with them, that is.

“Uh- so sorry to bother,” you started, voice shaking slightly. “But…there’s this guy…” You didn’t need to finish. Balaclava’s attention shifted subtly, big shoulders tightening as his eyes flicked past you. Mohawk’s grin returned, but this time, even in the dim light, you could tell it was dangerous.

“Where?” Mutton chop asked, his voice steady but just as sharp as his eyes

You subtly nodded toward the man at the bar, who was now visibly trying to act like he wasn’t watching your every move. The second he noticed who you were speaking to, his face drained of color. He turned away, gripping his drink like it might shield him.

Pretty boy snorted. “Well, ain’t that something? Big man suddenly doesn’t have the guts, eh?”

“Stay here.” Balaclava said firmly, standing up with the kind of slow, deliberate movement that made your stomach flip. The other three followed suit, each moving with the kind of quiet unity that could only come from working together for years. Maybe they were a team? You knew there was a military base somewhere nearby, could they be from there?

Still, you obeyed and stayed behind, heart thundering in your chest as they approached the man- not from fear, but from excitement. Ghost leaned in, his imposing frame towering over the guy. Whatever was said was too low for you to hear, but the way your harasser paled, hands shaking as he grabbed his coat and bolted from the pub, told you enough.

When they returned and introduced themselves, Soap clapped you lightly on the back with a bold grin. “Dinnae think he’ll be botherin’ you again, lass.”

Price pulled a chair out for you, right with their table. “Sit. You’re safe here. Anyone who’s got a problem with you’s got a problem with us now.”

You sank into the chair, warmth spreading through your chest. You didn’t know them, not really, but in that moment, you felt like you’d just gained four overprotective, no-nonsense bodyguards. Is this what celebrities felt like? It was amazing.

“Thank you, really,” you repeated, giving them such a grateful, blinding smile. “Again, I’m so sorry for bothering you like that. It was just-“

Gaz shook his head, not letting you finish. “No need to, love. We don’t mind at all. Just enjoy your night now, yeah? No more of pricks like him bothering you.”

And judging by the way Soap was already offering to buy you a drink and Ghost’s subtle but watchful eye, you were honestly more than okay with that.

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twoplayergaymers · 2 months ago

Text

A Sign of Affection—

❋ deaf! Bakugo x Fem Interpreter! Reader

❋ Interpreting for Dynamight: How Hard Could It Be?

❋ 5.9k words

❋ A note before reading: Bakugo is being portrayed as little ‘d’ deaf, this is very important. You can learn more about the difference between deaf and Deaf here! This is also ASL cause that’s what I know.

Part 2

Katsuki Bakugo would never admit it, but he was losing his hearing. He had been for a while now, his explosive quirk might save lives but it was doing nothing good for his ears. He doesn’t admit this, not necessarily because he’s ashamed, but because he refuses to let anyone think he’s anything less than the strongest. Only a select few know, and even fewer are allowed close enough to notice his hearing aids.

You’re one of them.

Working as his interpreter wasn’t something you’d planned for when you first joined his agency. At the time, you thought you’d just be handling the occasional public statement, but it became clear quickly that your role was going to become far more personal when his hearing aids were damaged in his most recent mission. They’re malfunctioning, sounds become high pitched whirs in his ear, so he takes them out.

The silence was oppressive, his ears ringing as he stomped back into his agency headquarters after the mission. His team was talking but to him it sounded like they were underwater. His eyes rapidly dart between faces, trying to lip read, though he hasn’t relied solely on that in years. Fuck, everyone’s talking so fast. He clenched his fists, irritation bubbling under his skin, until finally he barked out, “Shut up!” His voice sounded off even to himself, somehow louder and harsher without his aids.

The room immediately falls silent, his team looking back at him with the same wide eyes and panicked expressions as always. He thinks they’d get used to his brashness by now, guess not. There’s a pregnant pause as Bakugo takes a breath, closing his eyes momentarily before uttering “Someone call an interpreter, I can’t understand you assholes-“ he stops for a second, his face falls in thought before he speaks again “get.. get the one from the press conferences”

“Which one?” Someone from the team utters, slowly this time. “You know which one. The one who actually knows what the hell she’s doing. The… uh…” He faltered for a moment, his scowl deepening. “The one with the— the pretty one. Dammit just call her!”

He doesn’t elaborate further because the truth is, he knows exactly who you are. He’s seen you at every press conference and public statement for the agency, standing slightly to the side of where everyone gathered, interpreting for the news. He wouldn’t admit it— not even to himself but he’d find himself distracted by you often. He was captivated by your hands and facial expression. He could tell you were passionate about your work, hell he might even respect you a little.

His team doesn’t question his words. They just nod in understanding and someone leaves to do just that. He huffs, hoping you get there quickly so he might actually know what’s going on.

“He… what?!” Your voice raises as the voice over the phone relays the message. Dynamight requested you? You couldn’t wrap your head around why he’d even need an interpreter, but you’re not turning down the opportunity. The cup of tea you were drinking abandoned on the counter as you rush into your bedroom to change into your interpreting ‘uniform.’

Fuck. You needed to do laundry. Your clothes are piled in the corner of the room. In your defense, you weren’t supposed to work again until next week. You dig through your closet and dresser drawers hoping to find something suitable for interpreting. Your eyes fall on a black long sleeve, it’s a few years old and you’ve definitely gained a little weight since the last time you’d worn it. It’ll have to do. You throw it on along with some slacks. it shows more shoulder than anything. it’s a little tighter than you’d like it to be, clinging to your body in a way you’d rather it not. At least not for your place of work.

You smooth your hands over your clothes a few times looking in the mirror, sucking your teeth before grabbing your bag and keys and heading out the door. Like you said, it’d have to do. The agency is only 15 minutes from your apartment, which is why you’d so enthusiastically taken the job. That and the fact that it’s his agency. You’d admired dynamight for a long time but honestly the thought of working so closely with him was terrifying.

You arrive and the nice receptionist tells you exactly which room to go to. you give her a warm smile. She returns it, her manicured nails moving rapidly over the keyboard as you shuffle away to the conference room.

You lightly rap on the door twice before pushing it open. “Hi, sorry to interrupt, but I’m the—” The words catch in your throat as the room falls silent, all eyes turning to you. You’re used to this. You’re used to people watching you—it comes with the job of being an interpreter. But you’re not used to him. Your gaze collides with his, and your breath stumbles. “…interpreter,” you finish, the word slipping out softer than you intended.

His eyes are striking, sharp and burning, there’s nothing warm about the way he looks at you. It’s intense, unflinching, and terrifying.

You can’t tell if your heart is racing because his gaze is so intimidating or because you realize, that it’s beautiful, too. Damn it. Focus. You break the staring contest you were apparently having to briefly look at the floor. His gaze felt critical and now you’re second guessing every choice you made before you walked into the office. You shake your head and look up again. “I’m the interpreter” you say, more confident this time.

“About time” he barks out, his tone as critical as his gaze. Your eyes lock with his for the second time. “You just gonna stand there or are you gonna come here and do your damn job?” You let in a sharp breath as you instinctively straighten your spine. “Right.. right sorry” you murmur. Only, what is your job? You still have no idea why you’re even here. Whatever it doesn’t matter.

You step more into the room, positioning yourself where you can see everyone and nod, beginning to interpret. His eyes are still on you, you don’t think they ever left but instead you focus on the various voices around you. Brows furrowed, you shake your head. “Excuse me.” You mutter. The voices continue, loud, scattered, interrupting each other. “Excuse me!” You say louder this time, stopping the conversation as their heads turn to acknowledge you. “Please speak one at a time! A meeting this big should really have more than one interpreter..” you mumble the last part but the others in the room nod in understanding and do as you ask. The conversation resumes, slower and more uniform.

Bakugo doesn’t look away, even as the others start speaking again. You catch snippets of conversation, words like recovery, damaged hearing aids, and villain tactics, but your focus keeps dragging back to him. It’s not just the intensity of his presence—it’s the way he watches you like he’s dissecting every move you make.

Bakugo watches you intensely, his gaze devouring you whole. The way the loose strands of hair are framing your face, how your brows lift with expression, the gloss on your lips, your bare shoulders. Your skin looks so soft and— damnit. He’s not even paying attention.

He barely even knows sign anyway. He’d taught himself to finger spell and after watching you for so long picked up on some of the more common signs. Having you here was more productive. It was less time consuming then writing back and forth and maybe he’d learn something and maybe he’d get to know you. He blinks a few times, snapping himself from the thought. The incoherent voices around him halt and there’s several gazes on him. Someone probably asked a question.

Someone asked a question and he was too busy looking at your stupid fucking shoulders. Who even wears something like that to work anyway? He’s never seen you wear anything like that before and-

“Sir?” A member of his team utters. They’re awaiting his response. He locks eyes with you again, raising his hands to his body.

SLOW. MY SIGN BAD.

He signs to you. S-P-E-L-L.

You feel your eyes instantly widen, you force your face to fall neutral again. You’re interpreting for him? His aids got damaged?

You bend your index finger into a hook shape and tap it twice on your ear. The sign for hearing aid. You spell it out for him, before spelling out fix.

YES, NO, WHICH?

He scoffs, looking back at his team. “I’ve got too much shit to do to sit around and wait for ‘em to get fixed. Why do you think she’s even here?” He says, clearly annoyed at the question. He’s got that scowl on is face and it gives you chills.

The meeting continues, much to your dismay. You’re struggling, trying to take out the key points of what you’re overhearing and interpret to someone who barely knows sign. He’s not helping at all, staring at you with the same critical eyes and blank expression. Is he even understanding you? You try not to let the frustration show on your face.

The meeting is finally over to your relief. Your hands feel tired from so much fingerspelling. People start filtering out of the room. you roam over to where you left your bag, pulling out your water bottle and taking a few large sips trying to shake off the tension.

“Didn’t think signing was that exhausting,” a gruff voice says behind you.

You pause mid-sip, the familiar tone making you freeze. Slowly, you lower the bottle and turn, finding Bakugo standing a few steps away, arms crossed over his chest. His expression is unreadable. “You look like you’re about to explode.”

You huff, honestly not having the patience for this right now. “It’s hard to interpret when you barely know sign language, sir. I can’t tell if you understand anything I’m saying.” You say, your tone stern but still trying to remain respectful.

He stares at you for a beat, his expression unreadable, before he crosses his arms and leans against the wall, his voice low. “I understand more than you think. Just… just not all of it.”

You narrow your eyes, annoyed yet relieved that at least he can give you a little clarity. “Were you going to say anything? Or just let me waste my time and look stupid?” Your hand move rapidly, in frustration, in anger

“You don’t look stupid.” He states in a flat tone. “You’re good at it.” This shocks you a bit, dynamight isn’t known for giving compliments and somehow you feel like his gaze is even more intense than before.

“..was that a compliment?” You blink, caught off guard. “What’re you the deaf one now?” he smirks slightly before letting his rough demeanor take over once more “don’t get used to it” he fires back quickly.

You sigh, shaking your head slightly. “Thanks, I guess. But it doesn’t matter how good I am if you don’t understand” your eyes meet his once more. You sense something in them, if you didn’t know better you’d think it was almost something…apologetic?

His fist clench at his sides, not unnoticed by you and your demeanor softens despite your words. You’re not trying to make him feel bad, it’s probably more frustrating for him.

“I need you to communicate, sir. At least let me know when you understand or not, or I’m gonna keep making myself look like an idiot up there.” You smile slightly, trying to cut the tension you’d accidentally created.

He sucks his teeth “whatever, fine. I’ll tell you.” You give him a small smile in return, starting to gather your things. “Before you leave..” he breaks the silence, you look up at him curiously. He steps closer, lowering his voice. “You can’t tell anyone about my hearing. Got it?”

You feel your brows furrow. There’s a lot you could say back, but you value your job. “Excuse me sir.. but there’s nothing wrong with-“ “I said, you can’t tell anyone. No one else needs to know.” He cuts you off, his words are cold.

The finality in his voice makes it clear the subject isn’t up for debate. You purse your lips, biting back the response you want to give. Instead, you settle for a curt nod. “Understood.” Grabbing your bag and walking towards the door. “Have a good night sir.” Without waiting for a response, you close the door behind you, leaving him alone in the conference room.

Bakugo watches you leave, his hands tightening in his pockets. He’s not sure what it is about you, but something tells him this arrangement is going to be more complicated than he expected.

The hallway outside the conference room is quiet, but your mind isn’t. You replay the conversation in your head, trying to make sense of it. There was something about the way he spoke—about the way he looked at you—that stuck with you. Dynamight was hard to read, but his insistence on secrecy had been laced with something you couldn’t quite place. You shake your head. Not your problem, you tell yourself firmly. You’re just here to do your job, not to figure out Dynamight.

As the elevator doors slide open, you step inside, your thoughts still lingering on him. This isn’t going to be easy, is it? You reach the lobby, saying goodnight to the same kind receptionist from earlier and heading back home.

You’re lying in bed when your phone pings, it’s an email of your new interpreting schedule. With a heavy sigh, you turn onto your back, staring at the ceiling. Meeting your heroes wasn’t supposed to feel like this. You’d admired Dynamight from a distance, inspired by his drive, his unshakable determination, and his ability to save lives no matter the cost. But up close? He was…

You hesitate, feeling guilty for even thinking it. He wasn’t cruel, exactly. Just difficult. Closed off. And it wasn’t like he had asked for this to happen to him.

You close your eyes, willing yourself to sleep. It’s just work, you tell yourself. Do your job, keep your head down, and move on.

But as you drift off, a small thought lingers in the back of your mind. That brief flicker of something in his eyes during the meeting—something you hadn’t expected from a man so famously brash and unyielding.

Vulnerability?

You shove the thought away, but it lingers, a tiny thread pulling at the edges of your frustration. Maybe there was more to him than you realized.

For now, though, you had to focus on making it through tomorrow. One day at a time.

A week passes. The days become easier. You’ve become very friendly with the receptionist in the lobby. Her name was Talia. Your brief interaction turned into smaller friendly conversation. You looked forward to seeing her everyday.

Working with Dynamight is no walk in the park. He’s intense, stubborn, and unapologetically brash. But beneath the rough exterior, you’ve come to know a man who takes his job as a hero seriously, even if he pushes himself too hard to compensate for what you assume he perceives as a weakness.

He’s a little kinder now, at least in the way that Dynamight can be kind. He’s working with you, communicating the way you asked. The dynamic is fine. It works. You do your job, you talk to Talia for a little while and you leave.

Lunch with Talia quickly becomes your favorite part of the day. What started as quick chats at the receptionist desk has turned into full-blown lunch breaks in the small cafe near the agency. She’s easy to talk to—funny, warm, and refreshingly honest.

Today, as you sit across from her, picking at your sandwich, the conversation drifts to Dynamight.

“Is he still a pain?” Talia asks, smirking as she sips her iced coffee. You laugh softly. “I mean, yeah. But he’s… better. Not great, but better.” “‘Better’ for Dynamight is probably miraculous,” she quips, earning another laugh from you.

The smile quickly falls from your face as you stare down at your food, a more serious expression taking over. “God” you groan, your face falling into your hands. “I just don’t understand him. Like at all” “you’re not getting paid to understand Dynamight. If any of us were we’d all be broke.” She chuckles and takes another sip of her coffee.

“I know but it’s just like.. if you’re so ashamed to be..deaf…” you whisper the last part so no one may overhear “..that you don’t want anyone to know why the fuck would you ask for an interpreter? Do you know how hard it is to discreetly interpret in public? We have to make someone else stand next to him so it looks like I’m interpreting for them instead!”

“He’s not ashamed.” She says curtly, ignoring your other frustrations. “What?” Your head lifts from your hands to look at her, both shock and curiosity etched into your face. “I don’t understand” you shake your head.

“It’s not because he’s ashamed or anything. It’s… well, think about it. If the wrong people found out, villains would use it against him. They’d find ways to exploit it. That’s the last thing he wants.”

Oh. You hadn’t thought about it like that. You almost feel a little guilty for making him out to be such an ass in your mind. Almost, cause at the same time, he’s still cold and abrasive.

Your face must show how you’re feeling. Somehow it always does, It’s a curse in moments like this, but it’s also what makes you such a great interpreter. Talia’s hand fall on top of yours reassuringly.

“Hey..” she says gently. “..You’re great at what you do, y/n. Maybe you were wrong about that but it doesn’t change the fact that he is 100% making your job harder” You can’t help the small, weary laugh that escapes you. “You’re not wrong. He’s exhausting. Sometimes, I still don’t even know if he’s listening.”

Talia smirks, squeezing your hand. “Oh, he’s listening. He’s just a stubborn ass who doesn’t know how to show it. I mean, come on. Think about who we’re talking about.” Her words draw a reluctant smile from you. “Yeah, that sounds about right.” You mutter back

“You’ll get through to him,” she says confidently, letting go of your hand. “Trust me. If anyone can, it’s you. You’re here for a reason.” There’s a beat of silence before Talia leans in slightly, her tone dropping to something a little quieter, more serious. “You know, he doesn’t let anyone help him. Not really. He’s always been like that, even when I started here.”

You nod slowly, processing her words. It makes sense in a way. Although her words are reassuring,it still feels frustrating. You look at her, a flicker of doubt still lingering in your eyes. But her faith in you feels steady, unwavering. It’s comforting, even if you’re not sure you fully believe it yet.

“Thanks, Talia,” you say softly, and for the first time in what feels like days, you hold yourself a little higher.

The sharp sizzle of oil fills the air as Bakugo tosses another handful of vegetables into the pan. it’s a rhythm he knows well. But tonight, his focus is off. He scowls at the counter, eyeing the ridiculous amount of food piling up. Again. Every time lately, it’s the same thing. He swears he’s not doing it on purpose.

His mind drifts to you. To the way your hands move when you sign, fluidly.. beautifully. Your frustration barely hidden behind a polite smile. You’ve been busting your ass trying to keep up with him, and he’s done nothing but make your job harder.

Bakugo grips the edge of the counter, jaw tight. He knows you didn’t ask for this, didn’t ask to deal with his stubborn ass.

Before can even realize what he’s doing, he’s grabbing a spare container and loading it with the extra food, snapping the lid on tight. He tells himself he’s being practical. He’s not one to waste food.

When he hands it to you the next day, he barely looks you in the eye. “Made too much,” he says gruffly, shoving the container into your hands before walking away without waiting for a response.

He walks away so fast he almost, just almost misses the small smile that plays onto your lips. The smile that fills his mind for the rest of the day.

And that’s how it starts. The next day he’s shoving another container in your hands, claiming the same thing. Rushing away in the same way. You blink after him, utterly bewildered but secretly delighted. Because honestly? That food was incredible. Like, best you’ve ever had incredible.

By the third day, you’re half-expecting it, your hands reaching automatically as he shoves yet another container into them. It’s becoming a strange routine, one you don’t entirely understand but definitely don’t mind.

At lunch, you decide you can’t just keep taking these meals without saying anything. You owe him a thank you. So, with the container in hand, you find yourself heading up to his office.

You stand outside the office door, taking a shaky breath and light knocking. “Come in” his voice with its usual roughness grumbles from the opposite side of the door. You open it and shuffle in, giving an awkward smile.

“What?” He asked brashly, sounding more annoyed than usual. You feel his eyes scanning you from head to toe. You hold up the container. “I uhm.. I just” you clear your throat. “I just wanted to say thank you for the food lately, it’s so delicious, honestly I really appreciate it.” Your hands move as you speak.

FOOD, THANK YOU, DELICIOUS

You let your eyes wander while he speaks, you’ve never really been in his office. It’s a standard room, barely decorated and of course, tidy. His desk was positioned on the same wall as the door. So that’s how he knew you were knocking..“Uhm. I was wondering.. do you.. wanna eat together?”

LUNCH, EAT, TOGETHER?

You ask, trying to keep your voice steady

He stares at you blankly and just when you think he’s about to tell you to get lost, he shrugs. “Whatever, don’t make it weird” he nods his head in the direction of an extra chair on the other side of the room. You smile and drag the chair over to his desk.

That’s how it starts.

The next day, you’d ask to eat together again. Over the next few days, it becomes routine. Around lunch, you’d head up to his office with your container, and the two of you would sit and eat together. The conversation, at first seems sparse but becomes easier and easier, soon flowing naturally.

He asks about interpreting, your day, your annoying habit of over-explaining things when you’re nervous. And you learn things about him too. Like how he experiments with different recipes because cooking is one of the few things that lets him focus. Or how he prefers silence over small talk, but somehow doesn’t seem to mind when it’s you filling the quiet.

One day, mid-bite, he suddenly says, “Stop calling me Dynamight.” You blink, caught off guard. “I’m sorry?” Your hand forms a fist, rubbing it against your chest with raised brows, signing as you speak.

He glares at you, though it lacks its usual edge. “You’re not on the damn clock when we’re eating. Just call me Bakugo.” You hesitate, then nod, a small smile creeping onto your face. “Alright, Bakugo.”

Talia, however, notices this change almost immediately. Somehow when lunch time rolls around you’re nowhere to be found. She misses your time together.

“Girl, where the hell have you been?” She asks one evening as you pass her desk to go home. “What happened to our lunches? You cheating on me?” She smirks

You flush, “I’m sorry.. I’m sorry I haven’t been communicating” you facepalm. “I’ve been having lunch with Bakugo these past few days, to thank him for the meals and everything”

“Ohhh so it’s Bakugo now?” She tease, leaning forward on her desk. “Sooo when’s the wedding?” You groan, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “Talia!” “What? I need to know when I’m supposed to object, can’t have dynamight taking my girl” she giggles.

You roll your eyes but can’t help a small smile.

“It’s nothing, really. We’re coworkers having lunch.” You’re not lying, that’s exactly what it was. Even if deep down you maybe wanted it to be more. Talia smirks knowingly. “Uh-huh. Sure.” You sigh, shaking your head. “I’m serious! And I’m really sorry for ditching you. I promise—lunch together at the end of the week. Deal?”

She crosses her arms, pretending to consider it. “Hmm, I guess I can forgive you. But only if you bring the juicy details.” “Talia!” you groan again, but she just laughs as you wave goodbye, her teasing words echoing behind you.

You sit across from Talia in the same cafe as usual. Catching up for the first time in what seems like forever. You really do feel bad about ditching her, she’s the one great thing that’s come from taking this job.

“So,” she begins, resting her chin on her hand. “How’s lunch with Dynamight been? Does he chew with his mouth open or something?”

You roll your eyes, laughing softly. “He’s not bad, actually. Quiet. Focuses more on the food than talking, which honestly, I appreciate. Less pressure to fill the silence. But I do it anyway.. it’s like the words keep coming out… I can’t stop talking”

She gasps, throwing her hand on her chest mockingly “THE Dynamight? Quiet? I fear a may faint!”

You chuckle and playfully push hit her arm that’s still resting on the table. “Well, to be fair,” you say, grinning, “he mostly spends it making sure I’m eating, sooo.”

“Ohhh,” she drawls, raising her eyebrows. “So he’s looking out for you now, huh? Bet he’s making sure you’re eating all your vegetables too.” “I think he wants to make sure I’m enjoying it. He likes cooking and I know if I could cook well I’d probably do the same thing” you respond matter of factly.

“Sure,” Talia says, drawing the word out with an exaggerated smirk. “And you don’t think it’s because he has a little crush?” You roll your eyes again, fighting the warmth creeping up your neck. “He’s just being a decent coworker. That’s all.”

“Mmhmm,” she hums, clearly not convinced. “Let me know when the wedding invites go out. I’m definitely objecting. Even if I’m the maid of honor”

You snort, tossing a napkin at her. “Can we eat now, or are you just going to keep embarrassing me?”

Talia raises her hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll let you eat in peace…for now.”

Just as you’re about to dig into your food, your phone buzzes on the table. Without thinking, you pick it up, glancing at the unsaved number. The message reads:

“Where are you? It’s lunch. You’re not here.”

You blink, confused. “What the—” Talia hums in curiosity. “I just got a text but I don’t have this number saved” you turn your phone screen so she can see too. She narrows her eyes as she leans closer to read the message, then they widen. “Oh my god. That’s him. That’s Dynamight. Bakugo.”

Your stomach drop. “What? How would he even get my number?” Talia gives you a look. “Girl, I know you’re not that slow. He’s one of the top heroes in the country. If he wanted your number, he could definitely find it.”

“Well?” She nudges you. “Are you gonna text back or not?” “I.. what.. what do I even say??” You respond, growing more flustered. “How about, ‘Sorry, I ditched you for my real soulmate, Talia’?” she says with a smirk.

You try to just roll your eyes, but can’t help but let out a chuckle and type out a quick response.

“Sorry, I’m at lunch with a friend today. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The reply comes almost instantly.

“You could’ve told me.”

Your stomach drops again, and Talia laughs, leaning back in her chair. “Oooooo he’s mad. You’re in troubleeee” her grin only growing wider. “He probably misses his lunch buddy,” she adds with a mock pout. “So tragic.” you give her a glare.

Your groan, plopping down your phone and caging your head in your arms on the table. “Why is he even texting me? And why do I feel bad about this?”

Talia smirks, sipping her drink. “Because you’re catching feelings, babe. Don’t fight it.” You glare at her again over the rim of your hands, but she just laughs harder. You flip your phone over, trying to refocus on your lunch. However, you don’t really feel hungry anymore.

The next day feels…off. You can’t put your finger on it at first, but the energy in the room is different. When you arrive, Bakugo barely glances at you. There’s no gruff greeting, no container of food shoved into your hands with a muttered excuse about “making too much.”

By lunch, the tension feels suffocating. You glance at him a few times, hoping for some kind of acknowledgment, but he doesn’t even look in your direction. He eats alone in his office while you sit in the break room, absently picking at a salad you don’t even want.

You replay yesterday in your mind, Was it because I skipped lunch? Is he that mad about it?

But that doesn’t make sense. He’s Dynamight, not some clingy guy who cares about a missed meal. Still, you can’t shake the feeling that you’ve messed something up.

He doesn’t look at you. Doesn’t greet you. Doesn’t offer you food.

It’s petty, and he knows it. But he’s pissed—mostly at himself. Yesterday, he let his guard down, let you get under his skin. He shouldn’t have cared where you were or who you were with, but he did. And that pissed him off even more.

So today, he shuts it down. Keeps things professional. Cold.

He tells himself it’s better this way. Keeps you at arm’s length, avoids the growing distraction you’ve become. You’re his interpreter, not his friend. Not someone he should care about. By the time the day ends, he’s still mad. Mad at you for skipping lunch yesterday, mad at himself for caring, and mad that he can’t stop thinking about the way your face fell when he brushed you off.

The next day feels longer , the tension in the air weighing heavier with each passing hour. Bakugo barely acknowledges you, responding only when necessary and only about work. No snide remarks, no shared looks during meetings, and definitely no container of food shoved into your hands.

You try to brush it off, but the absence of his usual gruffness is almost worse than when he was barking at you. By the time lunch approaches you’ve convinced yourself you should just let it go. But as you gather your things, you glance toward his office door, slightly ajar. Before you can stop yourself, you’re knocking.

“Come in,” his voice calls, low and gruff as always.

You push the door open. He’s sitting at his desk, hunched over a stack of papers, his eyes darting around them rapidly, his attention fixed anywhere but on you.

“Sir,” you start, trying to keep your tone neutral, “is everything… okay? You’ve been—”

OK, YOU?

“Busy,” he cuts you off without looking up. He’s not even paying attention to what you’re saying.

You narrow your eyes and bang your hand on his desk twice to get his attention. His head snaps up at that. “Busy enough to ignore me?” His crimson eyes narrow. “I’m not ignoring you.”

“Wow! Could’ve fooled me,” you mutter under your breath, knowing he can’t hear it. Bakugo has read lips long enough to pick that up, even if you’re not signing. For a long moment, there’s silence. You expected him snap, have some witty remarks like usual. Instead his face falls.

“didn’t think you’d care,” he says finally, his voice quieter than you’ve ever heard it. Your eyes widen.“Care? I thought I did something wrong.. I-“ your hands stammer. “you didn’t.” He cuts you off again. “Didn’t wanna bother you. Figured you’d rather spend time with your friend or whatever”

His admission hits you hard, this…this is almost vulnerable? you’d never seen him like this. You knew this wasn’t easy for him to say.

“S-sir..” you stop. “Bakugo.. I didn’t mean to make you feel like that,” you say softly. “You’re not a bother.”

He mutters, incoherently, shifting in his seat a bit. You can tell he’s don’t talking and you take that as your cue to leave. You shake your hand in the air to get his attention again. “By the way,” you say, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I had lunch with my friend that day because I’d been ditching her for you. So… take what you will from that.”

You pause for a beat, your hands coming to a halt, your eyes meeting his, then turn on your heel and slip out the door without another word.

Later that evening, you linger longer than usual, pretending to be caught up in some last-minute paperwork. In reality, you’re waiting for the office to quiet down, for everyone else to leave. When you finally approach his door again, it’s shut, but you can hear faint movement inside.

You push it open a crack, peeking through, and your breath catches.

He’s standing in front of the mirror on the far wall, hands moving clumsily through a set of signs. His brows are furrowed, his jaw tight, frustration radiating off him in waves. He’s got that same notebook he was hunched over propped open on the desk beside him, glancing between the pages and his reflection.

“Fuck.” He mutters, shaking out his hands and trying again. You watch for a moment, something warm blooming in your chest. He hasn’t noticed you yet, and you almost feel bad for interrupting. Almost.

You shake you hand in the air to get his attention.

“You’re improving,” you say softly, your hands moving as you speak.

YOU, BETTER!

His eyes widen, caught completely off guard. For a split second, he looks ready to bark at you, but then his expression softens, just barely.

“Should’ve locked the damn door,” he grumbles, closing the notebook with a snap. You smile, stepping closer. “You didn’t have to do this, you know.”

His eyes meet yours, something lingering there and for once, there’s no anger, no irritation. Just honesty. “Yeah, I did.”

You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. Instead, you settle for a small nod, the weight of the moment saying more than words ever could.

“Thanks,” you whisper after a beat, your palm faces you, fingers touching your chin before bringing your hand away from your face.

THANK YOU.

and this time, he doesn’t look away as a small, rare smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Katsuki Bakugo would never admit it, but he trusted you. And maybe—just maybe—he was starting to let you in.

This is soooo so long omg I’m sorry!! Also the sign is super basic bc he wouldn’t know.. I feel like I needed to say that lmaoo I hope anyone who reads this enjoyed!

Dedicating this to my luver @mimzyu and also @poemeater since Leigh encouraged me to start writing not too long ago <3

#shut up haley!#putting myself out there #and putting my deaf studies minor to work #i hope you like it #AHHHHHH #deaf Bakugo #my hero academia #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha x reader #bnha x reader

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nsfwruru · 3 months ago

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top payer!huh yunjin(g!p) x OF!reader

hear me out… yunjin as your biggest supporter on OF, and that she’s your top payer to the point you want to get to know her. only for her to beg you to do a video collab so she can fuck your cute little face. she’s just a fein for head!!!!!😣

cw: filthy smut(masturbation, cum eating, use of videotaping, Yunjin receiving), porn with some plot, not proofread,, use of ‘S/N’ for “screen/name”

You didn’t know anyone in the industry, maybe a few faces here and there, but no one quite noticeable, well maybe due in part that you where a faceless content creator. Not much was known about you, other than the occasional kinks and preferences you’d naturally post under your frequent photoshoots. Having “fans” didn’t help much either, they all just so happened to have tacky screen names that hid their true identity— Well, that was the case until you came across an account that would frequently pay for extra access to your photos, with her name and face plastered onto her casual viewing account.

“huh yunjin” it displayed, the username just being ‘yunnnnjin” something that’s just so intriguing, since you never really saw anyone so proud to display that they looked around the website. Honestly it was really just a pleasant surprise knowing someone was actually human looking through your photos, and occasional videos. Also the fact that she was absolutely stunning in her profile picture kinda made you suspicious, wondering if this could be a bot. I mean, her dark red hair, which complimented her big brown eyes and plump lips, it was all too good to be true!

The only reason you ever believed that this was a real person running this account was the amount of payments she made. It was absolutely absurd! Not only was she paying for literally all the extra spicy photos you posted— but it came to the point she went out of her way to make excess payments just for the hell of it! Your debit card was absolutely popping every single business day with more and more installments that this Yunjin girl sent you. Of course, you were a high paid model, who wracked up 40-50k a month, but honestly even how much she was paying you was too much.

And the weirdest part of it was she was paying thousands to ten thousand every week, without even a single comment or peep from her. Someone with that kind of spending habits must be someone who has some weird parasocial relationship… right?

Wrong!

It was always apparent that she kept a safe distance, never reaching out or demanding more raunchy photos from you, it just seemed like she was a viewer enjoying the content from afar. The idea of her doing this was perplexing, when people who sent far less on your photos where demanding far more than her. It was in some odd way, endearing to you. Coming to the point where you wanted to reach out to her and just get to know the woman who was practically paying your bills at this point. Not wanting to sound like a creep, you silently slid into her chat box with her, and sent a message. (Only for her to reply in a heartbeat.)

you: “Hey I saw you paying so much on my content thank you so much!”

yunnnnjin: “hi”

yunnnnjin: “yeah np, ur very beautiful”

you: “thank u sm!”

you: “I don’t want to sound ungrateful but why do you always pay extra? you don’t have to >_>”

yunnnnjin: “ah.. i just find you stunning”

you: “your my biggest supporter thank you!”

yunnnnjin: “this might be a weird question to ask, and I’m not demanding anything from you.”

you: “hm??”

yunnnnjin: “but can we film a collab”

staring right at your computer, your reading glasses was slowly falling down your face as you opened your jaw in disbelief. Did she seriously just say that? After mere minutes of meeting? What the fuck? So maybe she wasn’t any better than a man because what the hell just happened. You thought maybe you could trust her, believe that she wasn’t one of those entitled fans who felt the need to claim every inch of you, but I guess not. Honestly you felt disgusted she could ask this so quickly, but a morbid curiosity filled your mind, this could be a perfect way to make a little more money.

yunnnnjin: “sorry that was weird”

yunnnnjin: “i shouldn’t have said anything im sorry”

you: “… do u have a photo of ur face, like a video or something you can record right now so I know what I’m working with.”

*Yunjin sent 5 video attachments*

Admittedly you were scared to open the files she sent you, maybe this was all a prank and some sick friend was pulling this on you. But something just drew you in as you hovered your mouse on the reveal bar, clicking the photos, the blur was lifted and you were greeted with plethora of videos to look at. From first glance everything seemed to check out, but you wanted to make sure she didn’t just snag these from the internet.

The first video included her in a soft white robe, someone clearly putting makeup on her plush skin as she sat down. Humming a tune in the background that was oddly familiar to you, maybe a little too familiar.

The other 3 videos included her doing such mindless task like doing her make up, drinking coffee, even dancing to the beat of the music. But that’s not what interested you the most, what you gravitated toward was the video, with the first few frames being her face scrunched up, closing her eyes at her screen.

Playing the video, you were greeted by muffled groans, and the sound of skin rubbing against one another, almost in a rhythmic motion. As each time the skin glided across the other, she would let out the most intense moan, pleading with someone in front of the camera. Her eyes darting towards the scream as her mouth opened slightly, not clocking what she was doing until her moans became so loud, that the speakers on your computer started vibrating. Oh! She’s jacking off! While recording herself! How interesting!

That’s not what caught your eye though, it’s when she brung the camera down to the base of her thighs, propping the camera behind her thick perched up cock as she started rubbing it up and down. Her moans turning into pleading as she called out your screen name repeatedly, begging for her release like she was imagining it was your hands around her girth. She was far too much for you— to the point watching the precum dribble from the slit of her member made your skin crawl. You wished it was you making her feel that way, so you decided to continue watching until she reached her climax. Watching her hands slide up and down, quickening the pace and using her cum as leverage to fuck herself using her palm, made you go crazy. It wasn’t until she reached her maximum, as her legs buckled up slightly with her back arched cumming all over the screen. The bed squeaking as she fucked her hands aggressively to reach that climax she-oh-so desired. Your name rolling of her tounge so naturally as “fuckin’ so good” and “shit”, was mixed into it.

you: “wow”

you: “so you are real.”

yunnnnjin: “haha sorry if that last video is weird jst wanted u to know how much i want to collab”

you: “make sense, uhhhhhh i think we can, do u have an address?”

yunnnnjin: “perfect, and here’s my address, but tell me if you ever come over I’ll plan everything ahead”

You might’ve been sick in the head, because now you stood rooted in place standing in front of the door of her apartment. For all you knew she could’ve been a perverted killer on the loose, but seeing that video of her changed the trajectory of your life.

Knocking on the door, you heard someone stumble over themselves as the reached the door with a thud. A small groan escaping from a woman’s lips as she hurriedly pried the door open, your heartbeat racing. Finally as she opened the door, you met her brown gaze as her red hair fell gently over her face and covered a lot of her defining features. “You actually came.” Yunjin taking all of you in, being surprised that it was actually you as you covered your face with a black mask. Without warning she dragged your wrist and lead you into her nicely decorated apartment. All of her decor being of welloff brands and photos of her with 4 or sometimes 5 other girls.

She dragged you over to her bedroom, only to be met with professional lighting setups, cameras and other video recording tools set all around. She was clearly a little too prepared for her own good, down to the box of condoms that sat nicely on-top of the black bedsheets. “I got this all for you— I’m sorry if this is too much, but I didn’t know what else to do when you gave me this opportunity.” Tilting your head in confusion as from your knowledge she must’ve gotten all this equipment recently, since nothing about her profile said “model” or “photographer.”

“Ah thank you but you didn’t need to do all of that, besides I brought my video camera with me for a reason.” You insisted pulling out the black bag inside your even bigger gym back, showing her the camera as you slid it out. She stared back at you, her cheeks flushed in embarrassment as she looked back at everything she had prepared, mentally cursing herself when she should’ve know that you’d bring something fancy. “Oh this is a shame—“

“It’s fine, if you have everything set up, we can use this instead of what I’m using now, it’s probably better quality anyways.” And so you did, you began recording the first few clips, just some lingerie shots with Yunjin, or photographs with her tongue pressed agonist parts of your body. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, but watching her boxers press up against your stomach, feeling her stiffened cock onto your tummy, made you feral. Greatful that you wore a face mask to cover your true identity, because with out it you’d be drooling by the contact of her boxers.

Thankfully, after snapping some promiscuous photos of the both of you, Yunjin offered to take some solo shots of you. This type without your top out, something that was so natural for you to do, made Yunjin’s breath hitch as your breast pooled into the free air. Fuck, you didn’t know how much she wanted to touch you right now, to have your nipple in her mourn while she played with your other breast. Or fucking your face and letting her precious cum fall down your chin and down to your chest. As the camera clicked on and on, her mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of fucking you mindlessly. Having her cum all over the nastiest parts of your body, while you scream her name all day long. And finally ripping off that black mask you used to cover your adorable face with so she could spurt all over you.

It took you a few minutes— actually almost half an hour to tell that her hardened cock was pressing even harder against her fabric, begging to be let out. As her mind drifted in and out of reality, you tried your best to snap her out of trance with no avail. “Yunjin—“ You called out her name once, “Yunjin?” A second time as you inched closer to her in your kneeling position, looking up at her soft gaze as she stared down at you. Before you could say her name one last time you where faced up, inches apart her hard member, looking up at her with, those, eyes.

Yunjin didn’t respond, not for a long time, her hands reaching out to your hair as she continued to click some more photos. Tangling her delicate slim fingers into your hair, taking more and more photos as you called out to her. “Fuck, S/N, you look so good” She mumbled, taking her hands out of your hair to pinch your cheeks up to give her your whole attention. Her breathing heavy as she watched your even movement, and how your face masked heaved up and down as she did so. “Can I fuck you princess, please— please let me use your pretty mouth baby.” Yunjin murmured, pulling her hands away from you as she held the waistband of her boxers.

Without any second thought, you brung your hands up and yanking it off of her, not wanting to admit that you wanted this more than her. As her boxers slid off so easily, you could see her cock take its place as it sprung up, the sheer size of it hitting her stomach as she had a painful erection.

It took you in awe for a few moments, the both of you not doing anything as you stared at her member, while she looked down at you in anticipation. “Holy shit— uh, can you get the video camera then?” You asked while Yunjin shook her head vigorously, tripping over herself to fully take off everything and grab the video taping camera on the side table. Running back, she began recording and pointing the camera down at you, indicating that the shot was already rolling.

You lifted your mask a little bit to place the head of her pink cock to the edge of your lips, placing the mask over, giving her little kitten licks as you do so. The sudden contact of your mouth on her most sensitive part made her let out the dirtiest moan, and bring her free hand to tangle it in your hair. “Fuck, that felt so nice baby.” She groaned out, petting your hair as you continued to bring your mouth to the base. The sheer size of it making you tear up, unable to handle how much you had to put in.

Yunjin was getting off to this, getting off to your gagging, getting off to the feeling of your small mouth around her dick, just getting off to the idea of you. “Is it— hah, too big princess?” She breathed out as she buckled her waist, pushing you to deep throat her thick cock. Leaving you to gag even more as she was pressing up against you, the tip off your nose touching her pelvis as she brung you deeper down. The sounds of your muffled gagging gave her more leverage to fist your hair and fuck into you. Letting dribbles of cum and salvia accumulate as drizzle down your chin. Luckily the mask you wore was able the cover the lewd juices leaking out from you mouth as you took her all.

Bobbing your head back and fourth, her fist was still clawing at your hair as she fucked your most so nicely. “Fuck— fuck…” She groaned, her dick writing in your mouth as you hummed, “mpfh” letting the vibrations of your voice to leave a nice sensation around her. Your tongue swirling around in circles, nose touching her pelvis as hot air coming from your nose sent shivers down her spine. From the way her hips where proceeding to buckle clearly indicated that she was close to climaxing.

With a few more thrusts into your mouth in an almost apathetic way, without any hesitation— she released all of her salty seed into your mouth. Slowing pulling away as she swayed the rest of her cum inside, the lose of contact made a popping noise. “Shit.” Yunjin examined how good you looked as she slowly pulled off your mask, to admire the cum and saliva dribbling down your mouth. Ripping her hands away from your hair, she placed her thumb on where the main stream of liquid resided, and pushed everything back into your mouth. “Swallow it up.” Yunjin demanded, watching you make a show out of it, going as far as to open your mouth after you finished. “Mm, good girl.”

urgahfhhhh I was gonna add so much more but after this I got drained smh. full on smut sex scene cummin’ up when I feel like it LOL!!!!

#huh yunjin x reader #yunjin x reader #kpop gg smut #smut #Le sserafim smut #huh yunjin smut #yunjin smut #huh Yunjin x you #g!p #kpop smut #girl group smut #gxg smut #huh Yunjin x fem reader

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weirdmageddon · 1 year ago

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i love these tags this person is so right

actually, can you imagine if dave was raised by B1 roxy?

i wanna get into this actually

(ok i had to spend a few hours rewriting this because IT DIDNT FUCKING SAVE AFTER FIVE HOURS OF WRITING WHEN MY COMPUTER UPDATED WHILE I WAS AFK so it would mean a lot to show this post some appreciation. i LOVEEE hearing what other people have to say)

even though these things mom does are presented in an extravagant, kitsch, jokey way, her intentions always came from a place of sincerity. she is simply Funnie

but rose reads too far into it and assumes things that aren't there, that her mother is passive-aggressively feigning interest in rose's interests simply because the things she does are so extra. "why do all of this if not to mock me"

im telling you right now if dave lived in this household he wouldn't assume antagonism, he'd go,

don’t forget who LITERALLY patented tangible jpeg artifacts as their post-scratch adult self and scattered shitty scummed up statue of liberties all over the planet. theres no way some of that overboard artful shit wasnt post-ironic / circling back around to genuine funny sincerity

dave's natural state is funny sincerity like roxy. he's had the natural capacity for this type of humor from the start and this is the direction he goes towards when he grows out of his brother's shadow by the end of the comic. dave and roxy share an earnest “so bad its good” type of humor

(lots more under the cut; the length of this meta analysis just got unwieldly with all the pictures and whatnot)

despite the alcoholism, roxy is a supportive mother. she's not the ideal guardian but hells of a lot more supportive of her kid than bro is. if she knew dave's interests she would totally indulge in them with some over the top silly goofy haha shit as a genuine gesture simply because she loves him

rose isn't too keen on it though. but she is more similar to dirk in her natural state of thinking of overthinking shit and assuming the worst, like the tags said

and yes dave got the sweet cuddly yet sometimes backhanded ouppy gene from roxy, probably even moreso lol

roxy's even said rose "sounds like girl dirk"

side tangent here, but this is something i wanna talk about.

i dont think bro should ever be in custody of children ever but if theres anyone who would be up to the task it's rose probably. i know she'd be able to keep up with him. not only does she have a defined personality (dave is more malleable and absorbs his environment like a sponge), if anyone can pick apart B1 dirk's batshit brain and probably be right on the money it's her. lil cal has been pumping patriarchal nonsense into bro's head and rose would be able to bring the fucking facts to the table without losing her own and being a living example of a badass little girl. i also don't think bro would try to force masculine roles onto rose like he did with dave, seeing as she is a girl, so she would actually have more of a leg up and get some passes that dave was never afforded. and rose wouldn't stand idly and accept any bullshit; she is no doormat. and i think this would earn bro's respect

but anyway, from this, couldn't we conclude roxy "sounds like girl dave"?

yeah okay. we havent even gotten into their penchant for funny typos or misspeaks, deliberate or otherwise

so, dave's environment

the sentiment "god you hope you can be as good as your bro at this some day" might have been genuine at the time when he idolized bro but of course he's not able to express that in any sort of sincere fashion because he's in dirk's fucking household. and this level 10 irony shit isnt doing dave any favors

his role models were the Internet and a vague idea of what Bro was like. So he built up his facade based on irony–not the literary definition of irony, as Rose might be quick to point out, but a popular concept of irony based on the idea that things that didn’t make sense actually made sense in some roundabout way. As a master of irony, Dave probably reasoned, he could see in a way other people couldn’t why a world that was scary and didn’t make sense really did make sense, and could therefore convince those people that he was superior to them. And he would wield his knowledge to maintain the appearance of superiority by calling everything ironic and pretending he didn’t care about things that didn’t make sense, and he would use walls of vaguely rhyming words to keep everyone at arm’s length so they wouldn’t discover his insecurities (source)

roxy's style is the embodiment of post-irony. being raised by mom lalonde would be like being raised by joel vinesauce ok

what can i say ….. (getting meta about this actually, hussie got these jpeg wizard wallpapers from a spyware website. link takes some time to load because internet archive)

rose is quick to read post-irony as actually being a joke/insincere, which in bro's case would be true. but i believe dave's natural instinct, outside of the influence of bro, is to read post-irony as genuine, which is exactly how mom serves it. we see this as early as act 3 from him; he understands her motives better than rose does herself:

and in act 6 intermission 2 i think it's pretty clear

but the thing is, it's always genuine from her. dave wouldn't have to second guess it because he's not one to naturally second guess someone's sincerity; that was learned due to his bro being virtually unassailable

there two types of ironies at play here:

seems like a joke, is actually genuine (roxy)

doesnt seem like a joke, is actually a joke (dirk)

you can make the argument that the second is is more psychologically destructive because it makes you question the reality of what is genuine sentiment and what isn't. dave never knew what was genuine and what was irony so he just sort of existed in this sincerity-ironic limbo and always did the opposite of what he genuinely felt on principle even if it always did originate from a genuine place.

"it just a joke bro i was just being ironic i dont actually x" is so much more trust-breaking and psychologically damaging than "wait are you being serious" / "i am being so fucking fr rn davy gravy" / "ok thats actually pretty fucking awesome. giant ass wizard statue" / "RIGHT"

how much about dave would change do you think? his character arc would be completely different for one thing, i think he'd have it good aside from mom's alcohol issues. he'd be left with the sweet and funny parts of him that we see at the end of the comic. the fake coolguy stuff is out, but this remains. this is dave in his element and we see it as early as act 1

he'd probably have no shades growing up in the lalonde residence* either cause those were given to him by bro straight out of the crater as an extension of his own cool image. and john gave dave ben stiller’s aviators for his 13th birthday to replace them so he could “spread his wings”

dave said he was wearing them for the ironies but i kind of doubt it. maybe post-irony but there was some reacharound to it being genuine because dave never put those pointy anime shades on his face again.

*though... it’s kind of hard to imagine him without his shades at all? B2 dave still got stiller’s shades from stiller himself so maybe getting them is a universal constant. i can imagine mom getting him them as a birthday gift cause shes pretty wealthy and probably could buy it out in an auction. but also itd be cool if john still gave him it as a gift

dave is actually a lot more genuine and easy to read than he lets on even when grappling with his upbringing with B1 dirk (again, see this post). this can be seen all throughout he comic but a good example is the evolution of thoughts about his interest in the preserved dead things in his room:

if B1 roxy was dave's guardian he probably WOULD have pursued paleontology because she wouldve indulged him in it and probably find it cool and worthwhile to pursue, instead of allowing dave to flounder under ironic detachment, being poisoned by irony to the point of gaslighting himself into believing he doesnt actually believe he thinks this shit is cool. even if it was indulged in this such a way; a superficially kitsch and ironic appearing presentation, it comes from a genuine place and inspires genuine interest. just read the comments.

basically, i think if B1 roxy raised dave, their relationship would have a surface level appearance of being bizarre or over-the-top but they’d have an unsaid mutual understanding that it’s completely in earnest and just build on each other's funny and absurd gestures of affection. rather than seeing it as one-upping each other, it'd more like collaboration of some silly bullshit that you take a step back and look at full and just say, "fucking incredible"

speaking of paleontology, mom had the proto-ectobiology lab. maybe they'd be able to use the equipment to appearify paradox ghost imprints of the dead shit to create paradox clones of things from the cambrian era??? sounds like a fun mother son bonding activity. and theyd actually put the sciencey shit in the household to use

oh god i know exactly the kinds of music shed listen too also growing up as a teen in the 80s. she on that (post)-punk/art rock/new wave/new romantic mtv stuff. XTC shit fr. this is a B-52S HOUSEHOLD. maybe the associates for the campy melodramatic flair. so he gets to keep the record on his shirt cause he is an enjoyer of the shit in her vinyl collection. dave would still gravitate towards musical expression and music itself but of more variety outside of just rap, with an 80s-90s, even 70s flavor due to mom’s influence. see this for perhaps a glimpse. she probably visited new york city a lot for business trips and because the music scene was cool as hell around that time, imports came straight from jfk airport, she probably got in on that a bit and have remnants in the form of vinyls and cassettes. in this way she could be distributing void to dave (influencing him with forgotten / presently irrelevant music). now he can REALLY rave about bands none of his friends have heard of. “hey davy grvay watcha listenin to” (he holds up vinyl cover) “omg snakefinger”

btw dave lalonde would look like this to me

#homestuck #homestuck meta #dave strider #mom lalonde #roxy lalonde #hs #strilonde guardian swap

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miabebe · 4 months ago

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Camp Seventeen: Chapter 2

Pairing - Afab!reader x ot13 (Soonyoung x reader x Minghao for this Ch)

Word count - 13K

Genre - Greek Demigod AU! We’ve got crack, smut, fluff , angst, hurt, comfort, all of it in this series, buckle up!

Previous chapter

Chapter summary - As you delve deeper into the world of the demigods, a party throws you spiraling down a road less taken. While it seems there's one member who may be able to help you with it, there's another you want to lend a hand to. And more.

A/n - I do have a taglist so comment on this post to be added! And if you enjoyed reading, please don't forget to leave feedback in the comments or tags - we've got lots of chapters to go and hearing thoughts really helps <3

Smut warnings - I'm trying this thing where I won't be adding any detailed warnings as of now now, I will be including them after 1 week instead! I'm trying to keep the suspense for those who are interested but I understand there might be some of you who are wary of reading certain things - I will be adding warnings for your sake in a week's time! (There are no trigger warnings for this fic though!)

(edited) - Sexual tension phew, fingering (f.receiving), male masturbation, oral (m.receiving), threesome, sub-ish Soonyoung, dom Minghao, slight mlm? (feeding her cum), couple of spanks, unprotected sex (plis refrain), they're kinda rough - she's struggling to breathe, Minghao is mean and a bit of a sadist, deepthroating, edging, marking, hickies, sloppy seconds, they both finish inside her, I think that's about it?

Today you slept with both the windows and the curtains closed.

Not just Seungcheol's eagle, even the late morning sun couldn't wake you up, leading to you casually strolling into the dining hall, late in the day. As you walked in, still dressed in your pajamas, twelve heads turned towards you, following your every step.

Seokmin turned towards Seungcheol who's gaze was fixed on his food, like it was adamant not to meet yours. Hesitating, the former cleared his throat, taking one for the team, questioning you instead.

“You uh….didn't come to train today.”

“Yes, I didn’t.”

Walking in, you grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl and sat as far away from Seungcheol as possible. If anyone noticed the hostility between the two of you, they didn't say anything. Seokmin looked at you like he was expecting to hear more - then he realised that was all you had for an answer.

“Why didn't you…...”

“I got wet in the rain last night.” You munched on your fruit. “Felt sick in the morning.”

A part of you expected at least one of them to have the decency to ask you how you were doing now but all the boys simply exchanged looks. As you frowned at them confused, Joshua finally looked at you. “Demigods don't fall sick Y/n.”

You blinked. “What?”

“We're half gods, so uh…. stuff like bacteria and viruses don't really have an effect against us.”

Suddenly, at that point, the last 25 years of your life made a little more sense - you realised you hadn't ever fallen sick. You also realised that last weekend when you offered to watch a movie with Seungcheol because the two of you were alone in the house, he had declined, stating he had a cold and didn't want to pass it on.

Of course he lied. All that man did was lie.

Scoffing, you shook your head. “Of course we don't.”

“Is there a problem?” Minghao narrowed his eyes at you conspicuously. “Any particular reason you couldn't or didn't want to come?”

Sighing, you shook your head. “It's just been hard getting used to things, I'm trying but-”

“There's no room for but Y/n.” Seungcheol finally spoke, looking up. “Quest season is approaching and we cannot have a weak link on the team.”

“Cheol.” Jeonghan cautioned, looking at him just a little sternly. “Enough.”

Seungcheol stared back at Jeonghan like he wanted to retort but when the latter shook his head at him, he got up, throwing his plate into the sink a lot louder than anyone had expected.

If Chan hadn’t muttered that the cab was ready to leave, you would have exploded - how dare he? He was the one who hinted at something more last night and he was the one who had left you in the middle of the storm so why was he behaving like this was your fault?? But before you could say anything, Seungcheol and the members going for morning shifts grabbed their things and set out for the day, unusually quietly. As Mingyu began to follow the crowd, you held him by his wrist,

“Where are you going? You don’t have work today?”

“Are you keeping tabs on me, newbie?” Mingyu bent down, smirking at you. “Can I consider you interested?”

“Your schedules are on the white board genius.” You rolled your eyes, letting him go and pointing at it. “We need to talk.”

Mingyu frowned, both confused and curious.

“The house Gyu, my house. I have a final plan for it.”

“Oh! Okay sure let’s go-”

“Wait.” Joshua stood up shaking his head. “I don't know what's going on with you Y/n, but unlike Cheol, I cannot walk away from what I am responsible for in this camp. You're going to put that fruit down-” He pointed at the plum you just reached for. “-go shower, have a full breakfast and then you can sit with Mingyu and finalise whatever you have to.”

“But Shua-”

“No.” He said in a tone that you knew meant that this was not open for any more discussion as he turned towards the man who was stuffing his face with cereal. “And Kwon Soonyoung, why are your sheets still in the dryer?”

Oh fuck.

Soonyoung looked at you confused - you had completely forgotten about that.

“I uh couldn't carry them back in the rain last night.” He muttered, drinking the last of his milk straight from the bowl, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I'll take them now.”

“Why did you need to wash your sheets in the middle of the night?” Hansol frowned at the man beside him sceptical and Soonyoung glanced at you but you were suddenly deeply interested in some random crack on the table surface.

“I was bored and jerked off.” Soonyoung washed up his bowl, shaking the water off his hands. “It was a good one.”

Hansol groaned disgusted and you looked at Soonyoung scandalised as he shot you a cheeky wink before disappearing out of the hall. A part of you was kind of relieved - you were worried after last night, especially considering what he said as you were leaving. Perhaps you heard it wrong because Soonyoung seemed just as relaxed as ever, like nothing had changed.

You were thankful for that - now things could go back to like they were before.

Or could they? Because Jihoon was yet again looking at you like he knew everything

“This is your final plan?”

“Yes.”

“Isn't this the first plan you had made?”

“Yes.”

“Y/n,” Mingyu groaned. “If you wanted to do this we could have finalised it days ago.”

“I told you, I was confused about the whole bathroom situation.” You muttered, tracing mindless patterns over the floor plan. “Let's just make the residence alone. I'll adjust with the common showers.”

“We can still arrange to build a bathroom for you.” Joshua glanced at the papers. “Since we have to divert water pipes, it'll just take a little longer-”

“No.” You gripped the pencil tight. “I don't want anything that takes a little longer. I want this house made as soon as possible so I can shift to my own space.”

Your adamance was definitely new but neither boys commented on it. Instead Mingyu pulled out his phone and scrolled through clumsily.

“I need to place an order for the brick and cement and sure Chan has got a decently sized cab but it's going to take a couple of trips to bring the whole load.” He sighed, not looking up. “It's going to take a couple of weeks to get the house ready-”

“No, no no.” You shook your head. This couldn't be happening. “I need my own house as soon as possible, Mingyu….” You looked away rambling as both men frowned. “I'm in my final year, I've uh got projects and submissions to work on. The library isn't well lit enough to study all night and Seungcheol's house is too far from the charging station in the Great Hall, I can't keep making such long trips just to charge my laptop? What if it rains like last night again? What if all my stuff gets wet and-”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Mingyu set his phone down and tried to calm you down. “Though if those are your concerns, you can move into my house. I live close to the Great hall and I have a loft - you won’t have any issues there.”

Oh no. No no. You weren't about to fall from the frying pan into the fire.

“No Mingyu, what I need is my own space, like every other member of the camp.” You sighed. “And I know it's a lot to ask but I hope we can be done with it fast.”

“I really wish I could help Y/n.” He looked at you pitifully. “You’re an architect, you know the kind of time it takes to build a house. Maybe if you had opted for something simpler, like a wooden cabin-”

“Can you build that faster?”

“I mean we do live in the middle of a forest and I do have automations to cut trees-”

“How long will a wooden cabin take?”

“A few days.” Mingyu rubbed his chin in thought. “Provided it doesn't rain or-”

“Do it.”

Both men looked surprised.

“You're sure?” Joshua spoke up this time. “Wooden homes tend to feel colder, it would also be harder to-”

“I'm sure.” You nodded, gathering the sheets. “I'll have to make a few amendments to the layout then you can start. Meanwhile, why don't you go ahead now with the….. wood gathering?”

Mingyu nodded, stuffing his phone into his pocket, resting his face on his interlocked hands.

“What're you waiting for Mingyu?”

“Now as in right now??”

“Yes right now.” You looked at him like it was obvious. “Please.”

Joshua nodded, signalling Mingyu to leave and grumbling, the bigger man left, much to your relief. Just a few more days. You could handle a few more days with Seungcheol, right?

“You cannot.” Joshua turned to you. “You cannot survive with a group of people if you don't communicate Y/n. Do you want to tell me what's going on?”

You let out a deep breath considering it for a minute but then shook your head. “It's not worth discussing. I'll deal with it on my own.”

“Well you better do it fast because,” Joshua pulled out a sheet from his bag and slid it across the table to you. “Things are about to get a lot more hectic.”

You were too scared to extend your hand and reach for that paper. Good god, what else was in store for you.

“Seokmin and Minghao are already covering physical training for you but being a demigod is so much more than just combat - you need to learn about this world, about its people, about the laws that govern it.” He looked at you apologetically. “I've drafted a schedule where the members will cover these different areas with you. Of course you will have time for your own obligations but you will also have to strictly adhere to the rest…..”

Joshua's words trailed off as your eyes landed on the timetable and the names scribbled on them.

You counted 12 names, all the members were scheduled to help you except-

“Wonwoo.” You breathed out. “His name isn't….here?”

“Yeah…” Joshua scratched the back of his head. “Wonwoo isn't really available for stuff like this, he's got other things to do….”

Of course he did. He was a top secret government official, he did guard duty at night, he was working on your case too, you could understand that he was busy.

But what you didn't understand was why he always ignored you. Even earlier when you popped into the showers forgetting that Wonwoo usually washed himself much after everyone, you had in fact, caught him butt naked.

Any normal person would've covered himself up or at least responded to your small scream, quick turn and innumerable apologies but Wonwoo? He simply grabbed a towel, wrapped himself and walked straight past you into the locker rooms like you didn't even exist, the trademark scent of his perfume the only thing lingering behind.

“Y/n where are you lost?”

You shook your head. “I was just thinking about how the bath house would've been more efficient if the showers were attached to the locker room so we didn't have to walk so far in a towel to change.”

Joshua looked at you like he didn't understand a word you were saying. Or why you were saying it.

“It's just…. I'm just being an architect, don't bother.” You shook your head then the paper. “Thank you for this.”

“No worries.” He smiled sweetly, getting up, leaving you to your breakfast. “I see your first lesson is History of the Gods. Unfortunately I think Chan is busy with some delivery in the evening so, it'll be just you and Jihoon. I hope you'll attend the lesson earnestly.”

You nodded, giving him a hard smile.

How were you supposed to last 2 hours with a man who read you like an open book?

The darkness behind your closed eyelids was supposed to be comforting. That's why you were lounging in your chair, half asleep while waiting for Jihoon to show up. But somehow, it felt like you were being watched and sure enough when you opened your eyes, the face of your instructor of the day was inches away from you.

“Jesus Christ Jihoon…” You sat up scrambling, pulling yourself away from him. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“You're tired.” He tucked his hands in his pockets walking back. “I was wondering if I should let you rest-”

“I'm fine.”

“-but it's strange considering you skipped training and slept all morning, yet you're incredibly sleep deprived.” Leaning back against the table he looked at you amused. “What might have happened last night that exhausted you so?”

Words refused to leave your mouth considering you didn't know if he was teasing you or actually concerned. Given the last few days you assumed it was the former and ignored him as you began closing all the books you had strewn on the table before you.

“I see you're doing pre reading.”

“Chan gave these to me before he left for work. He said I should read to understand better.”

“Did you?”

Of course you didn't. You were almost snoring away and Jihoon saw that, yet he asked the question like he wanted you to feel embarrassed about the answer.

“I thought you were supposed to teach me.” You shut the last book and glared at him. “If you just expect me to just read off a book, I don’t see why you’re required here.”

“Are you suggesting I leave my own class?” He raised his eyebrow amused. “I’m going to have to disappoint you but unlike some, I take what I’m told at camp seriously.”

You glared at him like you were contemplating throwing the book straight at him and you almost did when he walked around the table, sat down on the chair and cocked his head at you.

“For someone who is the daughter of Hestia, hospitality isn't really your trait is it?

“How would I know, aren’t you supposed to be teaching me about this God stuff?”

“I am.” He nodded, crossing his arms. “But it depends on how much the mortal world has already taught you.”

“I’ve never really bothered myself with Greek mythology.” You rolled your eyes. “They’re just stories for bored children.”

“Except they aren’t. They are your reality.”

“Not by choice.” You mumbled. You did not wish to be an outcast in the only world you knew and thrown here. You did not wish for any of this.

“Parentage is no one’s choice.” Jihoon sighed. “But to be a demigod is a gift. It’s a shame that you disregard your power.”

“What power?” You scoffed. “I don’t have any….” Trailing off you gulped.

That was a lie.

“I am the Son of Apollo which means I was there at the Court of Delphi when the Oracle assigned you.” Jihoon reminded you of the fateful night.

The night when a couple of masked men had forcibly picked you from your dorm, throwing you into a large room of unknown people and a round crystal in the middle on an altar. No sooner than you took a scared, confused step forward it spoke - Daughter of Hestia, Camp Seventeen.

“The Oracle only recognises those who have God's blood. So if you’re telling me you don’t have any powers and this is all a mistake, you must think I’m an idiot.”

“If you’re so smart-” You narrowed your eyes at him. “-why don’t you do that mind reading thing you do and figure out what my powers are?”

“I can’t read minds Y/n,” Jihoon looked at you quizzically. “I’m not Athena’s progeny.”

“Y-you can’t? But all these days…..” You blinked at him confused. “Oh my god, can Jeonghan??”

He shook his head. “Neither can Jeonghan. Not all of Athena’s children are mind readers. I’ve only ever come across one in my life and if she wasn’t busy shuffling through everyone’s brain in the quest, perhaps she wouldn’t have been killed.”

You opened your mouth and then shut it, unsure which of the hundred questions in your mind to ask first.

“If you really must know, my father is the God of Medicine which makes me a natural healer.” He leaned back with a small smile. “I don’t read people’s minds but their bodies. I can tell when one is sick, or hungry….or even horny.”

You gulped, feeling your heartbeat raise. Could he tell that too?

“It goes without saying that a demigod's powers are associated with their parentage. So as the daughter of the Goddess of Hearth and Home, I’m assuming you have some sort of bond with fire.”

Tightening your fists, you refused to meet his eye.

It made sense why you never told anyone in the human world about your ability to create fire out of thin air but somehow you couldn’t bring yourself to tell anyone in the demi-world either.

You had seen the powers the boys had - Seokmin was the son of Posiedon, God of the Sea, but he couldn’t create water, only bend it. And Mingyu? His father was the literal God of Fire and even he was only immune to flames.

But you, birthing fire from thin air? Something told you that even in the world of demigods, the world where you belonged, you were a freak.

“Or maybe I’m an architect because of you know, the ‘home’ bit.”

“I don’t think so. Your college preference is pretty much just a personal interest.”

“Then I guess I don’t have any powers.” You shrugged. “Maybe the Oracle made a mistake.”

“The Oracle isn’t human. It never makes mistakes.”

“Then maybe my powers are too insignificant for us to care. I mean think about it - what can the daughter of such a goddess have to offer? I most definitely don’t have anything of value.”

Jihoon stared at you like he had too many thoughts.

“Do you know the life cycle of a demigod?”

You shook your head confused about where he was going with this.

“Not everyone born half breed inherits powers and even if they do, it is dormant until puberty. At the ages of 16 to 18, demigods are at their highest energies which gives them an aura that makes them instantly identifiable - the stronger their abilities, the stronger the aura. After they are picked either by their parents or our scout force, they’re taken to the Oracle who puts them in camp where they will be best suited to train and learn to harness their powers. If a demigod isn’t placed in camp by 18, you best believe that they are dead.”

“Huh?” You blinked. “Why is that?”

“Because either the inability to handle their own powers will kill them or in rare cases, monsters.”

“M-monsters?”

“There’s always good and bad in the world. Where you have gods, you have monsters too.” Jihoon opened one of the books to a page filled with sketches of the most gruesome creatures you’d ever seen. “Most of our predecessors have already locked up many of these in the Underworld but there are still some out there, lurking around. If they sense an aura and you aren’t trained for combat, you don’t stand a chance.”

“So you think because I’ve managed to survive the last seven years, on my own and untrained, I am powerful?” You frowned. “Did you consider the fact that perhaps my aura was so weak no one could detect me?”

“I did. That was my first assumption till the Oracle.” He leaned onto the table. “Even Gods have to touch the orb for a reading but your mere presence lit her up Y/n. Your aura isn’t weak, it’s different and my guess is it has something to do with being Hestia's daughter.”

You hummed, trying to make sense of things. “Well, did the same thing happen with her other children?”

Jihoon shook his head. “We don’t know. Unfortunately for us, there are no other known children of Hestia - you are the first ever.”

You stared at him, letting the weight of his words sink in.

“I’m her only child?”

Jihoon nodded slowly.

If that were true, the whole of last week made no sense. Ever since you had discovered the temple, you had been trying to reach out to your mother every other hour. You assumed she might have been busy or probably had too many places to be to tend to you, but to learn that you were her only progeny and she still didn’t care hurt differently.

Scoffing sadly you shook your head. “What kind of mother doesn’t care about her only child?”

“One who is not proud of her momentary lapse of judgement.”

“What do you mean?”

Jihoon sighed. “Hestia is one of the three virgin goddesses, along with Artemis and Athena. She’s not supposed to have any offspring, much less one with a human. If anything, you are a walking talking symbol of her weakness.”

“I am her child-”

“In theory.” Jihoon emphasised. “But in reality, you’re merely a fragment of her.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Humans and Gods don’t mix Y/n. Hell, even humans and demigods can’t.”

“I’m aware.”

Jihoon took a pause before he narrowed his eyes at you playfully. “Why and how are you aware of that?”

“Irrelevant.” You brushed off. “But if what you’re saying is true, how can demigods even come to be?”

“Because it’s not unlike even the Gods to succumb to lust. At any time they feel particularly attracted to a human they enchant their partners.” When you frowned like you didn’t understand, he sighed and continued. “Enchantment is what we call the process of gods…to crudely put it, possessing people. Taking over their bodies, controlling them.”

Your jaw dropped.

“You mean they possess one person to have sex with another???”

“Well, sometimes it’s just sex but sometimes it is love. They stay on Earth for years together till the lesser gods aren’t able to handle things and they are forced to go back.” Jihoon got up, pacing around the room. “Demigods are born to two human parents who are completely unaware about what happened with them and what their child actually is.”

“Wow” You breathed out dumbfounded. “You mean to say I have two parents in the Mortal world and one sitting in Olympus-” Jihoon nodded. “-and neither of them care about me?”

Jihoon looked at you like you had given him more information than he asked for.

“I can’t speak for your mortal parents but as far as Gods are concerned, they don’t really care about their half human children…… unless they are powerful.” He locked his arms behind his back. “Demigods train for years to become worthy of their parents' attention.”

“So being a demigod isn’t really a gift after all.”

Sighing, Jihoon sat down beside you. “You can’t allow yourself to be governed by emotions Y/n. You are the result of a God’s lack of resistance to impulses - those who sit in Olympus have their own flaws. If you run your whole life seeking their validation, you will keep running. They will keep you running.”

“What do I do then?” You blinked at him lost. “I think I have more than one question I want to ask the woman because of whom my life is a mess. How do I get her to notice me?”

“Play it smart. First, learn about our world and the things that shape it. Understand how Olympus works - what the God's weaknesses are, what ticks them off, what will bring them on your side.” He turned to you. “If you play your cards right, trust me, your mother will come looking for you in no time.”

Letting out a deep breath, you whispered hesitantly. “Will you teach me how?”

Smiling in a way that made your stomach turn a lot differently than it used to for Jihoon before, he nodded. “I'd love to.”

You didn’t even realise when your supposed two hour session with Jihoon dragged on till after the sun had set.

By the end of it, you had a book full of notes stuffed in your backpack and a head full of information that your instructor had filled. As you stepped out of the library building, Jihoon offered to walk you back to Seungcheol’s house given it was nightfall and as much as you wanted to continue talking to him, you politely refused. You weren’t ready to face that man just yet but just as you began walking towards the Great Hall to grab a snack or two, your eyes fell on Jeonghan and Seungcheol whispering away near the trees.

As you skidded to a stop in your path, they turned towards you, both surprised and relieved by your presence. When you noticed Jeonghan nudge Seungcheol making him take a step towards you, you immediately walked back, knocking into someone behind you, earning a shriek.

“Watch it rookie.” Seungkwan muttered as you apologised under your breath. From the corner of your eye, you noticed a couple of the guys standing fully dressed like they were headed out to a party.

“Y/n.” Seungcheol took another step, trying to get your attention again. “We need to talk-”

“I can’t,” You walked over to the boys, placing yourself right in the middle of the group. “I’m going out tonight.”

“Dressed like that?” Seungcheol raised his eyebrows, looking up to down at a really old t-shirt you had donned over a pair of worn out shorts.

“Funny that a man who pairs socks with sandals is judging me about my outfit.”

Behind you the boys snickered, glancing down at Seungcheol’s feet.

“That’s not my point-”

“Can you drop my bag in my room?” You looked over the leader’s shoulder at his sidekick. “Since you love roaming around that house anyways.”

Jeonghan caught the bag you threw to him, sighing as he swung it over his shoulder.

“Well, that would make a total of eight of us..…” Seokmin looked around, doing a headcount. “Dino’s car can take us all but it will be a bit congested-”

“I can take my bike.” Mingyu offered, running his hands through his hair. “It’ll be more convenient for you guys and-”

“Can I ride with you?” You turned to Mingyu, looking at him just a little pleadingly.

Even though you were on the way to a party, you weren’t in the mood to be stuffed in a small car with a bunch of guys right now - all you wanted was some air and space away from Seungcheol.

Shooting you a small smirk, Mingyu nodded, just in time for his mechanical bull to jog over, modifying into a slick bike the moment it neared him. As he got on, you followed him, gripping his shoulders as you clambered on.

“Hold tight.”

Wrapping your arms around his waist, you glanced at the two boys left behind - Seungcheol’s jaw was tight and Jeonghan looked mildly curious, eyes darting where your body pressed up against Mingyu’s back. You could tell the normally cocky Mingyu did seem slightly tense under your touch, perhaps because you were not wearing a bra and he could feel everything very clearly.

“Shall we?” He muttered, turning on the engine.

Sighing, you nodded, a part of you well aware that tonight was most definitely going to be a long night.

“Let’s go.”

“I’ve been to funerals better than this.”

You muttered to Seokmin about fifteen minutes after reaching the house that the boys had brought you to for the night. Your expectation had been that of a frat party, one with pizzas and chips and dip and booze instead you were looking at a living room filled with pink balloons, rose gold streamers and french appetisers.

“Wait till Soonyoung’s alcohol goes around.” Seokmin half giggled, grabbing a canape from the table. “Things always get so much fun after that.”

You watched the man in question pulling out some bottles from his pockets, handing them over to some boys at the corner of the room.

The moment Chan’s car had stopped at the location, all the boys had practically disappeared. Seungkwan headed over to a bunch of people Mingyu said were some of his very close friends. No sooner than he said that, he too disappeared as did Chan, Soonyoung and Mingao. The only ones who remained by your side were Seokmin and Joshua but just as you stepped into the house, a couple of girls pulled Joshua away, leaving you with your current company.

“Why do I feel like something about Soonyoung’s alcohol is sketchy?”

“Maybe because it’s an illegal blend?” Seokmin shrugged before realising what he had let slip. “You cannot tell anyone. Everyone in camp will kill him and Soonyoung will resurrect and kill me.”

Laughing you shook your head, grabbing a cracker and topping it with brie, stomach rumbling due to the lack of dinner.

“You don’t have to keep me company Seokmin.” You turned to the man who was sweet enough to stay by your side. “I don’t wanna ruin your night.”

“It’s no big deal.” He muttered, putting himself between you and a drunk guy leaning over you to grab a drink from the table. “I know you don’t know anyone here-”

“I’m not looking to socialise anyways.” You confessed, piling a bunch of stuff on your plate. “I’m just going to sit outside and grab a bite in, hopefully, some peace and quiet.”

“Oh.” Seokmin looked a little upset, like he wanted to hang out with you but before you could tell him that you didn’t mind his company, Mingyu popped by out of nowhere, pulling his friend by the elbow and dragging him away excitedly. Chuckling, you got back to piling your plate.

“You worked up an appetite.”

You turned to see Soonyoung hovering behind you, hands tucked in his pocket.

“Yeah….” You shoved a spoonful of cold but nevertheless tasty pasta salad into your mouth. “Apparently spending three hours learning about Greek gods can really drain you.”

“Jihoon can be a bit intense with teaching.” Soonyoung laughed, nonchalantly wiping the cream at the edge of your lips with his thumb. “The trick is to remind him about his workout. He'll drop everything and run.”

“Huh.” You laughed uncertainly before struggling to swallow your bite and turning to him. He stared at you stuffing your mouth with an expression you couldn’t quite read.

“Soonyoung we…. “ You swallowed. “We didn't get to talk about last night.”

“Oh.” Soonyoung blinked. “What about it?”

About what he said. About if you heard it right. About if he meant it.

“About if whatever happened was…. of any use with Mina?” You diverted like a coward.

“I uh haven't spoken to her yet.” Soonyoung confessed, scratching the back of his head. “Surprisingly I haven't returned any of her calls.”

“Why is that?”

“I don't know.” He looked at you intently. “I don't feel like doing it.”

“Is there…” You whispered softly, wondering if you should even be asking this. If you were ready for his answer. “....something else you feel like doing?”

Soonyoung nodded, his tongue running across his lower lip, his eyes darting to your mouth. Just as it seemed like he leaned in, out of nowhere, the most beautiful girl you had ever seen, threw her arms around Soonyoung's neck, pulling his mouth to hers instead.

“Hoshi.” She mumbled against his lips, pressing her body up against him not so subtly.

You weren't sure why exactly you were continuing to watch the two people before you shoving their tongues into each other's mouth but perhaps that's how shock worked. Though you didn't have the intention of continuing anything at all with Soonyoung, something about being interrupted this way stung differently.

By the time they had separated, you had chugged an entire can of beer, crushing the metal in your hand.

“And who might this be?” She looked at you, pushing her hair back.

“She's the new member of camp seventeen Y/n,” He pointed between the two of you, “Y/n, this is Mina, my uh….”

“Girlfriend.” She smiled, with an unbelievably perfect set of teeth. “So the rumours are true. The infamous all-boys-celibate camp finally has a female presence. Tell me,” Her eyes glowed. “Have you gotten your eyes on any of them? Or even better,” She lowered her voice. “Have you gotten your hands on any of them already?”

You looked at Soonyoung, utterly uncomfortable.

“Mina, you can’t ask such things-”

“Why not? It'll be between just us girls-”

“Please.” He pulled her back. “Last I saw you, we broke up and now you just waltz back and-”

“I know, I know. We never should have broken up in the first place. That whole fight was stupid.” She pouted, wrapping her arms around him tighter. “Forget about it Soonyoung-”

“Forget about it?” His expression was of disbelief. “So you don't have anything to say to me?”

She looked away, pretending like she was thinking before turning back to him with a smirk. “Yes, I do. I didn't wear any underwear today.”

Inwardly groaning you stared at the design of the tile hoping the ground would just swallow you instead. You wanted to get the fuck out of here since this conversation was of no interest to you but moving was impossible with both their intertwined figures blocking the way.

“Come on Soonyoung, it's been so long and I'm in the mood tonight. The bedrooms on the second floor won’t be free for long.”

Soonyoung’s adam's apple shifted, his words stuck somewhere there as Mina held him by the wrist and began leading him away. As he was dragged off, you expected him to turn and shoot you a grateful look, instead, he looked at you wistfully.

Your plan was simple - stuff your face with all the incredibly bougie food, catch some air in the patio away from all the noise and then leave with the boys whenever they were ready to go. Instead here you were, your plate somewhere unattended while you were gripping the edge of the sink, leaning over it, chest heaving as you stared into the mirror.

Now you knew you weren’t supposed to be hogging the washroom for this long but you couldn’t bear to go out. One, you didn’t want to see Soonyoung and his girlfriend again - especially if she was going to be all over him like a leech because something about that sight made your stomach turn violently. And two, you were somehow, for no reason at all, incredibly wet.

Perhaps it was because suddenly, everyone in the party was quite literally all over each other, or because you were thinking about what happened in Soonyoung’s residence this time yesterday, or because you were just plain desperate to have something, anything inside you.

Last night awakened something in you that you didn’t know existed and now nothing seemed to satiate the beast. Chiding yourself for being out here when you could have been in your own room, having your way with Soonyoung’s toy or your own fingers maybe, you gripped the sink tighter, feeling your heart rate rise unprompted. It was getting harder and harder to stay modest.

The only thing that stopped you from putting your hand down your pants in a house full of sixty people on the other side of the door, was the knock on it.

“What part of I am throwing up in here do you not- Oh!” You gasped, walking back as the door flung open and in stepped a slightly inebriated Chan. “What are you doing!?”

“You won’t open the door….” He slurred. “It’s been so long, Seokmin was worried.”

“How the hell did you open three locks….” You stared at the door as he slowly shut it behind him.

“My father is the God of thieves. Are you really surprised that I can open any lock and any door?”

“I guess not.” You muttered, sitting down on the edge of the bathtub. “But you didn’t need to, I was going to come out-”

“You’ve been in here for over 20 minutes.” Chan crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. “I thought you passed out or something.”

“I wish.”

Passing out would be much better than whatever was going on between your legs.

“You don’t look like you’re enjoying the party.”

“I’m not. I’m just waiting for us to head back.”

“Then why ask to tag along?” He raised his eyebrow. “Does it have anything to do with the hostility between you and Seungcheol?”

“So you noticed.”

“I think everyone did.” Chan chuckled. “Do you want to tell me why or should I guess?”

“Shoot your shot.”

Chan shrugged all knowingly, “He rejected you.”

You looked up at the boy before you so fast, you nearly fell back thanks to the inertia.

“W-what makes you think that?”

“Sons of Zeus and Daughters of Aphrodite have a natural tendency to attract the opposite sex.” He stated like it was obvious. “Seungcheol has women swooning over him like they're in some sort of trance. He doesn't really care for them because he knows it's a mere chemical attraction thanks to his dad. Instead he just ignores them or if things get unbearable, he breaks their hearts so they snap out of it.”

You knew Chan had to be quite tipsy to so bluntly place you in the list of women Seungcheol had rejected. It wasn't like that was it? Yesterday in the rain, he had hinted his feelings for you, he almost kissed you but….. what about what you were feeling? Was this irresistible attraction you felt towards him nothing but chemical?

Considering how you had been feeling since Mina wrapped herself all over Soonyoung…. You wouldn't have felt that if your heart was set out on Seungcheol right?

Then again….. it was Seungcheol’s name that left your mouth as you orgasmed yesterday.

Staring at the floor you shook your head slightly. You could not think about last night again, not with how soaked you already were at the moment.

“Hey,” Chan inched closer, putting his finger under your chin, lifting your face to meet your eyes. He did not however notice the way you pressed your thighs together at his touch. His eyes skimmed over the features of your face, a slight amused smile forming on his face. “You’re flushed…. Did you have any of Soonyoung’s alcohol?”

You shook your head but were unable to shake his fingers from your face. “His blend is not my drink of choice.”

“Oh gods, please don’t tell me you had any beer.”

“I think I had two cans…… or maybe four?” You frowned. “I can't remember but I'm not drunk! Beer barely makes me-”

“Y/n,” Sighing, Chan finally let you go. “Party rule number one, you never drink alcohol at an Aphrodite rager.”

“Why not?”

“Because Aphrodite’s children are a bunch of troublemakers. Don’t let their gorgeous faces fool you.” He brushed the hair off your face. “You must think people like Joshua are the finest to walk the Earth, but don’t judge a man without knowing his stories.”

Joshua? You frowned. How could he be anything but a sweetheart? Soonyoung’s girlfriend maybe was an obnoxious toad but not Joshua. He was flawless.

“You might as well have drank Soonyoung’s disgusting blend.” Chan muttered. “Why do you think his alcohol sells so well at these parties?”

“Because his annoyingly beautiful girlfriend is a daughter of Aphrodite?”

“Yes, but also because only the insane drink the booze served at an Aphrodite party. She may be the goddess of Love but she’s also the goddess of Sex and more importantly, her children are addicted to it.” Chan looked at you just a little worried. “Those drinks are their special concoctions of aphrodisiacs.”

“A-aphrodisiacs???”

“Aphrodite, aphrodisiacs - not far off huh?” He shrugged. “I’m not sure if it hit you yet - do you feel anything?”

“No….” You shook your head.

The correct answer was hell yes. Everything going on with you suddenly made sense but you couldn't tell Chan that, not him.

“Are you not feeling unnaturally hot?” He looked at you concerned as he sat down beside you, his body unwittingly brushing against yours. “Doesn't the tiniest bit of proximity rile you up?”

You didn’t answer him. You didn't need him to know just how much even his presence was affecting you thanks to those stupid sex potions.

“I should tell you beforehand, when it hits, it’s going to be intense but the longer you resist it, the stronger it gets.” You turned to him, only just realising how close his face was to yours. “The only chance you have of getting out of it…. is to give in.”

Gulping you stared at him. The boy who was always bright, laughing around and cracking jokes like he was an old man was looking at you with unusually darkened eyes, his thighs pressed against yours, your hand inches away from him.

The only chance you have of getting it out is to give in.

“Chan do you think….” You gulped. “...you can guard the door for a while?”

Perhaps if it were anyone but Lee Chan you would have climbed them by now. Because he was right - the more you tried to control yourself, the more you felt yourself slipping. But not with Chan, definitely not with him. He was far too sweet and innocent to be dragged into whatever mess was going on with you.

“I might uh need a few minutes alone here.” You mumbled.

Chan blinked like he didn't understand but when you looked away, wiping the sweat trickling down your neck in a pretty cold room, he seemed like he got it.

“Oh y-yeah sure.” He got up quickly, not looking at you. “I'll be right outside.”

And with that he scurried out, closing the door behind him.

The moment he disappeared you smacked your head - you didn't particularly enjoy beer anyways, why did you have to drink it tonight? If you were being honest, it was because of Soonyoung and his irritatingly gorgeous girlfriend and their unnecessary antics right in front of you face-

No.

No no no.

You couldn't be spiralling with these thoughts again. Chan said the longer you resisted, it was going to get worse so you were going to do whatever it took to get this feeling out of your system.

As you unbuttoned your shorts, you got up and leaned against the sink to avoid seeing your face in the mirror, barely able to meet your own eyes given what you were about to do. Pushing your embarrassment aside considering the need of the hour, you slid your hand past the material of your underwear, fingers feeling exactly how drenched you were.

“Fucking hell.” You muttered. How was it possible that you were this wet absolutely unprompted and for no reason at all? What the hell was in those concoctions??

You thought you could just get off with your own fingers but given how easily they were sliding past your hole there was no way you could do this on your own, especially not here. Annoyed, you pulled your hand out and turned, washing it under the running water, sighing at your reflection in the mirror. Chan was right, you were incredibly flushed, your pupils were blown and the sheen of sweat was very evident - oh it was definitely getting worse.

Maybe you could go find Mingyu and convince him to give you a ride back to camp. If you could get your hands on Soonyoung’s toy again, you could help yourself out of this. That was perhaps the best thing to do right now.

Adjusting your hair and your clothes, you gave yourself a determined nod and opened the door, expecting to see Chan but finding someone else entirely guarding the door.

“M-Minghao.” You stuttered as he looked over his shoulder, eyes finding you.

“Party rule number two, never trust Lee Chan to do anything in a party with alcohol.”

You should have known - he might be your age but Chan was like an overexcited child. And did Minghao just say rule number two? Did that mean he was aware….

“You’re still very aroused.” He smirked as you felt your cheeks heat with embarrassment. “I’m guessing whatever you were trying to do in there didn’t work out.”

You groaned. “I can’t believe Chan told you-”

“He didn’t.” Minghao shook his head amused. You watched as he ran his eyes from your face down. “He didn’t have to, it’s pretty evident.”

“I just need to get home and I’ll be fine-”

“I don’t think so.” He dropped his voice, his wide frame covering anyone from seeing you. “On the contrary, you might quite literally pounce on the first guy you see-”

“You’re the first guy.”

Minghao’s eyes darkened as he looked at you wordlessly. Strangely, you felt something shift inside you too - oh god he was right.

“How much longer-”

“There’s bedrooms upstairs you know-”

”Are you guys done-”

“No.” Minghao shook his head, silencing the voices behind him as he slid his bracelet off his wrist and hooked it to the door handle, eyes not leaving you even once. “Get in.”

Surprisingly you obeyed, taking a step back, allowing him to enter as he closed the door behind him much to the disappointment of the many queueing outside.

“Y/n,” How was his voice so much deeper suddenly? “This is the exact kind of trouble the Aphrodite children are looking for. They want the drama that comes from the inability to control oneself, you’re better than that.”

“What do you want me to do?” You groaned. “Before you shoved me back in here, I was trying to leave and get back to camp so I can deal with it myself-”

“The art of war lies in self control.” He slid his arms in his pockets, looking at you just like he did every morning on the training field. “As a demigod, you are at your best when you learn how to control yourself. People misunderstand how this aphrodisiac works - you don't have to give in, it does wear off after a point. Most just don't happen to be able to control themselves till then.”

“Wears off at what point because Minghao, it's been barely 20 minutes since I’ve had those drinks and I’m barely able to get a hold of myself.”

“Which is precisely why leaving right now is a horrible idea - you don’t have a hold over yourself.” He let out a deep breath. “We can fix it. We can stay here for however long you need and you can let this pass. Consider it a lesson in your training.”

“We’re training in the middle of a party?”

“As warriors we’re always training.” He walked past you, sitting on the edge of the bathtub like you had been just a while ago, looking annoyingly relaxed. “Do you think I enjoy these all-pink, snooty french parties? I come here just for the drinks.”

Your jaw dropped. “Y-you had the beer too?”

Minghao nodded.

“On purpose? After knowing what they do?”

He nodded again.

“Why in the world would you do that?”

“To practise self control.” He stated like it was obvious.

“By drugging yourself?”

“A good warrior is one who doesn’t allow himself to be governed by any kind of emotion - lust is usually the hardest to control.”

“So that concoction has no effect on you?”

“It's starting to hit.” Minghao looked at you intently as your eyes flickered down to his pants, noticing the bulge. “But I'm not the kind to give in.”

“Well I think I'm the kind to.” You muttered, throat going dry as you peeled your eyes away. Minghao didn't. “I don't know how to explain it.” You shut your eyes tight, embarrassed of the words leaving you but you knew he might be the only person who understood where you were at. “but I have this feeling like I'm being clawed on the inside, like if I don't have anything in me right this second, I might just lose my mind.”

“I get it.” Your eyes flew open to find him standing right in front of you, his face inches away. “I feel like I'm on the edge of my sanity too but you can fight it.”

Gulping you looked at the way his lips moved, the vein of his neck stark as was his collarbone peeking from under his shirt. Before this, you hadn’t actually noticed just how handsome Minghao was.

“l can't.” You whispered, running your eyes over his features. “Can…can you help me?”

Leaning closer, his gaze hardened. You could see there were thoughts running in that head of his - the warrior was engaged in a battle with himself.

“Minghao please.”

Grabbing your waist, he spun you around swiftly, trapping you between his hands and the sink, meeting your eyes in the reflection of the mirror.

“Help you how?”

You looked at how his mouth was right by your ear and his frame so wide behind you that he was engulfing you merely with his presence. On one hand there were his arms, veins running up them as he gripped the edge of the sink and on the other was the fact that if you just took one step back, you knew you would feel his length pressed against you - both of which were making things exponentially worse.

“Tell me how you want me to help Y/n.” He muttered, his breath soft against your ear.

“I… you know how-”

“I was helping. I was telling you what to do-”

“Can't you do something instead?” Knowing exactly what you were doing, you took a small step back, pressing your back against his chest and your ass against his length. “Didn't you say it hit you too?”

You thought it was a fair enough proposition. Both of you had taken the drink so it was easy to put the blame on it for anything that might potentially happen.

“But I don't need any help.” He shook his head adamantly. “If I help you, what's in it for me?”

“I'll owe you one.” You sighed. “Whenever, wherever, please Minghao….”

“Remember those words.” He whispered, his hand snaking around your waist to unbutton your shorts, fingers lingering over your skin.

“W-wait.” You gasped. Though this was exactly what you were expecting when you asked for his help, as it blended into reality, you felt an uncertainty kick in. “W-what if someone opens the door-”

“A door that has the bracelet of Ares on it?” Minghao's reflection raised his eyes amused. “They'd be crazy to.”

“b-but what if…. I'm too loud or something. Wouldn't we be in trouble?”

“Y/n.” His hand drew back just a little. “Are you sure you want me to….”

“Yes.” You shut your eyes mortified that just the feeling of him withdrawing his touch was physically painful. “Yes please …”

Almost instantly Minghao obeyed, his hand snaking past the material of your shorts, just the thin layer of your underwear keeping his fingers away from you.

“Oh you poor thing, you're drenched.”

You nodded as his hand pushed aside your panties, running his digits along your folds, smearing your arousal everywhere, a fingertip prodding your hole ever so slightly.

“I'm not sure two fingers are enough for you.” He muttered, groaning. “You really want a dick inside don't you?”

“So bad.” You whispered back. “I wouldn't even mind two of them in me right now-”

You felt your words die in your throat as Minghao chuckled, slipping his fingers into your wet hole. “Let's start with two of these first.”

A soft moan left you as you agreed, hands gripping the edge tighter as his digits simply stayed inside you.

“Look at you.” He muttered in your ear. “Open your eyes and look at yourself.”

Hesitating you obeyed, catching sight of the two of you in the mirror as his free hand wrapped around your waist, holding you in place against him. Something about the way your small frame fit against his wider one was….nice.

You wanted to ask him to move his fingers, to give you something but before you said it, he slowly began pumping his digits in and out, burying his face in the dip of your neck. As his mouth brushed your skin, you felt yourself tense around his fingers.

“So tight. ” He mumbled. “Oh you'd be such a delight to fuck.”

“Then fuck me.” You moaned as his fingers picked up speed.

“Tempting.” His voice left him like a low growl as his teeth grazed your skin. “But I'm a man of principles.”

“Are you sure?” Reaching for the hand on your waist, you led it up your torso under your shirt, guiding him to your tits.

“No bra?” He half groaned, squeezing it. “What a doll.”

“Don't you want to fuck me?” Moaning you tried to push your ass further against his rock hard self. “Use me and we can both be free of this-”

“Don't be greedy Y/n.” Contrary to his words, he let a third finger join his act. “Take what I'm giving you.”

Feeling a lot more full now, you felt your jaw slacken and no words left as both his hands took turns to harshly pump and squeeze, his mouth along your shoulder and neck, leaving painful, stinging marks of red.

“Faster.” You panted as his tongue ran along your skin to soothe the burn and fingers obeyed, stretching you out just right. Minghao could tell it wasn't enough and his thumb darted to your clit, having you keen in his arms. The moment he curled his fingers up, met your eyes in the reflection and whispered, “cum for me doll.”, all that was building inside you instantly snapped, your orgasm washing over you in waves.

Thank god he held you up against him because as you pressed your legs, riding out your climax, they began trembling. When your sight became clear and you came around, Minghao slowly let you go but whatever fire was burning inside you was not satiated.

Fucking hell.

“You need more?” Minghao chuckled as he took a step back and you turned to him, eyes still hooded with lust.

“Perhaps just another…” You ran your hand down his chest, unzipping his hoodie, revealing his black tank top. “Finish off the favour.”

“I don’t think so.” He shook his head. “As your campmate I did help. But now as your trainer, I'm going to let you get over the rest on your own.”

“Minghao….” You groaned. If he was going to leave you halfway, he might as well not have done anything. Now you were, in fact, much more turned that you didn't think his fingers could even do the job anymore…..you needed the whole package.

But like he said, Minghao was a man of principles, he wouldn't give in…. unless you could tempt him enough?

Humming you looked around. The four walls of this bathroom did not seem like the right place to try and entice him but thankfully, you remembered Soonyoung’s girlfriend mentioning the bedrooms upstairs.

“Fine.” You agreed, adjusting your clothes and buttoning up while Minghao washed his hands. Perhaps if the two of you found yourself in the proximity of one of those rooms, you could get him to succumb.

As you pulled your hair into a ponytail, Minghao opened the door, holding it for you to leave first but being the girl you were, you wantonly brushed your hand against his erection, pretending your actions were innocent. He stared at you as you walked away from him, stopping only at the edge of the staircase to glance at him before heading up, hoping he was following.

Pushing through the crowd of people making out and feeling each other up in a way that was far from decent, you glanced down the corridor, slightly surprised. The house didn’t seem so big from the outside but the corridor before you looked endless with dozens of rooms on either side. You walked past them, avoiding the ones with socks on the knobs, knocking on some to receive screams of ‘go away’ and ‘taken’ and opening some unanswered doors to sights you wished you never saw. Half disturbed and half amused you continued to try and find an empty room when the sound of a particular something made you stop your tracks, eyes widening.

Your name.

Your name sounding like a strangled moan, repeated over and over, getting breathless with each word.

Gulping, you slowly pushed the door next to you open, both terrified and curious about what you were going to see because a part of you recognised that voice - it was one you heard on camp all the time.

Sure enough, before you was a large bed, Soonyoung sitting against the headboard, his pants pushed down his thighs and his dick in his fist, pumping it hard and fast. He didn’t seem to notice your presence, his eyes screwed shut as your name continued to spill from his mouth. Of course this wasn’t the first time you were seeing Soonyoung do this but something had most definitely changed since last time.

When you took a step ahead, letting the door close behind you, the click of it shutting was what finally got his attention, his eyes flying open. Catching sight of you he immediately swore loudly, tucking his length back into his pants, face turning a lot more red than it already was.

“God woman, how long have you-”

“Long enough to hear whose name you were saying.” You looked at him guiltily. “Soonyoung, you have a girlfriend-”

“Mina and I are not together.” He confessed, gulping.”She wanted to but for the first time ever I refused to….”

“Why?” You whispered, terrified of the answer. Please, please, please. Kwon Soonyoung cannot be in love with you.

“For the last ten years I thought no one could make me feel the way she did and that’s why the two of us belong with each other but….” He sighed. “I learnt that that’s not true.”

You blinked at him as he looked at you softly.

“And you know why it’s not true.”

“Soonyoung we….” You walked in, sitting on the edge of the bed. “What happened between us was just a favour, one friend to another. How can there be something between us-”

“I know.” He nodded. “I’m not saying I’m in love with you or something, I…. I myself don’t really know, all this is new to me too.”

“But what you were doing,” You tried not to glance at his pants where his erection was still very much evident. “That seemed like-”

“Y/n I’ve only ever been with one woman my whole life who gave me a boner before I turned her down for good.” He couldn’t look at you either. “What else could I really do…..”

A part of you understood him. You too were incredibly wound for a while now and you knew what it was like to try and fight it - you too had succumbed. In fact you were still not fully rid of the feeling and Soonyoung was right before you, just as aroused. Yesterday could be justified as an ignorant act whose consequences were not expected but if you went through with this today, there was no coming back from it. It wouldn’t be right…..

But fuck it.

“You didn’t finish, did you?”

Soonyoung shook his head slowly

Sighing, you kicked off your shoes and climbed on the bed on all fours, crawling towards him as he held his breath.

“This is yet another favour.” You clarified, more to yourself than him, “Just so you can understand if it's me you want to fuck or just anyone who's not your girlfriend.”

W-what?” He stuttered as your hand found the waistband of his pants. “We're going to…?”

“We don't have to if you don't want to-”

“Yes.” He breathed out, nodding fast. “God yes I want to.”

Smiling just a little, you pulled his pants down a bit, the way they were when you had entered. His erection sprung out, lying against his shirt, the tip pink and flushed. You were familiar with how it looked, but this was the most up close you had seen it and the first time you touched it as you wrapped your wrist around the base, earning a hiss from him.

“How long have you been hard?”

“Over 20 minutes.” He groaned. “Ever since we spoke at the table…. your ass looked fucking good when you bent over the table.”

“Yeah?” You pumped his length slowly. “You're not too bad yourself. Your abs are hot.”

Almost immediately, without needing to be told, Soonyoung pulled his sweatshirt over his head, tossing it on the floor.

“Good boy.” Tongue darting out, you licked the precum on his slit, looking up at his blown pupils. “You taste good too.”

“Fuck y/n, I might just cum right now.”

“In my mouth?” You cooed. “Not inside me?”

Groaning Soonyoung threw his head back. Honestly, you had no idea how these words were even leaving you - you owed it to both the aphrodisiac coursing through you and also how submissive Soonyoung seemed in your hands. So reactive, so easy to please.

The moment you took his tip in your mouth, his hand gripped your ponytail, trying to push himself further in. Pulling back with a wet pop, you clicked your tongue.

“Uh huh.” You shook your head. “If we do this we do this my way.”

“Do whatever the fuck you want.” He panted, his thighs twitching. “I'm all yours.”

Although you had some thoughts about that statement you didn't voice them. One because you really wanted to suck him off and two because you heard a voice you knew most definitely wasn't Soonyoung.

“So this is how you choose to tempt me.”

Before you Soonyoung froze, eyes looking past you at the door where Minghao was standing. You could tell the man before you was both shocked and embarrassed and wanted to cover himself up but you didn't move to give him room for that.

“If you're worried about your modesty Kwon, you should know I don't give a fuck.” Minghao leaned back against the door. “I'm only interested in what Y/n has to offer.”

Soonyoung looked at you confused as you smiled just a little. Oh you managed to crack him and it didn't even take much.

“Tell him my offer is still open.” You ran your tongue from his base up. “If you’re okay with it too that is.”

Soonyoung’s eyes widened, finally realising what was happening. You doubted that he wouldn't be okay with it - the man was quite literally falling apart in your hands.

Sure enough, he slowly nodded.

“From only one woman ever to this overnight?” Minghao raised his eyebrow. “Your girlfriend must've put you up to a really strong dose of those sex potions.”

“I didn't drink a-any beer.” Soonyoung muttered as you ran your eyes over his face. He was the same as you - pupils widened, face flushed, breath fast and shallow.

Oh.

“You're telling me that woman isn't capable of slipping in a little something to entice her boyfriend who won't crawl back to her like he always does?” Minghao chuckled. “Because I think so.”

Well wasn't this ideal, now you could justify everything that was happening - it was simply three people succumbing to the effects of an aphrodisiac - nothing personal, nothing beyond anything physical. Except deep down you knew it must mean something if despite being drugged Soonyoung rejected his girlfriend because of you and Minghao who was a man of impeccable self control was crumbling for you.

Except he hadn't really yet.

Deciding to leave the thoughts for another time, you slightly looked over your shoulder at the man who was leaning against the wall.

“Only my mouth is busy, I have two more free holes you know.”

You could tell that something about the energy in the room had shifted the moment you said that, like it was only a matter of time before Minghao joined. Sure enough, you heard the lock of the door click behind you and from the way Soonyoung gulped and his eyes followed his teammate, you could tell Minghao had neared. Wrapping your mouth around the older man's tip again, you hummed at the weight of his dick on your tongue.

“F-fuck.” Soonyoung groaned under his breath.

As the bed dipped behind you, you knew Minghao had climbed in, finally succumbing, finally giving in. .

“Is that the best you got?” He chuckled with a deep voice, pushing your knees apart with his own and running his hand down along your back as Soonyoung stared at him wide eyed. “That won't be enough for me.”

You could feel your mouth practically water, drool leaking down the corner of your lips as you took Soonyoung further in your mouth, earning a pained hiss. Minghao though was still not satisfied as he bent over, one hand unbuttoning your shorts, his breath at the shell of your ear, whispering.

“Take care of my friend and I'll take care of you.” You looked at Soonyoung to see his eyes flickering between the two of you. “The louder he moans, the harder you'll get it.”

Most definitely motivated, you sunk Soonyoung’s length deeper into your mouth, his tip touching the back of your throat, a deep groan leaving the man as his hand gripped your hair again to hold you back.

Minghao smacked it away with the shake of a head as he drew himself back, fingers hooking onto your waistband as he pulled down both your shorts and panties in one go, letting it pool at your bent knees.

You could feel your arousal drip down your legs given how incredibly wet you were. A part of you wanted to see Minghao's face but then you would have missed the sight of Soonyoung panting, looking down at you like the mere smell of you had awakened something wild in him. To make things a whole lot worse, Minghao ran his fingers up your slit, playing with your wetness before gathering it on his digit and holding it out to his friend.

“Want a taste?”

“Bold of you to assume this is my first time.” Soonyoung smirked as he sucked off Minghao's fingers and you grinned to yourself. Atta boy.

Minghao chuckled as he pulled his fingers away, smearing the wetness on the cheek of your ass, landing a smack that sent a sharp sting, making you moan around Soonyoung.

“Barely a week in camp and look at you.” He mimicked his actions on your other cheek, the impact jerking your forward, Soonyoung’s length slipping into your throat. “Good girl.”

“So fucking good.” Soonyoung moaned. “That mouth is divine.”

“Not more than this.” Cupping the curve of your ass, Minghao dipped his finger into your quivering hole. You keened at the sensation, but didn't stop working on Soonyoung's dick - you knew if you gave Soonyoung what he needed, Minghao would give you what you wanted and god did you want to feel full of him. When you grinded against his hips, his hands left you and you finally heard the sound of Minghao's zipper despite the lewd noises leaving your mouth being much louder.

“Fuck baby just like that.” Soonyoug groaned as you picked up the speed, making him feel more and more of your throat.

You still couldn't tell what Minghao was doing, the absence of his touch testing your patience, your teeth accidentally grazing Soonyoung’s dick making him hiss in pain.

Minghao chuckled, adjusting your body on each knee to pull out the clothes on your lower half and when he aligned himself behind you, you could tell he discarded his own too. His hands returned to your ass which you guessed was faint red, a colour that was exceedingly a part of Minghao's life, a colour he seemingly enjoyed. Although you did want him to rail you into tomorrow, you didn't mind if he took a moment to admire what he saw.

As though he was lost in thought about the same, Minghao dragged his dick along your folds, his length bumping your clit and sending a jolt down your nerves, before he aligned himself.

“W-wait” Looking at his friend, Soonyoung let out a strangled cry. “She hasn't been prepped-”

“Oh Kwon.” You felt his tip pushing into your needy wet hole. “She's already ready for me.”

And with that he buried himself to the hilt, the suddenness making you choke around Soonyoung’s length much to the latter's surprise and delight. Barely giving you the time to get a hold of yourself, Minghao began thrusting into you, the force pushing your mouth to take more of Soonyoung, your hands painfully gripping his thighs. The older man, who could have been a little more considerate, also began ramming his dick into your mouth, barely allowing you to breathe.

You could feel yourself losing a grip on reality, one man fucking you onto another - you never thought you would ever find yourself in a situation like this but here you were, being wrecked on both ends by men who were strangers just a week ago but god did it feel good.

Minghao bunched the material of your shirt, pushing it up along your spine, as you pulled yourself away from Soonyoung, desperate to get some air before you passed out. He groaned at the loss of your warm mouth but his expression turned fond as you looked up at him, drool running down your chin messily. Considering you looked absolutely fucked out, you didn't get why he was so enamoured as he tucked your hair behind your ear.

“Shit I could watch you all day sweetie.”

You wanted to say something back but your throat felt too sore and bruised so you settled on just giving him a sweet smile. Minghao watched the interaction between the two of you intently, his movements slowing down to deep, hard strokes. You could feel him so far in, reaching spots no one ever had before. Not even Cheol’s dildo model.

“Do you need a breather?”

Soonyoung's concern laced voice was echoed by another one that sounded a lot more condescending.

“Do you?”

Though you had barely gotten any air in you for so long and your eyes were threatening to roll back, you knew Minghao would only allow you to cum if Soonyoung did and man did the latter have the stamina of a bull.

Shaking your head you spat in your hand and wrapped your fist around the base of his cock, stroking it.

“I'm tired.” You muttered. “Fuck me Soonyoung.”

Forgetting Minghao’s previous instructions to not use his hands, Soonyoung obeyed, gripping your hair again, guiding your mouth back to his cock.

“Tap me twice if you want to stop.”

Much to his surprise, you took him in at a whole new depth, making him throw his head back in pleasure as he held your head down, dick getting squeezed down your throat. At the same time the man behind you decided to pay attention to your clit, making you tremble at the combined sensation but there was nothing you could do - you were at the mercy of both men.

As Soonyoung loosened his grip, allowing you draw back, you barely had the time to catch a breath before he was fucking his dick into your mouth, at the same speed Minghao was ravaging you from behind.

“Fuck fuck fuck.” Soonyoung groaned as his movements got sloppy and his grip tight.

“Fuck I'm gonna come.”

Oh fucking finally.

But to your complete surprise, you felt Minghao's weight press against your back as he leaned over you, hips not stopping their abuse on your hole, whispering,

“Enough.”

Although you knew it was cruel, you immediately tapped Soonyoung’s thigh and the moment he let you go confused, you pulled away, looking at him guiltily as you got on all fours.

“That's my good girl.”

“Xu Mingao.” Soonyoung groaned as the other man drew back. “What the hell?!”

Minghao simply chuckled. “You know how much I enjoy pain.”

“Sadist.” Soonyoung mumbled, trying to push himself to the edge again, pumping his length slick with your spit, hard and fast.

“Oh no.” Minghao shook his head, continuing to fuck the living daylights out of you. “If you cum I'm not letting you get a taste of this.”

“That's for Y/n to tell.”

“Tell him doll.”

You didn't know how he expected you to answer as he rolled his hips against your ass, hitting all the spots.

“Tell him what you want.”

“Don't you…” You moaned as Minghao tightened his grip on you painfully. “Don't you want to cum inside me?”

Muttering under his breath, Soonyoung looked at you with eyes filled with lust. You could tell he was leaning to kiss you, but suddenly Minghao's hand wrapped around your neck, drawing you away.

Sitting on his ankles, he pulled you back till your thighs rested on him and stripped you of your shirt, baring your body to Soonyoung like a mannequin on display.

“Didn't you say you could watch her all day?” He smirked at the older man, hand snaking around your waist. “Now watch.”

You finally seem to understand where the shift in intentions was coming from as he began snapping his hips up into you. Though he wasn't hitting you as deep, his fingers found your clit again and was tightening that knot in you unbelievably fast, your body growing hot and tense.

It was the sound of Soonyoung’s soft sigh that brought you attention back to him as he watched where Minghao disappeared into you with unwavering eyes, fully discarding his pants. When you let out another unholy moan, he looked up, not before his eyes lingered at your tits, his tongue running along his lower lip ravenously. At the sight of him and with Minghao hitting that spot once again, you finally convulsed around him, your orgasm hitting you with an intensity it never had before. Under your grip as tight as a vice, Minghao swore in your ear as he came too, ropes of his release painting your insides.

It was only when his warmth hit your walls that you realised he had not worn a condom and you had not cared.

Before you could justify to yourself that Demigods probably didn't get STDs and it didn't matter, Minghao pulled himself out, depriving you of his girth to clamp around. With a swift movement that was all a blur to you, he manhandled you around till you felt your back aligning against Soonyoung’s chest, the latter spreading your legs apart, the mixed releases leaking out of you, onto his dick.

“Just a little longer.” Minghao tilted your head up by the chin, face hovering over yours. “Be a doll will you?”

You nodded as Soonyoung slipped himself into you with a groan.

“Fuck I don't think I'm going to last long enough anyways.”

Considering you still hadn't even fully come down from your orgasm yet, Soonyoung's intrusion felt like an intense surge of pleasure shooting up your being. Overwhelmingly, in less than a thrust or two, you found yourself cumming again almost immediately, walls fluttering, tightening around him.

Muttering a string of fucks, Soonyoung bit down on your shoulder, his hips moving erratically as he felt himself nearing his high. Cooing into his ear though his thrusts were starting to get painful given your sensitivity, you rolled your hips and with two sharp jerks, Soonyoung finally emptied his load straight into you, cumming copiously.

As he softly held you against him, letting your breaths slowly become regular again, your vision finally cleared and you caught sight of a half naked Minghao before you, watching you snuggled in the arms of his friend. Your eyes ran down, finally catching sight of the dick that had been inside you, lips curling into a small smile.

“Good?”

He asked, scanning your features as he slid off the bed.

“So good.” You muttered, beckoning him with your hand.

Narrowing his eyes confused, he walked around, picking up all the clothes tossed around before he neared you. Pulling him closer to the edge of the bed by the hand, you wrapped your hand around his dick, leaning over to take it in your mouth. As you licked it clean, tasting your mixed releases along his length, you watched his eyes darken.

“Just wanted to be fair.”

“You're not satiated are you?” He smirked amused as you slowly shook your head. “Careful doll, you won't be able to stay conscious through another round with us.”

“I know..” You muttered, snuggling back into Soonyoung’s chest. “I’m tired. Wanna go back.”

“Let's clean you and get you dressed first.” Soonyoung patted your head softly, unwilling to move as your eyes began fluttering shut. “Hao, open that third drawer under the sink, there's washcloths in there.”

“And how do you know that?”

“This is my gir- ex girfriend's room.” Soonyoung muttered.

That information seemed to surprise even Minghao who was usually quite unfazed. “You're crazy Kwon.”

He voiced your thoughts as he disappeared into the bathroom, shaking his head. Within seconds he returned, handing a white towel to Soonyoung who slowly wiped you clean, trying not to brush any sensitive areas.

Just as he finished and his lips softly pressed against your temple asking you not to fall asleep, the sound of a knock resounded in the room, along with a voice.

“Anyone from Camp Seventeen here?”

“Yes.” Minghao and Soonyoung replied at the same time.

“Someone is here looking for your team. Says it's code yellow.”

You watched as the boys shared looks, panicked. Slowly pulling himself away from you, Soonyoung caught the clothes Minghao threw to him, the two of them moving quickly to dress themselves.Pulling your hair into a neat ponytail again and trying to ignore your aching body, you swung your legs off the bed.

“What’s going on?”

“Get dressed.” Minghao handed you your clothes, looking tense. “When a team member calls a code, it means everyone needs to gather immediately.”

You nodded, half understanding as you began to dress yourself. “But what's code yellow?”

Looking at your shivering self, Minghao threw you his hoodie, which you slipped on, letting it envelop you in its warmth.

“Yellow is a moderate danger alert.” Soonyoung held the door open for you as Minghao stepped out. “It most likely means the camp is under attack.”

Oh fuck.

Pushing through the crowd, you followed the boys downstairs, trying not to lose them in their hurry. Noticing you lagging behind thanks to the fact that you were struggling to walk, Soonyoung grabbed your hand, wrapping his hand around your wrist.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Seokmin and Joshua laughing away with a group of girls but before you could call them along, you were dragged away in the urgency of the boys you were with. As you reached the front door, coming to a halt right behind Minghao, your eyes fell on the familiar back of a man leaning against the frame.

Oh no.

“Chief.”

Seungcheol turned as both boys bowed, greeting him.

You simply stared wordlessly, as the blonde man's eyes found you, flickering from the jacket you had donned, to Soonyoung's hand which was still holding yours.

Behind him lightning cracked opened the sky and rain began pouring furiously.

Chapter 3

a/n - please send me your thoughts - this series is waaaay out of my comfort zone, I need to know I'm not completely messing shit up and if I missed you in the taglist, please lmk! Also please be patient for chapter 3 - I have to temporarily shift focus to my other stories as well, I will be back here soon!

614 notes · View notes

bunicate · 11 months ago

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⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི ₊˚ 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒃𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍. lucifer x fem reader

warnings ꒱ྀི daddy kink. prbly excessive use of princess/little girl/human. size kink. praise. nipple sucking. fingering. possessive luci. unedited as usual. wc ꒱ 6k ﾉ 18+

note . . ᘏ⑅ᘏ ﾉ i dunno if this is even a repost anymore bcuz the original fic was only 2k words :c . . i also thought I wasn’t cwazy abt luci anymore but boy . . wus i wrong. i still luv him dearly. i hope anyone who reads this enjoys. thankuuu ^_^

lucifer could never understand why humans, beings fettered by something as meaningless as mortality, could possess the ties to control and bind demons.

how such frail bodies of small messes, succumbing to sicknesses, phobias, and other little weirds are able to form pacts with such powerful creatures

it’s a polarizing thought that he’s never challenged or sought to change. he understands them for what they are. arguably worse than demons, and he wants nothing to do with them. they are violent, weak, and fickle, and somehow—in the irony of it all—the universe plays a trick on him.

he lowered his defenses and foolishly got ahead of himself. he was unlike his brothers; he didn’t need love or companionship, and yet, of all the powerful beings and creatures, it’s a human that turned him into something unrecognizable.

it was faceless, sneaking up on him, and he was unable to remedy it as he slowly felt it consume him whole.

a bond was webbed between the two of you, and he’s certain, frighteningly so, that nothing could break it.

granted, that level of trust surely didn’t form overnight, as you proved to be quite troublesome. you were used to peeking your nose where it didn’t belong and going into places mortals should never be, making his job more difficult, but still, he trusts you.

with six younger demon brothers and a human to look after, discord became frequent. secrets wrapped tightly were easily unveiled just from your existence in devildom.

he kept a mental checklist of all your wrongdoings, and now your invasion of his heart was another.

his heart.

nothing but proof of his existence, only meant to pump blood and oxygen, has now expanded far too much to fit within his ribcage. it was suffocating.

it made room for a different kind of love, for someone else, and he didn’t think it was possible. he became spoiled by your affections.

he yearned so much for you that he was convinced that his carnage and sadism might have withered. at least, that's what he thought, only to realize it’s been tucked away in a cavity that you simultaneously filled.

he’s unfortunately reminded that it never really went anywhere. he’s respected and feared by all, and yet it wasn’t enough to deter his brothers from causing any mishaps, especially one in particular.

♡ . . ♡

it’s dinner when lucifer decides to strike.

chatter and the smell of only the best food in devildom fill the room. he almost feels bad for souring the joyful atmosphere—almost, but as always, there's an impending conflict that would render him irritable for the rest of the night.

he sits at the head of the table as the eldest brother and strongest demon, earning everyone's stare from the shift in the atmosphere. you and his brothers could sense that he wasn’t going to make a meager announcement. lucifer moves slowly, careful to prevent any of his heedless anger from slipping through.

he looks at everyone in the room, but his gaze lingers on you a bit longer.

“forgive me for interrupting dinner, but it’s come to my attention that someone here has stolen something valuable of mine.” his voice is deep, stern, and accusing. it echoes in the candle-lit hall.

“my credit card.”

maybe it's his sadistic streak, but he knew asking that question was ultimately trivial. he knows which of his brothers is guilty; you all did.

there’s only one demon dumb and desperate enough to steal from lucifer of all people, and while the perpetrator was obvious, it didn’t make anyone any less anxious.

the avatar of pride is infamous for his punishments, and no one wanted to be on the receiving end. when anything goes amiss, they must answer to him, and you were no exception to that rule.

you point your manicured finger at mammon, and his expression morphs into utter terror. he yelps at your tattling, already plotting at least three different ways to make his escape.

“oh my,” asmo laughs.

belphie yawns obnoxiously, unamused by the series of events. it was just another typical night in the house of lamentation; nothing should surprise anyone, and still, lucifer let a troubled sigh escape.

mammon throws a fit of indignation, as if his culpability wasn’t already obvious.

tossing his hands in the air, he whines, “damn it. why’d ya’ have to tell?” he slides down the seat of the chair, trying to avoid lucifer’s angered stare as much as possible.

you don’t think to reply, almost even rolling your eyes at him. everyone knows it’s him, and like the well-behaved girl you are, you figure it makes no sense to drag out the inevitable.

but when everyone’s eyes settle on you in curiosity, you slouch in your chair and blush at the sudden attention. you feel nervous, like you made a blunder of some sort.

they expectantly await your answer, but you don't have one.

“s-sorry, mammon,” you squeak out.

your hands in between your thighs and fidget under their stares.

you couldn’t, at least not confidently, admit that lucifer has you wrapped around his finger. he expects far too much of you, and you couldn’t possibly ruin that because of mammon, but that didn’t lessen the slight guilt from easing in.

“don’t apologize,” lucifer says, bolstering his voice—his attempt at scolding mammon while reassuring you.

“it’s not up to her to entertain your lies. perhaps if you weren’t always up to no good, she wouldn’t have to confess to your wrongdoings,” he lectures.

he sneers at him, and you watch as the younger demon slinks back further. “you’re the second oldest. act like it.”

mammon huffs.

“ahhh, lucifer, you’re no fun.”

admittedly, the brothers would get away with a lot more if it weren’t for your honesty.

make no mistake, they all love you dearly, but the troublemakers couldn’t tolerate your obedience when it comes to lucifer.

when he asked you who ate all the food satan prepared for breakfast the next day, you didn’t hesitate to say it was beel. when he asks you who wrote ‘lucifer sucks :p’ on his wall, you don’t stutter to inform him of satan’s and belphie’s not-so-secretive plan of his tormentation.

anything he wants, anything he asks, you obey. that was just the nature of your relationship.

after mammon realizes pouting won’t get him out of trouble with lucifer, he goes back to eating, and the others follow suit. soon the lively atmosphere returned, but you felt rather self-conscious.

you looked over at lucifer in the hope of finding something that you're weren't sure of yet, only to see that he was already staring at you. you nibble on your spoon, suddenly feeling bare from his lowered gaze.

there is a sense of security that you crave. his look of approval serves as a reminder of why you’re faithful to him. it was rewarding to know that your loyalty didn’t go unnoticed.

you look away quickly to hide your flusteredness by sipping on your tea, but the sweet taste of earl gray isn’t enough to distract you.

dinner begins to slow and wrap up. one by one, everyone bids their goodbyes. mammon is the first to depart, knowing he’d need as much of a head start as possible. when you finish the remainder of your dinner, you get up to leave as well.

you think about how to spend the rest of your evening, and your mind wanders to cramped thighs and ruined pillows.

you grow heated by the memory of previous nights. you touched yourself too many times to count after constantly witnessing lucifer’s disheveled state after his long day of reprimanding.

you stuffed your cunt with your fingers nightly, trying to mimic the feeling of something much larger. it was difficult to commit such acts quietly in a home full of creatures with nearly perfect hearing, and still, you wonder what fantasy will tether you tonight.

maybe the one when he fucks you in diavolo’s office, or your personal favorite, he punishes you.

you fantasize about him pulling up your dainty dress to put you over his lap and spank your plump ass until cum soaks your thighs, but tonight, you don’t have to conjure up anything.

lucifer stops you in the middle of your daydream. grabbing your wrist gently, he catches you by surprise.

you clumsily turn. frazzled eyes meet unwavering carmines. you’re almost certain he could hear the thump beating between your legs.

the prideful demon pulls you close, forcing your bodies to collide and connect like missing pieces. his breath is warm against your ear.

“would you like to come by my chambers later tonight?”

you look up to search his face, wondering if there’s even a sign of doubt. after countless days and nights and all sorts of muddled feelings between sheets, there is a part of you that can’t truly accept that he sought you.

one of the most eligible bachelors in all of devildom, known for his fearsomeness, is holding you like you were glass, asking for your company.

you soak in his expression, and it’s nothing less than firm and impenetrable, and it's then that you realize it was not a question. he was not asking.

struck with a whirlwind of desire from that revelation, you nod weakly, but the demon only shakes his head in response.

“words, my little human.”

your head tilts on its axis only for a moment. your chest had to be wide open, bearing your insides to him. the effect he had on you must have been that obvious. you’re a puddle.

was it normal to feel the static every time he was around, after every word he spoke?

you feel hazy, but also a small sense of relief that you no longer have to question if he still wants you. you’ve exhausted your fingers and toys, and finally, what you have been needlessly craving would be fulfilled in a room only a few doors down. his gaze flickers to your lips, and they shine with promise.

you mustered up all the courage you had left.

“yes, i would love to come by later.”

you’re amazed that it didn’t come out as wobbly as you anticipated. you’ve gotten better at pretending, you suppose.

lucifer gives you a sweet smile. he’s pleased with your answer, and butterflies erupt in your full belly.

his gloved hand then completely engulfs yours to bring it to his lips. not once breaking eye contact, he kisses your knuckle before he departs. a hopeless romantic.

he sets out to find mammon, and that gives you enough time to prepare.

you stalk up the stairs, declining levi’s invitation for a night of competitive gaming pitifully on the way. you’ll make it up to him next time.

by ushering yourself into your room, you act immediately. you don’t spend too long getting ready. a steaming, hot shower would suffice. you wash up with a bar of gentle soap, then follow through with too many to-count spritzes of perfume and faint-smelling lotion.

white with pastel pink trim.

your night clothes are simple and short enough to keep him on his toes. you look over at yourself in the mirror.

when did you become so daring ? you didn’t know. maybe asmo’s tips on charm and seduction were finally rubbing off on you. you wonder what his reaction would be if you told him you were using them on his brother. maybe he already knew.

you turn off your light and open your door. you peek down the hall.

it’s silent and empty, just as you predicted.

quietly, you shut the door, cursing to yourself when you hear the faint cry of the rusty hinges. your trek down to his room was anxiety-inducing, but in a good way. you feel refreshed, your body is more than ready, and you’re excited.

you hoped no one would drop by unexpectedly. beel would most likely wake up in the middle of the night for a snack, but the kitchen was in the opposite direction of lucifer’s room. not that it mattered anyway.

it wasn’t really a secret—not that those lasted with you around—but it would be. . . awkward. you’d much rather not have to deal with anyone overhearing all the naughty things you’ll beg him to do.

you stop your train of thought when you reach the end of the hallway. you’re in front of his door, and you sway from your heels to your tippy toes. the fluttery ache in your chest was making you skittish.

you take a breath to compose yourself, and then you knock with three light taps.

“come in”

it takes a good chunk of your strength to open his heavy door, but you appreciate the time it grants you. it gives you the space to calm yourself down and ease your prickly nerves.

when you enter, you let your eyes wander around the room first. nothing but books, old records, and silhouettes of things you couldn’t make out in the dark. you walk in and find him leaning against his unusually messy desk.

there's soft light from the lamp that hugs his frame and illuminates his coat discarded on the nearby dresser.

he fiddles with the strap of his gloves, giving you a small smile at the sight of your presence.

“you don’t have to knock, my love.”

he allows his gaze to explore, drinking in the outfit you picked out specifically for him. already, his trousers are suffocating and distracting him, but he’s quick to recover.

you bite your lip out of habit under his lustful stare.

“i know, but i wanted to just in case you were busy . . .”

there’s an amused huff.

his long legs carry him over to where you stand swiftly. his thumbs caress the apples of your cheeks, and he presses a kiss against your forehead.

“sweet girl.” and the way it skirts the edge of sensuality could make you melt. “even if i am, feel free to steal me away,” he whispers.

you swallow down a moan at the thought. maybe one day he'll eat those words.

his hand trails from your face to the nape of your neck and pauses.

“you washed your hair,” he observes.

you shake your head.

“it got a little wet in the shower so I’m just letting it air dry for a bit, luci.”

you pull at a wet strand and watch it dutifully bounce back in place. “ i was too lazy to dry it.“

he watches the notion with careful eyes. you wanted to giggle at how serious he looked.

“i wish you would’ve asked me to help you. i don’t want you getting a cold.”

you smile at his sincerity. you realized very early on that lucifer enjoyed tending to you. he likes consistency and being depended on.

‘it’s for your own well-being,’ he says, but you think he likes to have a pretty girl to fuss over

you offer him a small pout. “i did think about it, but i assumed you were still scolding mammon. i didn’t want to bother you.”

“besides.” you turn away, “i don’t think he wants to see me right now”

already, you’re embarrassed by the thought of facing mammon again. flustered, you recall tonight’s dinner and the look on their faces. you are definitely going to avoid them at school tomorrow.

you slouch, "he totally hates me.”

you say it half-heartedly, but lucifer looks at you with seriousness.

he softly grabs you by your chin. “don’t speak like that. he doesn’t hate you—none of us do, and i’m not sure we are capable of harboring such thoughts.”

you smile. “i dunno. i’m pretty sure you guys hated my guts when i first came.” you chuckle, thinking he’d at least join in, but he frowns. his heavy hand strokes the top of your head in an affectionate rhythm.

“we had our differences, and i was far too harsh. that i know.”

there’s a faraway look in his eye, and you know there’s a silent storm forming. you reach out to cup his cheek, and he melts into your touch.

“i never hated you,” he says.

you knew that your actions played a part in straining the early stages of your relationship. you also had to come to terms that not only lucifer, but multiple brothers harbored resentment towards humans,

its not a perfect story, but everything about this was completely unconventional. you’re just a woman who somehow found herself stuck in an attempt at other-worldly diplomacy, now sandwiched between the trying relationships of seven powerful demons.

things are rocky, but it’s the happiest you’ve ever been.

“i was only teasing, luci. i'm not mad or scared anymore.”

the hand you rested on his cheeks gets gripped by his larger ones, and he kisses your palm fondly.

“besides, i think we both know i wasn’t completely innocent.”

he takes a deep inhale.

“still, i think about how things were before.” he recalls the past in disdain; he blames his pride and then himself.

“my brothers and i . . . we are devoted to you, and we have the pacts to prove it.”

it’s a provocation you’re still not entirely used to. you had 7 demons who offered themselves to you, and the proof is imprinted on their skin.

in the human world, you’re everything and nothing at the same time. feelings of loneliness and insecurity that are far too loud and are still not enough to matter. you realized everyone lived selfishly, and your heart wasn’t hardened enough to follow suit.

lucifer's thoughts about humans didn’t change, despite his proximity to you. talks of your life as a young girl only cemented his thinking.

you were far too perfect for humans, too devious for angels, and too innocent for demons.

you were an entity on your own, and scarily he worshiped you. all of you.

he’d never tire of sinking his cock into your wet cunt, filling you with his seed, and hearing those saccharine moans that fall from glossed lips. he was ravenous, but you truly didn’t know the extent of it.

“my brothers care for you deeply, as do i, but you must know.” his eyes seem darker and much more predatory, and you can’t bring yourself to look away. like a bunny trapped in a hunter's cage, your doe eyes double in size and tremors rattle through your frame.

“you’re mine alone. your mind and body belong to only me.”

lucifer is well aware that six other cocks competed for your attention. a crass choice of words, but nothing less than true. they vied for the human girl, with nearly everyone wrapped around her dainty fingers. you are a color in the world shrouded in sisyphean darkness.

his lips part on your skin. “they can touch and taste you because i allow it.”

rough hands pull up your skirt, and he grabs a handful of your ass. “this . . . this is all mine.”

you make sure to turn and give your butt a little wiggle. it's more than a sultry gesture, and lucifer thinks a human so docile posing erotically might be the one thing to kill him.

how do you make soiled underwear look so pretty and enticing? there’s a possessive streak, a soft darkness that opens its curtains upon your presence. it peers over his shoulder, urging him to devour you. to pick at your remains until he’s consumed you.

“you're beautiful,” he groans. he inches close to you, and you think your lips are going to meet halfway, but he kisses your forehead.

then, your eyelids, your nose, and the side of your mouth, you look at him with half-lidded eyes, and he doesn’t budge when you try to squirm.

lucifer steps back and leads you to his chair. he settles into the squeaky leather until his back is comfortably cushioned.

he pats his firm lap.

“come.”

you know he’s holding back. his muscles ripple beneath you, he slouches farther into his chair, his legs spread to give his groin space to freely twitch against the slackness of his pants, and it only invites you

you struggle to decide where to sit. his knee or over his lap, both very promising positions, but he decides for you. he pulls your hip so your cunt is nestled right up against his cock. you sigh breathily, already your brain turning to mush.

“i didn’t even touch you, and you’re already making such a mess, sweet girl.”

the angle you tilt your head hides your expression, but from the flutter of your lashes and the purses of your lips, he knows you’ve grown shy.

"you kissed me,”

your sweet tone and your faint aroma of honeysuckle and jasmine make his cock stir.

“is that why you’re so worked up? just from my kiss?”

not even on the lips—not yet at least, and you’ve already wetted the fabric with your sticky arousal.

“what will happen when daddy touches right here?”

it’s a feathery graze against your protruding bud. his knuckles nudge the seat of the moist cotton, right where the white turned nearly transparent against your swollen cunt.

“it aches, doesn’t it?”

slender fingers slip under the band teasingly. he studies the subtle twitch of your hole, pumping a stream of glossy slick.

“do you want me to make it go away, hm? do you want daddy to make it better?”

you nod, a broken moan falling from your trembling lips.

“ i wantmore daddy.”

you spread your legs wider, hoping he’d be more generous with his caress.

“soon, my love.”

his hands trail from your pants to your stomach to your shoulders.

his hands rub your stomach and under your breast, settling right on your hip. you know he is hyper-aware of the thin fabric separating his cock from your heat.

even in his lap, he’s taller than you, but only by a few inches. his eyes are low and hazy.

“i wish to take my time with you.”

his thumb trails over your nipple.

“you have no idea how much i missed you.”

his other fingers pull at the other nipple.

you’ve felt those same digits on your neck, in your mouth, curled around your wrist and threaded between your fingers, and now between your thighs

he begins to grope at your exposed flesh. he admires how supple they appear, and he has to restrain himself from sinking his teeth into them.

your body never falters, and it responds so well to his hot and addicting touch. lucifer tries not to tease you; after all, he is rewarding you, but the little sounds and pants that leave your lips almost make him rethink.

your skirt is wrinkled, and he flips it at your hip, and your entire bottom half is almost fully exposed. your bare legs are on display, and so is your clothed mound. he mumbles sweet praises into the side of your breast while tracing the outline of your pussy through your pants with his finger.

you pull him away from your chest to kiss him, and lucifer has to remember that you’re human. that your small and pouty mouth, which struggles to swallow, is as fragile as the rest of you. palms splayed about on your back remind him he can mold you.

his hands are in a constant of motion, tugging and squeezing at your flesh. it feels like he’s in awe of every part of your body no matter how it differs from his. his touches are messy and yet controlled. they search you in subtle restraint, fearful that they’ll hurt you.

you’ve never been touched this way. to have someone want you so desperately— to possess you almost. his hands are burning you and you feel on top of the world.

you moan at his caress and feel heat rush through your body. if it weren’t for the lack of air in his lungs, he’d never pull away but eventually he does. lucifer experimentally probes your clit and looks up at your face to admire your expression.

“do you like that?” he whispers. you bite your lip, and your voice raises in pitch, “mhm.”

lucifer smirks to himself and kisses your nipple. “what did i say about words, little one?”

he stops his ministrations on your cunt and licks at your areola teasingly. he settles the tip of his tongue on your heated bud, flicking it, sending a shiver down your spine.

“is my good girl acting up?.”

“n-no, daddy, never.”

between each breath, he plants open-mouthed kisses across your chest.

“i hope so. i would hate to have to punish you.”

he sucks diligently and roughly. his tongue aggressively strokes your nipple, addicted to how it feels in his mouth. he closes his eyes and continues his assault on your chest.

your soft cries filled his room, and the feeling of your teat on the surface of his wet muscles pleased him. the aforementioned headache was long gone because the plushness of your body took over his mind and soul.

you may feel an indescribable urge to obey him, but he's just as much under your spell as you’re under his. he’s the embodiment of pride, but he’s not against admitting that you invade every inch of him. you don’t know it yet, but anything you ask of him, he will deliver. he wonders if you could hear his heart thrumming against his chest.

you’re naked, but he feels equally as exposed.

he continues sucking on one breast, his other hand busied itself, rubbing the neglected one. you arch into his touch, your tit spilling out of his hand. the weight of it feels secure in his large palm.

the stimulation has you unruly within his embrace. one minute, your hips are still from his flicks at your pussy, and then it jerks up, wanting more from his skilled and wandering hands.

lucifer likes this side of you, desperate and unashamed of how you wanted him to use your body.

you’re so sensitive that any subtle movement sends pressure to your clit. every time you whimper, especially loudly, he's quick to praise you.

“such lovely noises. i bet you’d do anything to please me, hm?” he hums.

you remember his earlier warning eager to be on your best behavior. “yes, daddy.”

it was hard to verbalize but you were at his mercy. anything for his approval, anything for his praise, you’d do it, especially if it meant you’d get rewarded like this.

he then pulls up your soaked panties, and you gasp at the sudden gesture. they stretch across the surface of your wet pussy, and they snap from his brute strength. the break in the fabric spanking your cunt.

“what a pretty thing.”

he tosses your ripped panties to the floor, ruining your perfect set. but he’d buy you another.

“i just want to be your good girl,” you say, rubbing your legs together in anticipation.

“you’re always my good girl. isn’t that right?”

you nod and feel happiness bloom.

“the best girl for daddy,” lucifer sensually encourages.

at this rate, you’re dizzy and drunk on his intoxicating words and erotic touch. you’re babbling, and lucifer finds it endearing.

you whine when he finally takes his gloved finger and rubs slow and tight circles on your slippery bud. “dada—.” you cry especially loud.

“i know, i know,” he shushes.

you felt relief consume you at the friction of his gloves on your trembling cunny. he continues to rub and fiddle with it until you’re forced to bury your mewls into the crook of his neck.

he takes another finger and presses down on your twitchy button, and you flinch at the sudden burst of pleasure.

he knows your body like the back of his hand, and he knows how to make you fall apart. his finger continues to work on your sensitive nub, and you gradually begin to soak his lap with your arousal.

he drags his fingers over your labia and grazes over your desperate hole.

within a few strokes, he plunges two fingers into your heat. he watches you push your tits into his face from the pleasure that forces the arch in your back. and he takes a deep inhale. your pussy greedily latches onto his fingers, and you’re practically fucking his hand.

“you look so delicious in my lap. such a beautiful sight, and it's reserved for only me.”

the depth of his voice sends shudders through your body

he loved how his fingers slid right in. it felt like your pussy was made to take what he gave you. his big fingers fervently stroke your insides, and your legs shake.

just watching your tiny hole stretch to the width of his fingers threatened his self-control. he wanted to fill you with something much bigger, and he’d know you would take it because you're his precious girl.

he wants to see your cunt wrapped around his heavy cock, but he’d settle for now.

just seeing you so pliant in his arms from his tongue lapping at your breast and his large fingers was enough for him.

you drip all over his wrist, and it darkens his gloves.

lucifer’s fingers rub every soft ridge, and your cunt is more than happy for it. the wetness, the squelch, the tightness—it’s overwhelming for you. you feel as if you’re finally unraveling.

"i'm going to cum, daddy. please." you don’t know what you're begging for, but whatever he was willing to do, you needed it now.

lucifer knows you’re close—very close. you’ve nearly gone stiff, and you’re shaking against him. your toes are curled, and your first is clutched.

“oh, is this princess’ pussy going to make a mess?” he coaxes. you open your mouth, moaning, and lucifer leans down. your foreheads are touching, and you unabashedly mewl, your minty breath fanning his face. “is she going to cream for me?”

you feel your orgasm sneaking up on you. lucifer only increases the pace of his fingers thrusting in and out of your cunny. he becomes more brutal, only wanting you to be within his arms as his only goal.

he’s so close to you that your lashes touch his skin. sweat simmers on your chest, and he sucks on your now bruised bottom lip from all your biting.

with two fingers still buried inside you, stroking your walls, he presses his thumb to your clit once more.

“that’s it, it’s pretty girl.”

you felt it coming; you had ample time, and you tried to keep yourself contained, but the force was still too unbearable. you had no idea how much he was holding back.

“i’m so much bigger than you. so much stronger, and you’re so little, princess.” he chuckles in a state of disbelief.

“and you’re not even scared.”

“you’re too trusting, but i suppose that’s why i love you so much. daddy’s brave little girl.”

like a lick of lightning, lucifer feels his desire threaten to snap. his human—his sweet mess full of little weirds, kind eyes, and a soft mouth was going to make him lose himself. he's growling like a beast with every chant of his name.

“daddydaddydaddy —hiccup— love you lots, b-but. i-i can’t think anymore. can’t take it.”

drool collects on the side of your mouth.

“i know it’s a lot for you right now, but you’re doing so well, princess.”

he re-adjusts your body on his lap. “just think about daddy and his fingers.”

the appendages stretching your cunt pull out briefly.

“look at that precious pussy.”

he spreads your labia watching the uneasy throb of your hole that begged to be stuffed.

lucifer wants to mount you, but he remembers what he is when he can smell the blood pumping through veins and the feeling of your heartbeat under the tips of his fingers.

he needs to treat you like a prized dolly to dress up, to kiss, and to fuck.

you don’t need to think; he knows what’s best, and he wants to keep you on a shelf for his own use.

you made him a beast, luring him into darkness, but he was never good at hiding. he felt like he was defiling you. you were truly an entity different from anything he’s ever known. sweet as brown sugar, and he’s tainting you.

still, the thrust of his arms grows stronger. nothing but the milky, wet sounds of your drenched cunt

“your little pussy is crying. you can let go for me.”

your hearts swell with another wave of heat. the sweet babbles of you wanting to reciprocate his love die on your tongue when your body stills. you toss your head back with a pretty wail nearing your crescendo. noisily, his fingers pump your pussy with trickles of wetness spurting out.

your hips jolt forward and erratically hump the heel of his palm, hoping to reach your end much sooner.

“m right there, —!”

he's going to make you cum hard. everything from the sound of his voice to his rough fingers to the shape of his cock could make you cream. his skill never fails you, always leaving you nearly boneless. you’re always going to come crawling back for more, without a doubt.

lucifer feels your walls pulsate around him, warning him of your impending orgasm, and it strokes his ego.

“daddyyyy,” you pant deliriously. his thumb drags at your clit repeatedly and with the sensation of your insides being drained, you sob. you’re too loud, but you can't remain silent any longer.

lucifer kisses your forehead to soothe you, and with a slight pinch of your throbbing cunt, you erupt in the middle of his embrace. the dam finally breaks, and your pussy convulses angrily like it's trying to push his fingers out.

“thaaaaat’s it, baby. daddy is so proud of you.”

he increases his pace, draining you of all the cum your cunny could pump out. until your knees buckle around his wrists.

your chest expands, desperate for more air. your head is fogging up, and you’re exhausted. your limbs are strewn across the demon, lacking complete strength.

lucifer lets you cool off from your high, and he slips his fingers out of you. without hesitation, he buries them into his mouth. the taste of you fills his taste buds to utter satisfaction. you're delicious, sweet and sour, and addicting. he would inject the very essence of you into his veins if he could. but maybe he's already hooked on you; that would explain his racing mind filled with thoughts of only you.

this demon that he’s become terrifies him, but he doesn't want to change. his family and his precious human are all he needs.

he wraps you up in his arms and hugs you. your back is now pressed into his chest, eyes closed blissfully. lucifer tucks your head under his chin, and you rest safely in his hold.

he silently admires the number he did on your body and feels the familiar feeling of pride bursts within him. he looks at your beautiful face, your puffy nipples, and used pussy and he feels gratified fulfillment engulf him.

“perfect human,” he mumbles.

he graces you with another kiss on your heated skin.

“my obedient little girl.”

#૮꒰ ๑´ତ `๑ ꒱ྀིა #lucifer x reader #lucifer x reader smut #obey me lucifer #omswd lucifer #obey me smut #obey me x reader #obey me x reader smut #lucifer x you #lucifer x y/n #lucifer x female reader #female reader #divider from @cafekitsune

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fishnapple · 3 months ago

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How you can find love

This reading is about romantic love, but you can use it for other kinds of love, just change the details a little to suit you better. How you can find it or accept it, what are the obstacles and opportunities.

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost Book a reading with me - KO-FI (Read this post : personal reading)

AMETHYST

There's an element of downplaying yourself, settling for less, or just wanting to float on the surface. Maybe you've been used to the kind of relationship that only centre around the superficial mundane matters, just gliding on the surface without going deeper like talking, sharing about the past and the future together, about dreams, inspirations, fears, life philosophy, etc.

You might keep going for the same kind of people, those that remind you of something or someone from a distant past, the unconscious memories. Even though these people don't actually bring you fulfilment or help you going forward, on the contrary, some can even hinder you.

You also have the tendency to keep your thoughts to yourself, refusing to voice your opinions and feelings. Maybe it makes you feel vulnerable, or you're not too sure of what you actually feel about someone and how they feel about you. There's maybe lots of crushes, fleeting moments of attraction that you kept hidden, not allowing them to materialise into something more concrete.

All of this needs to be changed. You need to go to the opposite direction of these tendencies, to give yourself a new space to explore and dive deeper. You might feel the urge to runaway, to avoid when things start to get more serious, when you feel like you have to open yourself up and share a part of yourself while receive a part of the other person. Both the act of giving and receiving are scary but necessary.

If in the past, you were more tolerant of many behaviours of others that weren't in alignment with your values or make you comfortable, you would easily accept the possibility of a connection with someone if they managed to remind you of those familiar patterns. Now, you should be more selective of whom you can share that possibility with. There's a need to be more discerning and choose what's best for you. Choose someone who actually can go far with you, not just from shallow compatibility viewpoint. To do that, you need to be more vocal and express your desire more clearly, which starts from keeping a clear head even when you find yourself falling for someone.

But if you're sure of someone, don't try to hide it, don't try to stall for more time. The more you keep them hidden in your head and your heart, the more distorted their image are, you will begin to prefer the distorted version of them in your head rather than the real person.

ROSE QUARTZ

You have many conflicting ideas regarding love. This conflict of different ideas is what makes you feel confused and hard to find a suitable person who can satisfy all those criteria.

There's this definition of an ideal love and partner you've been observing from the community and the society you're living in. A traditional viewpoint that you can't help but subconsciously absorb it. It may be about how you have to do many hard work to be a perfect lover, a perfect spouse, how you have to have this skill or that skill, how you need to behave, how to talk and act in a manner that can attract potential suitors.

Then there's also your own version of idealistic love, what you think love ought to be. You put love on a pedestal, making it a sacred and mysterious concept that hardly any mortals can touch and possess it. This view might have been influenced by what you were taught and what you saw in the media. You've put love onto such a high place that you couldn't find anyone fit for it, nor did you find yourself capable or worthy of it. If someone managed to trigger an association with that perfect ideal, you would put that person also on a pedestal, trying to be the right partner to them, regardless of how you really are. On the opposite end, if they showed a sign of failing, you immediately judge them as not right for you and discard the possibility of a connection.

While a part of you think of love as a fairy tale, another part of you just want to live a normal, realistic life with mundane concerns. So then sometimes you might wonder, when will this ordinary life sparkle, transform into a fairy tale?

You might think that being in love will stifle your independence. The energy is directed inward. You're so used to spending time and effort on yourself, making your life as much fulfilling as possible. There's this tendency of when you are in a relationship, you focus on the security of yourself in that relationship while neglecting the necessary compromises to make a relationship work. These compromises mean changing your routines, making an effort to understand the other person's, working out your own shadows, and taking care of each other.

So to find love, a love that you can hold in your hand, not admiring from afar, you need to take the vision of love down from the pedestal, make it mundane and real with all the ugliness and awkwardness. Stop waiting for the moment when you'll become a perfect human to love and another perfect human will come to love you. Just remove the "perfect" part. What you need to be ready is how to be with another person. Not in an individualistic way like "I do my part, you do yours, then the relationship will work", but more like "we do this together". It's not wrong to look for an ideal love, but you need to realise that love exists just around you too.

FLOURITE

For this group, it is not so much about how you can find love, but it's more about how you can let love in. The thing that you need to realise is that it's okay to open yourself up, and that love can make you feel safe.

I think many people are attracted to you, but you seem to keep them at arm-length, not pushing them away but not letting them closer either. One part of you wants to love and be loved, but another part of you seems to doubt your ability to love and the chance of meeting someone who can truly love you. I think your end goal is marriage or a long-term commitment. So choosing someone means that person has to have the potential to be your life partner, someone you can see a future with.

I sense some negative talks surrounding you. Maybe they come from your own mind, you might worry about how you come across to other people, are you attractive enough, are you lovable. Or the negative talks could come from people around you, they might rush you to find a partner, or saying things that make you fearful of relationships, those opinions could come from their own experiences and their beliefs but their words have the opposite effect of encouragement.

There's a heavy shadow hidden in you that affects how you perceive romance and relationship. This could come from a domineering figure in your life that imposes a set of restrictions and control. Or some painful past memories that left a deep wound in your heart, making you build walls around yourself. There's this belief of being "deserving" or "worthy" of love. You tried your best to be someone loving, but sometimes you might feel that your efforts weren't rewarded, that you weren't appreciated enough. Which made you questioned yourself why it was so, and the answer that you've arrived at might not be entirely objective and correct, you might think that it's because you lacked something and you needed to try harder. While the answer might be just that you haven't met the right crowd, the right person yet.

The greatest components of an ideal relationship for you are the feeling of safety and unconditional love. Some people might seem perfect on paper, they might do all the right things but if you don't feel safe and accepted when you're with them, they are not the right one for you. What can be considered safe is pretty subjective. The definition could be formed by past experiences and upbringing. What one considers safe might not actually be healthy for them, so a certain level of objectivity is needed.

Someone who will not trigger your wounds and hurt you further, someone whom you can be yourself with, someone who can give you advice and guidance when you're feeling lost, someone who is strong enough to be your rock in difficult times. The person having these qualities will likely be the one who can get past your walls.

CITRINE

The answer can be pretty straightforward, you have the Sun stone landed on the centre. You can find love when you put yourself into the centre of your life. When you're confident enough and consider yourself being in a good place in life. It might sound egotistical, but focusing on yourself can mean many things.

One thing is you allowing yourself to shine your brightest. You might have some reservations about expressing yourself fully to people. Maybe you're afraid that you will be judged as selfish or too assertive. There's a desire to be rebellious, to be free, and do whatever you want, but there's also your ego wanting to be in control, to retain your dignity. Between them is a wall of fear that can be linked to the unconscious realm. You might be used to the idea of sacrifice, serving others, being selfless. Acting in any other ways would be considered not desirable. But by expressing yourself fully, you deliver the message to the world that you care about yourself and allow yourself the freedom to be. This message can be translated into the care you have for other people's expressions, the freedom you can give them. This can be very attractive and open up many new opportunities for you to explore.

Another thing about putting yourself into the centre is that you have a chance to examine yourself closely, getting to know yourself, unravel all the hidden desires, the unspoken fears, both the good and the bad.

I see a lack of action. There are things holding you back, gripping you immobile. There are offers of love and connection, but you don't see them, or you turn your back to them while focusing on other things. It's like when things come to you, you dismiss them because it's not what you want, you are waiting for the things that you want to come to you, they have to be chosen by you first. You get into a tunnel vision of seeing only the things you want. But then you tend to be passive and wait for them while falling into over-thinking mode, dissecting every nuance and scenario. In the end, too tired and pessimistic from the conclusion you've reached, you choose to stay still and withdraw. Another failed dream goes unto the archive.

So instead of waiting for love, this group truly needs to actively recognise and find love and seize the chance when it comes to you. This will require you to completely overhaul your beliefs. Especially about how one should act.

There's a greater chance of finding love through groups of friends, through a community of shared interests. An emphasis on communication, talking about what you love, communicating openly, sharing lighthearted joys while also being able to discuss more serious and philosophical matters.

TIGER'S EYE

I see that you're already on the journey of love. It started with an open heart in the subconscious realm. I feel that you're very guided and protected. It might come from your own intuition or a higher spirit. Who knows, maybe they are the same. Right now, there's a gate opened for you, a new opportunity, your intuition can guide you towards it.

But I also see there's a wall obscuring that opportunity from coming into life. You might be dealing with some difficulties in material, physical plane. Trying to stabilise yourself. You might think that now is not the right time to be in love, a relationship right now would be impractical. You would be in thinking mode, trying to be logical and staying still, denying the possibility of love even when your intuition is saying otherwise. It's like you're trying to restrict yourself, trying to control, to bring order into your life, which might be the opposite of what love could bring you. You discard feelings that you deemed frivolous and silly fun, only looking for serious commitment but failed to realise that frivolous fun can develop and grow into something more serious and long lasting. You're sceptical of the feeling when you are in a truly fulfilling relationship. Is that really wonderful like how those romantics are telling us? Or is it just an elusive idea, fused by loneliness and the longing for completion?

But there will be an event or events shaking you out of that mode. It will be when you decide to leave the old way of living behind and try to find who you really are. I see travelling to distant lands, somewhere with a different culture that can open your mind and expand your ideas, somewhere that can make you forget all about your current reality in a moment to find stillness within. Love comes to you when you have the space to hold it and can give it to others

You might find love from a faraway land but sustaining it, keeping it alive and growing with it will be an ongoing lesson that you need to never cease learning. It's easy to slip back into old thinking mode, putting on suspicion and caution. Sharing yourself with another person seems daunting enough, navigating all the ups and downs of a relationship will require even more hard work. But I think you are brave. Beneath all that scepticism is an unwavering faith and an adventurous spirit that needs to come out boldly to take the reign, once in a while.

RED JASPER

I feel that love is something very intense for you, something that you may get drunk on, putting it on a pedestal. When you're in love, you want to be all in, emotional fulfilment comes before anything else. If a connection doesn't elicit strong feelings in you and things seem mild and lighthearted then you could not sustain it for too long.

There's a tendency to be obsessive, especially with potentials. If you catch feelings for someone, you will immediately think about how to cement the connection and then worrying about potential discords. This tendency might have put you in situations that left deep scars. On one hand, you want to love blindly, on the other hand, you are cautious of potential hurts and pains, of the past repeating itself.

There's might be a focus on the unusual, a liking for the differences. The more someone is different from you, the more foreign they feel, the more likely they're to catch your eyes. Exotic features, foreign accents, alternative style and taste, an element of other-worldliness.

Physical compatibility might be an important criterion. You want to immerse yourself with the other person, holding them closely, both physically and emotionally, mentally. But doing that can put a burden on you, everything feels so heavy, sometimes to the point of suffocating. You hold yourself and the other person prisoners of love. And when the unbearable weight keeps pushing both of you down and down without a way up, one of you or both will want to break away, resulting in a seemingly sudden break.

The advice for you is to take things more lightly, lightly is different from not being serious. Seeing things in different angles, imagine being someone else looking in from the outside, detach yourself a little bit. Focus more on the mental compatibility, not just how many things you both agree with each other but also how you can disagree with each other, how different you are and how that difference contribute to the growth of the connection.

You might be in a more masculine energy when pursuing love, the act of going after something and trying to control it requires masculine energy. On the contrary, accepting love and nurturing it needs you to be in feminine energy. I'm not saying which energy is more preferable but there's a need to balance them out, to be in more of one energy when the other is being too dominant.

Then you will find love is not a burden to hold on your shoulders or a fruit that can be devoured completely, but like a plant you want to nurture steadily and see it grow day by day. It's something to be celebrated and enjoy, not something to be chased after and then be kept away in a safe.

#pick a card #tarotblr #witchblr #crystal reading #lithomancy #tarot reading #future spouse #pick a pile #divination #tarot #tarot community #astro community #astrology #astro #crystal #witch community #love reading

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fancyfeathers · 2 months ago

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What if just to mess with the batfam Daughter!Reader starts flinching around them whenever they try touching her, or walk past her, ect. Now, she is smart, she knows they might try and pin the blame on the boy she kissed (related to the other post with the talon boyfriend.). But to really drive down the point she makes sure they see she doesn't flinch around anyone else other than them specifically. How would they react? - 🐈‍⬛Anon

Yandere Batfam w/ Wife/Mother!Darling & Daughter/Sister!Darling Masterlist

Well her boyfriend would just be a member of the Court of Owls, not a Talon, cause like the Court are people of wealth and power that control Gotham and his family fits the bill. Some of the leaders of the organization who you see wear those white masks.

But saying this this is after the fact that she found out her boyfriend and his family are members of the Court of Owls, they would probably think it is the shock and fear of it all, having to ram up protections, no in person school, a brother or Bruce staying by here at all time in case a Talon gets sent after her. They all notice her behavior very quickly, jumpy and jittery, flinching whenever they get near or touch her.

Dick and Tim are sure that it is everything catching up to her, after all it is not easy to deal with most of someone’s family being vigilantes and putting themselves at risk every night, not knowing if they will return, it is probably very hard on a little girl, especially having lived in a different environment for years and then having it change suddenly and deal with that new environment for years with everything building up and then this whole boyfriend mess on top of it, oh such a poor thing-

Then they see her mother wrap her arms around her daughter while she is sitting at the dinning room table working on her homeschool work and she does not move a muscle.

The rest of the family have also noticed her behavior but honestly had no doubts that it was an act since she had never been afraid of any sort of threat, even when there were kidnapping threats. Bruce gets tired of it quickly, Jason does not really care cause consequences will catch up to her eventually, but it is Damian who is the one who confronts her about it. It’s when he is spending the night with her, staying back from patrol to keep her and mother safe, it’s time for bed and she is reading in the family room and when he goes to grab to book from her she flinches and he has had enough. Damian grabs her by the collar and pins her to the wall.

“Stop this act, you have no reason to be afraid. We take care of you, protect you, feed you, keep a roof over your head and this is how you repay us?! Ungrateful bra-“

“Damian, stop this at once!”

It is a harsh word from his step mother that gets him to drop her to the floor before he storms off out the door, leaving his step mother to comfort her daughter who is a frightened, crying, shaking mess after that. She gets put back to bed by her mother and when Bruce returns from patrol and is getting ready for bed with his wife she tries to address what happened and he just tells her that it was the consequences of her actions. Those words he told her certainly left a sour taste in her mouth when she was laying in bed that night with him.

But then the next day when Dick comes to sit by her at the breakfast table, she jumps when he pulls out his chair to sit down. Everyone rolls their eyes at first, thinking it’s just her overreacting but when Bruce sees Damian glare at her after that and she starts tearing up, Bruce realizes she is actually terrified of them now…

Being terrified in a time like this is not a good thing, her situation is far from normal and putting more stress on the situation may make her run like a terrified bunny to god knows where and then god knows who could get to her.

#yandere dc x reader #yandere dc #yandere justice league x reader #yandere justice league #yandere bruce wayne #yandere bruce wayne x reader #yandere batman #yandere batman x reader #yandere batfam #platonic yandere batfam #platonic yandere #yandere batfamily #platonic yandere batfamily #platonic yandere dc #platonic yandere bruce wayne #yandere damian wayne #yandere dick grayson #yandere jason todd #yandere tim drake

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cloudcountry · 6 months ago

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OH MY GOD. THE MIX UP VALENTINE POST. YOU ATE!!!! could i rq a version with riddle, ace, deuce, octavinelle, and lillia? 🫶🫶

SUMMARY: you get a gift that was meant for the student you like, and the contents spur you to action.

COMMENTS: this is a spin off post of this post!! IM GLAD U LIKED IT ANON i was proud of that one myself ehehe

also the character limit is five so i picked azul from octavinelle

You stare blankly at the box of chocolate in your hands, the gift crammed into your desk haphazardly. At first, you thought it was for you—that’s what anyone would assume, right? Except...the note on top of it is not addressed to you, but rather, the guy you like. It makes you wonder if this is some joke, or if one of his friends wanted you to deliver it for him. You pick at the heart sticker sealing the note shut and peel it open, taking a peak of the contents.

Your eyes wide and your heart lurches in your chest, panic and annoyance roaring like red hot flames as you read what sounds like a genuine confession of love. Someone had their eyes on him? How did you never notice?

Was it weird to get jealous? I mean, he’s not even dating you yet...you don’t even know if he feels the same way. You can’t deny it doesn’t feel good that there’s another student trying to woo him, though. You’ve been so scared up until this point, so nervous about what he might think, but the clock is ticking. You’ve got to tell him before it’s too late.

Riddle sits up even straighter when he sees you approaching him with a heart shaped box and an envelope, his cheeks flushing pink. He clears his throat when you arrive, expression all twisted up as if you’re unhappy about something. Riddle turns to look at you, holding his chin high as he addresses you by name.

“Do you have something to tell me?” he asks, arms crossed over his chest.

“This is a pathetic gift for the Queen of Hearts.” you reply dryly, throwing the gifts on the ground and stomping on them, “Someone thought that would be enough for you, but I won’t stand for it.”

Riddle stares open mouthed at the torn envelope and crushed box of chocolates, but a giant bundle of roses blocks his line of sight.

“This.” you say, a bouquet of roses in one hand and an entire strawberry tart in the other, with the truffles from the box placed in a circle around it in your hands, “Is a far more fitting gift for courting the queen.”

Deuce freezes after he reads the note you gave him with a sour face, cheeks turning pink. He wonders why you look so upset when you just confessed how much you like him—even though the words seem a bit off...

“See, Deuce? I told you you were popular.” you scoff, wrinkling your nose in disgust.

You glare so intensely at the envelope that Deuce feels your anger and jealousy.

“Is this...not from you?” he asks softly, his heart plummeting out of his body. And here he was, getting all delighted and cheesy about it—

“Nah. It’s not.” you say flippantly, “I’m confessing my feelings in a much better way.”

Deuce gasps when you pull out a bouquet of dark blue roses, kneeling at his feet as you take his hand. He swears you see hearts in his eyes as he stares at the flowers and your face, which look up at him with determination he knows all too well.

“Deuce Spade, I want you to be mine.” you declare, and his legs turn to jelly as he babbles out an enthusiastic yes.

“I can’t believe someone who isn't me likes your dumbass.” you smack Ace’s arm as he snickers over the note, an immature gesture if there ever was one.

“Well, if you like this dumbass what does that make you, huh? A stupidass?” he quips, knocking his whole body against you.

You squeal and shove him back, sticking your tongue out at his shocked face as he falls off the bed.

“Really!? This is how you’re confessing your love to me?” Ace huffs, playful as always, “I want a divorce.”

“You idiot, I’m just speaking your language!” you snap back, throwing a pillow at his head, “All you do is tease and yap and jab so I’m giving you a taste of your own medicine!”

“Oh you’re on!” Ace jumps to his feet, pillow in hand.

It’s obvious he likes you back. It always has been. And even if that person hadn’t sent that note, you two still would have known just how much you care for each other, even if it remains (mostly) unsaid.

(You still trampled that note at least ten times during your pillow fight though.)

“Is this some kind of joke?” Azul says blandly, placing the letter down on his desk of his VIP Room, “This obviously isn’t your handwriting, nor is it your style of writing.”

“That’s because it’s not mine.” you say just as blandly, raising an eyebrow as Azul looks over his spectacles at you, “Were you hoping it was?”

“What is the purpose of this visit then? You bring me some random letter with a confession of love...don’t tell me you’re hoping to butter me up.” Azul chuckles, standing up as gracefully as ever, “You should know better than anyone that those tricks do not work on me.”

You stand up as well, arms crossed over your chest as you meet his stare with your own.

“Because, Azul, someone left that note in my desk. It was addressed to you, as you can see, so I bought it for you. What you just read is what encouraged me to take action.” you take a deep breath and summon all of your courage, there truly is no turning back now, “Azul, I am interested in pursuing a romantic relationship with you. I can assure you I’ve thought this over many times before coming to you with this proposal. If you’re willing, I would love to sit down and have a talk about the terms and conditions of this deal.”

You hold out your hand for a handshake.

Azul’s mouth forms an o shape, and for a second you’d say he looks shocked, but he composes himself quickly as is all too inclined to place his hand in yours.

“Well, well, well!” he beams, voice light and airy with what you can only assume is joy, “Let’s get negotiations underway, shall we?”

“Aww, you shouldn’t have.” Lilia coos, bringing a hand up to his mouth, “Why do you look so sour, sweets?”

“Because it’s not from me. It was stuffed in my desk and addressed to you.” you wrinkle your nose, the envelope clenched in your fist, “I don’t like the idea of someone confessing to you before I could.”

Lilia giggles, still hiding his mouth behind his hand. You stare blankly at him, tapping your foot so hard your ankle starts to cramp up.

“Oh, no need to look so anxious, dear. I’m sure you’re well aware of where my affections lie, yes?” Lilia approaches you, his fingers intertwining with yours as the envelope flutters to the floor, unnoticed and uncared for.

He doesn’t have much time left. He’s loved and he’s lost, he may as well go for what he wants while it’s still here, in front of him.

“That is such an indirect way of confessing.” you groan, squeezing his hand, “I even got you a whole bag of mystery flavored red lollipops...”

“Gifts are best shared, my dear!” Lilia laughs, pulling you over to his bed, “Now, hurry up! I want to see which flavor I get first!”

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thebarneschronicles · 11 days ago

Text

Closer To Home II

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Synopsis: Somewhere between stolen glances, late-night conversations, and the careful way he protects your space, Bucky Barnes has quietly claimed a part of your heart. His brooding silence gives way to tender moments in the warmth of your apartment on a snowy night, where shared vulnerabilities reveal the man behind the soldier. Slowly, you navigate the spaces between his old-fashioned values and your modern perspective, learning each other one touch, one laugh, and one unspoken promise at a time. As trust deepens and emotions stir, the fragile connection you’ve built feels both delicate and undeniable—something neither of you is ready to let slip away.

Word Count: 12.4k

Click here for part I | Click here for part III

A/N: Took me long enough and 3 different tries, but here it is - part 2 of 'Closer to Home'. These babies have been my favourite to write and I truly hope you guys enjoy reading them. Let me know if there's anything else from their growing relationship you might want to see... I might have a few tricks up my sleeve as well. B xx

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

Your knock on the office door echoes in the quiet space, instantly drawing both Sam’s and Bucky’s heads toward you. Sam is leaning against the edge of the desk, his arms crossed over his chest, but it’s Bucky’s steel-blue gaze that settles on you, pinning you in place. His expression is guarded as always, though the faintest flicker of curiosity softens the edges.

Across the room, Bucky sits hunched over a stack of papers—your papers. They contain the latest intel on a Hydra facility buried somewhere in the European countryside. You know every word, every detail in those documents because you wrote them. You also know the information will keep him tethered to the desk for far longer than he deserves. A twist of guilt knots in your chest, but you push it down as you step inside.

“You guys hate me yet?” Your attempt at humor comes out tentative, your eyes flicking between Sam and Bucky.

“We might,” Sam quips, his shoulders rising and falling in a mock shrug.

“Will coffee make you hate me less?” You bite your bottom lip, stepping further into the room. In your hands, two mugs of freshly poured coffee send thin streams of steam curling upward. You extend them as if they’re offerings of penance.

Sam’s grin widens, but your focus is on Bucky.

He doesn’t say anything at first, but his lips twitch in amusement. You’ve come to recognize this look ever since that night at your apartment—the night everything shifted between you. He’s still Bucky: quiet, brooding, and wrapped in layers of steel, but you’ve managed to find a way through. A small, vulnerable crack he seems to leave open just for you.

“Wilson,” you say, stepping toward Sam and setting the mug down in front of him.

“Thanks, agent,” Sam teases, the title rolling off his tongue with exaggerated weight.

You shake your head but let out a soft laugh. Then, heart thumping just a little harder, you turn toward Bucky. His gaze hasn’t left you, and the air between you suddenly feels heavier.

Taking a steadying breath, you move closer and place the second mug on the table in front of him. You lean in slightly, cheeks warming under his steady gaze. “Mr. Barnes,” you say softly, your voice carrying a hint of teasing formality.

Bucky’s lips curve into a barely-there smile, but it reaches his eyes. “Thanks, doll,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough like gravel, but there’s a warmth in it that makes your chest tighten.

Sam clears his throat dramatically, leaning back in his chair with a playful smirk. “Mr. Barnes?” he teases, his tone dripping with mock offense. “What am I? Chopped liver?”

You roll your eyes but resist the urge to exchange a look with Bucky. Neither of you had told anyone what had happened between you—not even Sam, who seemed to live for knowing everyone’s business. Quite frankly, you weren’t even sure Bucky wanted to acknowledge it outside the safe confines of your apartment.

That apartment had become your sanctuary. The kisses, the quiet conversations that stretched long into the night, and the comforting weight of his hand on yours had transformed the last six weeks into something you couldn’t quite define but didn’t dare let go of.

He’d been at your place in some capacity every day since that night. At first, it was under the guise of walking you home. Then, he’d talked you into getting on the back of his bike, wrapping your arms around his waist as he drove you to your doorstep. From there, it grew into more.

He’d brought you coffee and bagels in the mornings, like the good Brooklyn boy he is, sometimes adding a slightly awkward compliment about how you "looked nice today". He’d introduced you to his favorite diner, ordering for you with an easy confidence that made your chest ache with affection. He even showed up one Sunday night with pizza, claiming it was your turn to suffer through a baseball game with him because he couldn’t sleep.

And when the nightmares were too much, and he’d knocked on your door at an ungodly hour, you’d let him in without hesitation. You’d made tea, or sat in comfortable silence, or talked until dawn. Whatever he needed.

It was good. It was comfortable.

It was fragile and new, yes, but it was special in a way you didn’t want to jeopardize. You’d let Bucky lead the way, trusting him to set the pace even when your insecurities gnawed at the edges of your resolve.

Sometimes it was hard not to second-guess yourself, though. The difference in your ages—or as Bucky had once awkwardly phrased it, “your … modern way of thinking”—lingered in the back of your mind. You worried over every good morning text you sent him after that first kiss, wondering if it felt too forward or too casual for someone from his time.

But it wasn’t just that. It was the way his past and his present seemed to clash. Bucky was a man out of time, still anchored to the rules and habits ingrained in him from decades ago. You saw it in the way he always brought something with him—flowers, a bottle of wine, even a book he thought you might like. You felt it in the way his touches stayed respectful and measured, his hand resting on the small of your back or brushing lightly against yours but never lingering too long.

You admired it, even loved it in a way, but it left you unsure of how far you could go—what you could ask for without overstepping some invisible boundary he might not have fully explained.

Would he think you were too bold if you asked him to stay the night? Would he be scandalized if you finally tried to take things further after weeks of holding back?

The doubts circled in your mind, but you said nothing, afraid of shattering the delicate balance you had built together. Instead, you let the moment linger.

Your silence stretched too long, and Bucky remained still, seemingly content to let you stand there, which only made Sam groan dramatically. He let out an exaggerated sigh, throwing his hands up in mock exasperation. “Alright, fine, ignore me. What’s this about?” He gestured to the coffee mugs.

“Just a peace offering,” you said with a casual shrug, though the heat rising in your cheeks betrayed your nerves. You were hyper-aware of your position, standing close to Bucky’s chair, his knee lightly pressing into your thigh as he shifted. “...in the hopes you’ll give me a moment with Bucky?”

Sam’s eyes narrowed with suspicion as his voice boomed, filling the room. “Oh no. No, no, no.” He shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “If I’m stuck here till all hours working on this Hydra mess, cyborg brain isn’t moving an inch.”

“But Sam—”

“Nope!” He cut you off, raising a hand as if to physically block the idea. “I’m not doing all this alone while you two sneak off for… whatever.” His grin turned mischievous, and his eyebrows waggled. “Unless you’re finally ready to spill whatever is going on between you two?”

You stiffened, and Bucky’s knee shifted ever so slightly against you. You couldn’t tell if the movement was meant to calm you or if it was his subtle way of tensing.

“Wilson.” Bucky’s voice was calm but firm, cutting through the air like a blade.

Sam rolled his eyes, clearly unbothered by the warning tone. “Oh, come on. You’ve got this poor girl standing there looking all guilty, and you’re just sitting there like a statue. This is practically torture for me. Torture, Barnes.”

You couldn’t help the nervous laugh that escaped your lips. “Sam, please,” you tried again, your voice pleading this time.

Sam looked between the two of you, his smirk softening just enough to make it clear he wasn’t entirely unreasonable. “Fine,” he relented with a dramatic sigh, pushing himself away from the desk. “You’ve got ten minutes. But if I’m still stuck here after that, Barnes, you owe me big time.”

“Noted,” Bucky replied evenly, though his tone held a hint of relief.

Sam grabbed his mug and sauntered toward the door, turning back just as he opened it. “Ten minutes. And no funny business.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but Sam was already gone, leaving you alone with Bucky.

The silence that followed was heavier than you expected. You glanced down at him, and he looked up at you, his expression unreadable but his eyes softer than you’d ever seen them.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Bucky said finally, his voice low, almost hesitant. "You could've just said you need to talk to me."

You shrugged, forcing a smile. “Maybe I just wanted an excuse to see you. Just us two.”

That made him smile—just a little, but enough to make your heart flutter.

“Thanks for the coffee,” he said, lifting the mug and taking a slow sip.

You shifted on your feet, nerves bubbling in your chest. “Bucky…” you started, unsure how to approach the growing weight of what you wanted to say.

His gaze never left yours, and after a moment, he set the mug down carefully, leaning back in his chair. “You’ve got something on your mind,” he said, his voice steady. “What is it?”

Your heart pounded as you considered your next words. “I just… I wanted to ask if…” You hesitated, biting your lip before taking a deep breath. “If maybe you’d want to stay tonight? At my place?”

The words were out before you could second-guess them, and your stomach twisted as the silence stretched between you.

Bucky blinked, his expression unreadable for a moment, which sent you spiraling into a rambling mess. “It's supposed to be a snowstorm tonight, and I’ve stocked up on everything. I’ve got food, beer, and… I even bought that whisky you like.”

His lips twitched, just barely, but he started to shake his head. “I wouldn’t want to impose—”

His words were soft, hesitant, and his flesh hand reached out instinctively, brushing against yours. Without thinking, you twisted your fingers into his, holding on.

“You wouldn’t be imposing,” you said quickly, the heat rushing to your cheeks. “I want you to. Come over, I mean. You never impose.” Your voice softened, your eyes searching his. “And it’d make me feel better knowing you’re somewhere warm instead of that cold, empty apartment of yours.”

For a moment, he just looked at you, his steel-blue eyes scanning your face like he was trying to make sense of your words. His hand tightened slightly around yours, the warmth of his palm grounding you.

“You sure about this?” he asked, his voice quieter now, laced with something you couldn’t quite place—hope, maybe, or caution. You both understood what an evening alone might lead to, yet neither of you was certain of how the other felt about it.

“I’m sure,” you said firmly, a small, nervous smile tugging at your lips. “I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t.”

His gaze lingered on you, and then, slowly, his shoulders relaxed. The faintest smile curved his lips as he nodded. “Alright,” he said, his voice as steady as the snowfall outside. “If you’re sure, then… yeah. I’ll come over.”

The relief that washed over you was immediate, and your grip on his hand tightened briefly before you let go, your fingers brushing against his in a lingering motion.

“Should we go?” you asked, your stomach doing flips as Bucky pushed up from his chair. He stood tall, his presence magnetic as he stepped into your space. His arm sliding around your waist, pulling you closer.

“Before Sam comes back—”

“Time’s up, lovebirds,” Sam’s voice rings out from the doorway, cutting through the moment like a blade.

Your head snapped toward him, heat rising rapidly from your chest to your face as you caught Sam’s amused expression. He’s leaning casually against the doorframe, one brow raised in playful judgment.

“It’s not—” you start quickly, your hand pressing against Bucky’s firm chest in an attempt to put some distance between you. But Bucky doesn’t budge; he’s an immovable wall, steady and unrelenting. His arm tightens slightly around your waist, anchoring you to him.

“Not what you think, Sam,” you say, your voice tinged with panic as the words rush out.

“Sure it’s not.” Sam’s grin widens, his eyebrow quirking higher. “Should I just ignore the fact that there’s an entire vibe happening here?”

You groan audibly, closing your eyes in mortification as you drop your forehead against Bucky’s chest. The warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his breathing do little to ease your embarrassment, yet the circle of his arms feels undeniably safe, comfortable, and intimate in a way you hadn't experienced before.

“Wilson,” Bucky warns, his tone sharp and commanding. The sound rumbles through his chest, and you don’t need to look to know he’s glaring daggers at Sam.

Sam raises his hands in mock surrender, his grin never faltering. “Just saying, man. You two are about as subtle as a brick wall.”

Your cheeks burn hotter, and you busy yourself with straightening the papers on the desk, refusing to meet Sam’s knowing gaze.

Bucky sighs, the sound low and exasperated, his fingers curling around your waist in a protective way, maybe even possessive. You can feel the tension in his body, the subtle shift as he tries to rein in his own frustration.

“So,” Sam drawls, clearly enjoying every second of this, “are you telling me what’s going on, or should I just assume the worst?”

Your head jerks up, incredulous. “The worst?”

Sam crosses his arms, his smirk widening further. “Yeah. Like, I don’t know… that cyborg brain over there took advantage of this poor girl. That you swooped in here all broody and mysterious, and now she’s trapped under your metal arm spell or whatever.”

You can feel your face flush, your stomach twisting in discomfort. You groan loudly, throwing your head back in disbelief. Your fingers tighten in the fabric of Bucky’s jacket as you prepare a scathing retort, but before you can, Bucky beats you to it.

He huffs, a sharp sound that carries both frustration and amusement. His tone drips with sarcasm. “Yeah, that’s exactly it, Wilson. She’s helpless, clearly.”

Your patience snaps. “I am a consenting adult!” you shriek, the words coming out in a rush. The urge to throw the nearest stapler at Sam’s head is almost too much to contain, but you force yourself to stay composed. “Anything he’s done to me or with me was discussed and agreed upon. Not that he has… done anything, that is. We haven't, he--”

You immediately regret those last words, the heat in your cheeks flaring up even more as your stomach flips with embarrassment. You want to sink into the floor and disappear, but Sam’s grinning face makes it impossible to hide.

Bucky’s arm around your waist tightens slightly, as though sensing your discomfort. “Sam,” he says with a low growl, warning in his tone. “You can stop anytime.”

“Relax, man,” Sam replies with a wink. “I’m just messing with you. Though, seriously, you two need to quit acting like you're the only ones in the room.” He pats his stomach with exaggerated flair. “It’s a bit much, yeah?”

You groan again, but this time, it’s a mix of frustration and amusement. “We’re not doing anything!” you insist, hands held out defensively.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” Sam says, his voice teasing but not unkind. “Just remember, I’m not as oblivious as you think.”

Bucky’s hand slips from your waist as he steps toward Sam, eyes narrowing in mock annoyance. “You need to go before I let her loose on you, Wilson.”

Sam laughs and raises his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll leave you two to… whatever you’re not doing. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He gives a dramatic wink before backing toward the door. “Remember—I know. I’ve seen the vibe.”

Once he’s gone, the door clicking shut behind him, you exhale, your shoulders finally relaxing. You turn to look at Bucky, who’s still watching you closely.

“I swear, if he says anything to anyone…” You trail off, the rest of your thoughts hanging in the air.

Bucky just shakes his head, a smile tugging at his lips. “If he does, I’ll make sure he regrets it. I have a vibranium arm.”

You laugh, feeling the last of the tension melt away. “You really know how to make a girl feel protected,” you tease.

He shrugs nonchalantly, though his eyes are soft. “Just doing my job.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Your job?”

“Yeah.” Bucky’s hand brushes your shoulder lightly, his voice lowering. “To make sure no one messes with you. Not even Wilson.”

Your heart skips a beat at the sincerity in his tone, and you can’t help but smile. “Well, I appreciate it,” you say, your voice soft. “Really.”

Bucky just nods, his hand slipping into yours as he gives you a warm, steady smile. “Let’s get out of here before he comes back with more jokes.”

“Agreed,” you reply, the warmth of his hand in yours calming you in a way you didn’t know you needed.

–

The wind whipped outside the car, but inside, it was warm, the heater humming steadily, and the radio playing soft background music. Bucky’s hand was steady on the wheel, his presence somehow grounding you even as the world around you seemed to fade into the night. He’d convinced Sam to switch with him - his motorcycle for Sam’s car, and that was enough to shock you into silence for nearly the whole ride.

Even when you stopped at the fancy supermarket, it felt surreal. The aisles were empty, save for you two, which gave Bucky the freedom to drag you through the store with his hand tightly wrapped around yours. The shopping cart squeaked softly as it rolled, and you couldn’t help but notice how domestic it all felt—how comfortable.

“We don’t have to do this, Buck. I’ve got plenty of food for both of us,” you tried, watching him toss your favorite wine into the cart—how he knew that, you still had no idea—along with chocolate and even a bundle of flowers that had you laughing under your breath.

“Wrong,” he said with a grin, shaking his head as he held up two boxes of pasta. “We don’t know how long we could be stuck there. Could be days, weeks…” He paused, his eyes softening, then added with a teasing smile, “Gotta keep you fed and warm.”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress your amusement, pointing to the noodles you liked best. He added four boxes, his expression never faltering as he gave you another quick look, one that sent your heart into a flutter.

The cart was full of the oddest assortment of essentials, and it was clear to you by now that Bucky wasn’t just picking things at random. Everything he grabbed seemed like something he knew you’d enjoy—or at least, he thought you would.

Your heart pounded in your chest as he squeezed your hand, and you were sure he could hear it. “Buck,” you began, voice quiet but steady as you tugged him back toward you, pulling him into your space until his front was pressed against yours. The moment hung between you, thick with anticipation, and you took a breath, unsure but resolute. “I’m going to kiss you, and some people might see, so I need you to stop me if you’re not comfortable, okay?”

Bucky’s gaze softened, and his smile was shy but kind. He nodded, the slight tension in his shoulders easing as he stepped closer to you. You could feel his heartbeat against yours, matching the erratic rhythm of your own.

With a nervous sigh, you rose on your tiptoes, tilting your head just enough to fit the shape of your mouth to his. Your hand found the back of his neck, fingers gently curling into his hair as you leaned in. The kiss was slow at first, tentative, a soft exploration, but it deepened when you let your arms wrap around his neck, pulling yourself even closer.

The air around you seemed to disappear, the world becoming small, fading into the background as you buried your face into his shoulder, your chest pressed to his in a way that felt more intimate than anything you had known.

Bucky’s hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you closer, his breath hot against your skin. You could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips as his lips brushed against your hair, his voice low, barely above a whisper.

“I’m so bad at this,” he murmured, and the words had a weight to them that made your chest tighten.

“At what?” You frowned, pulling back just enough to look up at him, your brows furrowed in concern.

“Dating,” he laughed softly, the sound a bit strained. “I used to be good at it. In the '40s… Steve used to hate me ‘cause I’d get all the girls, and he couldn’t even get someone to dance with him,” he added with a rueful grin, though he winced when you pinched his waist playfully.

“Hey,” you scolded lightly, “I don’t need to hear about other girls.”

His laugh softened, but his expression faltered just slightly, as if he regretted even bringing it up. “I know. I’m sorry. But now… now it’s like I’m Steve. I don’t know what to do, or how to… move forward.” His eyes darkened a little with uncertainty, something raw flickering beneath the surface.

You studied him, your heart aching with the vulnerability he was showing you, and for a moment, it was like everything else faded away. The only thing that mattered was this moment, this connection between the two of you.

You reached up to gently touch his cheek, your thumb brushing over the rough stubble there. “You were doing a pretty great job before you mentioned other girls,” you said, a teasing note in your voice, though you couldn’t quite stop the slight pout that formed at the corners of your mouth.

Bucky’s gaze softened, and he chuckled under his breath, clearly amused by your reaction. “Sorry.” His hands moved up to cup your cheeks, his thumbs gently tracing the curve of your jaw as he tilted your head back slightly, forcing you to look up at him.

You were so close now, your breath mingling with his, the space between you charged with unspoken words.

“What I’m saying is…” His voice dropped, and you could hear the sincerity in every word. “Things are different now. You think and do things so differently nowadays. So, you might have to boss me around a bit.” He smiled, though there was a slight nervousness in the way his lips curled. “Tell me what you want, how fast or slow I should take things… I just wanna make you happy, doll.”

You blinked at him, the weight of his words sinking in. You could feel the sincerity in his touch, in the way his eyes locked onto yours, as if waiting for you to guide him, to tell him what you needed. The idea that he was willing to be led, to be patient with you in this way, made your chest tighten with an overwhelming sense of gratitude.

“Bucky,” you whispered, voice soft but sure, “I just want you to be you.” Your hand slid up to his chest, resting over his heart. “I don’t need you to be perfect. I just need you to be honest… with me, with yourself.”

You could see the tension in his shoulders slowly ease as he took in your words. A small, genuine smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and you felt your heart flutter at the way he looked at you—like you were everything.

“Honest, huh?” he muttered, a playful glint in his eye now. “Alright, doll. I can do that.”

His hands slid down to your waist, his grip firm but tender, pulling you even closer until there was no space left between you. The kiss deepened, slow and unhurried, like every movement was an exploration, a promise that didn’t need to be spoken aloud. It was the kind of kiss that wrapped itself around your heart, making everything outside of this moment feel miles away.

Bucky’s lips hovered near yours, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours as he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. The faintest smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, his gaze soft but intense. “In the spirit of honesty…” you murmured, scratching lightly at the hair at the back of his neck, your fingers curling into the soft strands. “I really, really want you to take me home.”

His breath hitched for just a second before his brow quirked, and a playful glint flickered in his eyes. “Hungry?” He tilted his head slightly, a teasing smile pulling at his lips as his nose brushed against yours.

You smirked, eyes glinting with mischief as you leaned in just enough to brush a teasing kiss across his lips. “Starving,” you whispered, the word hanging between you like a promise, an invitation, and Bucky’s grip on you tightened, pulling you just a fraction closer.

“Yeah?” His voice was low and thick, full of something you couldn’t quite place—teasing, but also a little desperate. His fingers dug into your waist, the touch possessive and tender at once. “God, you really are out for my virtue, aren’t you?” His smile was crooked, that playful smirk you adored, but there was a burn behind it that spoke to the heat building between you.

You laughed softly, the sound breathless as you wrapped your arms around his torso, pulling him even closer. “I might be…” you said shyly, your hands tracing the firm muscles beneath his shirt. “But only if you’re okay with that. I mean it, Buck,” you continued, your voice soft but full of sincerity, “I just want you to be comfortable. And if taking things slow works for you, then I’m okay with that. But,” you added, your voice dropping an octave, the hint of something daring slipping in, “I’m ready for whatever you want to give me. Virtue and all.” You couldn’t suppress the playful, sultry edge that took over, but deep down, you meant every word.

Bucky’s gaze darkened at your words, the storm brewing in his eyes almost tangible as he stared at you. His breath caught, and something heavy settled low in your belly, your pulse racing as the air between you thickened. The bravado you’d carried, the playful energy you’d thrown his way, melted beneath the intensity of his stare, leaving you feeling like you were on the edge of something you couldn’t quite understand, yet couldn’t resist either. Just one look from him, and you were already lost.

Without warning, Bucky leaned in again, his lips crashing against yours with more urgency this time. His kiss was deep, demanding, but still careful—like he wanted to savor this moment, but couldn’t help the fire inside him. His hands slid lower, skimming the hem of your shirt, bunching it up as his fingers brushed against the soft skin of your back. The heat between you intensified, your body responding to him with an eagerness you didn’t even know you had. When he finally pulled back, you were both breathing a little harder, hearts racing in sync. His voice was thick with desire, the playful smirk still tugging at the corner of his lips, but there was something else now—something deeper, something real. “Let’s get you home, doll.”

You nodded, your hands sliding up to cup his face, pulling him down into one more kiss—a slow, lingering connection that sealed the words between you both. Whatever happened next, it was clear neither of you were backing down. Not now. Not when you’d both found something too good to let go.

–

The ride back to your place felt like something out of a dream—the snow gently falling, coating everything in a soft, white blanket as the streets remained eerily quiet, save for the hum of the car’s engine. The city seemed to have slowed down, as if giving you both the gift of time, allowing you to exist in a bubble, disconnected from the rest of the world. The soft glow of the streetlights cast long shadows on the empty sidewalks, making everything feel surreal, like it was just you and Bucky, in your own little universe.

Bucky carried the bags with ease, his muscles straining slightly under the weight, but he shot you a look when you reached for them, a silent command for you to stay put. You gave in with a small sigh, letting him lead the way up to your apartment. The silence of the evening was comforting, and the last thing you wanted was a nosy neighbor making an appearance to witness the soldier who had, over the past few weeks, seemed to become a fixture of your life. To your relief, the hallway was empty, and you made it to your door without interruption.

Inside, the atmosphere was cozy, the warmth of the apartment a stark contrast to the biting cold of the storm outside. You both settled into an easy rhythm, unpacking the groceries in comfortable silence, the quiet broken only by the soft thuds of the fridge and cabinet doors opening and closing.

“So,” Bucky asked casually, leaning against the counter as he looked out at the storm gathering beyond your window, “do you have a record player or something?” He turned to face you, a slight frown of curiosity crossing his features.

You paused, glancing over at the small Alexa device sitting innocently on your counter. “I have an Alexa,” you replied, giving a small nod towards it. “You know, it plays music and does other things.”

Bucky frowned, his brows furrowing as he scratched his chin. “What’s an Alexa?” His confusion was genuine, the years between him and modern technology starkly evident.

You chuckled, your lips curving into a smile at his bemused expression. “It’s a smart speaker,” you explained, walking over to the counter to give him a quick demonstration. “You can ask it to play music, set alarms, tell you the weather... all that stuff. It’s like having a little assistant, I guess.”

He blinked at it for a moment, eyes narrowing as if trying to understand the concept. “So… it listens to you? All the time?” he asked, his voice laced with an understandable wariness. The idea of technology that could constantly listen was something far removed from his 1940s mindset.

“Only when you ask it to,” you assured him with a soft laugh. “It’s not always listening. Just when you say ‘Alexa.’”

His frown deepened, but his curiosity was winning out. “Seems weird,” he muttered, as if processing this new information, then shook his head. “You kids and your gadgets.”

You smiled at his bemusement, the way his voice softened, betraying his playful frustration. "Well, if you want, we can ask her to play you something. Music from the '40s, maybe. Would be fitting for the snowstorm," you offered casually.

He stood in front of the Alexa as if it were an unfamiliar adversary—his posture straight, shoulders squared, eyes locked on it with the same intensity he used to assess a potential threat. It was endearing, even a little adorable, and it made something flutter in your chest.

"You just call her by her name–"

"It’s a she?" His expression shifted to surprise, and you couldn't help but laugh softly, moving to stand beside him, tucking yourself against his side.

"It is," you confirmed, smiling up at him. "You call her by her name and tell her what you want to hear."

Bucky eyed the device warily for a moment before taking a deep breath, as if bracing himself for something monumental. "Alexa," he started cautiously, the uncertainty in his tone making you grin. You watched as his posture tensed, like he was preparing for some kind of response. When the Alexa lit up, he glanced at you. You nodded, urging him on.

"Play ‘I’ll Be Seeing You,’” he said, the words coming out a little less sure but with more of the quiet confidence you adored.

The Alexa responded with a cheerful chime, followed by the soft crackle of an old jazz band filling the room, the familiar strains of “I’ll Be Seeing You” floating through the air. The song instantly enveloped the space, its soothing, nostalgic melody bringing a warmth that matched the coziness of your apartment.

Bucky’s shoulders relaxed almost immediately, and he let out a quiet, appreciative hum as he closed his eyes for a moment, taking in the music. You watched him, a little mesmerized by the way he seemed to let go, the weight of his past momentarily lifting with each note. It was as if the song had unlocked something deep within him—something soft and vulnerable—and you couldn’t help but smile.

He looked over at you, his gaze thoughtful, almost distant. "I used to hear this song everywhere," he murmured, his voice low and filled with quiet nostalgia. "It was... everywhere during the war. The way it made people feel... like they were holding onto something, you know?"

You nodded, your heart aching with a mixture of sympathy and understanding. “I get it. It’s a song full of memories.”

His eyes flickered to you then, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I didn't think... I'd hear it again like this," he admitted, a little stunned.

You shifted closer, your arm brushing his as you leaned into him, resting your head lightly on his shoulder. “I think that’s the magic of music,” you said softly. “It makes things feel familiar, even when everything around you is different.”

His hand found yours, the warmth of his fingers sending a jolt of comfort through you as he intertwined them. “Yeah,” he murmured, voice rough with something deeper. “You’re right.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the music wrapping around you both like a shared secret. The storm raged on outside, but inside, it felt like time had slowed. All that mattered was the here and now—the feeling of Bucky’s hand in yours, the quiet rhythm of his breathing, and the quiet comfort of being in each other's presence.

"Want to dance?" you asked softly, the idea slipping out before you could fully process it. Your cheeks warmed slightly at the thought, but you couldn't help the way your heart picked up pace, the romance of the moment beckoning you.

Bucky blinked, looking down at you with an almost surprised expression before that familiar smirk tugged at his lips. "Shouldn’t I be the one asking you?”

You grinned, looking up at him. “I did it this time, you can take the next one…Remember, you asked me to boss you around.”

His gaze softened, and after a beat, he stood up from where he had been leaning against the counter. His hand reached for yours, tugging you closer gently. “Alright, doll. Let’s see if I still know how to do this,” he said with a quiet chuckle, pulling you close.

You melted into his embrace, the two of you swaying slowly to the music. The world outside seemed to vanish, leaving just the two of you in the warmth of the room. There was no need for words as you moved together, the silence between you only deepening the connection. Every brush of his fingers, every shift of his body against yours, seemed to speak volumes. It wasn’t about the past, or what might come—it was about right now, about this moment, and about the way you both fit together so perfectly.

As the song faded into the next, Bucky’s lips found yours again, unhurried and deliberate, as if the world outside had slowed just for the two of you. His kiss was a mix of tenderness and restrained fervor, like he wanted to savor every second, every detail. The slow burn between you deepened, the heat simmering just beneath the surface as his hand found the small of your back, drawing you closer.

You melted into him, your arms looping around his shoulders, fingers threading through his hair with a confidence that belied the nervous flutter in your chest. When you parted your lips, letting your tongue tease against his, the quiet gasp that escaped you was met by a low, rumbling sound from him that made your knees weak.

The tension grew, thick and heady, until he finally pulled back just enough to look at you. His blue eyes searched yours, concern flickering as they trailed over the goosebumps on your arms. “Cold?” he asked softly, his voice low and gentle, as though the mere thought of your discomfort was unacceptable.

“The opposite, actually,” you managed, your voice quiet but steady, a soft smile tugging at your lips.

Bucky’s brow furrowed faintly, his gaze flicking to your chest, where your heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might leap out of your ribcage. “I can hear your heart,” he murmured, the words almost apologetic, as though he didn’t mean to notice but couldn’t help himself. His flesh hand moved to your waist, loosening slightly as he stepped back. “Doll, what’s going on?”

You swallowed hard, the nerves clawing at you. Panic flared when he pulled away even a fraction, and before you could second-guess yourself, you reached out, gripping his dog tags and the front of his shirt to stop him.

“Don’t go,” you said, your voice firmer than you expected, though it still carried the edge of vulnerability.

His eyes softened immediately, concern giving way to patience as he stayed perfectly still. “I’m not going anywhere,” he assured you quietly. “But tell me what’s wrong.”

The warmth of his presence, the way he was so grounded, so attentive, gave you the courage to take a shaky breath and press forward. “You know… you know how we said we had to be honest with each other?”

He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours, a silent reassurance that he was fully present, ready for whatever you had to say.

You took a steadying breath, trying to push past the nervous tightness in your chest. “I have to tell you, I–” You faltered, but the heat in your veins burned brighter, urging you to move forward. “I really, really… want you.”

You watched him swallow harshly, one hand abandoning your body to scratch against the stubble on his cheek and your hands loosened their grip on him.

“I don’t want you to feel pressured,” you added quickly, rushing to fill the silence, afraid of misinterpretation. “But… God, you’re really gonna make me say this, aren’t you?” You laughed nervously, the sound trembling under the weight of your vulnerability. “I want… I’d like to have sex. If that’s… something you’re interested in.”

The confession felt both freeing and terrifying, like stepping off the edge of a cliff and trusting the landing would be soft. Your heart thundered, your hands slowly releasing his shirt as if giving him space to process.

Bucky blinked, his lips parting slightly as if he wanted to speak but couldn’t quite find the words. He took a deep breath, his expression shifting into something you couldn’t quite place—somewhere between careful consideration and overwhelming tenderness.

“We shouldn’t rush this,” he murmured, his voice low and deliberate, each word carefully chosen, like he was afraid saying the wrong thing would fracture the trust between you.

His hand came up to cup your face, the pad of his thumb brushing softly over your cheekbone, and the gentleness of the gesture made your chest ache in the best way. You nodded, already understanding what he wasn’t saying out loud: that he wasn’t rejecting you, that he would, if you asked, but there was no pressure.

Your heart, traitorous and loud, picked up speed again. His eyes flicked down to your chest, where the rapid thudding might as well have been a drum solo, and then back to your face, a slight frown knitting his brow.

“Your heart,” he muttered, almost like it was something he could scold into quieting down.

You huffed a laugh, grabbing his hand and kissing the center of his palm to redirect his attention. “Stop listening to it,” you whispered, your voice warm but teasing as you nipped lightly, teasingly, at the heel of his hand. “I’m nervous, okay?”

“There’s no reason to be,” he replied earnestly, his frown deepening as though he was genuinely baffled by the idea that he could make you nervous.

“Bucky, I just told you I want to have sex with you,” you said, your words tumbling out in a quick, exasperated laugh as heat rushed to your cheeks. “It’s a pretty big moment, you know? That doesn’t just roll off the tongue.”

That made him pause, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth, though he fought to suppress it. “It sounded like it rolled out just fine to me,” he teased, his tone lighter now, the faintest hint of playfulness creeping into his voice.

“Oh, shut up,” you grumbled, smacking his shoulder lightly, though you couldn’t help the grin tugging at your lips. “I mean it, though. This isn’t rushing—not for me. I want this. I want you.”

Bucky searched your eyes for a moment longer, as if trying to decipher some hidden truth, but there was nothing hidden. Only warmth, trust, and the quiet understanding that you were both on the same page.

“Okay,” he finally said, his voice low and steady.

Your stomach flipped, your pulse racing so wildly you half-wondered if you were on the verge of cardiac arrest. But before you could spiral any further, Bucky leaned in, his lips finding yours with a quiet intensity that made your knees buckle. There was something definitive about it and you practically melted into him.

Thank God for his arms wrapped firmly around your waist because you weren’t entirely sure your legs could hold you up. He smiled against your lips as he pulled back, a smug little quirk of his mouth that made your breath hitch.

“If your heart beats any faster, doll, I might think I need to call a doctor,” he teased, his voice low and rough with amusement.

You groaned, heat flushing your cheeks as you buried your face in the crook of his neck, though a reluctant laugh bubbled out of you. “Quit making fun of me and take me to bed..”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

The walk to your bedroom was wordless, every step thick with tension that hung in the air like a live wire. His hand gripped yours, his vibranium fingers cool but steady against your clammy palm as you led him through the quiet space of your apartment.

The door clicked shut behind you, the sound impossibly loud in the stillness, and the finality of it sent a twist of nerves through your stomach. You paused, taking a deep, shuddering breath, and turned to face him, your back pressed to the door.

Bucky stood there, his gaze locked on yours with a heat that made your skin prickle. It was the kind of look that felt like he was peeling back every layer of you, uncovering truths you hadn’t even admitted to yourself yet. The air between you was charged, thick with unspoken tension, and you swore if neither of you broke the silence, you might actually combust.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” you asked softly, your voice barely cutting through the stillness of the room. Seeing him here, in your bedroom for the first time, surrounded by the intimate details of your life, made the moment feel weightier somehow.

This wasn’t just Bucky stepping into your space; it was him letting you into his. It hit you like a tidal wave—this wasn’t just about tonight. This was trust, raw and real, and it sent your thoughts spiraling. Was this his first time being with someone since the 1940s? Had he been with anyone before you, and if so, had it been because he wanted to or because he felt he had to? Was he doing this now because he truly wanted to, or was he trying to make you happy?

You couldn’t bear the idea of pushing him into something he wasn’t ready for. Bucky had endured enough of that in his lifetime, and the thought of being another source of pressure made your chest tighten.

“Buck,” you said again, your voice steady despite the knot of nerves coiling in your stomach. “You know we don’t have to do this, right? If you’re not ready, or you don’t want to…” You swallowed hard, your hands fidgeting at your sides. “I’ll wait. As long as you need. No pressure.”

“Doll—” His voice was closer than you expected, and when you looked up, you realized he’d stepped into your space, the broad expanse of his chest now just inches away. His lips quirked into a soft, amused smile. “We joke about you stealing my virtue, but you’re really starting to make it sound like you think I’m some blushing virgin.”

Your cheeks burned as you stammered, “I know you’re no Steve Rogers!”

That drew a genuine laugh from him, low and warm, the sound reverberating through your chest. The corners of your lips tugged upward despite yourself, his laughter disarming you in the best way.

“He’d hate that, you know?” he said, shaking his head slightly, the teasing glint in his eyes softened by the affection in his voice.

You couldn’t help but lean into him, your body moving of its own accord as your lips brushed his in a tentative kiss. “I’m serious, though,” you murmured against him. “I just needed to make sure.”

Bucky’s hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing along your cheekbone in a tender caress that made your heart stutter. “I’m not doing anything I don’t want to,” he said, his voice low and steady, his gaze locked on yours.

“Good, that’s good,” you whispered, feeling the possessive press of his hand on your waist. Your voice dropped, trembling slightly as you asked, “Can I touch you now?”

His breath caught, and a low chuckle escaped him, the sound rumbling through your chest. “Go on, doll,” he said, his tone a mix of awe and hunger. He leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a maddeningly light kiss.

Your hand slid into his hair as you chassi his lips, your fingers tangling in the soft, dark strands as you tugged him closer. “Thank God,” you breathed, the words barely audible before your lips crashed into his.

This kiss was different—deeper, fiercer. It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a claim, a declaration, and he met it with a raw intensity that left you breathless. His body pressed you firmly against the door, his broad frame caging you in. His hands roamed over you, heat and cold mixing as his metal arm skimmed your side while his flesh hand gripped your waist.

The contrast made you shiver, your body arching into him instinctively. His thigh pressed between your legs, the pressure slow and deliberate, creating a friction that made your breath hitch and your eyes flutter closed. A soft gasp escaped your lips as his mouth found your neck, his kisses trailing fire along your skin. He moved with a purposeful intensity, his lips and teeth teasing your sensitive flesh until you felt your entire body alight.

You couldn’t stop the soft, needy sounds spilling from your throat, each one seemingly spurring him on. Your hands gripped his shoulders desperately, like you were anchoring yourself to him.

When his hands gripped your hips, pulling you tighter against his thigh, your gasp turned into a sharp inhale, the delicious friction pushing you closer to the edge of reason. The strength in his touch, the heat radiating from his body—it was all too much and yet not enough. You shifted against him, seeking more, your body moving of its own accord.

Your fingers slipped beneath the fabric of his shirt, desperate to feel him, and your touch grazed the warm, firm muscles of his back. He froze for a moment, a quiet hitch in his breath that you barely caught over your own heartbeat. Then, in a deliberate move, he caught your wrists and guided your hands down his chest, sliding under the fabric of his henley and pressing them firmly to his abdomen.

Your fingers splayed against his skin, exploring every ridge and contour of muscle beneath your palms. The heat of his body seemed to burn through you, and with an urgency you couldn’t suppress, you tugged his shirt up and over his head.

You took a moment, your lips brushing down the side of his neck and shoulder to where vibranium met flesh, kissing the junction reverently. His hand slid into your hair, his grip firm but careful, as though he wasn’t sure whether to pull you closer or let you explore at your own pace.

Your lips followed the path down his torso, pressing kisses over his chest, across his abdomen, and lower still until you found yourself on your knees before him. His breath hitched audibly, the sound loud in the quiet intimacy of your room.

You reached for the buckle of his belt, fingers fumbling slightly as you undid it, followed by the button and zipper of his jeans. The anticipation was electric, every movement deliberate yet tinged with a nervous excitement.

“Can you kick your shoes off for me?” you asked quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

A soft laugh rumbled from him, low and indulgent, as he complied, toeing off his boots and kicking them aside. The quiet thuds they made against the floor only heightened the tension, your heart pounding as you pressed a kiss to his hip, just above the waistband of his jeans—a silent thank-you that made his fingers tighten on the back your hair.

You tugged his jeans down his legs, your hands brushing against his strong thighs as the fabric pooled at his feet. His fingers smoothed your hair, pulling only a bit to tilt your head back until your eyes met his. His gaze burned with a desire you felt in every fiber of your being.

“Come up here,” he ordered, his voice low and rough, igniting a fresh wave of heat through you. You glanced down his body, your gaze lingering shamelessly on the obvious outline beneath his pants. A teasing smile played on your lips as your fingers flirted with the waistband of his underwear.

His grip on your hair tightened in response, not painful but firm, and you let out a soft, protesting whine, surrendering as he pulled you back up. The motion was effortless for him, his strength a constant reminder of the power he held but never used without care. He gathered you against his chest, both hands slipping beneath your shirt to press against the bare skin of your back. His touch was searing, grounding you as his breath tickled your temple.

“Can I take this off?” he murmured, his thumb brushing over the clasp of your bra, the request making your stomach flip.

“You can do anything you want to me,” you whispered, the words carrying more weight than you anticipated. You swayed against him as he lifted your shirt halfway, exposing your stomach to the cool air. His lips were on you immediately, pressing a soft, deliberate kiss to the newly revealed skin, the contrast of heat and cold making you shiver.

“There’s a lot…” he began, his voice trailing off as his mouth moved lower, nuzzling and kissing the curve of your waist. Each touch felt worshipful, like he was committing every part of you to memory. He kissed up, his lips finding the edge of your bra, a faint smile ghosting over his face as he took in the delicate lace and mesh of your chosen set.

“Thank God for small mercies,” you thought, silently praising your past self for the decision.

Bucky seemed to share the sentiment, his nose brushing over the swell of your breasts as he let out a low, appreciative hum. “There’s a lot I want to do…” His voice was raspier now, tinged with a raw hunger that sent a shiver down your spine.

“You can do it,” you urged, your voice trembling slightly with anticipation. When his hands finished pulling your shirt over your head, discarding it onto the growing pile of clothes, you finally gave in, letting your fingers brush against the front of his underwear, earning a grunt in response.

“Anything you want,” you repeated, your breath hitching as his lips trailed over the lace, closing around a hardened nipple. His hands roamed your back, steady and sure, and the fire in your veins threatened to consume you when he popped open the clasp, letting the garment fall down your shoulders before he pulled it away. “Careful what you promise,” he murmured, his lips curving into a smirk against your skin. His words were playful, but his touch was anything but as he laved a tongue across the swell of your breasts, teeth dragging over the nubs eagerly.

By the time you were both on the bed, his underpants were the only thing separating you, and you were certain you had become an addict to the feeling of Bucky’s lips on your bare skin. He kissed you like he waited all his life to learn every curve, every sound, every texture and every taste, tongue dragging over every new inch of skin like he couldn’t decide whether he’d had enough or wanted more, just a bit more of certain parts of you.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t help but admire the strength of his body. The scars—each one a story of battles fought, of time passed—marked his skin like a map, telling tales of pain, survival, and resilience. You were pretty sure your need for him could rival his own - you couldn’t tire of watching the way he explored you, of looking and touching and tasting every line of muscle and stretch of smooth and scarred skin.

Bucky exhaled sharply when your fingers traced the jagged line where vibranium met flesh, his eyes closing for a moment. His flesh hand was warm around your thigh as he spread your legs to fit between them, while the cold of his other arm supported his weight above you.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” You whispered, emotion clogging your throat as you gently traced the scar on his shoulder. Tears threatened to well up, but you blinked them away, offering him a soft smile when you met his gaze. “I always thought you’d never even look at me. You’re so... I guess I’m lucky,” you added with a soft laugh, leaning up to place a delicate kiss on his scarred shoulder.

He froze for a moment, a look of quiet admiration crossing his features. “Lucky,” he murmured, his hand dragging up your leg, your stomach and your torso to cup your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple. “I’m the lucky one.”

You couldn’t find your words as the heat of his tongue found your ribcage, the skin beneath your belly button and the inside of your thigh. You were dripping, shaking from head to toe when his fingers abandoned your thigh to drag between your parted legs.

Bucky eyes followed the drag of his middle finger over your slit and you gulped loudly, breathing picking up right against his ear. He held his own as he stroked you, feeling you out, learning you, and he groaned when he dipped a digit in, feeling you flutter around his finger.

“That’s good,” he praised, taking a deep breath. “Really good, doll. Doing good for me. You’re so–“ wet. You were so wet you could hear yourself as he circled against your entrance and up, dragging over your clit in a teasing motion that made you dig your teeth into your bottom lip. Bucky’s focus was razor-sharp, every touch deliberate and careful, testing the waters before he fully dived in. The way his fingers teased your entrance—pressing just enough before gliding inside and pulling back out—drew a gasp from your lips, a sound that made his eyes darken. He gripped the headboard with his free hand, steadying himself, the gears of the vibranium shifting to adjust, and the sheer sight of him above you sent a fresh wave of heat through your body.

Your mind was a haze, swimming in the sensation of his rough fingers curling just so, finding every nerve that made you shiver and gasp. His movements were maddeningly precise—spreading you open, circling your clit in featherlight touches before plunging back inside. You couldn’t keep still, your hips moving instinctively to meet him, chasing the edge you were desperate to find.

“I can’t—” you gasped, your breath hitching as his thumb added pressure over your clit while his fingers pressed deeper, to the knuckle. You turned your face toward him, seeking his lips, but all you could manage was a stuttering breath that burned in your chest. “Fuck, Bucky, please don’t stop—”

His weight was grounding, but his hand between your thighs was all-consuming, working you open with the kind of slow, purposeful rhythm that made it impossible to think. When he added a third finger, the stretch was enough to make you cry out, your back arching off the mattress as his palm pressed against your most sensitive spot.

For a second, you thought you lost him—his gaze was transfixed on where his fingers disappeared in and out of you, his jaw slacking as if he couldn’t quite believe it. He licked his lips, and his chest heaved with shallow breaths, his pupils blown wide in a hungry gaze as his thumb brushed tighter slick circles against you.

And then it clicked. You saw it in the way his expression shifted—his eyes darkening further, his throat working as he swallowed hard. He was feeling it too: how warm and wet you were around his fingers, how tight you’d be when it was finally his cock stretching you instead.

“Fuck—” The word fell from his lips, rough and wrecked, his voice full of disbelief and want. He shifted slightly, the volume of his cock brushing against your thigh, hot and heavy even through the thin barrier of his boxers. The contact sent a shiver through you, and you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching for him.

“Bucky…” you pleaded, your voice breaking as you tugged him closer by the back of his neck. “Please, please, baby, don’t stop—it feels so good—”

The groan that tore from his throat was primal, vibrating against your lips as he kissed you, messy and desperate. The sound of your voice—of your need—only spurred him on. His fingers shifted angle, finding the spot inside you that made your vision blur, and the sharp moan that left your lips was loud enough to make you blush. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you worried about your neighbors, but the thought was fleeting as his movements pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

“Good girl,” he murmured against your lips, the words sending a jolt through you. His pace quickened, his palm grinding against you, and you clenched around his fingers, your body tightening as pleasure coiled low in your belly and you reached down to wrap a hand around his wrist. “Good girl, that’s it… you’re close, aren’t you?”

His name fell from your lips like a prayer as you tipped over the edge, the tension inside you snapping as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Your nails dug into his shoulders, and he groaned again, his forehead pressing to yours as he worked you through it, every stroke deliberate, savoring the way you fell apart beneath him.

Your head spun, a dizzying haze of pleasure still clinging to you like a second skin. Your body trembled, every nerve alight, as Bucky’s weight pressed into you, grounding you back to reality. His flesh hand—warm, calloused—dragged down your side, leaving a trail of sticky wetness in its wake. He squeezed your ass, his grip firm, possessive, and you shuddered, your breath hitching as his voice cut through the fog.

“Doll—” His voice was low, rough, and you blinked up at him, lips parted, chest heaving. His eyes were dark, hungry, and you could feel the hard length of him pressing against your thigh, demanding attention.

Your hands, still trembling, fumbled with the waistband of his underwear, eager to feel him, to touch him. He groaned and helped you push the fabric down, kneeling between your spread legs to rid himself of the last barrier between you. You sat up, your hands roaming over his torso, tracing the ridges of his muscles, your lips following the same path, leaving a scorching trail down his side.

You licked the crease of his hipbone, your tongue teasing, and your hand wrapped around his cock, feeling him twitch in your grip. He was big, bigger than you had estimated, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t think he was beautiful, a vein running down the underside of him that made you want to lean in and follow its path with your tongue. Pre-cum leaked from his tip and his breath hitched, shaky and uneven, as you stroked him once, twice, the fluid slicking your movements, your thumb pressing to the sensitive head and making him shudder in response.

“N-no, c’mon, doll—” Bucky’s voice was strained, his hips jerking involuntarily as you tightened your grip. “Don’t—”

“You just touched me,” you argued, your voice breathless, defiant. You looked up at him, your eyes locking, and he tipped your head back by your chin, his hands tangling in your hair. His kiss was desperate, hungry, his tongue claiming your mouth as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

The difference between his human hand and the vibranium one sent shivers down your spine, the contrast in their grip making you clench around nothing, your body craving him.

“I won’t last,” Bucky confessed, his voice rough. He bit your bottom lip, thensting making you gasp, before he dragged his mouth down your jaw, your neck, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. “I won’t last if you keep going, and I’d really—” He paused, his teeth grazing your collarbone, his hands tightening in your hair. “...really like to get inside you.”

His words sent a jolt of heat straight to your core, and you whimpered, your body arching toward him. “Do we need a condom? Do you have one?” you asked breathlessly, allowing him to push you back against the soft sheets. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer as he hovered above you, his warm breath ghosting over your skin.

He hesitated, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before he shook his head. “No,” he murmured, his forehead dropping to rest against your bare shoulder. You could feel the weight of his frustration, and it made your heart ache just a little for him.

Gently, you traced your fingers along the back of his neck, offering comfort. “Didn’t really think we’d–” he began, but you interrupted him.

“I don’t have any either,” you admitted softly, turning your face to press a kiss to his cheekbone, then to the bridge of his nose, before finally capturing his lips in a tender kiss. “But I’m on the pill. Birth control,” you clarified, your cheeks warming under his intense gaze, even as both of you lay exposed to one another, unguarded and vulnerable. “And I wouldn’t mind… having you bare.”

“Sometimes I think you are trying to kill me,” Bucky breathed out, his voice thick with a mix of desire and exasperation. He pressed his pelvis between your legs, eliciting a soft whine from deep within you as you felt his length drag tantalizingly against your slick folds.

“I’m just trying to find a solution,” you argued playfully, rolling your hips against him, your eyes fluttering shut as pleasure coursed through you. “Imagine how good it’d feel…”

He groaned softly, the sound reverberating in the quiet of the room, and he buried his face in the crook of your neck. “Don’t have to… I can already feel it,” he whispered, sending shivers down your spine.

“Please, Buck… stop teasing me,” you begged, the sound light and teasing, and it quickly melted into a moan as he pressed closer, his warmth enveloping you completely, his length gliding between your folds, the head of his cock bumping your sensitive clit. “Please… I just asked you to fuck me without a condom,” you shook your head at yourself, a hint of disbelief in your voice. “I’ve never done that.”

Bucky pulled back slightly, his intense gaze searching yours, admiration flashing across his features. “Really?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly, almost as if he couldn’t quite believe the words himself. There was an unspoken question in his eyes, one that had lingered between you both since that first night: Do you really trust me that much?

The question wasn’t just in his words; it was in the way his fingers trembled against your skin, in the way he tried to pace the both of you, as if afraid to make a mistake and ruin everything between you. The vulnerability in his posture was unmistakable—this man, who had lived through so much, was now allowing himself to be here, with you, in this moment of pure intimacy, and he wanted to be sure you wouldn’t regret it.

You swallowed hard, the weight of it all settling over you like a heavy blanket. Your heart beat so loudly in your chest that it felt like it was echoing in the room. Your gaze softened, fingers brushing over the rough edges of his jaw, feeling the tension there.

“You know I trust you, Buck,” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. “Right?”

The space between you closed and with renewed urgency, you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him to you, feeling the heat radiating from him. “Get in me,” you breathed, your voice a mix of determination and reassurance. “I want you in me.”

Bucky nodded, his breath quickening. You hadn’t quite finished this conversation - there was still so much you both needed to say - but you let your hand glide between your bodies, fingers gently wrapping around his cock to line him up to your entrance. You gave an encouraging and experimental roll of your hips, making both of you moan at the sensation, and he replaced your hand with his own, pressing forward until you could feel the pressure of him splitting you open.

“We’ll have to take it slow,” he replied, his voice hoarse. “I’m not sure how much I can– holy fuck.”

His cock slipped in, inch by inch, into your welcoming heat and your eyes couldn’t decide where to focus - on where you were connected, his length and girth stretching you little by little as he fucked in and pulled back just to press in deeper, or on his face. You saw seventeen different emotions rearrange his features, from awe, to torture, to delight and back to awe again as he watched himself sink in.

“Look at you,” Bucky breathed out, thumb reaching to circle your clit. “Taking me so well…” he praised, eyes fleeting up to yours. “Think you can spread your legs a little further for me, doll? Come on, just so I ca— fuck me, there it is, good girl,” he sounded delirious and you were pretty sure you’d too, if you could speak. He’d bottomed out inside of you, his eyes fluttering shut seconds later, the vein on his neck strained as he took in deep, steadying breaths.

The burn was maddening. You could feel every inch of his against your pulsing walls, the sensation of fullness now overwhelming to the point of tears. You felt him in your stomach, and you could hear the wetness of your heat when he shifted, letting out a guttural moan.

“J-James—“ you breathed out and he shuddered, pressing him hips tighter against yours, as if he could meld your bodies together even though there was nowhere else to go, no more of him to bury inside you. “Shit, you’re gonna split me open,” you gasped, a bewildered laugh slipping out of you.

You watched as he pulled himself together, eyes squeezing shut to try and focus and find his own voice again. “Does it hurt? Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head, pressing a kiss and then another to his lips and you nodded when his hips rolled involuntarily. “Yes, yes, please… that’s what I want,” you nodded eagerly.

There was no hesitation then, no careful restraint. Bucky Barnes, the man who so often kept himself in check, was utterly and completely unleashed. The realization sent a thrill racing through you, leaving you breathless, aching, and yearning for more.

His hips snapped and your head rolled back, hands tightening around his torso as he picked up a rhythm that had yours toes curling in no time. In and out, he stroked your walls, his free hand gripping your body possessively until you were sure he’d leave bruises, which only made you wetter and more desperate.

“You’re so deep,” you cried out when he pressed in to hilt and took a moment to breathe in, no space between your bodies. “I can feel you in my s-stomach.”

“Would get deeper if I could,” he’s a man possessed and when you look up at him, he looks as pussy drunk as he sounds. “Prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen, doll…”

“Oh my g—“ You choke, head falling back onto the pillow, eyes on the ceiling and lips parted around a shaky breath. “James—“

His reaction was instant, as if each letter of his name was a strand of the thread you tugged, unraveling him completely. He pressed his face to your neck then, snapping his hips with bruising force, making your breath stutter.

“Say it again,” he pleads, his voice a raw, desperate melody you wish you could capture—something to cling to in his absence. It resonates deep within you, tugging at the very core of your being, as if he’s not just claiming your body but binding your soul to his. “Please, doll…”

“James,” you offer willingly, rolling your hips to meet his. “I need you to cum, baby,” you beg, pressing your lips to his sweaty forehead. Your bodies are slick with it as well, your hand slipping down his broad back and you close your mouth around his shoulder, tasting the salt of his skin on your tongue.

Bucky shakes his head then and he’s silent for a few moments, lost to the feeling of your slick walls. “You first,” he urges, pressing needy kisses down your neck and chest. “I wanna feel it… feel you cum around my cock.”

“Buck—-“

“It’s James,” he commands, pulling back enough so he can glide a hand between your bodies, his thumb pressing to your clit. “You’ll call me James when I’m inside you. You understand, doll?”

“Y-yes,” you nod and your face contorts with pleasure, a desperate gasp for air sounding between you as you try to fill your burning lungs.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, James."

His touch is sending you barreling down the edge and no matter how hard you try, there is no holding back. You feel it, white hot pleasure burning hotter and tighter low in your belly, your walls clenching around his member until you’re shaking and unable to meet his movements.

“I’m gonna c-cum—“ you warned, grateful for the way he’s pressing you down, grinding and adding more pressure to your clit. “Shit, J-James, baby, please!”

He never stops. Not until you’re shaking and he can feel you unraveling around him, your orgasm taking over with a violent force that takes you both by surprise. It makes you louder, your back arching off of the mattress and into his chest, your thighs snapping shut against his sides as you unravel.

“Shit!” Bucky gasps, dropping on top of you, pinning you down until you don’t know where he ends and you begin, your thighs shaking and toes curling.

Your sight is dotted with stars and you can barely speak to urge him on when he crosses the finish line, ecstasy taking over with no warning. His blue eyes roll back and you feel and hear him thrusting once, twice, three times, until his cock is twitching and pressed in to the hilt, his warm cum coating your walls. It oozes out of you in it's intensity and it makes you shiver at the primal feeling of ownership it sends through your body.“Shit, shit, I’m s-sorry—“

“I wanted it,” you confess, your arms and legs wrapping around him like a human cage. Not that it could hold him—one tug, one flick of his wrist, and you’d be undone. But he stays put, sinking into your embrace like he belongs there, his weight pressing into you, heavy and grounding. He’s your personal weighted blanket, if weighted blankets were also devastatingly handsome and extremely good in bed. Not that you could ever say that to him out loud.

The room is still buzzing with the aftermath—your mingled breaths, the faint hum of your heartbeats syncing. He presses soft, almost worshipful kisses wherever his lips can reach: your shoulder, your collarbone, that tender spot just below your jaw that makes you shiver.

The silence stretches, comfortable and lazy, until you finally break it. “What a mouth you’ve got on you, Mr. Barnes,” you tease, your nails tracing idle patterns along the muscled expanse of his back. “I had no idea.”

He snorts, the sound low and gravelly in your ear, getting more and more common the longer you spend time together. There’s a glint in his eye when he pulls back just enough to look at you. “What can I say?” he drawls. “I’m full of surprises.”

“Oh, I bet you are,” you retort, your grin matching his.

His hand moves lightning-quick, pinching your waist with pinpoint accuracy. You squeal, swatting at him, but he’s already laughing, the deep rumble vibrating through his chest, crinkles by his eyes making the blue sparkle brighter.

“Careful,” he warns playfully, his lips quirking up into a dangerous smile. “Keep that up, and I might have to show you a few tricks up my sleeve.”

You narrow your eyes, biting back a laugh. “Big talk for someone who’s currently trapped in my hold.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Trapped? Doll, you’ve got this all wrong… I’m exactly where I want to be.”

#bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x reader smut #james buchanan barnes #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel fan fiction

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samsno1 · 1 year ago

Text

Celebrating

Dean Winchester x F!Reader

hi, heres what i promised to the dean girls! i don't know what to say, this is long and i don't know if the smut is good enough, might edit later, also, dean in this red jacket is my favorite

Summary: It had been a while since you got some and at night of celebrating a successful hunt you expected to finally, after a long time, get laid

Warnings: SMUT, piv, unprotected sex (wrap it up), finger sucking, jealousy (? if you squint), oral f. recieving, fingering, dean is so in love ohmygod, english is not my first language, not proof read (if i forgot anything let me know)

Read it on AO3

WC: 4.7k

You can learn how to change Y/N for your actual name here

enjoy!

It was difficult for you to find anyone willing to spend the night with you in the current settings of your life, having to lie about what you do, who you are…Basically create a whole new personality just to be able to bring someone to your motel room. In that sense, it was frustrating, both sexually and mentally to be put in this scenery but, either way, saving lives was more important than getting laid, even if you were thoroughly stressed beyond comparison by your inability to find a guy (or girl).

You, Sam and Dean had gone to California for what you discovered, after great questioning and piles of research, was a simple salt ‘n burn of a poor ghost of a roadkill and was haunting that particular highway and crashing trucks of drivers who were mildly intoxicated behind the wheel.

After finding out where the bones were buried you went to the cemetery and started digging up the grave. Shovel after shovel of dirt fell behind you while you panted in exhaustion until you hit something hard at the bottom of the hole you dug up.

You harshly broke the wooden casket, revealing the remains of the ghost and a putrid smell hit your nose like everytime it happened when you had a salt ‘n burn. You scrunched up your nose and threw the shovel on the ground beside you, reaching with a hand towards Dean for him to help you get out of the hole.

“There it is.” You say proudly as you stare down at the decomposed body being covered with salt by Sam while Dean reaches for the alcohol in the bag and the lighter in his pocket.

You three watch as the bones light up in an orange fire, burning away what’s tying the poor soul to this world, the heat radiating in your skin. After some time you bump your shoulder with Dean’s, making him look at you.

“Let’s go, I need a shower so we can go out and celebrate” You say with a grin as you turn back to walk towards the Impala and Dean follows suit along with Sam, the fire slowly extinguishing itself behind you.

You opened the door to the backseat, the creaking of the hinges echoing through the night, getting inside and closing the door with a thud. Dean and Sam sat in their designed seats at the driver and shotgun, respectively, and you drove into the night towards the motel.

“I saw a bar not far from where we are staying” Dean said and you hummed and Sam nodded. “You two might have to come back alone, you know” He suggested with a smirk and Sam scrunched his nose and let out an amused huff and you chuckled dryly, a weird nausea bubbling in your stomach.

Deep down you wished Dean could see you the way he sees the bartenders and strippers in bars or clubs you three often go to. You didn’t know if he thought you were too rough, too scarred, both mentally and physically. You usually dressed up nice, using makeup from time to time when you noticed your eyebags were getting darker or when your lips looked too pale. You also tried your best with clothing, well, the best someone could do when you were a hunter. Either way, you never looked like those girls, they were absolutely stunning, even for you, and you couldn’t compete with them.

You shook your head. You were probably thinking these things because it had been some time since you last got laid. Tonight was your night, you were feeling it, you were taking someone to your room.

Dean turned the car off after parking and you got out, going to the trunk to get your bag.

“You guys meet me in my room? I’ll most likely take longer to get ready” You said with a grin and the boys nodded. You took out the keys to your room and got in, throwing your bag over your bed and going to another bag you had in your room, where you kept your “fancy” clothes and makeup.

You took out a beautiful black dress with long sleeves that ended in your mid thighs. It was a dress you thrifted when you went on a hunt alone a while ago and never had the opportunity to use it. When you tried it on, though, it hugged your curves in all the right places, made your body look amazing and you felt as confident as one could feel.

You left the dress over the bed and rushed to the bathroom to take a shower, smiling to yourself. You took your time, washed your hair thoroughly and finished it off in the usual way. In the hunting life you often get your hair very dirty almost everyday with blood, dirt, ectoplasm…you name it. So, keeping it lucious and healthy was a process that you grew fond of doing to recollect some of that normalcy that hunting didn’t give you.

You came out of the shower with a towel wrapped around your body and picked up an underwear set that was, well, sensual to say the least and dropped the towel to the ground to put it on, the dress going over it, careful not to mess up your hair in the process.

You looked at yourself in the mirror and whistled in surprise at your own appearance, you looked good. Time for makeup.

You didn’t do much, a simple concealer, contour and blush with mascara and a smokey eye was enough to drop any man to the ground.

You decided to put shoes on because, first, if you really had to walk back, heels weren’t helpful, second, you didn’t have your heels with you at the moment.

While you were finishing up you heard a knock on your door. You opened it and there they were, Sam and Dean, practically on the same looks, just cleaner, waiting for you.

They both eyed you up and down, drinking your appearance in, Dean dropping his jaw slightly as he stared at your exposed thighs. Sam let out an impressed sigh and cleared his throat.

“Wow Y/N you look…amazing” He said and you smiled, looking down, feeling a tad bit embarrassed.

“Yeah…” Dean agrees, half on earth, half in his head trying to get rid of the thoughts of those beautiful legs wrapped around his neck while his nose deep into your–

“Well, thank you, I hope it isn’t too much.” You said.

“No, n–no, ha, it’s not, at all,” Dean said to quickly, finally grasping the courage to look into your eyes, the beautiful colors drowning him and your shy smile making him want to smash his lips to yours that moment. He cleared his throat. “Shall we go?” He offered.

“Yes, let me just get my phone” You said and went inside for a couple seconds, coming out with it and your wallet. “C’mon!”

You passed through them and went towards the car. Sam elbowed Dean to make him turn to him.

“You are staring at her like she’s a cheeseburger and you haven’t eaten in days, man” Sam teased and Dean frowned at him “You were practically drooling”

“I–I was not, okay? She just looks…pretty, that's all” Dean said, ignoring Sam’s ‘Yeah, right’ and going to the driver's seat in the Impala, you already sat down in the backseat. After Sam got in you all went to the bar and you felt particularly excited this time.

“Okay, every single one who tried to flirt with me was a disaster” You said, coming back to the table with a sigh, Sam and Dean almost laughing at you as you handed them their beers. “Seriously, who do I have to kill to get laid in this shit”

You took a swig of your beer and looked around once more, trying to find a decent man for you to take back tonight when you eyed a handsome black haired guy a few feet away. You smiled to yourself and got up from your seat.

When you walked up to him you didn’t see it but Dean was fuming with jealousy, this feeling bubbling up inside him that made his fists unconsciously clench over the table. He tried flirting with other women that night, chatting them up like he usually did but it all went down the drain the moment his eyes darted to you again, a guy practically snuggling up to you while you gently pushed him away and refused his advances, either not finding him attractive or just not feeling a spark.

He should be the one you looked at, he knew everything about you, how you liked your coffee, your favorite drinks, the faint lines that would appear around your lips when you smiled, the way your eyes lit up when you were talking about something you enjoyed. He knows you.

Sam noticed his brother’s demeanor and called out to him to snap him out of his jealous haze. Dean turned his eyes to Sam and he had this stupid smirk on his face, sipping the beer once again to hide his amused smile.

“What?” Dean snapped, his hand wrapping around the bottle, the cool glass doing nothing to ease his temper down, his knee going up and down under the table with nervousness.

“Nothin’” Sam answered and finished his beer, getting up and leaving a couple dollars, enough to pay for the beers he drank. “I’m going back, y’know, tired. Tell Y/N”

Dean nodded, he didn’t know if Sam meant for him to tell you that Sam went back or that you’ve been in his dreams for months now, not all of them cute and fluffy, some made him wake up with a hard-on, sweating and longing for you.

He looked in your direction and you were coming back with an annoyed face, arms crossed in front of you, feet stomping the ground. Dean made a confused face and when you got back to the table you sat down on the chair with a scoff, his eyes never leaving you.

“He has a girlfriend” You murmured and then realized you were one man short “Where’s Sam?”

“He called in, tired” Dean said and you hummed. He had a weird look on his face, something you couldn’t make out what was. You sighed and looked down.

“I think we should go too, this night was disappointing to me” You breathed out a laugh “I’m impressed you didn’t find anyone, I saw some girls eyeing you”

“Nah, I’m fine,” He said and finished his beer. You widened your eyes at him but didn’t say anything, just nodding hesitantly in shock. “Let 's go?”

He said getting up and you mirrored him, pulling your dress down a bit, Dean’s eyes on you all the time. He bit his lower lip and mentally told himself to cool it.

As you two walked towards the car you couldn’t help but look at him up and down, silently appreciating his figure. His strong jawline, his green eyes now dark thanks to the night, his slightly crooked nose that made him look unique.

When you got into the car, in silence, you drove back to the motel and you felt an unmistakable tension in the air and you were worried you might’ve done something to upset the man. You started to fidget with your fingers over your lap, the street lights going past the car through the window as Dean sped up through the pavement.

His hands gripped the wheel, holding back the urge to pounce on you right there and then. When he parked the car and reached for the door handle you held his wrist.

“Wait! Dean, is something the matter?” You asked, big eyes looking into his as he looked at you, noticing the trouble behind those beautiful orbs. He wanted to punch himself in the gut for making you feel bad. “What happened?”

“Nothing it’s just…” He trailed off and looked at your hand wrapping his wrist. His other hand enveloped over it and your skin flared up with goosebumps. He felt warm, rough, his strong grip comforting. You took your hand away from his wrist, allowing his hand to wrap over your and pull you into him.

You yelped and was about to question him when you felt his plump lips against yours, his other hand hesitantly holding your cheek and you melted. It took you a while to process what was happening. Dean Winchester is kissing you. Though, when you did, your free hand went to the back of his neck to deepen the kiss.

Everything felt like a fever dream and you were afraid that if you pulled away you’d wake up and Dean would be gone. His lips had a taste of beer lingering from the night out, they were full and smooth. You felt like you were drowning in this feeling until Dean pulled away, seeking a breath of air.

You looked between his eyes, your breaths molding into each other from the closeness. You moved the hand he was holding up his chest, to his shoulder, up to his cheek, his eyes closing and his head snuggling against your hand, his fingers fidgeting around your wrist.

He opened his eyes, a thousand feelings swimming behind his green orbs as you both communicate in silence, an agreement, a revelation. You smiled and pulled him in again, this time with no hesitation. His hand went down your arm slowly, your skin warming up where his hand passed by, and settled by your waist, pulling you closer. His tongue teased your bottom lip and you eagerly opened your mouth with a low moan.

At that, he smirked into the kiss and pulled you over his lap, the steering wheel digging into your back, his hands both placed at your hips as you unconsciously rocked against him. He let go of your mouth again and you stared down at him.

“I wanted to do this so bad” He whispered and you smiled, your fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck mindlessly. He placed a loving kiss at your jaw and pulled away again while you hummed, content.

When you looked at his face again there was a frown and he was avoiding your eyes. You grabbed both his cheeks and made him look at you.

“What was that thought, hm?” You ask lightly as to not push him away. You didn’t want this to end, not ever. He seemed nervous.

“What does this mean to you?” He asked and you furrowed your eyebrows. “To me, Y/N,” he continued, his hands rubbing up and down your thighs “you’re everything, I mean, you– you’re perfect. You’ve seen everything I’ve done and never let me down, you’re beautiful and so much more. If to you I’m just a way to get off then–”

You cut him off with a peck on his lips.

“Stop. Right there.” You started, looking deep into his eyes. “Dean I– you are everything I’ve ever wanted, needed. You mean more to me than words can describe, you’re not just a one night stand, you’re my dream”

When you finished, he didn’t waste a second to wrap a hand behind your neck and steal your lips again, his mouth addicting. There was so much passion, feeling and desire pumping through your veins.

Your dress was high on your thighs and one of his hands squeezed the flesh hungrily, making you groan in his mouth. He went further with his hand, his thumb caressing over your covered sex and you opened your mouth in a whimper.

Dean attacked your neck with kisses and hickeys, his teeth leaving a pattern over your skin as his hand ghosts over where you need him the most.

“Dean…” You say, a beg behind your words and he pulls away, both his hand and his mouth, making you shiver from the lack of contact and the cool feeling his saliva left behind over your neck.

“Sweetheart, as much as I’d like to have you in the car,” He said, his voice rough and deeper with lust, his pupils wide as he opened the door, a cool breeze coming in that did little to nothing to cool your skin off. “you deserve a bed, another time” He finished, leaving an open mouthed kiss under your ear.

Another time. You nodded, words failing you as you stepped out of the car, adjusting your dress and hair the best you could to seem decent. Dean stood up behind you and let a hand linger on your waist, eager to touch you at all times and all ways.

You both walked towards the door of your room, Dean’s fingers tightening on your skin the longer it took for you to get the door open. The moment you were able to open it, he pushed both of you in, turning you around and pinning you to the door inside, closing it with a loud noise behind your back and his lips were on your again, his hands roaming over every inch of your skin.

You yelped in shock but soon reciprocated the touches and kisses, your fingers wrapping around his jacket and pulling it off, his hands momentarily leaving you to drop it to the ground. When his hands came back he grabbed both your legs and lifted you, forcing you to wrap your legs around his hips for support, his fingers digging into your skin yet again.

Your hands pulled on his hair, your tongues battling in a messy kiss when you feel your body move to the bed, your body being gently placed over it.

Dean pulled away, standing up fully and you took him in with a bite of your lip. He unbuttoned his flannel, slowly and you lifted your dress over your hips, lifting them off the bed to help, revealing your panties and over your head to take it off completely and throwing the fabric away.

Dean’s breathing got heavier, the confine of his pants bothering him as he finally discards the flannel, torso naked to you. You drink his defined physique with hooded eyes and he smirks down at you, his head going close to the waistband of your panties, eyes never leaving yours as he leaves kisses from your hips to your stomach to the valley of your breasts until he came face to face with you again, a smile lingering in his lips making one of your own appear on yours.

Your hands grab at his cheeks and pull him in again as he holds you by your waist, pulling your near naked torso into his. His fingers ghost over every inch of new exposed skin as if he was memorizing every atom of your being like you were going to disappear.

Your hands start to explore over his chest, the strong muscles flexing against your palms, your nails scratching at his wide back and shoulders.

His hands travel behind your back to unclasp your bra and you let him, letting the undergarment go loose against your breasts and Dean takes it off. He drinks the view in, staring and you start to feel self-conscious and take your hands to cover yourself up. Dean catches onto that and kisses you again, one big hand grabbing at your right breast and you whimper in his mouth.

“I always knew you were beautiful” He whispers against your lips and pulls back to look at you again “But you are the most perfect thing I’ve ever laid eyes on”

This time you turned away from him with a stupid smile on your face.

“Says you” You say and turn to him again, your hands over his shoulders and moving towards his back “Your back is a perfect place for my nails to dig in” You whisper seductively on his ear and leave a hickey on his neck. He groans and lowers his head to wrap his mouth around one of your nipples, the warm feeling against the sensitive nub making you arch your back into him and your fingers to tangle in his hair.

“Dean, fuck–” You moan as he gently bites your nipple and moves to the other breast, his eyes looking at you from below and drinking in your noises.

One of his hands sneaked up your inner thigh and teased your clit over your panties and you shivered, a smirk on his lips against your breast. He slowly took your panties off, discarding them on the ground and now you were completely bare below him, vulnerable.

His middle finger pressed over your clit and you arched again.

“Dean, please…” You beg, your best attempt at puppy dog eyes looking down at him and he adds his ring finger, starting to do slow circles over the sensitive nub as he kisses up your neck, your noises of pleasure egging him on.

He lowers his fingers to your entrance and he slips both in with no restraint given your wetness, the feeling making you let out a moan and grab onto his shoulders as he hooks his fingers inside you, touching that special spot.

He smirks smugly and continues his ministrations, your pussy clenching and tightening around his fingers making him groan.

“You’re so wet” He mumbles “I wonder how you taste like” He gives your nose a peck, your mind too drowned in pleasure to respond to his words. He kisses down your body, his fingers never leaving you, until he's facing your cunt. He places both your legs over his shoulders, your thighs resting around his cheeks, the light stubble leaving a tingly feeling behind.

He leaves a lingering kiss over your clit and you buck your hips, looking for more friction. He teases a bit more, biting and sucking at your inner thighs, everywhere but where you needed his mouth to be. You took charge and grabbed at his hair, pulling his face closer and he complied.

“Oh, fuck!” You groan.

His tongue licked at your sex and your loud moans echoed through the walls, the warm muscle doing wonders against you and the mix of his fingers bringing you closer and closer to the edge, your eyes fluttering close in bliss.

“Dean, God” You moan as he squeezes your thigh. All the ministrations send shivers down your spine, your core tightening inside you, that familiar rush of warmth spreading through you. Your thighs try to close, forgetting Dean’s in between and he hums against your cunt, the vibrations making you feel like you were in heaven. “I’m cumming”

“Cum for me princess” He mumbles and you let go with a chant of his name. The feeling washes over you, making you feel lighter for a couple seconds, Dean helping you ride out your orgasm. When the stimulation becomes too much and you whine and squirm away, he gets up from his knees, chin glistening in your juices. He took his fingers out, a grunt scaping your throat at the emptiness. It was a sinful sight.

He crawled over you again, his middle and index finger teasing at your bottom lip.

“Open up” He said, voice deep and demanding and you obeyed, opening your mouth and letting his fingers in. You lick your juices clean off his fingers, never breaking eye contact, humming and moaning against his digits as Dean bites his lips with force. Your hand travels down to unbuckle his belt and he takes his fingers away from your mouth to kiss you.

Once you got the belt open, Dean backed away, taking his shoes off and unzipping his pants. Meanwhile, you drank in his appearance. His hair was a mess, a thin sheen of sweat covering his skin, his arms flexing as he lowered his pants along with his boxers. He was divine.

When he dropped the jeans his eyes drifted back to you, catching you staring and he smirks.

“See something you like?” He asks, closing the gap between you again, smashing your lips to his in yet another breathtaking kiss.

He completely lies you down on the mattress, his elbows supporting his weight over you as his cock bumps against your sensitive sex and you gasp, hand gripping the back of his neck.

“Fuck me” You say, bluntly and whiny but he gets the hint and aligns his member to your hole.

“Yes Ma’am” He says and starts to insert himself inside you, an immediate groan coming out of both your throats, his forehead dropping to the nape of your neck as his fingers dug into your hips, holding himself back to not slam into you at full force. You felt amazing around him, the warmth of your walls made him never want to go away.

“Oh my God” You moan as he slowly goes deeper, his cock throbbing inside you. Once he bottomed out you were breathing heavier than ever, pupils blown and nails teasing at his back. “Dean”

“I’m right here sweetheart” He reassured you and left kisses over your shoulder to distract you. You grinned at his sweetness and rolled your hips against his, a sign that he could move.

“Move, please, I want to feel you” You mumbled and he obliged, instant pleasure going through your body.

“God, Y/N” He moaned close to your ear as he went faster, your moans getting louder.

He smashed his hips against yours, eyeing the way it went in and out, being deliciously consumed by your cunt, glistening with your slick and cum. He stared at you, your fucked out state, the way you were a moaning, whimpering mess beneath him and he felt proud to be the reason you were like this.

You felt every inch ripping your insides, Dean’s hands roaming through your body as his lips left bite marks and kisses around your skin. His lips wrapped around your nipple and everything just added more to the pleasure when his tongue circled around your nipple.

“You’re so pretty” He groaned after pulling away from your breasts and felt that familiar feeling go through him as your pussy clenched tighter around his cock. He was close and he knew you were too. His hands traveled both down to your lower body, one pressed over the skin under your belly button and the other circled your clit messly.

When he pressed down over your lower belly you felt him impossibly deeper and grabbed at the sheets underneath you to ground yourself to reality.

“Jesus– Fuck Dean, please!” You moaned incoherently as that bubble inside you was about to pop “I’m gonna cum, baby, please” You moaned again and you knew he was close to, his hips stuttering and losing rhythm.

“Cum with me Y/N” He said and not even seconds later you unraveled beneath him, your high hitting you like a bus, a loud moan rippling through your throat and Dean pulled out, cumming over your stomach, his chest heaving with his breaths.

Dean forced himself to get up and get a wet towel to clean you up in the bathroom, coming back and gently wiping away the fluids. You were spent and at the same time as happy as you could ever be.

You adjusted yourself in the bed while you waited for Dean to come back from the bathroom after discarding the towel, his naked shadow visible thanks to the light inside. When he walked out he smiled at you and snuggled beside you, tucking your head under his chin and wrapping an arm around your waist.

You were both silent for a while until he spoke up.

“I love you so much” He said “And no, this is not post sex haze, I’ve loved you for so long” He admitted quietly above you and you felt your heart beating ten times faster at his words. You looked up at him and placed a gentle hand over his cheek to make him look down at you.

“I love you too, dumbass” You say with a chuckle and kiss him deeply again, pouring all the love you knew you felt towards him into the kiss.

A/N: Notes and reblogs encourage me to keep writing, feedback makes those writings better. Thank you for reading, Xoxo.

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osarina · 4 months ago

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ᡣ𐭩 I PRAY, DON'T FALL AWAY FROM ME

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: murphy's law has never been more true. anything that can go wrong will go wrong. and it does.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: HAPPY FRIDAYYYYYYY, we're finally getting into the thick of this series, the next few chapters will be INTENSE, i hope you enjoy them as much as i enjoyed writing them ;) this chapter was actually a doozy for me - i struggled a bit with reconciling civzai with canon!dazai and figuring out how to make civzai react to everything that's happened in a way that a civilian would, but i didn't want to make it too far removed from how canon!dazai would act. i ended up rewriting a few times, but i'm mostly happy with how it came out. anyway!! reblogs and comments greatly appreciated as always!! ENJOY heheh!

GENERAL WARNINGS: fem!reader, port mafia executive!reader, civilian!dazai, dazai's struggles w suicide & sh, reader partakes in mafia business, dazai isn't dazai without a bit of obsessiveness and possessiveness (the possessiveness doesn't come til later but the obsessiveness starts from day 0).

CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNINGS: hardly edited. depictions of dissociation, brief depiction of gore in first scene, dazai's implied to be in a bit of a manic episode in the second scene and then crashes hard in the third (he is not coping well with everything that happened), reader is all strung up and agitated most of this chapter which leads to some very stupid decisions, dazai also makes some very stupid decisions.

ANOTHER THING TO NOTE: our lovely reader IS A MAFIA EXECUTIVE !! as a port mafia executive, she does port mafia things, this will become very apparent in the next chapter and the rest of the upcoming chapters. it hasn't been as apparent in the past few, so it might be a bit jarring to read but it is something to keep in mind. additionally, she is FLAWED and that is very apparent in how an argument goes down in this chapter. i wanted to add this warning just to give you all a bit of a heads up.

SEE: WASTELAND, BABY! SERIES MASTERLIST

You look so… serene.

Dazai’s knees are tucked to his chest as he sits on the bed next to you, watching as you rest. You’re fast asleep, even puffs of air escaping your lips as you curl up close to him beneath the comforter. You look a lot younger right now, not anything like the hardened mafia executive that he knows you are. Dazai’s breath catches when he sees you shift to get a bit more comfortable, moving closer to him so that your forehead is pressed against the side of his thigh.

Still, none of this feels real. He hardly breathes as he reaches out to brush the back of his knuckles against your cheek, watching as you let out a soft noise in your sleep before nuzzling a bit closer to him. Dazai believed that he was a man destined to be alone for his whole life; never in his wildest dreams did he ever think someone would love him for who he is, much less someone like you who could have anyone you wanted.

It doesn’t feel real.

Was it all just a dream?

A nightmare?

He blinks and suddenly blood stains the back of his knuckles where he’d been touching you, dribbling from your lips to the mattress below. Your eyes are still closed, but Dazai knows if they were open, they’d be glassy and empty. His breath quickens and his gaze flickers down the bed to your torso where he knows the gaping wound is hidden beneath the sheets. He feels the weight of a gun in his right hand and hears a thud to his left of a body hitting the ground and-

“Stop thinking so hard.”

He physically jumps at the sound of your voice, eyes widening as he looks down at you. Your eyes are still closed and you haven’t budged an inch, but the blood is gone and the weight in his hand has disappeared. For a split second, Dazai thinks he might’ve imagined your voice, but then, as if you can sense the thought, your eyes crack open, sharp and squinted, not at all glassy or empty.

Just his mind playing tricks.

“I can feel the shitty thoughts tossing around up there,” you mutter with a yawn, stretching a bit next to him. His face heats up when you press your lips against the sliver of bandages peeking out from where his shirt is riding up his sides. You sigh as you push yourself into a sitting position, dropping your head on his shoulder. “What time is it?”

“Half-past seven ish,” he answers, voice catching as he looks down at you. “You slept late. Your meeting is in twenty minutes.”

“Did you sleep at all?” you ask with a frown. You sit up straight again to look at him, a concerned expression on your face. “You’re not usually up this early.”

Dazai did not, in fact, sleep. Besides the fact that every time he closes his eyes, he’s plagued with the sight of your dead body, his mind has been in shambles over how easy it had been to pull the trigger of the gun you’d given him. Odasaku had instilled morals into him, morals that Dazai has strictly followed since the day he met the man, even more so after he died to save Dazai to honor the older man. And Dazai had known that being with you would compromise said morals but…

But it’s different when he’s actually the one stomping all over them.

Life should be treasured. Spend your days helping people.

Why had pulling the trigger been so easy?

Dazai stares down at his hands, willing an answer to come to him. He thinks the worst part is that even now, he can’t muster guilt. He should feel guilty—he knows that—he took someone’s life, someone who had people waiting on him if what you were saying held any merit, but he’d done it to protect you and he just can’t seem to feel guilty when it had been a choice between your life and an enemy’s.

Still, he thinks, it shouldn’t have been so easy.

He shouldn’t feel nothing.

Not for the first time, Dazai thinks there’s something fundamentally wrong with him. Something that sets him painfully apart from the rest of humanity. Something that leaves him grasping at straws as he tries to put on a face and convince the world that he’s just like everyone else. Something dark and empty that festers—it festered while he was on his own in Suribachi, it festered after Odasaku’s death, and it festers now with blood on his hands and no remorse to be found.

“Osamu,” you say, more concerned now, but you sound like you’re underwater and Dazai can’t even turn his head to look at you.

That’s not even to mention the message from Professor Ui. The more he thinks about it, the more anxious he gets. A tip-off. Professor Ui hadn’t given enough context for him to try to narrow down what it might be about, and there’s been so much going on recently that Dazai couldn’t possibly hope to narrow it down on his own. The only given is that it would be bad for you.

He almost doesn’t want to tell you.

No, he doesn’t want to tell you. Not at all. Not yet. Not when all he can give you is more to stress about, more to be paranoid about. All he’s been able to do is come to you with issue after issue, he’s been a burden—the least he can do is figure out the scope of this new problem before saddling you with it.

He can handle it himself. He can. He’ll go to the meeting and figure out what Professor Ui’s tip-off is about so when he brings it to you, you can formulate a plan of action to handle it. He can’t just tell you ‘Hey! Remember that journalist that’s trying to target you! He got a tip-off that he’s planning to do something about!’ when you already have so much on your plate.

He-

“Osamu,” you say, reaching for his wrist but the sudden touch jolts him out of his spiral.

His heart rate spikes and his surroundings blur and Dazai is instinctively pushing you away from him as panic subsumes all coherent thought, unsure of where he is and what’s going on. The sheets feel too much like the soft dirt, the fingers on his wrist are too tight, the air is too brisk and cold, the early morning light shining through your blinds into your apartment is so reminiscent of the way it shone through the tall trees into the forest.

“Don’t touch me.”

His feet tangle against the sheets as he scrambles away and tumbles right off of the side of the bed—pain shoots up his ankle and for a moment, Dazai forgets where he is and it’s not you on the bed reaching out to him, but the rotted skin of Arahabaki, your blood dripping off its fingers. Dazai can hardly breathe as he tries to reorient himself, nails digging into his palms.

It takes a concerning amount of time for Dazai to remember where he is, who he’s with. By the time he does, you’re kneeling at the edge of the bed, an expression on your face that Dazai is just too out of it to understand, and Dazai can feel his face heating up in embarrassment, a heavy feeling of mortification spreading through his chest when he realizes how he just lashed out at you.

“Osamu,” you try again, voice a bit softer and there’s no mistaking the concern in your eyes now, but Dazai just wants to bury himself alive, throat spasming as he hides his face in his lap. “Hey, it’s-”

“Go away,” he snaps, humiliated. “Go away. I’m fine. Don’t you have a meeting to get to?”

“It can wait,” you say, too understanding. “Osamu, I-”

A burden.

He’s a burden—he brings you issue after issue, distracts you from your work and gets you in trouble. For some reason, despite all of that, you still want him, and all he can repay you with is lashing out at you and causing more trouble. Now because he’s fucked in the head, you’re going to be late to another meeting that you can’t afford to be late to because you’re worried about him and he’s just so tired of being a liability all the time.

“Go.” His voice cracks over the word, he hates the way it comes across as more pleading than angry; he doesn’t have to look up at you to know the way you must be looking at him. “Please just go. I’m fine. Please.”

For a terrible, terrible second, you don’t respond and Dazai thinks you might be about to press more. He’s not sure if he can handle that. He just needs you to go to your meeting so it’s one less thing that he’s fucked up for you. He needs you to go.

“Okay,” you finally say after a few moments. “Okay. I’m going to get dressed.”

The breath that Dazai lets out is too heavy and too relieved. He doesn’t dare to look up until he hears you shuffle off of the bed and make your way to your closet. His eyes slide shut as he leans his head against the wall he’d backed himself against, forcibly calming his unsteady heart.

After a few minutes, you finally come to kneel in front of him, dressed in your suit and ready to head out. He looks up at you, hoping he doesn’t look nearly as much of a mess as he feels, but he thinks he fails because the conflicted expression on your face only becomes even more worried.

“Please go,” he repeats, voice raspy.

You sigh, gaze lowering to the ground, but you nod so Dazai can only feel relief. His lashes flutter shut as you lean in to brush your lips against his forehead and again, Dazai’s chest swarms with guilt and self-loathing because he wishes he could just be normal.

“I’ll order you some takeout,” you finally say as you lean back to look at him again. “I probably won’t be back until late tonight. You have any preferences for lunch and dinner?”

Dazai’s throat spasms as he swallows. “Crab?” he asks, voice too strained for comfort.

You roll your eyes, but you smile. “You’re not eating crab for lunch and dinner,” you say lightly, and Dazai smiles back a bit, but his smile feels a lot more wobbly than yours looks. “I’ll order it for lunch, I’ll pick dinner.”

Dazai’s nose wrinkles. “No mushrooms.”

“No mushrooms,” you agree as you rise to your feet. “I’ll see you later, yeah? Call me if you need anything.”

He definitely won’t, but he nods anyway. “See you,” he whispers.

You don’t immediately walk away, lips drawn tight as you look down at him. “I love you,” you say after a few moments and Dazai inhales sharply, gaze flickering up to you.

“... I love you too,” he echoes, the tightness in his chest easing when he sees how your expression smooths out at his words. You linger for a few seconds longer before sighing and leaving your bedroom without another word.

Dazai doesn’t budge until he hears the elevator bing, signaling its arrival to your floor.

Even when he’s sure that it’s gone—and you with it—he doesn’t move.

He doesn’t want to. His hands sting where he’d pushed you away from him and his legs feel bolted to the ground beneath him. He can hear his phone buzzing somewhere in front of him, probably tangled in the sheets he’d dragged off of the bed with him. He knows that he should get up and check—the meeting is in two hours and Dazai not only needs to get dressed, but he needs to figure out how he’s going to sneak out of this building without alerting any of your subordinates.

For you, he reminds himself as he sighs and pushes himself to his hands and knees and drags himself over to the mess of sheets on the ground, rifling through them until his hand closes around his cell phone. He’ll go to the meeting, get the information, and come back before you’re even finished with work… before that actually, he’ll need to get back by noon when you send someone here with takeout. If they show up and he’s not here, they’ll definitely report that back to you and he doesn’t want you to know that he’s going out because that’ll just cause you more stress and the whole point of this is to try to lessen your burden.

He unlocks his phone to see a few messages in the group chat and he cringes as soon as he reads them.

Koda Hinami: Is it okay if we meet a bit later today? I have an appointment in Tokyo and the soonest train I can catch is at 14:30.

Professor Ui: Does 15:30 work?

Otsuka Ayato: good with me, i’m free all day

Koda Hinami: Yup! That’s perfect.

Professor Ui: Dazai-kun?

Dazai supposes that this gives him more time at least—he doesn’t have to rush back before you send food for lunch. He doubts that you’ll be back before nightfall, and you probably won’t send dinner until 19:00 so that gives him almost four hours, which is more than enough time. He can spend the morning plotting out how he’s going to get out of the building without being seen.

Dazai: that works

He puts his phone back on the charger, a bit more pep in his step as he tells himself that he’ll make everything up to you. He pushes away all of the thoughts plaguing him, dressing himself in one of the outfits he’d left at your apartment. Those nagging feelings of doubt and self-loathing linger in spite of his attempts to shoo them away, but he does his best to ignore it. He needs to get himself into a better mood before seeing his professor and classmates—he doubts they would notice, but on the off chance they did, he needed to be ready to distract them from it in some way and he most definitely is not ready for that now.

But he has time now, so-

Was that the elevator?

Dazai’s head whips to the side to look out your bedroom door just as he finishes pulling on the new sweater you bought him. He creeps out of your bedroom slowly, wondering if you came back because you forgot something, but when he steps out of your room to the top of the staircase, he freezes because it is not you standing in the living room but instead a different, but unfortunately familiar, face.

Great, he thinks bitterly, expression twisting into distaste when he sees Nakahara Chuuya leaning on a pair of crutches. The man looks equally irate at the sight of Dazai standing on the balcony, making no effort to hide the way he scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“Why are you here?” Dazai asks, eyes squinted as he stares down at the other man.

He looks awful and Dazai isn’t sure why it makes him feel smug, but it does. Chuuya looks like he’s hardly able to hold himself up, leaning heavily on his crutches, face pale and beaded with sweat. He’s dressed in a thin t-shirt and sweats, so Dazai can see the aggravated scars running up his arms, but his eyes can’t help but linger on Chuuya’s hand.

His left hand—the same one that had torn through your body, that had killed you, the same one that had tried and failed to kill him. If Dazai looks hard enough, he swears he can see the rot spreading across the other man’s skin again, from his fingertips to his wrist to his elbow, as Arahabaki takes back over, so Dazai forces his gaze back up to his face.

All of the aggression that had been plain on Chuuya’s face disappears when he notices where Dazai was looking. He shakes his head and asks roughly, “Where the hell is she?”

Dazai scowls. “Why do you want to know?”��

“You little-” Chuuya hisses, gaze sharpening. “Where is she?”

Just to be annoying, and because Dazai has no sense of self-preservation, he asks, “Why should I tell you?”

“I’m going to rip your head off,” Chuuya spits out, unnervingly quick on his crutches as he makes his way over to the staircase. Dazai darts into your bedroom, hand on the door so he can quickly slam it shut if Chuuya tries to come closer, although he’s not sure if a door is going to be enough to stop him. “Get back here.”

“You tried that already,” Dazai says lightly, watching Chuuya’s reaction carefully. “You failed, remember? … Or that’s right, you wouldn’t, would you? What’s his face… Fireboy? He mentioned that you probably wouldn’t… So, was he right? How much do you remember?”

Chuuya’s entire expression shifts at Dazai’s words, lips tightening and gaze averting down to the ground. The shame is clear on his face as he lets out a sigh, glancing up to see the bruises around Dazai’s neck just too shake his head and look away again.

“Enough,” he says quietly. “I remember enough.”

Dazai tilts his head to the side as he examines Chuuya. The scars on his arms indicate the shadow of Arahabaki’s presence in his body—Arahabaki, the violent and destructive god who had killed you and tried to kill Dazai. He expected to be more anxious around, or even scared of, Chuuya after what happened. He supposes he is to some extent, he can feel the itchiness on his tongue that always signals those unwelcome emotions approaching, but Dazai thinks it’s not because of Chuuya himself like he expected—he still feels the ever present urge to antagonize the man due to petty jealousy and the acute irritation his appearance and existence in general causes him.

It’s natural, he rationalizes. It’s not like Chuuya is Arahabaki or Arahabaki is him, so there’s no reason for Dazai to be scared of Nakahara Chuuya. Arahabaki, on the other hand… he watched you die to it and he nearly died himself, although the former is decidedly more traumatizing, so it makes sense. But Dazai has never been fond of fear, he’s learned through his own experiences alone in Suribachi and from Odasaku that it’s the most treacherous emotion, the quickest to kill, so he’s swift in his efforts to channel those lingering nerves that Arahabaki is causing into an emotion he’s much more capable of processing: curiosity.

To kill fear of something that’s mostly unknown to him, it must first become known.

He doesn’t know much about Arahabaki, only the few vague things you mentioned and the fact that it seems to be incapable of touching Dazai without being neutralized, which Dazai supposes he can also use as a blanket of security. But he has to know more.

“Can you speak to it?” Dazai blurts out, unable to help himself from firing out the question, hardly holding back the forty more.

“What?” Chuuya asks, voice flat.

“Arahabaki,” Dazai says, and then adds, “obviously.”

Chuuya gives him a withering look and instead of responding, he repeats his question from earlier. “Where is she?”

Dazai’s lips flatten as he squints again, not appreciating the way the man blew off his question entirely, but this time he decides to respond. “She went to an executive meeting, shouldn’t you be there if you’re up and about?”

“I thought I could catch her before she left,” Chuuya sighs, suddenly looking very tired, which naturally piques Dazai’s interest because why was he trying to catch you before you left? “I’m not supposed to be up yet. Doc’s gonna fuckin’ skin me alive when he finds me.”

“Why were you looking for her?” Dazai prods.

Chuuya pointedly doesn’t respond, side-eyeing Dazai before turning to walk back down the stairs. Dazai’s jaw drops in disbelief at the way he was so blatantly ignored and darts forward, kicking his leg out to drive it into the back of Chuuya’s knee. He’s smug when the other man lets out a surprised yelp, knee buckling as he drops; he’s not quite as smug when he steadies himself with his ability and turns back to Dazai, eyes blazing.

“I’m going to kill you, you shitty bastard,” Chuuya spits out and Dazai’s eyes widen as he darts right back into your bedroom, slamming the door shut hard behind him. “Do you really think that’s going to stop me, you dumb fuck?”

Dazai presses his full body weight against the door as Chuuya drives his shoulder into it to force it open. He’s the one yelping now as he goes sprawling forward onto your floor when Chuuya pushes the door open so hard that it comes off the top hinge.

“She’ll kill you if you kill me in her apartment,” Dazai threatens before he can take another step forward, voice a bit too squeaky for comfort. “She will.”

Chuuya sounds and looks like an angry bull when he lets out a heavy breath as he tries to calm himself. Dazai almost comments on it, but he bites his tongue. He might seem to be impervious to the man’s gravity manipulating powers, but he’s not quite as impervious to the brute force he’s capable of.

“What the fuck was that for?” Chuuya hisses.

“I asked you a question,” Dazai says, raising his chin as he stands back up and looks down at Chuuya, enjoying the way the mafioso’s eye twitches when he has to look up to meet his gaze. “You ignored me.”

“You-” Chuuya begins before taking a deep breath again. “I just wanted to talk to her, that’s all.”

“But why?”

Chuuya doesn’t look amused by Dazai’s insistence, but that only makes Dazai more insistent. He clearly had a reason for seeking you out and it must’ve been an important one considering how upset he seemed after realizing that you’d left already, and nobody could really blame Dazai for being curious.

Chuuya stares at Dazai for a second before sighing. “She’s… not doing good. Boss has been putting her through the wringer lately and Piano Man said it was even worse yesterday, probably gonna be just as bad today. I wanted to check in on her before she left.”

Dazai’s throat spasms as he swallows, suddenly all of the amusement he was getting out of irritating Chuuya withers away as the man’s words register. He knew you weren’t doing good—he knew it, he could tell from the tense expression you had whenever you thought he wasn’t looking, could tell from the way your laughs and words seemed strained, could tell from the way your smile was frayed at the edges. It’s why he doesn’t want to come to you with another issue and no solution, but hearing it from someone else…

“Don’t feel bad if you didn’t notice,” Chuuya starts to say, noticing the expression on Dazai’s face. “I’m sure she’s careful to put up a front to not worry you, does that with everyone, but she’d do it especially with y-”

“I noticed,” Dazai says, bristling. “I just… Why is he putting her through the wringer? How?”

Chuuya looks uncomfortable, like he doesn’t want to respond, and Dazai has his answer.

“Because of me,” he realizes, a lump in his throat.

“No,” Chuuya snaps before hesitating. “Not just you. He blames this whole shitshow with the Guild on her, and then there was the stuff with the Inagawa-kai and Shimazaki-kai-”

“Which happened because of me,” Dazai interjects, lashes lowering as he looks away. Dark claws pull at his heart again and Dazai can’t push them away this time.

“We were gonna go to war with them sooner or later anyway,” Chuuya says, shaking his head. “Whether it was then or later, doesn’t matter. Not on you or her.”

Dazai doesn’t think he agrees with that, and he doesn’t even think Chuuya agrees with that considering how he reacted to finding out that Dazai was the reason for you deciding to rush the attack on the Inagawa, but he doesn’t feel like arguing about it. Chuuya doesn’t let him anyway, starts talking before Dazai can get a word in.

“Now he’s pissed about the battle with Lovecraft and Steinbeck. I had to use Corruption, and I’m pretty sure he figured out that damned doctor from the Agency was the one to save her life,” he continues, grimacing. “He’s gonna hold that over her head.”

Oh?

Dazai’s focus zeroes in on that, brows furrowing. He’d been wondering how you managed to survive the wound Arahabaki dealt but every time he asks you, you evade.

“Why?”

“Why what?” Chuuya asks brusquely, looking a bit startled almost, as if he’d forgotten he was talking to Dazai and had started venting on his own.

“Why is he going to hold it over her?” he asks carefully.

“That’s not for me to say,” Chuuya says after a few moments, much to Dazai’s frustration. “You’ll have to ask her-”

“She wouldn’t even tell me how she survived,” Dazai interrupts, annoyed. “I just want to… I want to understand what’s going on so I can help her.”

Chuuya looks conflicted, so Dazai takes the opportunity to press.

“I can’t help her if I don’t understand what’s going on, I can try to help. You’re worried about her, aren’t you?” Dazai demands, and then adds through gritted teeth, “Please.”

“Did she… tell you about her past with the Boss? During the war?” Chuuya finally asks, leaning against the railing as he waits for Dazai to respond.

“She told me that he brought her in after her town was massacred,” Dazai tells him, fingers thrumming against his thigh. “That she spent two years trying to figure out how to use her ability to help him create an immortal military unit.”

Chuuya lets out a breath as he looks away. “She wasn’t the only one that the Boss had taken in. There was another girl—Yosano Akiko—who had the ability to bring people back from the brink of death over and over and over again. From what she’s told me, and that’s not much, Yosano was prodigious with her ability and she… wasn’t. The Boss held it over her, pit the two of them against each other and to this day, compares her to Yosano. It’s a… touchy subject for her, I’m not surprised she evades it.”

Dazai’s face twists. “But she’s good at using her ability now,” he protests even though he knows it’s not that simple.

“I know,” Chuuya says, voice solemn. “Doesn’t matter though. It’ll never be enough—not for her or for him.”

Dazai has never met the Boss of the Port Mafia, but he thinks that he hates him more than anyone else Dazai has ever known. A bitter feeling claws at his chest as he thinks of a much younger you being rescued from a warzone only to find yourself in the hands of a cruel and manipulative man that guises as your savior. Dazai is not a man who has ever been inclined to turn to violence—he much prefers battles of wits—but god, if his fingers don’t twitch for it now.

The words slip from his lips before he can stop them, tight and angry: “He’s a piece of shit.”

Chuuya stares at Dazai for a moment in disbelief before barking out a laugh and then promptly slapping his hand over his mouth and forcing himself to quiet down.

“Shut the fuck up,” he says dutifully. “He’s still the Boss.”

“Your boss, not mine.” Dazai rolls his eyes.

“Whatever,” Chuuya replies dryly, ever clever in his response. “I’m going to go try to run into her before Doc manages to sniff me out… Don’t do anything stupid while she’s gone.”

Dazai gives Chuuya a side eye. “Wasn’t planning to,” he lies, possibly. He hasn’t decided yet if going to this meeting is a stupid idea—it might be, but the rewards outweigh the risks anyway.

Chuuya stares at him for a second suspiciously. “Whatever,” he repeats, so astute. He hesitates as he moves to leave and Dazai raises his eyebrows, waiting for him to say whatever might be running through the slow brain of his.

“Why aren’t you scared of me?” Chuuya asks after a few moments, looking uncharacteristically unguarded as he stares at Dazai, waiting for an answer.

“Why would I be scared of someone the size of a slug?” Dazai counters, giving Chuuya a simpering smile as the man’s face immediately tightens in anger.

“You’re incorrigible,” Chuuya spits.

“Big word for such a small brain,” he taunts, “did she teach you it?”

Chuuya doesn’t even respond, hissing out insults under his breath as he promptly makes his way back down the stairs.

Dazai is unbearably pleased with himself as he gives the ginger a mocking wave while he waits for the elevator, leaning over the railing looking down at the first floor. Chuuya promptly flips Dazai off, face so red that it clashes painfully with his hair.

As soon as Chuuya’s in the elevator and out of sight, Dazai disregards the warning and begins the first phase of his plan—finding your laptop to see if you happen to have a layout of the building anywhere on it so he can figure out how to sneak out—suddenly feeling significantly more inspired to do whatever he can to ease the burden that’s been placed on you.

You know something is wrong when you get up to your apartment and find it dead silent—there’s no trashy reality show playing in the living room, no sound of that new fighting game that Dazai had bought on your card, no excited call of your name because you came home early with food instead of sending someone with it. The elevator closes behind you and the takeout in your left hand weighs uncomfortably heavy, your gaze draws from the hallway leading to the guest room over to the kitchen.

He’s not in the living room and you don’t see him in the kitchen, so you look up at the stairs leading to your bedroom. Maybe he went back to sleep—you could tell this morning that he hadn’t slept much, if at all, last night, and when Albatross stopped by with lunch for him (after much complaining, naturally), he said that Dazai looked half dead on his feet.

It’s why you made sure to finish up your last meeting early—it was a video call with Tolstoy anyway, he didn’t mind you running out early, only wanted to let you know that he had to go with Repin to New York but could be in Yokohama by the end of the day on Thursday if you needed. You don’t really want to rely on the Three Deaths for help in this conflict, it would make the Port Mafia look weak, but depending on how this vote goes in the Diet on Friday, you might not have a choice. The Port Mafia isn’t in the position to handle the full force of the Guild and the military at the same time.

Why didn’t he come down when he heard the elevator?

You place the food down on the table in the living room before making your way to the staircase. He must be up there, so you don’t know why you suddenly feel so dreadful and you don’t know why it’s suddenly hard for you to make yourself move forward, like you’re walking through waist-deep water and the current is running against you. Your heart thuds painfully in your chest as you walk up the stairs to your bedroom.

He’s sleeping.

Since when was your staircase so long, it feels like each step you go up, ten more appear in front of you. You’re half convinced that it’s an ability messing with you and not just your mind playing tricks.

He’s a light sleeper. He would’ve woken up.

By the time you get up to your apartment, you know he won’t be there, but your heart still sinks to your feet when you push your door open and see the bed empty and the bathroom door open.

Dazai is nowhere to be seen.

Your lashes flutter as you force yourself to take a deep breath, trying to keep yourself calm. You’re stiff as you walk back out to the balcony looking over your apartment. Your voice is just as tense as you raise your voice to call: “Osamu?”

No response.

Shit, you think, vision spinning a bit as you shut your eyes, counting your breaths as your heart rate spikes. Shit, where did he go? Did someone break in? No. No one could have gotten through the building’s security. He must have left… but why? Why would he do that when he knows how dangerous it is out there? How did he sneak out with no one noticing? It doesn’t make sense.

You shouldn’t have left this morning. You knew that you shouldn't have left the moment you stepped into the elevator, but he’d just been so distressed and the longer you lingered, the worse it got. It was only when you agreed to go that he finally started calming down, so you thought you were doing what was best for him, regardless of how it made you feel, but fuck, you should have known better.

You blame Mori. You always blame Mori, but the bitterness and anger is so intense now that it has your blood pressure skyrocketing. He’s been keeping you busy on purpose—busy and angry and stressed—you’ve hardly even gotten the chance to talk to Dazai since everything that happened. When you do have time with him, you’re either exhausted or in a bad mood trying to mask it from him. He watched Arahabaki kill you, he almost died, and-

And he killed someone.

It’s a fact that you've yet to fully acknowledge yourself; it makes you sick with guilt and self-loathing, knowing that it’s your fault that it happened and that you had promised him it wouldn’t. And it’s selfish because it means he’s been coping on his own and how is a twenty-two year old kid whose biggest problem three weeks ago was a group project supposed to cope with the fact that he killed someone?

This morning had been a red flag—one that you should’ve listened to, but instead, you took the easy way out. You didn’t know what to do without being able to use your ability to calm someone down, you’ve done it for Chuuya countless times, Klaus and Akutagawa too, but for Dazai, you could only watch as he worked himself up into a panic attack over everything that happened, the only thing seemingly calming him down being you leaving. So you left.

But you should have stayed. You never should have left him—not yesterday after the attack, not this morning. He doesn’t belong in this life, he never has, but you dragged him into it anyway and now what? You’re leaving him to process it on his own? You’re leaving him to cope with the consequences of your actions? Your selfishness? What else was supposed to happen besides him getting overwhelmed and having a breakdown over it?

Of course he ran—you can’t blame him, how else is he supposed to react to all of this? There’s no way that the average kid would ever be able to come to terms with what had happened yesterday, especially not alone, without any sort of support system to help him. Cooped up in your apartment with only his own mind as company—of course he ran.

You had been his life jacket and you had left him to drown.

You need to find him. He had to have gone back to his apartment, unless…

Your throat feels tight as you swallow, remembering the morning you woke up to the call from the hospital.

Fuck, you have to-

The elevator?

Your gaze cuts down to the first floor of your apartment, watching as the elevator doors slide open. You watch with bated breath as you wait for whoever came up to your apartment to step out of the elevator, fingers wrapped tight around your phone.

It’s only when a familiar head of brown hair steps out of it can you finally breathe.

Dazai doesn’t look half as much of the mess he was this morning—there’s more of a pep to his step, his face doesn’t look as gaunt and pale, he’s dressed in one of the cashmere sweaters and comfortable dress pants you bought him. He looks… good, like he did before everything that happened—untainted by all of the darkness you’ve brought into his life.

What changed from this morning?

He freezes as soon as he sees the takeout that you dropped on the coffee table, shrugging his backpack off of his shoulders and dropping it to the ground near where you hang your jackets. His eyes are wide as he looks around the apartment trying to pinpoint where you are, it takes him a few seconds before he finally looks up and sees you staring down at him from the balcony.

The smile he gives you is nervous and it puts you on edge.

“Hi,” he says sheepishly. “You’re back early.”

You’re relieved—you are. He’s okay. He’s safe. He’s back. He didn’t run off and get himself hurt, or worse. The Guild didn’t get their hands on him. He’s safe and you’re relieved.

So why are you still so tense and angry?

“What did you get to eat?” he presses, creeping forward to look at the bag of food on the table. He sniffs as he peeks inside. “Chinese?”

“Where were you?” you finally ask.

Your voice sounds distant even to your own ears, your body feels tense no matter how much you try to relax. Dazai looks up at you with wide eyes, a hesitant expression on his face like he doesn’t want to admit to wherever he went and you can hear blood rushing through your ears as frustration washes over you.

God, you’ve just spent a whole day dealing with Mori and various other unsavory people—you’d been looking forward to coming home to Dazai and now he’s pulling this. You know you need to calm down, that you shouldn’t take out your general irritation of the day onto him when he’s already had a rough few days, but fuck the least he could do is-

“I went for a walk.”

The least he could do is not lie to you.

“You went for a walk,” you echo flatly.

“Mhm. I went for a walk,” he agrees.

You stare down at him from the balcony, not budging an inch. Dazai shifts uncomfortably under your stare, and a part of you thinks you should go downstairs and just drop this but you can’t. Dazai is lying to you—why he’s lying to you is an issue in itself, but you’re more concerned with knowing where he actually went because you need to make sure that no public CCTV tapes caught him going to and from the headquarters.

“Where did you walk to?” you ask, voice tight.

“Just… around.”

You inhale sharply and look away, biting your tongue to force yourself to calm down. “Osamu,” you say his name, low with warning when he tries to evade answering the question properly.

He bristles. “I didn’t realize I was under house arrest,” he says defensively, raising his voice a little.

Your eye twitches as you take a sharp breath and step away from the balcony. You pace a few steps back to your room and look up at the ceiling, willing yourself the patience to not let this blow up into an argument. It’s the last thing the two of you need right now, but god he’s making it difficult.

After a few moments, you drag yourself back over to the staircase. This time, instead of leaning against the railing and looking down at him, you make your way down the steps so you can stand in front of him, arms folded across your chest. Dazai looks guilty already, chewing the inside of his cheek as he refuses to look you in the eye.

“Osamu, I’ve had a long day. Please just tell me where you went so I can make sure no cameras caught you going to and from the headquarters,” you say tiredly. “You’re not under house arrest, I just-we need to be careful the next few weeks, okay? Just until things calm down.”

“I just went to the school,” Dazai finally admits.

Instantly, your brows are furrowing. “The school?” you question, confused. “You don’t have classes today after twelve. Why did you go there? And why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve had Albatross drive you.”

The way Dazai refuses to meet your eyes is unsettling. You feel even more on edge than before as you wait for him to respond. Fuck, you just wanted to have a glass of wine and watch him play one of his stupid games.

“It wasn’t for class, I was meeting people for a group project,” he says after a few moments, pointedly not answering your second question.

A group project.

The only ‘group project’ he has is for his journalism class… and the fact that he didn’t tell you so you could have someone drive him…

“You met with Ui,” you realize, staring blankly at Dazai. “Why?”

“I was helping,” Dazai says and however much on edge you might’ve been before, you’re even more now. “I was-”

“You were helping?” you ask, not sure what that might mean and not even sure if you want to know.

Ui is bad news and for Dazai to go out to meet him now of all times… He’s supposed to be smart. You rub your face with your hands, feeling the tightly wound cord that’s been threatening to snap for the past twenty-four hours becoming even more strained. It’s only a matter of time before it does snap and you don’t want Dazai to take the brunt of your anger, not when most of it is directed at Mori.

“I was!” Dazai insists, voice getting louder. You can see the way his fists are closing and opening at his sides and how his nails leave bloody crescents in his palms. You tell yourself to calm down and talk this out with him, that you’re both not in the best mental states and you need to be lenient with him, but his next words are enough to send you teetering off the edge. “I was helping, I helped. He texted last night saying he had a tip-off about our project and I went to go figure out what it was so I could warn you.”

What the fuck?

“Why on earth would you ever go there on your own?” you hiss, just barely maintaining enough control to not raise your voice at him. “Especially after what happened yesterday. The Guild knows about you, Osamu. It could’ve been a set up.”

God, you almost want to rip out your hair. In what world could he have possibly thought that was a good idea. The Ivory Eagle getting a tip-off the same night after a major conflict with the Guild is not a coincidence and you should probably be more focused on that than you are, but you just can’t get over Dazai’s stupidity.

If he had used that brain that you know he has, he would have realized it was no coincidence. The Guild must have gone to the Ivory Eagle with information about the Port Mafia and considering that Steinbeck made a comment about Fitzgerald getting the confirmation he needed about Dazai…

Fuck, you feel sick.

“Oh yeah, because my professor is going to set me up to be captured by a criminal organization, right,” he says sarcastically.

“You don’t know shit about this world, Osamu,” you snap at him, taking a step closer but he doesn’t budge, unrepentant. “The lengths people will go to so they can take the Mafia down. Do you even know why the Ivory Eagle is so set on us?”

“That doesn’t matter-”

“Of course it matters-”

“No, it doesn’t,” he interrupts, voice pitched with hysteria. “What matters is that I helped. I got the information you need and-and I can help more. I can help more, I’m not incapable, I don’t need to be a liability anymore. You should be thanking me, not yelling at me. I-“

What is your life?

You almost want to cry as you shake your head and take a step away and press your hands to your lips. You can’t do this right now—not after the day you had today and yesterday, you’re going to snap and say something you regret. You need to end this conversation before it goes any further.

“No. No, I am not having this conversation with you. Sit down on the couch, eat the food I bought and be quiet.”

“I’m having this conversation,” Dazai, much to your distress, presses the conversation. “I’m tired of being a liability, I want to be helpful-“

Helpful? What is he even getting at? He better not be getting at what you think he’s getting at?

“What the fuck, Osamu?” you demand. “You’re not a liability, where is this coming from?”

“If I’m not a liability then let me help-“

Oh my god.

“No.”

“Why?” He sounds more like he’s begging than arguing now and your heart feels like it’s lodged in your throat because you don’t know what you’ve done to make him feel like he’s a liability to you, and more importantly, you don’t know how to fix it. “I can do it. I can. And this way, there doesn’t have to be push back from your friends about us—not if I’m part of the organization too, and-”

What the fuck is your life?

You can’t even hide the way your expression twists at his words, can’t hide the way you instinctually step away from him, can’t hide the way that your hands tremble so you stuff them in your pockets and shake your head furiously. A part of you wants to believe that you’d just imagined those last few words but they ring so soundly through your head that you know you didn’t.

“What the f…” You don’t even know what to say as you stare at him in disbelief. He’s still talking, you can see his lips moving but you can’t hear anything. Your ears are ringing and you’re desperately trying to make sure the wound up cord inside you doesn’t snap. “Hold on. Hold on. You are not part of this life, Osamu. You’re a civilian-“

“I killed someone,” Dazai cries out. His voice wavers and cracks, his eyes are wide and wild, and his hands are shaking just as much as yours but he’s not even thinking straight enough to hide them like he usually would. “What type of civilian kills people? I don’t-I don’t belong there anymore. I don’t belong there, I belong with you.”

“You killed one person in self defense, someone who was trying to kill us. That’s nothing compared to being in the Mafia, Osamu.” You try to calm him down but you don’t think there’s any calming him down now and you feel sick at the sight of him collapsing like this. You do your best to soften your tone as you continue, “Why would you want to be in the Mafia? Come on, Osamu, you’ve got good things going for you, your friend’s book to write, you don’t want this.”

“I can’t just go back to worrying about classes and homework after all of this,” he says, voice pitched as he shakes his head and tugs his hair a bit. “I can’t. I don’t belong there, I belong here, I stopped being a civilian the moment you let me into your life-”

“That’s not fair,” you breathe out, shaking your head. “That is not fair, Osamu. You forced yourself into my life just as much as I let you into it. That’s not fair.”

“It’s the truth. You could’ve cut me off at any point and you know that. You admitted it,” he hisses at you, throwing your words back into your face and it feels like a slap. “So, you can’t sit there and judge me for trying to make the most of it so things can be easier on both of us. I can do this. I belong here, belong with you. I helped you figure out how to try to get the Guild out of Yokohama, I sat there and helped you with plans, I killed someone, and I got this information for you—the Port Mafia would’ve stumbled right into the trap if I hadn’t. And you should be thanking me. You should be thanking me.”

Just like that, the cord snaps.

“This isn’t something to be fucking proud of, Osamu,” you shout at him, but he doesn’t even flinch, stands his ground about what he wants and it only pisses you off more. “None of this is shit to be proud of. Do you think I’m proud of who I am? You think Chuuya, or the Flags, or Klaus are? Do you think any of us are proud of what we do? Fuck, Osamu, how can you sit here and ask me to let you be part of this?”

“Because I could help. I could help you. Arahabaki couldn’t kill me, couldn’t even touch me—I could help, I could be the one sent to handle it instead of you. And-and I could do more, no one would expect a college kid to be part of the Mafia, I’d be able to get information for you, and I could-”

“Enough!” Your voice goes hoarse as you yell at him, unable to listen to this anymore. “Enough, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

You don’t see the way Dazai’s face falls at your words, the crestfallen expression that crosses over his face as soon as your words process through his head. You turn away from him, breathing heavily because you think you feel nauseous.

How the fuck did this happen?

You can’t let anyone find out about Dazai—his type of ability, the nullification, not even the West has developed anti-ability technology to this degree, they would kill to get their hands on Dazai. They’d put the bounty that had been on Atsushi to shame and you wouldn’t be able to protect him. He’d spend the rest of his life in labs being experimented on so they could replicate his ability in weapons.

Your phone starts ringing and you don’t even look to see who it is before you’re muttering out an excuse to Dazai and lifting it to your ear, pacing back to the stairs to go up to your bedroom for a few minutes alone to calm yourself down.

Except naturally, the person on the other line only induces more stress in you.

“How prompt, you’re not usually so quick to answer the phone when you’re with that little distraction of yours, little hime… lover’s spat, perhaps?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“I thought you were someone else,” you say, voice dry and sharp. “Why are you calling me so late? Haven’t I seen enough of you today?”

Mori laughs airly on the opposite line. “My, your time spent with that boy has sharpened your tongue… To think that all it would take for you to start stepping out of your shell is this…”

“I’m not in the mood,” you cut him off before he can continue, tongue running along the back of your teeth in frustration. “What do you want?”

“There’s an issue at a warehouse by our ports in Shinko. The ones with the weapons being ready for transportation to Brazil. Take your subordinate and go ensure nothing is out of order—we can’t afford to be late on another shipment to Machado considering you redirected the last one to Paz.”

Instantly, you’re rolling your eyes. “Shinko is Ace’s port. Send him to get control over his territory,” you snap. “I’m busy.”

“Unfortunately, I’ve asked you. So, you’ll be going. You’ve caused enough trouble the past few weeks, I recommend you do as told without making a fuss.”

You grit your teeth but you bite back the next comment threatening to spill from your lips. Instead, you ask tightly, “What’s the issue there? What am I walking into?”

Mori doesn’t respond for a moment. “... I’m not sure. Ace got word from one of his subordinates that something was going down there, but the line went dead before he could get a response. Our cameras are down. Take your subordinate, I can have the Black Lizards ready if you wish too.”

“No,” you say, shaking your head, wandering over to your closet to grab one of your longer dark jackets. As you shrug it over your shoulders, you say, “I’ll go figure it out. I’m not making it into a big operation.”

Mori sighs. “If that’s what you want… Call me once you’re done.”

You roll your eyes as you hang up the phone, stuffing it in your pocket before leaving your room. “Look, Osamu,” you say loudly as you head down the stairs. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have let that escalate like that. I have to head out for a bit but…”

Your voice trails off when you make it down the steps and find that Dazai is nowhere to be seen. Instantly, that sick, dreadful feeling returns.

“Osamu?” you call louder, voice a bit more strained, cracking over his name.

No response.

Fuck.

“Fuck!” you shout, slamming your hands against the back of the couch before resting on it, trying to push back the nausea that builds up quickly in your through.

You fumble for your phone, finding Dazai’s contact so you can call him but your hopes are quashed when you hear it buzzing on the floor near where you’re standing—must’ve fallen out of his pocket in his rush to leave. Your vision blurs and your eyes sting with tears, your breath becomes so shuddered that you think you might be on the verge of a panic attack.

God, you can’t even remember the last time you cried, but your cheeks are unmistakably wet and there’s no torrential downpour for you to mask them with.

Now’s not the time to cry, though. You need to move. The ports are on the way to Dazai’s apartment—you’ll check out what’s happening there and if there’s some sort of disturbance, you’ll… shit, you don’t even know. Chuuya is out of commission from Corruption, Akutagawa is out of commission because the wounds he received from Arahabaki aggravated his respiratory issue, and Klaus is out of commission because he’s still suffering the effects of using his ability to heal himself as much as he did.

Maybe you’ll see if Iceman and Albatross can handle it, but Albatross already did you a favor today…

You’ll figure it out as you drive there. You can’t waste time on it now, you need to get moving. The quicker you get to the ports, the better.

Because you need to get to Dazai.