#That turned out to be too hard for me but I hope the heavy contrast and harsh lighting gives a close-ish feel!

[nausicaamusiclover20]

So, apparently my crush on James reached the stage when just reading stories isn’t enough, I have to start requesting them)))

Black album James x ballerina reader (pretty please smut), where he’s just obsessed with their size difference and the fact that she’s very flexible? Like she pretty much drowns in his shirts, her hands are fragile compared to his, etc? one day, he comes to hotel after sound check and sees her doing her stretches in his shirt and her pointe shoes and that’s too much for him? He just has to make love to her? Maybe he is making references to Beaty and the beast ballet? Like James, the beast (metal band, rough guy, always grumpy) finally captured his beauty and will not let her go?

Thank you))

I hope you like it!❤

Warnings: Explicit Content,Adult Themes, Sexual Content light Possessiveness, Physical Intimacy

___________

In the Arms of the Beast

I didn’t hear the door open—I was too lost in my stretches, the slow pull of muscles and the grounding rhythm of my breath keeping me focused. The air in the hotel room was still, save for the faint rustle of fabric as I moved. James’s shirt, massive on me, slipped over one shoulder as I bent forward, palms flat against the floor.

The shirt smelled like him—leather, a touch of smoke, and something warm I could never quite name. It made me feel wrapped in him, even when he wasn’t here.

I was midway through a stretch, my legs extended in a perfect split, when a familiar growl broke the silence.

“You trying to kill me, darlin’?”

I jerked upright, my heart skipping a beat. Turning my head, I found him standing there, his broad frame nearly filling the doorway. His boots were still on, his hair slightly mussed from the day’s soundcheck, and his eyes… Oh, God, his eyes. They were locked on me like a predator that had found its prey.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” I said, my voice softer than I meant it to be.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt.” He didn’t move, just stood there, drinking me in. His gaze traveled slowly, lingering on my legs, then the shirt that barely reached the tops of my thighs. His expression darkened, his lips curling into a crooked grin that sent a shiver down my spine. “Hell of a sight to walk into.”

Heat flooded my face, and I tried to play it off, standing and brushing down the oversized shirt. “I was just stretching.”

“Stretching,” he repeated, his voice low and rough, like gravel under heavy boots. He finally moved, stepping closer, and my pulse quickened. “You look like you’re dancing for me.”

I laughed nervously, though his intensity made it hard to breathe. “It’s not like that.”

But he was already closing the distance, his big hands finding my waist. His palms were rough against my skin, but his touch was gentle, reverent even. “You’re drowning in this shirt,” he murmured, his thumbs brushing over the fabric. “Look at you. So damn tiny.”

My hands instinctively rested on his forearms, the contrast between us impossible to ignore. His arms were solid, his muscles thick and corded under my fingers. Next to his, my hands looked fragile, almost doll-like. He noticed it too, his gaze dropping to where I touched him, a quiet groan escaping his lips.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, his voice soft but loaded with something raw. “Like somethin’ out of a story. Beauty and the Beast.”

I opened my mouth to reply, but before I could, his hand slid up, tilting my chin so I was looking right into those piercing eyes. The next thing I knew, his lips were on mine, warm and commanding. The kiss stole my breath, every bit of him consuming me in the best way.

His hands moved, gripping my hips as he pulled me against him. “Mine,” he growled against my lips. The word sent a thrill down my spine. “You’re mine, and I’m not letting you go.”

My heart pounded as I clung to him, wrapping my arms around his neck. He lifted me effortlessly, carrying me to the bed like I weighed nothing at all. His shirt rode up as he laid me down, exposing my bare legs and the ribbons of my pointe shoes.

He paused, hovering over me, his eyes dark with hunger. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”

“James…” I whispered, my voice trembling with a mix of anticipation and desire.

His hands were everywhere—exploring, testing. He bent my leg, his touch slow and deliberate, as though marveling at my flexibility. His grin turned wicked as I arched beneath him, a soft gasp slipping from my lips.

“Shh, darlin’,” he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to my neck. His teeth grazed my skin, sending a jolt of heat through me, and then his tongue followed, soothing the spot. “Let me take care of you.”

James’s hands slid under the oversized shirt I wore, his fingers brushing against the soft skin of my stomach, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. His eyes darkened as he glanced up at me, a low growl escaping his throat.

“Fuck, baby, you look so good in this shirt. But it’s in the way,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “I need to see you.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. I lifted my arms as he tugged the shirt up and over my head, throwing it to the side without a second thought. I was left exposed before him, my skin flushed and my breath shallow as he took in the sight of me, his gaze almost possessive.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he muttered, his voice rough as his hands traced down my arms, over my shoulders, and to the curve of my waist. His touch was like fire, leaving me aching for more.

His lips trailed along my neck, his breath hot against my skin, before moving lower, over my collarbone. As his hands gently cupped my breasts, I gasped at the feeling of his thumbs brushing over my nipples, hardening at his touch.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his mouth descending further, kissing along the top of my chest before moving to one nipple. He flicked his tongue over the hardened peak, sending a shiver through me.

I arched into him, my hands tangling in his hair as he lavished attention on me, his beard brushing against my skin in a way that made my entire body hum with pleasure. The sensation was both tender and intense, and I couldn't help but moan softly, feeling my body come alive under his touch.

But it was the way his hands moved, the way his fingers lightly traced the curve of my hips, that drove me wild. The gentleness with which he treated me, as though I were something precious, only added to the fire building inside.

"Please," I whispered, my voice trembling. It was a plea, though I didn’t know for what exactly, only that I needed him to make me feel.

With a soft chuckle, he pulled away for a moment, eyes dark with desire. "You’re so eager, darlin’. I’m not going anywhere. Just need to take my time with you."

His words, those quiet promises of patience, set my heart racing. Slowly, he lowered his body, kissing his way down my chest, over my stomach, and further still, until he hovered between my legs.

His eyes locked with mine, filled with a heat that made my breath catch. "Let me taste you, baby," he whispered, his voice hushed, reverent.

The words, the way he said them, stirred something deep within me. I parted my legs slightly, giving him the space he needed, feeling my pulse quicken with every inch closer he came.

 Suddenly, he lifted me effortlessly, pressing me against the cool wall, enveloping me with his warmth. I  felt my heart beating faster, his strong frame looming over me in a possessive yet gentle way. The heat of his body radiated against mine, sending shivers of anticipation down my spine.

"Y/N," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, sending a thrill through me. "I couldn’t resist. You’re just too tempting right now."

“Maybe I wanted you to,” I whispered back, feeling bold, excitement dancing in my chest.

Before I could respond further, he leaned in, capturing my mouth with his. His kiss was electrifying—hunger mixed with tenderness—as he poured his desires into the moment. I melted into him, my hands instinctively sliding into his hair, gripping the soft strands as he began to explore.

He broke the kiss to trail his lips along my jawline and down to my neck, where he lingered, his breath hot against my skin. I gasped, tilting my head back, giving him better access. “God, you taste so good,” he breathed against my collarbone.

“Then don’t stop,” I urged, shivering at his words.

As if sensing my need, he slowly sank to his knees in front of me, his eyes smoldering with intensity. I felt vulnerable yet safe under his gaze, my body aching for him.

“Please, James,” I begged softly, my voice barely above a whisper, my fingers curling tighter in his hair, a mixture of desperation and exhilaration coursing through me.

With a smirk, he leaned closer, his warm breath brushing against my core. “Just relax, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” he said, his tone both commanding and soothing. And then he buried his face between my thighs.

The sensation was overwhelming—his tongue skillfully teasing me as he explored every inch of my softness. I gasped, the pleasure sending jolts of electricity coursing through me. I couldn’t help but rock my hips closer, urging him on, craving every pleasurable flick.

“James,” I moaned, the sound of his name spilling from my lips like a sweet invitation. His smirk against me made my heart race even faster.

“Feel good, baby?” he murmured, pausing briefly. The wicked look in his eyes only fueled my desire.

“More than you can imagine,” I breathed, arching my back, desperate for more. “Don’t stop, please…”

As he continued, I felt myself teetering on the edge, every flick of his tongue driving me closer. “You’re so good at this,” I panted, lost in the moment. “You know how much I crave this.”

“Only the best for you,” he replied between teasing kisses, his voice low and sultry. He paused and gave me a look filled with heat. “You deserve to be spoiled, babe.”

With my hands gripping his hair tighter, I pulled him closer. “Then spoil me.”

He was relentless, his mouth devouring me in a way that sent shockwaves through my body. “You’re delicious,” he said, a hint of possessiveness lacing his words. “I could stay here all night.”

“God, James,” I gasped, feeling another wave of pleasure building inside me. “I’m—”

He cut me off with a hard, swift move, pushing me over the edge, and I cried out in ecstasy. Colors exploded behind my eyelids as waves of bliss washed over me.

When I finally came down from my high, he stood, brushing his lips against mine with a possessive smirk. “You okay?” he asked, concern mingling with the raw desire in his eyes.

“Better than okay,” I whispered, feeling electric currents still dancing through my body. “Now I want you.”

His brow arched playfully, desires swirling like a tempest in his eyes. “You think you can handle me?” he teased, leaning closer.

I smirked back, feeling daring. “I’ve handled you before, haven’t I?”

“Touché,” he said with a chuckle, but his expression turned serious. “You ready for this?”

“Always,” I assured him, feeling a thrill of anticipation.

With a single motion, he lifted me effortlessly, my legs wrapping around him as he pressed me against the wall. I could feel him, hard and ready, throbbing against my core, and the intensity made my breath quicken. “You’re so desperate for me, aren’t you?” he said, his voice thick with need.

“Only for you,” I breathed. “Always for you.”

He grinned wickedly, his breath ghosting across my ear. “Then let’s see how much you can take.” With that, he sank into me in one smooth motion, and I gasped as he filled me completely.

“God, yes,” I breathed, losing myself in the sensation. “You feel incredible.”

“Damn right I do,” he growled, driving deeper. “And you’re mine.”

The rhythm of our bodies colliding filled the air, the sound a symphony of passion and urgency. “Look at me, Y/N,” he demanded, his eyes locked onto mine. I nodded, surrendering completely to him, my heart racing as I matched his intensity.

“Tell me how good it feels,” he urged, his breath ragged.

“James, it feels—oh god, it feels amazing,” I moaned, my body arching against his. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”

“That's right, baby. I want to hear you say it. I want you to remember how good I make you feel,” he said, his voice low and dark, sending shivers up my spine.

“James, you make me feel so good,” I whimpered, desperate for him. “Don’t stop. Just like that.”

With each thrust, he buried himself deeper, igniting flames of pleasure that threatened to consume me. The heat between us crackled, the world beyond us fading to nothing as we lost ourselves in each other.

“C’mon, babe. Let it go for me,” he urged, his voice a gravelly whisper as he picked up the pace, the need pushing both of us toward the brink.

“James, I’m so close,” I gasped, urgency flooding my voice.

“Then let go for me,” he commanded, thrusting harder, each movement focused solely on driving me to that sweet release. I could feel myself slipping, my breath hitching.

With one final deep thrust, I came undone, a wave of pleasure crashing over me, drawing out a desperate cry that echoed in the room. I felt him surge with me, his grip tightening as he lost himself inside me, his own moans harmonizing with mine.

In the aftermath, as our breaths mingled, he cradled my face in his hands, his touch gentle amidst the overwhelming intensity. “You’re incredible,” he whispered, his eyes softening as they bore into mine.

I smiled, relishing the aftermath of our passion. “So are you,” I replied, my fingers trailing along his jaw. “You always know how to make me feel amazing.”

He chuckled softly, brushing his thumb across my cheek. “And I’ll keep making you feel that way, because you deserve it.”

With a warmth filling my chest, I leaned in and pressed my lips against his once more, feeling grateful for this moment and the man who held me so tenderly yet fiercely. In James’ arms, I knew I had found something extraordinary.

[desultory-novice]

"There Will Be Blood Shed"

" '...Don't do it?' " " 'I want to live...?' "

"I wanted to live too."

"...Once..."

-

Soooooo, as you can imagine, I finally listened to "The Only Thing I Know For Real" from Metal Gear Rising: Revengeance and while apparently the character in question became something of a meme, for a first time listener, the song hit hard enough that before I knew it, I was sketching murder boy doing what he does best.

Like, not every line hits hard, but a significant number do.

"Memories broken" -Check

"The truth goes unspoken" -To Adeleine? Oooh yes

"I've even forgotten my naaaaaame" -Check and check

"I don't know the season or what is the reason I'm standing here holding my Blade" -I love the "don't know the season" part especially because on Shiver Star "summer" is what we would call "winter." Poor, mixed up kids

"A desolate place without any trace It's only the cold wind I feel" -That's Shiver Star in a nutshell

"It's me that I spite as I stand up and fight" -"Spite" in the sense that he's only hurting himself by doing this but also he regrets finding himself forced onto this path, yep...

"The only thing I know for real There will be blood shed" -See title

"The man in the mirror nods his head" -Reminds me of the Apologies title card I drew where Noir and Blade are reflected upon each other in the gleam of the sword.

"The only one left will ride upon the dragon's back" -....Okay, I have no witty comment here. Dragons are just a rock song thing! Oh! He did wear that dragon onesie when he was little??

"Because the mountains don't give back what they take." -Pfft! I'm sorry! I got curious and listened to "Wheelchair Sam" FIRST and thanks to that visual of him rolling down the mountain, I can't hear any of the "mountain" lines without laughing XD

"Losing my identity Wondering have I gone insane?" -Ahem! Back to serious and yeah. Though, Noir was usually too focused to stop and question what he was doing (...he couldn't dare...)

 "Looking downward from this deadly height Never realizing why I fight" -Ahh...this one hurts, thinking about all the nights he would sneak out of bed to hang out on the roofs and the number of times he peered over the edge (into the abyss...) Though Noir knows why he fights, he probably spent a lot of time wondering why he's alive

-

「やめろ？」 「まだ生きたい？」 オレも生きたかった… …かつて、な。

Sometimes I hear certain chunks of dialogue in Japanese in my head first and have to translate them into English to get down what I want them to say XD And I just really like the idea of Noir being "I might've sympathized, but I just don't have room for that anymore. I have too much to do before the end and you're standing in my way."

[pellucid-constellations]

Lessons in Care

Pairing: Line Cook!Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel loves you so much. Even though you can't cook. You're trying though.

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: A small injury

a/n: Consider this a small gift to make up for me disappearing for a month <3 This is part of the line cook au, but as I've mentioned, nothing is really in order so read however you want :) The rest of this AU can be found in my masterlist right there ⬇ love you <3

Main Masterlist ♡

~~

“Like this?” You shook the pan a little harder, the handle's weight tweaking your wrist at an odd angle. 

“Almost. Try not to hold your elbow so close to your body. It won’t flip right.” 

You pressed your lips together and narrowed your eyes. “This is so hard.” 

“I believe in you,” Azriel teased, an amused upturn of his eyes as he watched you struggle. 

“Why is this pan so heavy? It’s literally like 40 pounds.” 

“It’s cast iron, baby.” 

“That’s stupid.” 

Azriel barked out a laugh, red tinting his cheeks as if he hadn’t expected the sound to leave his lips. Your mouth quirked up in a small smile despite your struggle. You shot your gaze to the side to try and catch the sweet expression that still lingered on Azriel’s face.

“Would you like me to do it?” Azriel posed after clearing his throat. 

“Of course not. I came early so you could teach me.” 

“I could teach you another time. You have class soon.” 

“Why do you want me to fail?” 

“I don’t—” 

“You totally do. You want me unable to cook for myself so I’ll always have to rely on you, and then I’ll never be able to leave you.” 

Azriel laughed again, a quiet, rumbling sound. “You caught me. Now hand that over before you hurt yourself.” 

You groaned and turned slightly to evade your boyfriend’s reach. “Az, I’m serious. Teach me how to flip these stupid eggs right now.” 

“Okay, okay. Just let me help.” 

The feel of Azriel’s hand lightly sliding over yours startled you. You jumped and your fingers twitched, the sudden motion sending the tips of your fingers too far forward until a simmering pain shot through your skin. You flung the pan back on the burner instantly, its contents splattering along the stove and into the open flame. It burned a bright orange and then settled as you held your hand close to your chest. 

You hissed a breath through your teeth and Azriel’s hands were on you. 

“Shit, baby, let me see, yeah?” he stressed, mindlessly turning the burner off without taking his eyes off you. He tugged your hand at your chest with gentle fingers. “Let me see.” 

You released the tight grip on your fingers and rested them in Azriel’s open palm. “I was just surprised. I don’t think it’s that bad.” 

Azriel’s brow furrowed as he examined your burn. He tsked, pulling you gently by your wrist over to the sink. “It’s going to blister.” 

Cool water rushed from the pipes and soothed your skin. Azriel held your wrist in a soft grip and turned your hand slowly, back and forth in a repetitive motion. 

“I don’t think so, Az. It’s not that bad.” 

Azriel shook his head. “That pan was pretty hot—I’d be surprised if it didn’t.” He looked up at you. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

You offered a gentle smile and pressed a kiss to his jaw. “You didn’t scare me.” You raised your brow playfully. “You just made me nervous. A cute guy like you holding my hand—reaching over to help me to cook. Made me all jumpy.” 

Azriel breathed out a disbelieving scoff. “I’ve done far worse than just hold your hand.” 

“Scandalous!” you proclaimed, affronted. “How can you say such things at work, Azriel? You’ll be fired.” 

“I can only hope,” Azriel grumbled. 

Azriel directed you to keep your hand under the water as he dug through a cabinet for the first-aid kit despite your protests. You truly felt that you were fine and didn’t even need a bandaid, but it was easy to forget the multitude of scars that littered Azriel’s hands and how they contrasted with your completely unmarred skin. 

That was purposeful, meaningful—Azriel worked hard so you wouldn't have to. Azriel found peace in keeping you safe and happy. 

So you let him fuss. 

“Okay, let me see again, baby,” Azriel requested, flipping the water off and reaching for your hand. Your skin stung as it met the air beyond the sink, but Azriel’s caring touch was like a balm. 

He dried your fingers with a towel and uncapped a spray bottle, coating your burn with too much of the medication before grabbing a set of gauze and tape. You stared at the materials in exasperation. Azriel didn’t notice the expression and continued to admisinister care as if you’d been in a fire.

“Az, I love you so much, but I don’t need all of that. It’s a small burn. I’ve probably done worse with my curling iron.” 

Your boyfriend only hummed and continued his work. “I don’t want it to scar. It blistered already.” 

“Yes, but—” 

“Almost done.”

You let him work. A few moments of silence passed. Azriel kept his gaze hard and his brow set in a harsh line. 

That wouldn’t do. 

Once your finger was fully wrapped and protected from everything Azriel could fear, you puckered your lips in contemplation and shook your head. 

“Still hurts really bad,” you admitted, leaning back against the counter. Azriel followed your movements, leaving little space between you. 

“What?” he questioned, a tinge of panic in his tone. “That should’ve numbed it. How bad does it hurt?” 

“Really, really bad. Like my whole hand is on fire, actually.”

Azriel—who had yet to release your fingers—stared down at them in startled befuddlement. He turned them one way and then another as if that would answer his questioning gaze, and then looked back up to meet your eyes in a way that was almost pleading. 

“I’m sorry, maybe I should—”

“You have to kiss it,” you revealed, not wanting the sad expression to linger on his face any longer. “Duh.” 

Azriel let out a breath that bordered on relief, but most of it seemed founded in exasperation. He shook his head and brought your fingers up to his lips all the same, smiling to himself as he began to kiss each of your fingertips. Even the ones that clearly weren’t burnt. He flipped your hand over and kissed the knuckles, too, capturing your eyes as he glanced at you from beneath his lashes. 

“‘M sorry you got hurt,” he mumbled with his lips against the back of your hand. “Told you you shouldn’t try cooking, baby.” 

The warm feeling that had begun to seep into your chest paled in comparison to the offended scoff that echoed in the empty kitchen. Azriel’s poorly concealed, devious smile was hidden in the kisses he started pressing into your palm, and although it would have fit the sound you let out, you didn’t pull away. 

“Azriel, you are just asking for me to—” 

“The hell is going on in here?” The kitchen door smacked against the frame as Cassian made his entrance. “Someone get hurt?” 

Azriel dropped your hand just as soon as Cassian had spotted him pressed against you, clearing his throat and turning to the disheveled first-aid kit on the counter. You brought your knuckles up to your mouth to hide your laugh at Azriel’s expense, his face flushing in vulnerability. 

“Oh, I see what was going on. You were romancing your girl, weren’t you, Az? Well, don’t let me interrupt. You came in early and everything,” Cassian teased, his hands raised in surrender. 

“We were just finishing up,” you countered, a laugh trickling through. “I have to get to class, Cass. You can start your shift.” 

“Uh huh,” Cassian smiled, raising his brows and then lowering them when he caught your hand reaching for your backpack. “You okay?” 

“She’s fine,” Azriel interrupted. He took your bag from you and slung it over his shoulder, pressing a nonchalant kiss to your head that you knew was actually not nonchalant. “I’m going to take her to school. Cover for me for 20?” 

“Sure, man.” 

“Az, I was going to take the bus you don’t have to—” 

“C’mon, baby.” 

“But I don’t even have my helmet for your bike.”

“I always bring your helmet.”

[joelscoffeemachine]

Forget

Joel Miller x f!reader

word count: 5.4k

Summary: After waking up from what felt like the best night ever, you wanted to figure out what Joel’s thoughts about what was going on, were.

Warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, Joel acting like a total jerk, language, unprotected piv, pet names, reader uses feminine pronouns, jackson era!Joel, slight fluff towards the end, arguing, angst, no use of Y/N, apologies if anything was missed.

please read A/N: guys, i tried so freaking hard to like this, but i just can’t. so, i am so sorry if you feel the same way as me. i really tried my hardest. i’m not sure if i want this to be the last part, but i can kinda feel it going towards that route, so im going to say this once, thank you so much for all the support for this mini series. i couldn’t be more grateful. thank you. and once again, i am so fucking sorry if you don’t like this. please don’t hate me. 🤗 oh, and also, ntm on the photos not matching, honestly could careless ab the damn photos.

part one part two

Joel couldn’t get a wink of sleep last night, the feeling of you being so close to him, in his arms, feeling your warm body against his, having your scent fill his nose, all of it was too much.

Every time he closed his eyes, memories of your shared night and the warmth of your touch would flood his mind, making his heart race. The moonlight filtering through the curtains enveloped a soft glow on your face, making you look even more serene and beautiful, which only added to his restless thoughts.

He laid there for a couple more hours, listening to your breathing, the way you’d mutter in your sleep, the little sounds that would escape you. Each breath you took seemed to synchronize with his heartbeat, creating a rhythm that was both comforting and unsettling. But he knew he had to leave. He knew he couldn’t stay because what was this?

What were you two?

The uncertainty gnawed at him, and the fear of crossing a line that could change everything between you both was overwhelming.

So, he eventually slid out of your bed, picking up his clothes and getting dressed. He moved quietly, trying not to wake you, stealing one last glance at your peaceful face before slipping out the door.

As he walked away, the cool night air hit him, a slight contrast to the warmth he had just left behind. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions, but he knew he needed to figure out what this meant for both of you.

—

You blinked your eyes open, the sun shining through the crack of your curtains into your room. The sheets of your bed hugged your body perfectly, stretching your arms out with a yawn.

You expected to feel a big and warm body, but you didn’t.

You just felt the ruffled-up blanket. The familiar warmth and comfort were missing, replaced by a cold emptiness that made you shiver slightly.

You turned your body, nothing. No one. He left. You glanced at the alarm clock on your bedside table, the bright red numbers glaring at you.

With it being the ass crack of dawn, you’d be expecting him to be waking up now.

Did he leave last night? You asked him to stay.

The realization hit you like a ton of bricks, and a wave of disappointment washed over you. You replayed the moments of the previous night in your head, trying to understand why he would leave without a word.

You sat up, confusion taking over your features. For some odd reason, your heart felt heavy. You wanted him to be there when you woke up. You needed him too because now that he wasn’t, was it even real?

The questions swirled in your mind, each one adding to the ache in your chest. The silence of the room seemed to echo the emptiness you felt inside.

You stood up, not bothering to put on the old bra and shirt from last night, turning the shower on as you pulled your panties off, hopping in. The warm water cascaded over you, but it did little to wash away the sense of loss and confusion. You hoped the shower would clear your mind, letting the water run down your face.

But it didn’t.

The shower didn’t work. You couldn’t get the situation off your mind. You couldn’t get him off your mind. It couldn’t have been real, but the faint memory of him running his rough fingers down your skin, the way he felt inside of you, stayed in your mind. The sensation was so vivid, it was almost as if you could still feel his touch, haunting you with every passing second.

You needed to see him. To talk to him. You prayed he wasn't anywhere but his house. The first place you could expect him to be was his house. So, you found yourself there. The walk to his place felt like an eternity, each step heavy with anticipation. Your heart pounded in your chest as you approached his door.

Softly banging on the door, no answer. Peeking through the window, no sight.

“Fucking Joel.” You whisper breathily. How fucking surprising was that. Joel Miller finally left his house.

For a second there your heart dropped, praying that he didn’t get patrol duty.

Goddamn it. I mean you could wait, but you didn’t want to.

You didn’t want to go back home, so you didn’t, knuckles bruising as you hit them against the door. The pain shot through your hand, but it was nothing compared to the turmoil inside you. Still no fucking answer. You stepped back and glanced up at the house, looking for a way to get in.

No way in from the front, window was shut tightly, curtains drawn as if to shut out the world.

So, like any sane person who was looking for a — friend, you walked towards the back to maybe get in from the patio door. But that’s when you heard it.

Sweet music, fingers strumming away at the strings from what sounds like a guitar, and sweet, and quiet humming. The melody was hauntingly beautiful, calming to the chaos in your mind.

You poked your head around the corner, Joel sitting in a plastic, white chair, guitar in hands. He nodded his head softly as he felt the music, eyes closed, and body relaxed with a cup of coffee on the small table next to him.

The steam from the coffee rose in gentle spirals, mingling with the early morning mist.

His foot tapped lightly in rhythm with the music, completely unaware of your presence.

You felt stupid. You almost broke into his fucking house all because he was unable to hear the damn knocking.

You slowly stepped onto the wood, your sneakers making a loud noise that made Joel stop playing. The sound echoed in the stillness, shattering the tranquility.

He looked you up and down, setting his guitar down with no words spoken. The silence between you hung heavy, like a thick fog that neither of you could see through.

Joel's eyes, usually so full of warmth, seemed distant as they locked onto yours. The early morning sun cast long shadows, and the gentle breeze carried the scent of dew and freshly cut grass. You could hear the faint rustling of leaves in the background, the weight of unspoken words pressed down on you, making it hard to breathe.

You let out a quiet ‘hey’, smile slightly upside down as you leaned on the railing of the patio. Your eyes were basically inviting him over, so he obliged, grabbing his coffee, and standing beside you, a gap in between.

It was pretty much awkward. It was clear he didn’t forget about the activities from last night.

“I’ve been knocking.” Your voice breaking the silence, looking at him, but he avoided your gaze.

“I’ve been here all mornin’, didn’t hear it.”

"Something on your mind?" You knew exactly what was on his mind, but you thought, if you pushed it, maybe this moment wouldn’t be so goddamn awkward.

Each second of silence stretching longer than the last.

"Nothin’ on my mind," he replied, lifting the cup up to his lips, taking a light sip.

The steam from his coffee curled up into the air, mingling with the tension that seemed almost palpable between you. His eyes, though momentarily hidden behind the rim of the cup, betrayed his true thoughts.

His eyes, dark and guarded, flickered over to you. There was a heaviness in his gaze, a storm of unsaid words and pent-up emotions swirling just beneath the surface.

His expression unreadable, before letting out a quiet, almost resigned sigh. The sound was barely audible, yet it echoed in the stillness, amplifying the tension that crackled in the air like static electricity.

He wanted you to say something. He wanted you to just be honest and tell him exactly how you felt about last night, why you were there, if you even remotely felt what he did.

Instead, you were both standing there, avoiding each other’s gazes like idiots.

Your heart raced; each beat a reminder of the words you were too afraid to speak. His sigh lingered in the air, a silent plea for you to break the cycle, to reach out and bridge the gap that seemed to widen with every passing moment.

"You gonna invite me in, or are you just gonna stand there?" You point lazily at the door.

Joel huffed a laugh, tilting his head slightly as he finally looked at you. “You’re being pushy today, ain’t ya?”

He was being a smartass, and he knew it, but it was his way of deflecting whatever the hell happened last night, and the way you were acting this morning.

The gesture is casual, almost dismissive, but your heart is going crazy. The morning sun filters through the trees, putting a warm glow on the porch where you both stand. His eyes flicker to the door and then back to you, a moment of hesitation that feels like an eternity.

His eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and challenge, the corners of his mouth quirking up in a smirk that was all too familiar. The morning light radiating a golden halo around his figure, highlighting the lines of tension in his posture that belied his casual tone.

His eyes never left yours, a silent dare for you to cross the threshold and face whatever lay beyond.

As you stood there, you knew that stepping through that door meant more than just entering his home—it meant confronting the emotions and the history that had brought you to this moment.

He shifts his weight, the creak of the wooden floorboards echoing in the quiet day.

He finally turned away from the railing, his movements deliberate and measured, as if each step was a calculated effort to maintain his composure.

He held the door open for you with his empty hand, the gesture both an invitation and a challenge.

You looked around at the nicely decorated house as you stepped into the kitchen, Joel close behind you.

The place was immaculate, with tasteful decor that felt both homey and sophisticated. You leaned against the marble island, the cool surface grounding you as you watched his every move. He stood in front of you, his presence filling the room in a way that made it hard to breathe.

“Why didn’t you stay?” you asked, your voice cutting through the silence like a knife.

You wanted to know so badly that you basically said, ‘fuck the small talk, tell me why.’ You were so straightforward, the words spilling out before you could second-guess them.

Joel’s face remained impassive, his expression a mask of cold-stone indifference. His arms were crossed over his chest, a defensive posture that only added to the distance between you. His eyes, usually so expressive, were unreadable, and for a moment, you wondered if you’d ever get through to him. The tension in the room was evident, a silent battle of wills as you waited for him to break the silence.

He took a moment as he leaned on the counter, taking in your words. He wasn’t really sure how he was supposed to answer.

A part of him, a huge part of him, did want to stay. He wanted to hold your warm body, bask in your sleepy scent, and hear your soft breath hit his neck. But he knew he couldn’t.

He didn’t know what last night was. Why you let him come to you, why you let him touch you the way he wanted to for so long.

"Well?" You push, head tilting, your gaze unwavering.

The intensity in your eyes matched the urgency in your voice, demanding a response from him.

"I don’t know. Okay? I don’t know." He finally let out, throwing his hands up, frustration settling on his face.

The rawness in his voice cut through the air, his eyes burning with a mix of confusion and helplessness.

You threw your head back at his answer, arms falling to your side as you turned around, elbows on the counter, holding your head up as you groaned. The cool surface of the counter did little to soothe the storm inside you. You felt the frustration bubbling over, the unanswered questions and the emotional tumult taking their toll.

He was frustrated for a number of reasons. Mainly because he had no idea how to act in front of you now. The lines between you had blurred, and he was grappling with the new reality, unsure of where he stood. But most of all, because you wanted an explanation for something he didn’t even understand himself.

"What is this?" He questioned, looking up at you, his arms crossed against his chest. His voice was edged with exasperation.

"You just come over here to get on my ass?" His words hung in the air, a challenge and a plea wrapped into one, as he tried to make sense of the chaotic emotions twirling around both of you.

You leaned up instantly, your body closer to his. The heat of his breath mingled with yours, creating an almost suffocating intimacy. Your eyes locked onto his, searching for a glimmer of understanding, something to bridge the chasm between you.

"No, I came here so I could understand you. But that’s never happening, is it?" Your voice was low, but the intensity of your words cut through the silence like a knife.

You could feel the tension radiating off him, the anger and disbelief that mirrored your own. The proximity made it impossible to ignore the raw emotions.

“Not when you’re acting like this.” He muttered, his voice strained, barely above a whisper.

The words were a thin veil over the tumultuous emotions roiling just beneath the surface, a desperate attempt to regain some semblance of control in a situation that felt increasingly out of hand.

Your bodies touched as you leaned closer, he was basically pressed up against you as you looked up at him, his chest rising and falling with a deep breath. The warmth of his body seeped into yours, creating an electric tension that was impossible to ignore.

He tried to keep his composure. He tried to not look at you like some piece of meat. He tried not to think about how close you were, how he could easily shove you down on this counter, or up against a wall. His mind raced with conflicting thoughts, the struggle to maintain control evident in the tightness of his jaw and the flicker in his eyes.

But you weren’t making it easy. The intensity of your gaze, the proximity, the noticeable tension—it all made it nearly impossible for him to think straight.

At this point, this man was just stressing you out. You came to the conclusion that he was just trying to forget whatever happened last night, just like you tried forgetting what happened in the stables, but now you’re glad you didn’t, but for what? Look how he’s acting now.

“Joel, you’re really just gonna act like last night meant nothing? You’re just going to move on with life after that?” Your voice was sharp, each word laced with the hurt and confusion you felt.

Your words struck him like a damn brick. Because yes, that is what he was going to do. He was just going to act like last night wasn’t the best goddamn night of his life.

“That’s what you did.” He remarked, his tone cold and detached.

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, the accusation clear.

He was right.

But you were standing right in front of him, and he could still hear the way you were moaning his name, a sound that echoed in his mind, driving him crazy.

He could still taste your lips, the sweetness lingering on his tongue, a reminder of the passion you shared. He could still smell you on him, your scent enveloping him, making it impossible to forget even if he tried.

You had no idea what to say. You weren’t going to deny it, because you do remember pushing him away, remember drinking to forget. All you could do was go along with it, even though it was going to hurt.

“Fine—“ Your voice cracked, strangled back deep in your throat. You cleared it as you spoke again. “It never happened. None of it.”

The words felt like knives in your mouth, each one cutting deeper into the fragile remnants of what you both shared. You could feel the weight of the silence that followed, a suffocating blanket that threatened to choke the last bit of resolve you had left. His eyes bore into yours, searching for a sign, any indication that you didn’t mean what you said.

But he wants to forget so fucking badly. Maybe you do too. Or maybe it’s meant to be this way.

Joel isn’t supposed to be knee-deep in your pussy. He’s supposed to be your best friend’s husband’s brother. Nothing else. It’s so simple.

Just forget. Just let it be like how it was before that day in the stables.

So, so, so, so simple.

He nodded. “Yeah.”

But you both knew it was all bullshit. He wasn’t the same man after he got a taste of you. And by the look you kept giving him, you weren’t the same either.

It’ll be forgotten. For now, at least. He won’t look at you with hungry eyes, you won’t look at him with a hopeful look.

“You should probably get going.” He muttered.

His voice was barely above a whisper, the words heavy with unspoken regret. The tension a suffocating fog that clung to every breath you took.

“Yeah.” You say quietly. You gathered yourself up, leading yourself to the front door with Joel behind you once again. None of this felt real. You felt like you were floating on your way to the door, your hands clasped together to avoid them shaking, your breath shortened.

As you turned to leave, the memories of that day in the stables flooded your mind—the way his hands had felt on your skin, the way his breath had mingled with yours. It had been a moment of raw, unfiltered passion, a moment that had changed everything.

Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat echoing the finality of his words. You forced yourself to nod, swallowing the lump in your throat.

You reached the door and paused, your hand hovering over the handle. You wanted to say something, anything, to break the silence, but the words wouldn’t come—

You can’t fucking do this.

You spun back so fast; Joel couldn’t even react. Your lips caught his, arms wrapping around his neck as he eased in closer to you. His initial surprise quickly melted away, and he returned the kiss with a fervor that matched your own. The world outside ceased to exist; it was just the two of you in that moment, lost in a whirlwind of pent-up emotions.

His hands found your waist, pulling you closer as if he needed to feel every inch of you against him. The kiss deepened, becoming more desperate and passionate, a silent conversation of everything you both had been holding back.

You could feel the heat radiating from his body, his heartbeat syncing with yours in a chaotic rhythm.

When you finally broke apart, gasping for air, his forehead rested against yours. His eyes searched yours, filled with a mixture of longing and uncertainty.

“What are we doing?” he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion.

You didn’t have an answer, but in that moment, it didn’t matter. You both knew that whatever came next, it would be something you’d face together.

He shouldn’t give in, he really shouldn’t. He should push you away and make you leave.

But then he pulled you in again.

His hands were gripping you, and he was melting into the kiss. His self-respect was crumbling with every passing second, the warmth of your body against his breaking down his defenses.

He wanted this. More than he could admit, even to himself.

The taste of your lips, the feel of your body so close to his, it was overwhelming. He surrendered to the moment. All the reasons why this was a bad idea faded away, leaving only the undeniable truth that he wanted you, needed you, in that moment more than anything else.

You quickly pulled the brown t-shirt off from his body, hands instantly gliding down the skin. His muscles tensed under your touch, sending shivers through his body.

He stumbled to the living room, lips still together, throwing himself on the couch. You slid your white top off before sitting on his lap, his semi-hard cock that hid in his pants, pressing up against your clothed entrance in the best way, causing a delicious friction that made you both gasp.

He moved his fingers to unclasp your bra, the fabric falling away with ease. Finally, pulling away, his eyes darkened with desire as he took in the sight of you, he lent kisses to both your nipples, his mouth warm and wet against your sensitive skin. He then moved to suck and bite at the tender skin on your neck, leaving a trail of fire in his wake.

Your breath was ragged, hands in his hair, pulling his head closer, needing more of his touch.

“G-God.” You whimpered, furrowing your eyebrows from the pleasure.

The sensations were too much, each touch, each kiss sending waves of ecstasy through your body. His name escaped your lips like a prayer, a desperate plea for more, as you felt yourself getting lost in the intensity of the moment.

He could hardly keep up.

His head was spinning from the taste of you, from the way you felt in his arms. From the noises you were making as he gently bit around your chest, the soft whimpers and gasps that drove him wild. He was trying his best not to just rip the rest of your clothes off and fuck you on the couch like some sex toy. But he somehow managed to maintain a certain level of patience, his grip on control tenuous at best.

He pressed kisses up your neck, breathing hot air into your skin, each exhale sending shivers down your spine.

“I swear, you’re gonna be the damn death of me,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire.

His hands roamed your body, tracing every curve, every line, as if trying to memorize the feel of you. The tension between you was electric, each touch, each kiss heightening the anticipation, the need for more.

You let out a breathy chuckle, body shuddering. You reached your hands in between both of your bodies, fingers working on unzipping his fly. When you finally got it, he lifted your body up, pants pushed down just above his knees.

His weeping tip grazed over your belly button, pre-cum rolling down onto his thighs, glistening in the dim light.

You stood up for a moment, easily taking your pants off, along with your panties, and throwing them on the coffee table. The grunt that left his mouth when you let your hole slide down his member made you feel like you were about to cum already.

He felt so good, stretching you perfectly, filling you in a way that made your toes curl.

You let yourself get adjusted, but you could tell, by the look on his face, and the way his hands bruised your hips, he wanted you to move. His eyes were dark with lust, breaths coming in ragged gasps. His grip on your hips was almost painful, but it only added to the intensity of the moment. The need in his eyes mirrored your own, a silent plea for you to give in, to let the pleasure take over.

He was trying so desperately to keep control. He wasn’t sure what had possessed him to just let this happen. He was so firm on his decision to forget about whatever happened between you both. Then you came in here, and just turned his world upside down and now here he was, cock throbbing inside your tight cunt.

You began bouncing, hands gripping his shoulders for support.

“Christ,” he moaned, head nuzzling into your neck to plant kisses all over.

Your eyes focused on the bookshelf behind the couch, somehow reading every title of the books. Joel’s hand rested on the back of your neck, the other flat on your back.

“You’re doing so good, darlin’.”

“Joel….” you whined.

Jesus, what the hell were you doing? This isn’t forgetting; matter of fact, this is making it so much worse. But you couldn’t stop. No way in hell. You just kept riding, sweat starting to glisten off of your soft skin.

Joel noticed your bouncing and grinding getting sloppy, grasping your hips so he could help.

Your body completely gave out, so tired, but his cock hit your G-spot perfectly, making you moan in his ear as loud as you could.

“I got you, baby,” he whispered, his voice a soothing balm against the chaos of your thoughts.

His hands guided your movements, each thrust precise, driving you closer to the edge. The room was filled with the sound of your shared breaths, the slap of skin against skin, and the overwhelming furosity of your connection.

Joel’s kisses became more urgent, trailing down your neck to your collarbone, each one leaving a burning imprint on your skin. His grip on your hips tightened, steadying you as he thrust deeper, hitting that perfect spot over and over again. Your nails dug into his shoulders, leaving crescent-shaped marks as you tried to hold on to the last shreds of your sanity.

Every movement, every touch, was a testament to the unspoken emotions swirling between you. The room seemed to close in around you, the world outside fading into oblivion as you both lost yourselves in the moment. Your breaths synchronized, a dance of desperation and desire, building to an inevitable crescendo.

“Joel, please…” you gasped, your voice barely a whisper, but it carried the weight of everything you couldn’t say.

He responded with a growl, his pace quickening, pushing you both to the brink. The tension coiled inside you, tighter and tighter.

Until it snapped, your hips in sync with his as your orgasm washed over the both of you, the feeling of his warm cum inside of you making your heart pound. You start working on catching your breath as he pumps his cum into you, throwing his head back with strangled groans.

You kissed his jaw, slicking his damp hair back with your hand.

He looked so good like this.

You rested your head against his chest, finally catching your cool. Not a word was spoken by him, so you decided to speak up.

You could feel his heartbeat against your cheek, a steady rhythm that mirrored the tumultuous feelings inside you.

“I don’t want to forget.”

You moved your head to look at him, your hand on the back of his head, forcing him to look back at you. His eyes, filled with a mix of exhaustion and raw emotion, met yours.

Joel’s hand came up to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheekbone.

“I don’t either, sweetheart.” he finally whispered, his voice hoarse.

The vulnerability in his eyes was familiar, a mirror to your own. This wasn’t just physical; it was something deeper, something that neither of you could deny anymore.

The room felt smaller, more intimate, as if the walls themselves were bearing witness to this moment of truth.

You both knew that this was a turning point, a moment that would define whatever came next. Your fingers threaded through his hair, pulling him closer until your foreheads touched, breaths mingling in the space between you.

“Then let’s not,” you murmured, the words a promise and a plea.

Joel’s lips found yours in a kiss that was both tender and desperate, sealing the unspoken agreement. In that moment, everything else faded away, leaving just the two of you, bound together by the intensity of your connection and the uncharted future that lay ahead.

“Okay.” he murmured.

[itacats]

Butcher Shop Connection

FT: Simon x gn!reader

Warnings: DV, abuse, please let me know if anything else should be here!🙏

SUM: The truth finally comes to light and Simon’s protective instincts kick into overdrive. His fury, tempered by the desire to help, contrasts sharply with the polished, insincere concern Tom displays when he arrives at the hospital. Though Simon’s emotions boil beneath the surface, he holds back…for now. Alone at the bar later, Simon wrestles with his frustration, plotting a way to help you escape from Tom’s grip without rushing into a dangerous confrontation.

A/N: Cue the heavy emotions. This chapter pulls no punches: it’s raw, painful, and brimming with emotional tension. Simon’s transformation from concerned friend to protective warrior is starting to take shape, and it’s hard not to feel for him as he struggles to do the right thing without putting you at further risk. As for Tom? He’s a smooth talker, but Simon isn’t going to let him off easy. Get ready for more intensity ahead. 🥊

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Part 5 - The Breaking Point

"Who did this to you?"

Your throat feels tight, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. You turn your head, unable to meet his gaze. "It’s... it’s nothing," you whisper, but even you don’t believe the words.

"Don’t lie to me," Simon says, his voice firm but not unkind. He’s kneeling closer now, his hand brushing lightly against yours. "Please. Tell me who hurt you."

Tears well up in your eyes as you try to speak, but the words catch in your throat. You’re too scared, too ashamed. And yet, there’s something in Simon’s expression—an unwavering determination—that makes you feel safer than you have in years.

“It was Tom,” you finally admit, your voice trembling. “My husband.”

Simon’s expression darkens, the storm in his eyes now a raging tempest. He takes a deep breath, his jaw clenching as he tries to steady himself. “He’s the reason you...?” He gestures toward the bruises, his voice trailing off.

You nod silently, your tears spilling over. “Please don’t do anything,” you beg. “It’ll only make things worse.”

Simon’s fists clench at his sides, his knuckles turning white. He wants to fight, to fix this, but he knows you’re right. Charging headfirst into this could backfire. He takes another breath, forcing himself to stay calm. "Alright," he says quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "But you can’t keep going back to him. You deserve better than this."

Before you can respond, the dizziness hits you again, and your vision begins to blur. Simon’s voice becomes distant, calling your name as your body starts to give out. He catches you before you hit the floor, cradling you against him.

"That’s it," he murmurs, his tone resolute. "You’re going to the hospital. I don’t care what he thinks. I’m not letting this go."

Simon carries you out of the shop, his movements quick but careful. The world around you feels like a blur, but his presence anchors you. As he helps you into his car and buckles you in, his hands linger for a moment on yours.

“Stay with me,” he says softly, his voice a lifeline. And even as darkness tugs at the edges of your consciousness, you hold onto that small piece of hope—Simon’s unwavering determination to protect you.The hospital room smells sterile, the faint scent of disinfectant lingering in the air. The hum of monitors fills the silence as Simon stands near your bed, his body taut with restrained fury. His question lingers in the air like a thundercloud, charged and heavy.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were married?” His voice is softer now, laced with a bewildered pain.

“It wasn’t relevant at the time,” you reply, tears burning the corners of your eyes. Memories of your laughter with Simon, of moments that felt so light and easy, now feel stained by the weight of this truth.

Simon’s jaw tightens, his fists curling briefly before he releases them. His eyes soften, but there’s a fire behind them that won’t be extinguished. “You don’t have to stay with him,” he says, his voice low but earnest. "If you need a way out, you don’t even have to ask. My door’s open to you. Always."

His words seep into the cracks Tom left in you, offering a glimmer of hope. But before you can find the courage to respond, the door swings open with a force that sends the moment scattering.

Tom strides in, his polished shoes clicking against the tile floor, his face painted with concern that feels more rehearsed than real. "Sweetheart, I just heard you were here. I came as fast as I could!" His voice oozes charm, but it scrapes against your nerves like nails on a chalkboard.

Simon steps back, his entire body rigid as he watches Tom approach. The air shifts, thick with tension. Tom barely acknowledges Simon beyond a cursory, insincere nod. "Thanks for your help, pal," Tom says smoothly, his tone dripping with practiced gratitude. "I’ll take it from here."

You shrink under Tom’s gaze as he turns his attention to you, his smile tightening like a snare. "Let’s get you going home, alright?" he coos, his hand brushing your arm in a way that feels more like a warning than affection.

Simon’s hands curl into fists at his sides. Every muscle in his body screams to act, to stop Tom, to protect you. But he knows—one wrong move here, one sign of defiance, and Tom might make things worse for you. So, he swallows his rage and stays rooted in place, his eyes burning holes into Tom’s back as he escorts you out.

Later that night, Simon sits at the corner of a dimly lit bar, a pint of beer clutched in his hand. Around him, the raucous laughter of coworkers and the hum of chatter feel distant, muted. He barely hears the words of encouragement or the half-hearted jokes tossed his way. His thoughts are locked on you—your bruises, the fear in your eyes, the way you shrank under Tom’s presence.

He downs another drink, the bitterness of the alcohol mirroring the frustration churning inside him. He vents to his coworkers, his voice low but taut with emotion. "I can’t just stand by and let this happen. They don't deserve this. No one does."

One of them claps him on the back, offering platitudes about patience and planning. But Simon barely hears them. Every instinct in him is screaming to act now, to confront Tom, to tear you away from the man who’s hurt you. Yet, deep down, he knows rushing in without a plan could make things worse—for both of you.

As the hours drag on and the bar clears out, Simon sits alone, his pint glass empty and his resolve solidifying. He doesn’t know exactly how yet, but he’s going to get you out of this. He’s going to protect you, even if it means facing demons from his own past—memories of fights and confrontations he thought he’d left behind.

One thought loops in his mind as he steps out into the cool night air: Tom may think he’s won, but he hasn’t met someone like me yet.

Here's the current post schedule with some upcoming stories to look forward to!

[traveler-at-heart]

Brave

Summary: The sudden loss of someone in your family leaves you broken. Natasha tries to help.

A/N: Special thanks to @happychopshoppenguin for helping me to sort out ideas for this plot.

It was a regular day for the Avengers.

Mission, explosions, fighting some bad guys and then fly back in the Quinjet.

“Fury’s gonna be mad” Clint taunts, looking at you.

“He didn’t say how to stop them from sharing the drive with the Chinese” you smile, thinking that blowing up their entire control room was a bit much. But, you were in a hurry to finish the mission and go home.

Clint rolls his eyes and steers the Quinjet.

“Alright, it’s gonna be at least seven hours. Go get some sleep, dynamite. Tasha, you ok?”

Natasha had been quiet, which was nothing new around you. To most people, it was probably the contrast in personalities; while the Russian was reserved, you were very outgoing.

You’d hope it was just that, and not that she disliked you. After a few attempts at conversation that turned cold, you decided to be cordial, but give her space.

Right now, she’s sitting in the back of the Quinjet, no visible injuries. But still, her hand is over her ribs, and she seems to be deep in thought.

You know what’s happening and that she’d never ask for help.

“Do you need to clean any wounds? I’ll take over the Quinjet while you do” you offer to Clint and he shakes his head no. Walking to the first aid kit, you pull out a bottle of water, painkillers and a pack of ice. You’re about to walk to sit next to Natasha, when you bring a hand to your forehead.

“Great. Blood and sooth. I must stink” placing the first aid stuff next to her, you mumble to yourself about taking a quick shower.

By the time you come out, Natasha has already taken a pill, and has the ice pack over her bruised ribs. Her eyes are closed, and much as you’d like to stare, you go sit next to Clint, hoping to get home soon.

—

Maria is waiting on the hangar when you land.

“Told ya” Clint mocks and you turn to glare at him.

“Did you snitch on me, Barton?”

“Y/N” Maria says, and her tone alone erases your smile.

“What’s wrong?” you say, going over every possible scenario. This is your last mission before a two week break to go back home. “Is it…?”

Your mom was supposed to have surgery. But she was fine. It couldn’t be…

“I’m sorry”

It’s as if a bucket of ice cold water was poured over your head. Your hands are so numb, you can’t feel Natasha taking one of them, her arm around your shoulders.

—

It’s been a week. Natasha tries not to think about you, mainly because there’s nothing she can do to help.

And it’s none of her business when (or if) you come back. Still, she feels a certain heaviness in her movements as she makes her morning coffee.

You always made enough for the two of you. And it tastes so much better than the one Natasha makes.

“Is Y/N around?” Maria walks in, looking for you.

“I thought she was still with her family”

“She came back earlier. It didn’t… it sounded bad. Like a family disagreement had happened on top of everything else” Maria sighs.

“Do you know what it was?”

“All I know is that her mother’s condition had been bad for a while… and then they did emergency surgery but her heart was too weak”

Natasha nods in silence, imagining how hard it must be for you. How your mother always sent something she knitted for everyone on the team on their birthdays, or how your parents would fly to visit at least once a month.

“If you see her, will you let me know? I just want to make sure she’s alright”

“Of course”

—

No one saw you, not even for movie night. It’s not like the team was expecting you, but it was quiet as the movie played on the screen, and only Sam seemed to be paying attention.

Natasha looks at the table in the middle of the room.

You always got her Dr. Pepper. Her guilty pleasure, a little indulgence in her life of strict physical activity and healthy meals.

This time, there’s only beer that no one bothers to drink. A headache threatens to sour her mood even more, but the cupboard with medical supplies is almost empty.

That’s how everything feels without you around.

Natasha had hoped you’d be at the staff meeting next Monday, but everyone took a seat, your chair remained empty.

“We have to do something” Steve says, looking around. His eyes meet Maria’s.

“Well, she’s been going on solo missions”

“And you think that’s a good idea?” Barton challenges, clearly annoyed. Would it be so hard for Fury to give a damn about his team?

“Listen, any one of you is welcomed to join her but I don’t think…”

“I’ll go” Natasha says.

“Good. Maybe she needs some… girl talk” Steve says and everyone laughs for the first time in weeks.

“Yes, we’ll braid our hair while we wait for the bad guys, Steve” Natasha mocks.

“Nice one, Capsicle” Tony says.

Truth be told, Natasha wasn’t expecting such a strong reaction when you saw her at the hangar.

“I’m on solo duty, Natasha” you say without looking at her, getting inside the small aircraft.

“Fury’s orders” the redhead lies, following you. She almost crashes against your back as you stop and turn around.

“If you’re coming, I don’t want to hear any scolding or complains. I’m running this operation”

“That’s fine by me”

Either way, from what she read on the file, it was only information extraction. And yet, you were gone for thirty minutes, after she successfully hacked into the database.

“Where the hell have you been?” Natasha scolds, forgetting about her previous promise.

“Can you get us on the air? I’ll take over in a minute” you answer, your face evidently beaten up, as one of your eyes was starting to swell.

Natasha is torn between concern and anger, but she figures it is better to talk to  you once they’re away from the enemy. With a sigh, she starts the engine and sets the coordinates of the Compound.

A spot on the floor catches her eye.

Blood. A lot of it.

“Y/N?” she stands up, looking around. Following the trail of blood, she opens up the door to the small bathroom. She sees you, your uniform torn around your thigh, a gash exposed. “Oh my God!”

“Ever tried knocking?” you say, without looking at her. Next thing you do is use the surgical stapler to close the wound, not caring to use anesthesia.

“You need stitches”

“I’m fine” you stand up, taking off the top of your uniform. Natasha spots bruises that are just starting to heal.

Maybe that’s why the medical supplies were gone the other day.

“Y/N…”

“If you’re not gonna fly, I’m taking over” you walk towards the cabin, and she stands there, looking at all the blood that you left behind.

What the hell is she gonna tell Maria when you come back?

There’s a moment of silence as you land the Quinjet. You hope that Natasha will not even start about your injury, so you wait for her to leave.

“Y/N?” 

“I’m fine, Natasha”

“I’m worried” she admits in a low voice, which catches you off guard. You’ve never thought she cared enough, not about you at least.

“I’ll stop going on missions until I’m better”

She wants to tell you it’s not enough, because an injury isn’t the issue here. But Natasha also recognizes when she’s about to cross a boundary. 

So, she just nods and leaves the hangar. The feeling of defeat comes with her as you’re left alone on the jet.

—

Another Monday, another staff meeting. 

To everyone’s surprise, you’re the last through the door. Steve sits up, but the rest of the team just looks at you, afraid that saying anything else might scare you away.

For your part, you ignore everyone but Natasha, placing a paper bag from her favorite bakery in front of her. 

She smiles at you, because it’s something you always do on Monday meetings. This time, you don’t mutter your usual excuse of being around the bakery first thing in the morning. You do give a little smile in return, and Natasha tries to ignore the warm feeling she gets from the gesture.

“Everyone, have a seat” Maria says, trying to pretend she isn’t surprised to see you as well. “We have word of a HYDRA base storing potentially dangerous technology. It’s big enough to send the whole team”

“Surely some of us could stay behind if we’re not up for it” Barton says, avoiding your eyes. He’s the only one that knows about what happened on your mission with Natasha. 

“It’s not ideal, but if anyone wants out, speak now. Very well”, she continues after a beat of silence. “Here’s the map of the facility. You leave in an hour”

—

The mission was completed. 

Barely. 

You’re holding a gauze against your side, to stop the bleeding from a bullet graze. Fury’s been called to go over what happened. 

He doesn’t seem pleased.

“You better do something about her” Tony says, his finger pointing at you.

“Stark” Barton warns but you don’t even react to his confrontation.

“No, I don’t want to hear it. If she wants to go and get killed, that’s her deal. But we were just about done with the mission when she decides to fight a dozen HYDRA agents on her own”

“We need to calm down” Steve says.

“No, there was a town a few miles south and HYDRA had nuclear warheads. Have we learned nothing? This could have been catastrophic” 

“But it wasn’t, so…”

“If you have some mommy issues to deal with, do it on your free time. I’m not gonna burden myself with civilian deaths over your trauma” 

“Tony!” Steve reprimands, standing up. They’re so busy facing each other, they never see you approaching. You throw a punch that hits Stark square in the eye, followed by another one that breaks his nose.

“Say that again, you fucking asshole” you shout, throwing a kick that never lands. It takes Steve and Bucky to hold you back. “Talk shit, Stark, see what happens” 

“That’s enough. You’re suspended, effective immediately” Fury says.

“I’ll do you one better. I quit” you push Rogers and Bucky away, not bothering to look at the rest of your teammates. 

It’s better this way.

—

It’s not hard to find you. Being a professional spy works in Natasha’s favor, but you’re basically bouncing from your apartment to the bar around the corner.

Sit and drink.

That’s all you do from the moment you walk in, around noon and then you leave past midnight. Before going up your apartment, you stop by the bodega to get another bottle of whatever cheap booze they have and call it a night.

Natasha looks from across the street, debating between going inside and talking to you or just going home.

What can she tell you to make it all better?

That’s the question she asks herself all week, and come Friday Natasha still doesn’t have an answer. 

The bar is crowded and the redhead figures it’s safe enough to go inside without being spotted.

You’re in your usual spot, leaning against the bar while sitting on a stool. The loud music and conversations make you dizzy, but you still ask for another scotch and drink half of it in one gulp.

“Are you moving anytime soon?” a twenty something year old pops out of nowhere and you don’t even look his way. “We want to sit at the bar and watch the game, I’m sure you can go be a sad drunk somewhere else”

“Fuck off” you say after finishing your drink and asking for another one. When they give it to you, the idiot knocks it from your hand. 

“You have ten seconds to apologize or leave” you rub your temples, thinking how much worse your headache will be after kicking his ass.

“I don’t think so” he says, throwing a punch at you. Even with all you drank, you’re able to avoid his fist, knocking him down in one swift motion.

“Crap” you kinda forgot he was not alone. Three more guys show up, and while you’re busy blocking some kicks, one of them manages to punch you in the face. You fall to the ground, feeling a kick to your side and a fist that connects with your nose.

At this point, you give up, thinking that getting your ass kicked in a bar is just as effective as drinking the day away.

But the next attack never comes. In fact, all three men are down.

“Get up” you hear someone say. 

It sounds like Natasha.

You try to stand, but there’s a pain in your side. Before you can collapse on the ground, arms go around your waist and help you stand, walking side by side all the way to your apartment.

The lavender scent and the gentle touch confirms it’s Natasha, and you try not to think about how much you’ve missed her.

The redhead opens the door to your apartment, letting you down on the couch. You grunt as you sit, blood running down your nose and temple.

Yeah, this is going to be the worst hangover of your life.

“Where’s your first aid kit?” Natasha says looking around the place. 

You really did miss her and the thought finally breaks you.

“What’s wrong? Where does it hurt?” Natasha kneels in front of you the minute you let out a sob, tears mixing with the blood.

“It’s not worth it, Nat. I’m not worth the trouble. You should go” you plead, overwhelmed at the guilt that’s been consuming you for weeks now.

“What are you talking about?” 

“She kept asking for me. When they were at the hospital. She wanted to see me, she was scared and in pain and I wasn’t there. My mother died and I didn’t get to say goodbye” 

“Y/N…”

“What kind of person does that? How can you fail so badly to the people that loved you?” 

“You didn’t fail”

“Yes, I did” you say, struggling to breathe.

“You didn’t. It’s ok” Natasha tries to calm you, her hands going through your hair until your breathing evens out. 

The rush of adrenaline leaves your body, and pretty soon, you’re slumped against the couch, Natasha’s hands still in yours.

—

There’s light. And pain.

A different kind than the one you’ve had. As you sit up, you feel your bruised ribs and when you grimace, the split lip reminds you your face didn’t fare any better during your fight.

Natasha…

“How are you feeling?” you turn to find the woman standing in the middle of your kitchen. 

“Like shit” you reply and she chuckles.

“There’s some coffee. It’s not as good as the one you make, but it will do. I should go” she sets her cup down, sighing.

“You don’t have to…” you want her to stay. But you don’t know what will happen if you ask her.

“I do, actually” she walks towards the door, but you endure the pain to meet her at the threshold. 

“Nat”

“No” she shakes her head, without looking back at you. “You have no idea how hard it is to watch someone you love hurt themselves”

The word love echoes, making you take a step back.

Natasha turns to look at you, a tear rolling down her cheek.

“I guess you were bound to find out eventually”

“Natasha” you plead, not knowing what to say.

“No, I don’t want to hear it. I won’t go into this when you’re going through hell and all i’ve done is watch you from afar. I guess I just want you to know…” she wipes the tears and looks at you. “You buy my favorite brand of peanut butter. You wake up one hour before I do, but the coffee is done only when I’m up. My water bottle is always full and cold before going to the gym. You charge my phone when I forget to, and when it’s late and I’m still working you stop by and tell me you made too much pasta just so I eat something…. You’re not a bad person. You’re wonderful and I wish I could have told you sooner. I’m sorry” Natasha turns around and leaves.

You don’t stop her this time.

—

It’s been three days and Natasha hasn’t heard from you. To be fair, she said a lot of things and didn’t wait for you to reply, so that might have been a bad idea.

Talking to Clint might be the only solution and she’s looking for him when you leave the conference room, followed by Maria and Steve.

Tony approaches you from the other side and Natasha waits around the corner.

“I’m sorry about what I said” Stark says and you nod.

“Fair enough. Not sorry about punching you, though”

“Fair enough” he repeats, smiling.

When they all leave, you turn back, your eyes meeting Natasha’s.

“Hi” you approach her, hands inside your pockets.

“How are you feeling?”

“Sober”

“That’s good”

“Mhm” you nod, holding her stare. Your eyes travel to her lips and you sigh. “Can we talk?”

“We don’t have to…”

“I wanna show you something. It won’t take long, I promise. What do you say?” you offer your hand and she stares at it for a second.

When Natasha nods and takes it, you hold her tight, leading her out of the Compound.

—

“She loved Central Park” you remember, walking around the benches, Natasha’s hand still in yours. “The whole city, really”

“She liked it because you live here, I think” Natasha says and you nod.

“Well, that and the pizza”

“Right” the redhead nods. You find a bench and lead her to it, pointing at the plaque.

Love is only for the brave, followed by your mother’s name.

“Is something she said often. Figured it might be nice to have it here, for people to read and gather courage”

“That’s a beautiful way to remember her” Natasha nods, aware that you’re moving closer.

“I didn’t get a chance to tell you what I thought back at my place, Nat” 

“You don’t need to explain anything” she interrupts, giving you a way out.

“I didn’t think you liked me that much. And I absolutely thought I was being more discreet about my feelings for you” 

“It’s hard for me to think that love makes you brave… or strong” Natasha says, taking a step forward so you’re inches apart. 

“I know. Please let me show you?”

“I think I’d like that” she nods, leaning forward until your lips meet in a short kiss.

When you break apart, you remember that time your mother visited. How she insisted Natasha looked at you in a special way. 

“What’s so funny?” Natasha asks against your lips when you smile.

“I love you” you say and she pulls you closer.

Everything will be ok, as long as you have each other.

[tsumuus]

sometimes the person you fall for isn’t ready to catch you

The weight of your feelings for Shoto Todoroki had always been a silent burden, one you carried with careful deliberation. You’d known him for years, watched him grow from the reserved, conflicted teen in UA into the poised and powerful Pro Hero he was today. Through it all, your friendship remained constant, a steady foundation you both relied on, even when the world around you was chaotic.

But somewhere along the way, things changed. Your heart started to race when he was near, your thoughts lingered on his gentle, thoughtful words, and the space between you felt charged with something unspoken. You weren’t sure when admiration turned into affection or when that affection grew into something deeper, but you were sure of one thing- you had fallen for Shoto Todoroki.

And it was terrifying.

The feelings you harbored were a fragile thing, a delicate balance of hope and fear. You didn’t want to lose what you had with him, the bond you’d nurtured for so long. But the more time you spent with him, the more your heart ached with the need to tell him, to lay it all bare and hope against hope that he might feel the same.

But Shoto Todoroki wasn’t known for catching people. He wasn’t known for diving into emotions or revealing the deep inner workings of his heart. He was quiet, reserved, and careful with his affections. And you were afraid that if you confessed, you’d be left in that silence, caught in the cold of his uncertainty if he didn’t feel the same.

It was late one evening when you found yourself sitting beside him on the rooftop of his agency, the city lights glittering below like a sea of stars. Shoto had always liked it up here, the quiet that contrasted with the chaos of his daily life. It was one of the rare moments when you saw him at ease, his usual composed expression softened into something more contemplative.

“You’re quiet,” he remarked, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. His voice was calm, but there was a subtle concern in it that only someone who knew him well would notice.

You forced a smile, trying to push away the thoughts that had been plaguing you all night. “Just thinking.”

“About what?” he asked, turning his gaze fully on you, the intensity of his mismatched eyes making it even harder to breathe.

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. The words were on the tip of your tongue, desperate to escape, but they clung there, weighed down by the fear of what could come next.

“I… I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” you began, your voice shaky despite your efforts to keep it steady. You could feel his eyes on you, his focus unwavering, and it made the confession that much harder. “It’s just… I’ve been feeling this way for a while, and I don’t think I can keep it to myself anymore.”

Shoto’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes- surprise, maybe, or concern. “What are you trying to say?”

You swallowed hard, the words finally spilling out in a rush before you could stop yourself. “I like you, Shoto. More than just a friend. I’ve liked you for a long time now, and I just… I needed to tell you.”

Silence. The air between you seemed to freeze, your heart pounding so loudly in your chest that you could barely hear anything else. Shoto’s expression remained calm, almost too calm, his eyes searching yours as if he was trying to find the right response.

“yn, I…”

Your heart sank at the hesitation in his voice, at the way he seemed to struggle with his words. Shoto wasn’t one to speak his emotions easily, and you could see the conflict in his eyes, the way he was trying to find the right words, the right way to let you down gently.

“I don’t know what to say,” he finally admitted, his voice soft but heavy with the weight of his uncertainty. “I care about you, yn. You’re important to me, more than you know. But… I’m not sure if I can return those feelings. Not in the way you deserve.”

The weight of his words settled in your chest, heavy and suffocating. You had known, deep down, that this was a possibility, but it didn’t make it any easier to hear. It didn’t stop the ache that spread through you, the hollow feeling of rejection that gnawed at your heart.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, though it was anything but. “I understand.”

Shoto’s eyes softened, and there was a deep sadness in them, a regret that he couldn’t express more clearly. He reached out, his hand hovering just above yours before he pulled back, as if unsure whether he had the right to cross that line.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said quietly, his voice laced with a sorrow that made your chest tighten. “You mean a lot to me, yn. But I’m still trying to figure things out. I don’t want to rush into something and end up hurting you more in the end.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I appreciate that, Shoto. I do. I just… I just needed to tell you.”

Shoto’s gaze remained on you, his eyes filled with a mix of emotions you couldn’t fully decipher. “Please don’t distance yourself,” he said, his voice almost pleading. “I don’t want to lose what we have.”

You offered him a small, sad smile, trying to push away the tears that threatened to fall. “I’m not going anywhere, Shoto. I promise.”

But as you sat there beside him, the space between you feeling wider than ever, you couldn’t help but wonder if that promise was one you could keep. Because while you were willing to wait, to be patient, you weren’t sure how long you could bear the weight of unrequited feelings, how long you could keep pretending that everything was okay when it wasn’t.

Sometimes, the person you fall for isn’t ready to catch you. And as much as it hurt, you knew that Shoto Todoroki wasn’t ready to catch you. Not yet.

masterlist

a/n i have to wake up in less than 5 hours bc i have senior sunrise, and instead of going to sleep as soon as i finished my hw i sat down and wrote this🤗 yw ig<3333 or not bc this is angsty lol i will make up for it soon

[neptuneiris]

could you pretend to be in love? (02/10)

The Contract

pairing: modern!aemond × fem!reader (fake dating)

summary: there is no turning back now and now you and Aemond set the rules and conditions to start the whole farce.

word count: 4.6k

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HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!🥳

I thought this would be a very nice way to wish happy new year to all of you beautiful people who support me and like what I write, you don't know how much that means to me🥺

thank you for so much support and for so much love, I have loved being here and I definitely plan to stay for longer, seeing how that love evolves and my place here as a writer🥰 so enjoy a lot this new chapter that I really hope you like it a lot❤

many blessings to all of you, my best wishes for your lives in this 2024, I love you all so much!😊❤

enjoy!

It's the first thing you see after turning off the alarm and you curiously enter to read the recent messages from an unknown number, not having the slightest idea of who it might be.

But you let out a long sigh of frustration when you read them and see that it's Aemond, who you don't understand how the fuck he got your number. Of course, it shouldn't have been hard for him, just a few questions and anyone can tell him what he wants to know.

And knowing that you have a long day ahead of you today, you already feel the pressure all over your body when you haven't even left your bed, where you also feel the frustration and all this uncertainty that you thought you had already overcome, but no.

You barely accepted yesterday and suddenly putting the plan into action from one day to the next, it's too much. But without really having a choice, you reluctantly force yourself to get up and start getting ready.

After an hour, you leave your house with the nagging feeling of carrying a weight on your shoulders to school. And all the way there, not even the music in your ears can make your mind calm down for a moment.

Knowing very soon that your whole social life will be a mess and you will no longer be invisible, since after all Aemond was right in that respect, causes you even more uneasiness and also nervousness because you are going to pretend to be the girlfriend of the most popular guy in school.

And once the bus makes its stop, you soon enter the halls of the bustling school. And knowing that a certain silver-haired guy is waiting for you right now, every heavy step you take towards the schoolyard echoes loudly in your ears, increasing your nervousness and anxiety.

You're even tempted to back up and tell him to forget it, but you resist and keep moving forward.

As you walk through the huge doors of the backyard, it's only a matter of time before you make out the figure of Aemond sitting at the same table as yesterday in the distance. Your heart skips a beat and you feel more nervous, but gathering your courage and taking a long breath, you advance towards him, ready but with uncertain steps.

Every step seems heavy, as if you are walking into the unknown and you try to hide the nerves in your gaze, especially when Aemond notices your presence. He watches you and slowly turns to you, a subtle smile on his lips.

Again there is that feeling of telling him to forget it, to find someone else, that you can't do this. But... your mind stops you and screams at you not to be silly, that at the end of it all there will be a reward, a very good reward that getting it by faking a relationship with him, is nothing.

And it's definitely worth it.

So resigned, you reach out to him.

"Hey," he says to you without wiping off his little smile, as you take a seat in front of him and he waits for you to finish settling in, "So you've come."

"Don't bother me," you tell him without humor, definitely contrasting his mood to yours.

"Now what did I do?"

"That," you point to his face, "You're enjoying this, seeing that I haven't backed out."

"Oh, please, I actually thought you wouldn't come and tell me to fuck off after you thought better of it," he justifies himself.

"Yeah? Well, nothing a free admission to your dream college won't do," you say with a slightly sarcastic tone, though implicitly admitting your reasons, "And it's actually not like I like skipping classes, so could we get this started?"

Aemond exhales long, averting his gaze from yours for a moment before returning to watching you.

"You know you'll have to be charming and act like you're completely in love with me in public, right?" he poses, expectantly.

"Yes, I know... in public," you point out to him, "Just now no one knows we're 'dating' genius," you add, underlining the falsity of the situation.

He places a small, amused, smirk on his lips.

"Yet."

He adds with a slightly defiant tone and you roll your eyes.

"Don't get too excited either."

"Are you not?"

"Oh yeah, I can't handle the excitement," you feign in a high-pitched, ironic voice, making exaggerated hand gestures.

Aemond lets out a short but genuine laugh at your gesture. He leans back slightly, his eye revealing a mischievous glint as he watches you.

"Glad to see you're keeping your sense of humor in this," he says with his tone changing slightly to a more relaxed one.

"I don't have much choice, do I?" you reply, accepting his change of mood, but still maintaining a certain emotional distance.

You figure it's just a matter of the two of you getting more into trust, and if you're going to do this with him, you're definitely going to do your part. But for now, this is still a little awkward and unexpected. And the sooner you do this, the better it will be for you.

So you shift your focus and lean forward slightly with a more serious expression on your face.

"So let's get started?"

"Well, making a contract will take up a lot of our time, so I thought it would be easier to just say and agree between us-

"It will be easier this way, to write down and establish the rules and the conditions we want to do during all this, just to have everything clear and not miss anything, Aemond," you interrupt him, taking out a notebook and a pen to start writing.

"Okay, fine," he says, shrugging his shoulders.

"So?" you watch him expectantly with the blank sheet of paper in front of you and your pen in hand, "What do you suggest first?"

"Well... first we need to know when this will all end," he begins to say, adopting a relaxed but firm stance, "And I would say that it may end when it is no longer necessary for both of you to continue pretending. But I think it's a better idea for us to last until graduation."

He proposes, looking at you intently, waiting for your reaction and you can't help but be a little surprised to hear that.

"Until graduation?" you repeat and he nods, "But you really want to do this for almost five months?"

"I know it's a long time, but that time can be beneficial for both of us," he explains, "That's enough time to give our relationship credibility and authenticity and it's also enough time to handle any problems that arise."

He says and you nod cautiously, evaluating his words.

"But if you disagree, tell me," he hurries to say.

His calm tone and your reasons contrast with the uncertainty and indecision you feel. And the two of you have barely started.

Five months is such a compromising situation and it generates some concern, because you know you will face so many things you still have no idea about and every day it could become more complicated to maintain the farce.

"I guess it's okay," you cautiously admit, trying to see the big picture, "But I feel like it's still a long time. But also reducing that time might not be enough," you agree.

"Yes but I'm sure we can handle it. And don't worry, if at some point we feel it's too much or we don't have enough reason to keep pretending anymore, we can talk iand end it."

You remain pondering, considering his words and after a few seconds you nod in agreement, and write it down as the first point on the sheet. But this alone is the first piece of a much more complicated puzzle.

1. Duration of relationship: Until graduation.

And Aemond also brings up the next point of the contract, expressing his ideas with quiet but evident assurance.

"Now, second..." he begins, "As for behavior in public, we should genuinely show affection in the hallways, cafeteria, and at any school activity and event. In a relationship people don't take their hands off each other, so we should smile at each other, hug each other, make subtle gestures, hold hands-

"Don't say kissing, please," you interrupt him, pleading, taking him by surprise.

"Of course, Y/N," he tells you instantly, incredulous, "Obviously we'll have to kiss."

As if having to act completely in love with him and be every moment touching him isn't enough. But the idea of kissing seems a bit much to you.

"I agree about showing affection and all that, but that kissing thing might be awkward and... weird," you say, trying to be sincere but not seeming completely closed off to the idea.

Aemond looks at you incredulously.

"So you don't want us to kiss?"

"I don't think it's necessary, honestly."

"Are you crazy? How are we supposed to pretend if we're not going to kiss? No one's going to believe us if we don't kiss and that's what will literally make the whole relationship believable," he insists, visibly concerned.

"Yeah, I get that it might seem necessary, but...at least I don't want to be having to kiss you every single time."

"You don't want to kiss me?" he asks you, visibly surprised, confused and... maybe a little hurt?

You watch him silently for a moment not understanding his reaction and then watch him with a small amused smile.

"I'm not one of your fans, Targaryen."

"Oh come on, everyone wants to kiss me," he says confused and incredulous, proving his point.

"Even the guys?"

"Well... yeah, I don't know, maybe some of them," he says with a shrug.

"Seven Hells," you mutter, averting your gaze for a moment, "I-I really don't want to do that," you say, speaking seriously and then you let out a sigh, "But you're right that no one's going to believe us-

"Obviously. I always have," he is quick to say.

"So my proposal is this... we'll kiss, yes, but only when it's extremely necessary, and when I say extremely necessary I mean extremely necessary."

You watch him intently, keeping yourself willing with your proposal, waiting for his opinion, which judging by his face, he doesn't quite agree with.

"And what would those extremely necessary moments be exactly?" he inquires, attentive and interested, also still looking slightly worried.

"In the cafeteria or in the hallways when everyone is obviously looking at us and we're attracting attention. Just don't abuse it."

Aemond lets out a long breath.

"Well, let's limit them to extremely necessary moments," he finally says resignedly and you quickly note the second point.

2. Behavior in public: Show affection as genuinely as possible in public, such as gestures, hugs, and holding hands. KISSING ONLY WHEN EXTREMELY NECESSARY.

"But then that second point is also going to apply to the parties you'll be going to with me and my lacrosse games you'll be going to."

You quickly raise your gaze to him.

"What?"

"Yes," he nods, "Going to the parties together will also lend credibility to the relationship and obviously we have to be very close to each other. And it's the same in my games, you must go to support and encourage me, like any girlfriend in love with her boyfriend would."

Aemond's words provoke an instant reaction in you, that confusing you and taking you by surprise.

"But I don't go to parties."

"Now you will," he says with a calm expression, reaching out his hand and taking the pen and your notebook.

"But-

He is already writing in a section further down the sheet which he lists as; 'additional conditions'.

Parties.

Lacrosse games.

"Aemond, I'm not a big fan of parties, really," you insist, "You'll have a bad time if you take me with you and I'll probably ruin everything."

"Don't worry, I'll teach you the trick to having a good time and change that mentality you have. Besides I won't take you to every party, just a few," he assures you, "All while keeping up appearances," he hands you back your notebook and pen, "With me you'll never get bored, I promise," he says with a small smile on his lips.

You let out a sigh, placing the notebook back in front of you, still undecided.

"Yes? Well, we'll see about that. I warned you though."

He lets out a soft little laugh.

"Come on Y/N, you can't be that bad."

"I assure you I can be."

"And so what do you do for fun?" he asks you, keeping his smile, curiosity evident in his gaze.

And there it is, the question that totally describes your personality and that in fact you don't like to answer to just anyone, because then they call you boring. But you can't lie to Aemond, he is astute enough and would notice.

So you decide to be honest.

"I like to read," you reply, lowering your gaze and feeling slightly embarrassed, "And I love going to the movies or watching movies and shows at home, either one is totally fine with me. Oh... and... hm... I also like ice skating, although I don't do that as often but... it's something I like too."

And even though it's only a bit of the world of things you like, Aemond listens to you attentively with a soft expression, saying nothing afterwards, as if he's processing every word you've said, while you only feel more embarrassed by the silence.

You know there's nothing wrong with it but it always made you insecure to share your hobbies, mostly because you know that many girls your age enjoy their teenage years going out with friends to parties and getting drunk.

That didn't and doesn't appeal to you now. You have long been more comfortable with the idea of staying home or going out somewhere else instead of going to parties.

It's not as if you don't attend or avoid every social event, yes you can attend and have a good time depending on who you are with and where, but not as often as every weekend.

However, you understand and recognize the logic behind Aemond's suggestion and that is that attending parties, is essential. And just as he is about to finally speak, you do so first.

"I know they are simple things and are not very exciting for most people. I also know they can be very boring but for me... that's what I like," you shyly confess.

"Hm," he says, taking a small moment, watching you softly, only causing you even more embarrassment, "Well, that's not what I was going to say," he says, catching your attention, "Sometimes it is the simple things that mean the most to everyone and, being honest... I find them interesting," he adds, trying to evaporate any awkwardness and embarrassment you might feel.

You raise your gaze, meeting his bright blue eye watching you softly and with his gaze full of genuine understanding, along with that hint of curiosity. And that gets your attention too.

He's not judging you. And even though it's not something he would do or at least hasn't tried to do yet, he's not judging you for it and you see that genuine interest in his gaze.

"Tell you what, for every party you go to with me, I'll read one of your favorite books or a movie or shows you want me to watch," he says, picking up the notebook and pen again.

"What?" you look at him confused, unable to help but smile in bewilderment, "Are you serious?"

"You must set your own conditions too," he states as he writes, "I already dragged you into my world, so now you're dragging me into yours," he looks up at you, "What do you think? Is it a fair exchange or not?"

His proposal takes you by surprise and also confuses you a little, however, the small smile remains on your face.

The genuine expression of openness on his face and the determination with which he wrote definitely makes you feel more comfortable. His willingness to immerse himself in your interests was not something you had agreed upon from the beginning, nor is it something extremely necessary to fake a relationship.

But it's for the simple reason that you both feel comfortable if you're going to pretend for almost five months and it seems like a nice gesture from him to include it, something you honestly didn't expect from him.

And when he gives you back your notebook, you see the new rule under 'additional conditions'.

For every party Y/N goes to with me, I will read a book or watch one of her favorite movies or shows.

"Yes," you nod, "Sounds like a fair deal to me."

Aemond smiles, pleased with your answer and also seeing the expression on your face.

"Great. We'll see if I discover something new I like. And you too..." he points at you with his index finger, "You won't regret it after you have a great time at my parties," he says enthusiastically, with a sort of complicity in his tone.

"Well, we'll see if you manage to impress me."

And right there, the two of you exchange complicit glances, Aemond having that little smile on his lips while you don't understand this strange new alliance the two of you are building.

But even though you didn't expect it, it's definitely to your liking.

"Now, third..." you point to the notebook with your pen, "Reinforcing the second rule, public appearance," you say, observing him, "We must act as a committed and attentive couple to each other at school and to these parties you want us to go to."

Aemond nods determinedly, thoughtfully.

"Yes, commitment at all times," he states seriously.

"So, that also means that neither of us can be with other people for the duration of all this, not even secretly," you add, making the point clear.

"And you want to write that as a rule too? It's obvious that neither of us should-

"I'll write it as the fourth rule, just to be clear about everything as I told you."

"Oh, fine."

3. Public appearance: Act like a real couple in love, be committed and attentive to each other at school and social events.

4. No involvement with other girls/guys: No casual encounters or texting with anyone else for the duration of the fake relationship.

"Oh and also..." says Aemond, reminding, "Since we're at that point, on additional conditions write that we should both upload photos and videos together on our social media. It's another way to lend credibility to our relationship."

"Photos and videos together on our social media," you repeat, looking at the notebook.

And this catches Aemond's attention.

"Don't tell me you don't use your social media," he says beginning to sound alert and concerned.

"No, no, I-I mean, yes," you hasten to say, "It's just... I don't know, I most likely don't use them as often as you do, besided I have very few followers."

"Don't worry, whatever followers you have are fine. Besides, I'm sure they'll increase when I upload my first photo with you."

You roll your eyes with an amused smile.

"Okay, Mr. Popularity."

"And speaking of that, hand me your Instagram and all your networks," he says instantly, grabbing his cell phone from his front pocket, "We better have that all figured out now."

Obviously Aemond's accounts had to be public while you maintain your privacy, with barely thirteen hundred followers while he has almost the entire school following him and probably from other schools as well.

In fact, your numbers compared to his are embarrassing. But you never really had the interest of having more followers on Instagram or more friends on Facebook, Snapchat is the same and apparently that doesn't matter to Aemond.

Upload photos and videos together to our social media.

"And well, I also think another very important thing is to maintain privacy," you suggest, lifting your gaze to watch him and Aemond gives you a confused look.

"Do you really want to write that down too? It's obvious we can't tell anyone-

"Let me enjoy this, Aemond. It's actually fun and I want to write it all down. So act serious," you ask.

He lets out a choked laugh.

"Well, yes, we must be discreet, no one must know that all this is false, only we know the truth and we must keep it that way," he says and you excitedly write it down.

"We mustn't involve our families in this either," you add, watching him intently, "But that will be difficult because your siblings are here," you grimace.

"We can keep up the farse with them for a while too, I'll convince them not to say anything to my mother or the rest of my family. And once everyone here at school is convinced enough, I'll tell the truth only to them," he say sure and confident, solving the problem.

"And you're sure you'll manage to keep them that way?"

"Yeah," he says with a shrug, "They're my siblings. I know how it works with each one."

5. Maintain privacy: Tell absolutely no one about the fake relationship or involve each other's families in it.

"Oh, right, I almost forgot..." Aemond says as he points to what is already written, "You must also go on each year's trip to Dragonstone with me. That's another additional condition of mine."

"What?" you inquire again, surprised and confused.

"Yes, the trip to Dragonstone," he affirms.

Oh God, the trip to Dragonstone.

Dragonstone is an island not far from King's Landing, where there is an ancient castle with a lot of history but has been modernized with the same name and is open to every visitor.

The school makes an annual trip for educational purposes as the castle has relics and structuring from thousands of years ago. You have seen pictures and videos where everything looks really beautiful, ancestral and almost royalty.

In addition the castle offers other activities, such as rides on its huge luxury yachts, surfing, diving and swimming lessons.

You always had the spirit to go but have always known that the trip is anything but educational. You've heard stories that happen with the students, such as getting drunk, partying on the yachts, hot tubs and obviously you've heard stories of who slept with whom.

Even the most reserved get to have fun and it's not something you're interested in. You know you don't fit in that environment, especially since everyone has to share a room and you're sure that if you go, you'll have to share a room with girls with different tastes and perspectives than yours. They probably won't even let you sleep.

"Come on Y/N, you've never been to Dragonstone?" asks Aemond incredulously, noting the grimace on your face for wanting you to go there with him.

"Well, yeah I've wanted to go but... I-I, I don't know, I've heard that instead of learning about the place, everyone goes to having fun, they party, they get drunk and I-I don't...

"And what do you expect us to do in a modern castle on the shore of the beach with yachts and hot tubs?" he inquires again, expectantly, "The trip is planned for the middle of the last month of these five months and you can't let me go alone with the things that go on in that place."

You make your grimace more visible, revealing your clear indecision. And even though you and Aemond have been at odds lately over the matter of tastes, he still places a soft smile in your direction, understanding that you are not like him and prefer to do other things.

"Look, you don't have to go to the parties and drink if you don't want to," he starts to tell you, "But we can at least go to one of the parties on the yachts and then do the activities they offer on site, swimming, diving and all that," he proposes, "We'll take pictures, tour the castle and we'll both be equally satisfied."

You ponder for a moment, considering his proposal. You know you only have to get your father's signature on the permit to be able to go to the island and it's not like you've gone before so... you can do it now.

"Well, I guess that's fine," you nod, "But really promise you won't leave me alone and we'll take the time to do other activities that aren't related to partying on yachts and hot tubs."

"Please, we'll go as a couple, so of course I won't leave you alone. You'll be stuck with me," he assures you, "And I also promise you that we'll do other activities, not just the parties."

"And..." you start to say, in a serious, warning tone, "Also promise you'll pick me up every morning to bring me to school. That's another one of my additional conditions. The bus isn't very comfortable anymore."

He nods, shrugging, completely unconcerned.

"Sure, it's no problem. Besides it will make the relationship more credible," he says softly.

Despite your doubts, you feel a sense of relief at seeing and acknowledging his commitment. And you also feel more confident knowing that you have his support in all of this, even in your conditions. So you write down the two new additional conditions.

Drive Y/N every morning to school.

Dragonstone trip.

At the end you both sign the sheet, looking honestly ridiculous but being funny, then both seal the whole contract by shaking hands.

"So when do we start all this?" you ask him, putting away your notebook and pen.

"I say tomorrow," he gives you a look of understanding, "But we need to talk now during classes in the hallways or in the cafeteria, so that when they see us together tomorrow, it won't be so surprising and will seem more believable."

You give him an unsure look.

"I think it will still be very surprising, Aemond."

"It doesn't matter, we just have to start showing together today, just talking. But tomorrow is when we really start."

And just as he says those words, with that determination, you feel again those nerves in your lower abdomen and that insecurity. But at least you still have all day today to mentally prepare yourself, and you're grateful for that.

"And before I forget this too..." he says again, "I need you to send me all your academic information to work on your college application now," he tells you seriously and you watch him completely attentively, "The five months will go by fast and during that time college applications will start. So it's best to get it all in now."

At this, you feel your heart start to beat fast and you don't know why, you guess because it's a very important issue for you. And more than anything else it's the reason you agreed to do this with him.

"Yeah, yeah, sure," you say softly, "I-I'll email it all to you."

He smiles softly in your direction.

"Very well," he nods at you, "I'll text you my email."

Despite your slight doubts about whatever is going to happen next, the idea of starting a fake relationship leaving you with a knot in your stomach and feeling your emotions mixed, you know this will all be worth a try.

So you pick up your phone and you start to write in an email all your personal and academic information. While at the same time all is said and done and the fake relationship contract is over.

THE CONTRACT

Duration of relationship: Until graduation.

Behavior in public: Show affection as genuinely as possible in public, such as gestures, hugs, and holding hands. KISSING ONLY WHEN EXTREMELY NECESSARY.

Public appearance: Act like a real couple in love, be committed and attentive to each other at school and social events.

No involvement with other girls/guys: No casual encounters or texting with anyone else for the duration of the fake relationship.

Maintain privacy: Tell absolutely no one about the fake relationship or involve each other's families in it.

ADDITIONAL CONDITIONS

Parties.

Lacrosse games.

For every party Y/N goes to with me, I will read a book or watch one of her favorite movies or shows.

Upload photos and videos together to our social media.

Drive Y/N every morning to school.

Dragonstone trip.

general taglist

@melsunshine @at-a-rax-ia @jxdegodfrey @ttkttt @yentroucnagol @kate-to-the-ki @iamavailablesstuff

[from-luna]

can I ask for toji and kento with dacryphilia and edging ? Thank you so much in advance!

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 ➵ cockwarming, ruined orgasm, begging, dacryphilia, degradation/light humiliation, light belly bulge with toji's fat cock, vibrating dildo, begging, edging, light restraint, some pussy spanking with toji's heavy cock, sir/brat

𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐥𝐮𝐧𝐚 ➵ you’re welcome! Toji would tease just for the fun of it. But sweet Kento would only do this when you’ve stepped out of line with some attitude and he has some anger to take out. (Pssst: Kento’s is beneath the cut!)

𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢

Fat tears roll down your cheek. Clenching Toji's hard cock, his pulsing veins hinting he wants to move. Trying again, hoping he would give in and fuck you stupid the way you've been craving.

Sniffling before pleading, "Wanna cum please Toji! It's been two hours, I need to cum! Please Toji let me cum. Please! Please!" Your voice is thick with tears. Leaning back, shifting your hips. Biting into your bottom lip as he sinks deeper inside of you.

Pushing at your cervix, as if Toji is going to push past any moment. You're going to burst from how full he is. He spreads his hand out on your stomach. Which is puffier with his cock nestled deep inside.

Grabbing your hips, lifting you off his cock. His arms bulge underneath your hands as he flexes them for show. Digging your nails in as he scoffs,

"You're such a big slut for my cock, you're crying over it?" Planting his feet and slamming you down as he thrusts his hips up. The loud smack of skin on skin can't cover up your moan of relief.

Your eyes roll back and he smirks while asking, "You're a pathetic pervert with a greedy pussy aren't you?" His pace is rough, reaching in deep, hitting your cervix. A sharp contrast to the gentle rubbing of his cock head just moments prior.

Babbling to Toji, with tears rolling down your cheek. "I'm a crybaby pathetic pervert. I don't care if you fuck me in front of the window with everyone watching." His thick fingers sink into the fat of your hips as he bounces you faster on his cock. Sliding your pussy along his cock as effortlessly as he would a cock sleeve.

"You're crying makes me want to bully your pussy more. Want to see you sobbing even more than you want to cum on my cock. Come on baby, show me more of your pretty tears." Leaning forward, he stands up and lays down on your back. With your butt hanging off the sofa.

Rutting his cock quickly into you without missing a beat. Building up the pressure in your gut, which promises to burst at any second. After fluttering so close to the edge several times it wouldn't take much now.

Pleading with Toji, "I just need to cum! I'm getting so close! So quickly. Nnn your cock is so good, just a few pumps. And I'm! No, don't stop!" He pulls his cock out, slapping your pussy, His heavy girth making it sting more with every harsh hit.

𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨

Swirling the glistening tip of the clear dildo to your clit. "You should know you can't lie to me." Yanking at the rope binding you to the bed. Grinding your hips on the toy desperate to cum before he takes the toy away.

Kento catching on flicks off the toy. The sudden drop of stimulation has fat tears rolling down your cheeks. Proclaiming,

"I'll always find out if you make yourself cum without my permission. I know your body better than my own." Sliding the toy down your slit, nudging your lips apart with the bulbous head.

The clearness allows him to see inside your hole when he pushes the toy in. You're soft pink pussy smeared with your own white cream. Turning the vibrations on high, bucking your hips, eager to take more.

You're wound up so tight the moment the pulsing head touches your clit you're going to burst. Exclaiming, "You sent a cock picture in the bathroom! You rarely do that! I couldn't help but touch myself and before I knew it I cummed!" Kento slips it away in time with your hips.

Reading your movements too well. You don't get a single inch more than Kento wants you to have. He sighs, "Blaming me for acting out. Then when I asked you about it. You terribly lied then gave me sass. I don't think you're learning your lesson at all. Looks like you aren't cumming until tomorrow." Spitting in his palm, wrapping his hand around his heavy cock.

The slick sounds have you wishing you could watch Kento jerk himself off. Swirling the pulsing tip inside you. While you wonder how a man could have you so desperate, just the tip of your dildo could make you cum. Caving in, admitting,

"I'm sorry sir. I'm an impatient brat. I'll dooo better ngg!" He slips the toy out. Ruining your high quickly. Sobbing loudly, your puffy clit twitching with the ache for more attention.

Turning off the vibrations and holding it to your lips. Which you wrap around, suckling and tasting yourself. Pushes the dildo deep into your mouth, gagging you with it. Coaxing fresh tears.

Kento lines himself up, stating, "You've been too much of a mouthy brat. It doesn't matter how breathtaking you look crying for me." Pumping his cock deep inside, giving you only half his cock. Careful not to go deep enough, he would brush your special spot.

Closing his eyes, groaning, giving himself a moment to adjust to how hot and wet your pussy is. He pulls the toy out of your throat, tossing it aside on the bed. Wrapping his fingers around your throat to keep you from begging.

Kento growls, "You have to learn not to touch what isn't your's."

Masterlist

[delicatebarness]

cry baby | chapter twenty nine

Summary: Adrenaline courses through Cry Baby as she takes on some deep and needed conversation.

Warning: None, I don't think? Other than it being a Bucky-free chapter.

Word Count: 1266

Spotify Playlist | Support: Ko-FI

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A/N: I have nothing to say with this one, except MY GIRL HAS A BACKBONE. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as mine. - B

Tags: @buckys0whore | @thezombieprostitute | @lanabuckybarnes | @mishkatelwarriorgoddess | @softieekayy | @noonespecial90 | @hello-therree | @randomawesomeperson102 | @whoreforbarnes | @thejutvtsupport | @somnorvos | @cjand10 | @plasticbottleholder | @birdenthusiastez | @am-3-thyst

Everything: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick | @sapphirebarnes | @rach2602

Your feelings were a mixture of emotions when you woke you the morning after the art exhibition. Bucky’s absence and your revelation of your feelings for him weighed heavily despite the success of your show. You began getting ready to leave for the gallery again, hoping the familiar surroundings and schedule would bring some distractions. However, more than anything, you wanted to talk to your brother. 

You took a deep breath, picked up your phone, and sent him a message: “Can you meet me at the gallery? I need my brother.” 

His response was quick, he agreed to meet you there. The gallery was quiet, a stark contrast to the lively celebration from the night before, as you arrived first. The art pieces stood silently, every pen stroke a testament to your hard work and passion. 

A few minutes later, Steve walked in with a concerned expression. “Hey,” he said softly. “What’s going on?” 

Emotions swirled within you as you turned to face him. “I’m not over what you did,” you began, the turmoil inside you betraying your voice causing it to tremble. “But, I really need my brother right now.” 

Stepping closer, Steve’s eyes softened. “I’m here for you,” he assured, reaching out and gently squeezing your shoulder with a small smile. “Tell me what’s going on.” 

You hesitated, taking a deep breath as you tried to find the right words. “I’m in love with Bucky.” Your words hung in the air, undeniable and heavy. 

Steve’s jaw clenched, as his face tightened with anger. “What did you just say?” 

“I love Bucky,” you repeated, your voice was firm.

“Do you know how many times I’ve had to stop him?” he mumbled, anger flaring visibly. “How many times he crossed the line?” 

You stared at him, confusion etched in your face. “What are you talking about?” 

His face could barely contain his fury, his fists clenched at his sides. “Every time I thought he was getting too close, I made sure he knew his place. I did it to protect you.” 

The realization of his words hit you like a freight train. Memories of all those times Bucky would turn up at your apartment with new cuts, new bruises. “You… you were the one beating him all these years?” 

Steve’s eyes widened, and shock filled them as he realized his slip-up. “I was trying to keep you safe,” he said, his voice softening, trembling with anger and regret. “He’s not right for you.” 

Tears welled up in your eyes, anger and frustration consuming you. “You don’t get to decide that for me, Steve! You don’t get to control my life like that!” 

“I was trying to protect you!” Steve’s voice raised, his voice straining with emotion. “He’s my best friend, if anyone knows he’s not good for you, it’s me! I’ve seen what he’s capable of.” 

“You’ve seen what he’s capable of because you pushed him to it!” you snapped back at him. “You beat him up every time you thought he was getting close to me? And, do you think that’s okay? You think that’s protecting me?” 

The realization of his actions dawned on him, you had never seen Steve look so taken back. “I… I didn’t mean to…” 

“But you did,” you interrupted, your voice beginning to break. “It’s not your decision to make. I love you, Stevie, but if you want to be a part of my life, you need to stop trying to fucking control it. I’m in love with Bucky, and that is my choice.” 

The silence between you grew heavy, filled with the weight of your words hanging in the air. Steve looked at you, regret and stubbornness warred on his expression. It seemed for a moment like he might argue back, but then he simply nodded. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “For everything. I’ll try to let it go. I just… I’ve always just wanted to protect you.” 

Stepping forward, you wrapped your arms around your brother tightly. “I know. But, you have to trust me to make my own choices. That’s what we do, we trust each other.” 

Steve hugged you back, his grip strong and desperate. “I’ll try. I promise.” 

A weight lifted off your shoulders as you pulled away. The gap between you was far from resolved, but it was a start. And for now, that was enough.

~

You were left feeling both empowered and vulnerable as the adrenaline from your conversation with Steve coursed through you. You knew what you had to do next, you needed to act on your promises, and you couldn’t keep Peter in the dark any longer. 

As you walked into the cafe you arranged to meet him at, your mind began to race. On the way, you rehearsed what you were going to say, and how you were going to explain your feelings. The adrenaline pushes you forward, giving you the strength you need. 

Just as before, Peter was already seated at the corner table. There was a knowing look in his eyes, making your heart ache, as his expression stayed calm. 

“Peter,” you began, your vice trembling slightly as you sat with him. “I need to talk to you about something.” 

His gaze was gentle and understanding as he looked at you. “I know,” his soft voice cut you off before you could continue. 

Confusion washed over you. “What do you mean?” 

He sighed, a small sad smile playing on his lips. “I know you’re not in love with me. And I know you’ve tried to be, but… I’m not him. I’m not Bucky.”

His words sank in, tears welling in your eyes. “Peter, I’m so sorry. I truly never wanted to hurt you.” 

Reaching across the table, he rested his hand on yours reassuringly. “I know you didn’t. I’ve seen it for a while now, the way you look at him. Your eyes light up when you talk about him… It’s always been him, hasn’t it?” 

The tears spilled down your cheeks as you nodded. “It has. But, I didn’t realize until last night.” 

Squeezing your hand gently, Peter continued to speak softly. “I want you to be happy, and I can’t be the one to make you happy if your heart belongs to someone else.” 

You nodded again. “I’m so sorry, Peter,” you whispered, your voice choking with emotion. 

Another reassuring smile was sent your way. “It’s okay. I’ll always care about you, and even if it’s not with me, I want you to be happy.” 

Pulling your hand back, you wiped away your tears. “You deserve to be with someone who is truly in love with you. You’re a good man, Peter, and you’ve been such an important part of my life.” 

“And you mine,” he replied softly. “We’ll always have that.” 

You both stood up to leave, Peter pulled you into a tight hug. “Take care of yourself,” he murmured. 

“You too,” you replied, tightening your hold on him for a moment longer before finally letting go. 

Walking toward the cafe door, you felt a strange mixture of sadness and relief. The adrenaline still lingered, causing you to turn back to Peter. 

“Peter?” you called out, causing him to look up from his coffee cup. “I like Michelle.” His eyes flickered with surprise, a smile forming on his lips after a beat. 

With a final nod toward him, you turned and walked out of the cafe. The sense of closure settles in your heart. As you stepped onto the bustling city sidewalk, you knew you had made the right decision for both you and Peter.

---

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[benevolentbones]

Hi, could you write Emily and the Reader where they broke up. and Emily from afar loves and misses the reader... you can add whatever you want. I'm waiting 😘

missing you | emily prentiss x reader

warnings: none just a lil angst

word count: 0.7k

a/n: hope you enjoy, emily my beloved <3 reblogs, requests and comments appreciated!

you and emily had been inseparable once, the kind of couple that others envied. your laughter filled rooms, your shared glances spoke volumes, and your connection was something deep and profound. but life had a way of complicating even the most perfect relationships. the demands of the job, the constant danger, and the emotional toll had finally driven a wedge between you.

the breakup had been mutual, though no less painful for it. you both knew that you needed time apart, space to heal and grow individually. still, it left a hollow ache in emily's heart that nothing seemed to fill.

weeks turned into months, and though emily threw herself into her work with the bau, she couldn't escape the memories of you. she saw you every day at the office, your professional demeanor a stark contrast to the warmth you once shared. you were cordial, even friendly, but there was a distance now that hurt more than the initial breakup.

emily found herself watching you from afar, her heart aching with longing. she noticed the small changes in your behavior—the way you smiled less often, the way you seemed quieter, more reserved. she wondered if you missed her as much as she missed you, if you still loved her as much as she loved you.

one evening, after a particularly grueling case, the team gathered at rossi's for a small celebration. emily couldn't help but steal glances at you, her heart clenching every time she saw your smile, which never quite reached your eyes anymore. she watched as you interacted with the others, your laughter sounding hollow, your gaze often drifting into the distance.

as the night wore on, emily found herself outside, needing a moment to collect her thoughts. the cool night air was a welcome relief, and she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. the sound of the door opening behind her made her turn, and she saw you standing there, a hesitant smile on your lips.

"hey.” you said softly, stepping closer.

"hi…" emily replied, her voice just as quiet.

"needed a break from the crowd?" you asked, leaning against the railing beside her.

emily nodded. "yeah, just needed a moment..." she trailed off, eyes raking over your form.

there was a silence between you, not uncomfortable, but heavy with unspoken words. emily wanted to reach out, to tell you how much she missed you, how her heart ached every time she saw you. but she didn't know how to begin.

"it's been hard.” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. "being around you, pretending everything is okay."

emily's breath caught in her throat, and she turned to face you, her eyes searching yours. "i know. it's been hard for me too."

you looked down at your hands, fiddling with the ring on your finger—a habit emily knew well. "i miss you…” you admitted, your voice breaking slightly.

emily reached out, her fingers gently touching your arm. "i miss you too.” she confessed, her voice filled with emotion.

you looked up, your eyes meeting hers, and for a moment, the distance between you seemed to vanish. "i don't know if we can ever go back to what we were-“ you said, your voice trembling.

"maybe we can’t…" emily agreed, her heart breaking at the thought. "but maybe we can find something new, something better."

you glanced away for a moment. “i don’t know em.” your nickname for her ringing in her ears.

“we can try?” her voice laced with a pleading tone.

you looked up at her, she seemed like the shell of the person she used to be. her dark eyes tired, the colour drained from her pale face, but, she was still your emily. the woman you loved.

“i’d like that..” you mumbled out softy.

emily smiled, a genuine smile that reached her eyes. "me too."

the two of you stood there for a while, the night air wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. it wasn't a perfect solution, but it was a start. and as emily looked at you, she realized that sometimes love meant finding new ways to be together, even after everything had changed.

taglist!! @0108s22m @rainoftearss @potatovoyager @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @luvmia222 @shardsofmarxx @silver138 @lover-of-books-and-tea @thedancingnerdmermaid @khxna @cynbx

[midnight-mourning]

DCA Promptober Day 9: Off-Limits

Had an idea in mind for this one, then @soupdweller pretty much solidified it for me with this piece of art. Hope you enjoy!

Word count: 1868

Content warning: non graphic depicitions of death, obsessive behavior if you squint really really hard, reader discresion is advised

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You wish you were taller. Maybe not super tall, and certainly not eight or nine feet tall, but a couple inches you think would be nice. A couple inches could potentially make you feel a bit less, small, in this situation. 

The Daycare Attendant looms over you, that cartoonish grin and dead eyes certainly not helping your nerve. You swallow. You were not going to let him intimidate you, you were not going to let him intimidate you-

"Friend."

"Sun," Your voice is more squeaky than you'd ever like it to be, you clear your throat, "Can I get past you, please?"

His rays click sharply to one side, "I'm afraid not. This area is off-limits."

"I, understand that, but it's also my job as a guard to check that everything is in order-"

He moves suddenly, bending down so that your faces are now inches apart, he tilts his head, "Off. Limits."

You have it in you to get a little annoyed then. You don't really know the Attendant all that well, and from what you've heard from other staff he's usually pretty friendly and even a bit, oblivious. 

This was not that. 

From the moment you'd met he'd been off-putting, a little creepy, and in a way, hostile to you and everything you did. You almost wondered if it was a work hours vs after hours thing, but whenever anyone else was around he had that chipper persona. It was just with you that there was a problem. 

"What's in there that's such an issue?" You ask, trying to peer around him, ignoring the way his 'pupils' seem to shift and watch you, "Last I checked the Plex doesn't have any big secrets. Not any that I as a guard wouldn't know about at least."

It's hard to tell what's back there, mainly because of the near blinding light coming from the doorway to contrast with the darkened space you're currently standing in. And from what you remember, it was all just storage space. One of the bigger ones to your understanding. Actually, how'd the Attendant even get over here? You don't remember there being another entrance to this location. And furthermore, why is he-

"That," He puts a hand on your shoulder, "Is not," You're shoved backward, "Your concern."

Okay, now you're irritated, "For the last time, this is my job. Last I checked, you're the Daycare Attendant, and I'm the security guard. So, you can either move out of my way, or I make you move."

Sun stands upright again, clasping his hands in front of him, "You can try."

"Why do you even care? Why are you even over here?" You point your finger at him now, "You know, you've been honestly kind of a jerk to me since I started, and I'm kind of sick of it. I've never done anything to you!"

A click. You continue. 

"I have tried to be nothing but kind and considerate, I don't stay in your space too long, I wave when I see you, I compliment your art and yet you've been nothing but cold, impassive, and downright rude."

The Attendant is stock still and frankly, you don't care.

"What did I do to deserve this, huh? What made you decide I was going to be the target of your just, straight vitriol toward me?" You throw your hands up, then slap them against your legs. 

Your breathing is heavy now. But at least you've said your peace. 

It's then that the bot laughs, not the reaction you were expecting. For some reason, it sends a chill down your spine.

He takes a step closer, then another. It gives you an idea as he once more bends down to your level. 

"What you've done?" Several rapid clicks of his rays turning to the right, "You want to know what you've done-"

You quickly sidestep him, darting inside, "Maybe some other time! Let's say after my patrol, how's that?"

He makes a loud sound then, which you take as merely mild frustration. Something that in hindsight, was a mistake on your part. You snickered, served him right. You were just trying to do your job.

The storage room was a lot bigger than you were expecting. Grander. Many aisles of boxes piled to the high ceiling on either side of you, along the backwall, and is that a connecting room behind? Geez, why is this area not patrolled more often? Seems like there's a lot of stuff to grab, regardless of there seeming to just be the one entrance. 

You think you've lost Sun, for now anyway. If he catches up to you again it's not like he can do anything except complain. The thought instantly peeves you. 

You're nearing one of the back corners of this front room now, deciding to radio back to the main office, "Hey, working on the last bit of my route, there a reason we don't check this storage room more routinely?"

"We don't.... manpower.... -eople have... -ssing. Wasn't supposed... -your route. -ou should probably-.... -here." Is the response you receive.

You frown, speaking into the device again, "Hey, you're cutting out super bad, could you repeat that?"

All you get is more garbled static as a response. You shrug it off. Must be a dead zone near this room. Annoying, but that's life.

There's a smell in here, you're realizing. And it's not dust, even though there's quite a lot of that. It's decay. 

And the closer you get to that back corner, the stronger is gets. 

Now, a normal person would say fuck it, and call a custodian to deal with whatever poor animal had gotten in here and died. And maybe on a different night, you would have done that. But for some reason, that wasn't the decision you were going to make for tonight.

You round the corner and find-nothing. Just some more boxes. But god that smell is strong now. You're getting ready to turn around and high tail it out of there, when you notice that there's something sticking out from the corner, between where the boxes on either wall collide. 

You don't need to get a closer look to confirm what it is, but you do. 

You can only stare on in complete and utter disbelief. 

Yup. That is indeed a shoe. Attached to a foot, attached to a dead body-a dead security guard's body-which you're 99% sure is what you were smelling. 

The surprising part of all this was exactly how many dead bodies were stuffed into that corner. All in various states of decay. 

"I warned you."

You jump, whipping around to find Sun staring at you. Somehow, the blank look in his eyes is more unreadable than ever before. You swear there's like, a shimmer to optics. Kind of, purplish. But your eyes are probably playing tricks on you.

Your instant reaction is to pray, but you think it's a little late for that. Your second reaction is to beg. 

Your voice wavers as you speak, hands up defensively, "Pl-please don't, don't, hurt me..."

"Hurt you? Oh no no no, sweet thing. I'd never want to hurt you," Sun tuts, his words have a softness you've never witnessed before, "I'll admit I haven't done the best job of showing it, but I do care."

In your shock of it all, you can just stand there, fear dissipating just slightly while blinking a few times, "Excuse me?"

He goes off on his own little tangent, starting to pace as he speaks more to himself than to you, "Believe me, coming to terms with the idea that you of all people would catch my interest wasn't, easy, but I think I've been dealing with it to the best of my ability," He turns to you, hands together, "And now, you've made this entire process that much simpler!"

"...Simpler how?" You're still processing the dead people thing; you aren't even comprehending the idea that Sun likes you. 

"Well, now we can so spend time catching you up to speed," Sun tilts his head, tone eerily cheering as his eyes lift into crescents, "You didn't think you could leave now, did you?"

You bolt.

You try to remember how you got back here, which ways to turn to get back to the front. Given you're kind of freaking out right now, it's not easy.

Sun's behind you, somewhere. Sure you can hear him; those bells were loud on top of the mechanical clinks and whirls his limbs emit as he follows after you. The problem is that he's eight feet tall and you can only run so damn fast. 

You find the entrance. The door's shut.

"Shit. Shit, come on," You fumble for your keycard, shaking hands swiping it through the card reader. 

"Access denied. Access denied. Access denied."

You hear Sun a few aisles over, "Ah, ah, ah. Leaving so soon? After you worked so hard to get in here?"

You curse under your breath as he continues.

"And really, to not bother to listen after I told you to stay is really, quite, rude," From the sounds of it, he's now where you just were, and seemed to be expecting you to still be trying to get out, having the gull to be annoyed about it, "Well there goes that dramatic reveal."

You don't know where you're running but you realize you're going to need to find a destination soon, because you're going to eventually run out of stamina. And Sun will not. 

A hiding place. You need a hiding place. 

"I put in a lot of effort to keep this from you, Starshine," Sun says to the empty space, "Spare you from this thing, that I've become."

There is nowhere to hide in here. It's just the same repeating rows over and over again. Could you maybe circle back? Start climbing? Just something-

"It's not a willing participation, you know. If you understood how this f̴͉̲̲̳̐̑̈́̍̀eė̴̘̽̋l̴͍̣͎̙͎̉̃ṣ̶̪̀, maybe you'd be a bit more sympathetic. Though I suppose that's a big ask."

You need to quiet your breathing, collect yourself a bit. Find another option.

You swallow, trying to calm down as you rest back against the cardboard. It sort of works. 

Until you become acutely aware of the fact that Sun is now silent. 

You strain your ears, eyes flicking back and forth to either end of the aisle. You're closer to the one on your left than the right, but you wonder if it'd be worth the risk to dash to the other side. 

Unfortunately, you don't get the chance.

You take a step away from the makeshift wall, only able to react after the fact as Sun comes from around the corner, the surprise of seeing him making your trip backwards as you spin to face him. 

He catches you, and you notice that the ribbons which usually wrap around his wrists are missing. He tricked you.

"Caught you friend~" He chuckles lightly at the joke. 

You can only look up at him with fear. His pupils are purple, you're sure of it now. He leans in, rays spinning. 

"Maybe next time you'll listen when I say something is off-limits."

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Since y'all liked reading the notes I write for Confused Spirit, here's the one I wrote for this lmao:

You can read the others here, sorry for being late with this! As you can see, she was a biggin'. Thanks for reading!

[arjudy224]

The Intern: The Laughing Fish

Gotham harbor buzzes with energy this morning. Fishermen compete for the best catch. Dozens of workers prep the yachts for their bosses rich escapades. Even the seagulls are hard at work today, eagerly searching the docks for their next meal. A perfect image of regular people living their lives. Unfortunately if we've been called, then something must be going horribly wrong. Judging from the crowd of distressed fishermen forming towards the end of the boardwalk, my gut feeling was right.

As I draw near the distressed crowd, a familiar voice rises above the rest.

"We are sending our best people to look into this. Keep an eye out for a press conference by the end of today." Detective Gordon addresses the crowd.

The crowd erupts in a chorus of anger.

"You've got to be kidding me."

"I'm going to brutalize that clown!"

"God, I hate this city."

Behind the greying Detective stands a very sour looking Dr. Harris. I maneuver my way through the crowd next to him.

"Dr." I greet from behind.

Dr. Harris says nothing while attempting to catch a slippery fish.

"How adept are you at evolutionary biology?" He eventually asks through the sweat beating down his face.

"I dabble..." I respond growing closer to peer over his shoulder.

Dr. Harris grabs a fish with his bare hands. Before I can move the wiggling vertebrate leaps from his hands directly at my face.

"Catch it!" Dr. Harris hisses.

The flying tang leaves a wet trail across my cheek before dropping into my hands. The poor fish fights with everything it has to get away. Against all odds, I manage to wrangle the wiggle worm into a somewhat sturdy position in my palms.

Once the fish slows a bit, I notice something. The fish is smiling. A big yellow toothy smile with a red outline that one could mistake for lips. The external scales have turned a peculiar, yet familiar shade of pearly white. Both the pelvic fin and the pectoral fin have developed into a contrasting shade of dark green.

If I didn't know any better, I would say it looked like-

"Joker..." A voice growls interrupting my thoughts.

Turning to face our new arrival, I almost laugh at what I see. Batman's suit looks a little goofy in the morning light. Maybe even a little warm in the humid air. The cowl has a slight shine to it. Dr. Harris immediately begins explaining our situation to the Caped Crusader.

"This batch came in last night. We don't know how or why. The working hypothesis is that this may be a side effect of the Jokers latest toxin."

"Is it deadly?" Batman questions eyeing the gasping fish in my hands.

"Not to the fish. We should get the test results back by noon if we start soon."

Batman nods.

"Let me know what you find out."

I take pity on the fish and throw it back with the rest. Most of my life I've struggled with asthma: I know the feeling.

"What would he have to gain from this?" I wonder aloud.

Turning to the Dark Knight, I am stunned to realize there is nobody there. Batman disappeared. Doing a 360, I notice a dark figure hiding in the shadows on the nearest boat.

Huh.. Maybe the dark suit doesn't look so dumb in the daylight after all.

Dr. Harris smiles at me for the first time. My heart pounds. This can't be good.

"Didn't you say that you liked smoothies?"

I do like smoothies, but why does this feel like a test? I nod slowly.

"I hope you didn't eat anything too heavy this morning. We'll need to prep quite a bit of samples."

I narrow my eyes. Samples are typically liquid. How would we make fish.... Oh my God... This cannot be happening.

"Don't we need to test the water for excess nutrients? We don't want an algae bloom to form from the toxin."

There's a glint that forms underneath his unnecessarily large glasses.

"All in good time dear. We can worry about that after lunch."

Hoisting the barrel of Joker fish into the bed of his pick up truck, Dr. Harris teases down at me.

"After we prep those samples, how about fish and chips? I'm having a craving."

The Intern: Gotham x reader

Prequel: Death of a family

The Intern: Day one

The Intern: The Laughing Fish

The Intern: Busy Work

The Intern: Outreach Gala

The Intern: Visiting an old friend

The Intern: Chemical Valley

The Intern: Billionaire Boys Club

[raekensluver]

Finnick Odair teasing reader and then bow Chika bow bow 😉

sorry angel, i tried for days to write this as smut (because thats what i assume you wanted) but i just couldn't do it with the situation i had written. i hope this suffices !!

finnick odair x victor!fem!reader, 1.0k

you step out onto the balcony, the heavy wooden door groaning softly as it swings shut behind you, the sound swallowed by the muffled chatter of the party inside. the cool night air kisses your face, a stark contrast to the sticky warmth of the capitol ballroom. the moon, a silver dollar in the sky, casts a gentle light across the cityscape, revealing the capitol's gleaming spires and the distant outline of the arena. a soft, almost imperceptible breeze rustles the leaves of the potted plants lining the balcony's edge, carrying with it the faint scent of the ocean, a teaser of the world beyond the city's gleaming walls.

turning to your right, you spot finnick leaning casually against the railing, his golden hair glinting in the moonlight. he's dressed in his usual attire—a crisp creme sweater paired with brown slacks—his eyes, those sea-green eyes, lock onto yours, and a grin spreads across his face. "so, you couldn't resist my charm and had to follow me out here, huh?" he teases, the sound of his voice a velvety purr that makes your heart stumble in your chest. his words hang in the air, light as a feather, but they carry the weight of his mischievous spirit.

you laugh, the sound a little too loud in the quiet night. "maybe i just needed some fresh air," you retort, rolling your eyes playfully. there's a spark in his gaze as he pushes himself away from the railing and approaches you. his movements are fluid, almost predatory, but there's no malice in them—only a hint of curiosity and something else. something that sends a thrill down your spine.

his hand brushes against yours, and for a moment, it feels like the universe has paused, waiting for the next beat. "fresh air, huh?" he says, his voice low and intimate. "you know, i've noticed you've had quite the knack for finding your way to me during these parties."

you tilt your head to the side, a smirk playing on your lips. "maybe it's the allure of the victor's charm," you say, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "you're so full of yourself, finn."

his smile widens, a glint of challenge in his eyes. "but you love it, don't you?" he asks, stepping closer. his breath is warm against your cheek, and you can feel the heat radiating from his body. your heart races, and your palms grow damp. it's not fear though—it's something else.

you swallow hard, trying to keep your cool. "maybe," you concede, your voice barely above a whisper. the tension between you is palpable, thick enough to slice with a knife. you can see it in the way his pupils dilate, the way his hand lingers near yours. it's like the air itself is charged with electricity, waiting for a spark to set it alight.

his grin turns into a smoldering smile. "good," he murmurs, closing the gap between you. your chests are almost touching now, and you can feel the rapid beat of his heart. his hand, still so close to yours, begins to trace the outline of your fingers, sending shivers down your arm. "because i've noticed something too," he says, his voice a seductive whisper that sends heat pooling in your stomach.

you arch an eyebrow, playing along. "and what's that?" you ask, your voice steady despite the tumult of emotions within.

his thumb brushes against your knuckles, sending a jolt through your system. "how often you seek me out," he says, his voice dropping to a murmur that's just for you. "how you look at me when you think no one's watching."

you scoff, trying to keep your voice light. "it's because you're my only friend," you reply, the words sounding hollow even to your own ears. "who else would I talk to at these ridiculous capitol parties?"

finnick laughs, a deep, rich sound that echoes off the balcony walls. "is that all i am to you?" he asks, his eyes searching yours. his thumb continues to trace lazy circles on the back of your hand, sending warmth through your veins.

you bite your bottom lip, feeling the heat of his gaze on your skin. "what are you getting at?" you challenge, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice.

his smile turns knowing, and he takes a step closer, so that you can feel the warmth of his breath on your face. "i'm getting at the fact that i don't think friendship is the only reason you seek me out, darling," he says, his voice a low rumble that sends your stomach fluttering. "there's something else there, something you're not telling me."

you're about to protest, to laugh it off and make some quip about his ego, but before the words can leave your mouth, he leans in and kisses you. it's a soft, gentle press of his lips against yours, and it takes your breath away. your eyes widen in surprise, and for a moment, you're frozen, your hand hovering mid-air as his thumb stops moving.

but then you kiss him back, letting the pent-up feelings you've been trying to ignore flood through you. your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer, as the tension between you snaps and morphs into something else entirely. something warm and fierce and alive. his hands find your waist, his touch firm and reassuring, grounding you as the world tilts on its axis.

his kiss deepens, his tongue exploring the seam of your lips with a gentle insistence that has you melting into him. the taste of mint and the faint metallic tang of champagne is intoxicating, making you want to devour every inch of him. your heart pounds in your chest, the sound of it echoing in your ears like a war drum.

but just as suddenly as it began, finnick pulls away, his smile wicked. "see? i knew it," he says, his voice smug. "you can't resist me."

you blink, the taste of him still lingering on your lips. before you can formulate a response, a mischievous glint enters your eyes. "maybe i just felt sorry for the lonely victor," you tease, taking a step back and smoothing down your dress. "now, if you'll excuse me," you say, your tone playful but firm, "i have a party to rejoin."

[osakhee]

black suit, bf!sohee x reader

! office worker!sohee, handjob and kisses, slight exhibitionism

tonight's reception is important. so important that sohee has been stressing about it for days now. he keeps rambling about how perfect he has to be so his boss would see he's very invested. the promotion sohee was promised months ago never came, all his hopes depend on this evening's seminar. and sohee even promised his coworkers he would bring you, he brags about how much you support him all the time, you could only make him look better. and also feel better.

sohee watches you get ready with a soft smile, but he can't forget the stress that's flipping his stomach each time he breathes. sohee has been ready for half an hour, way too nervous to be late for even one second, and he leans on the doorframe as you make sure your hair is correctly brushed. your black shirt contrasts with the perfect white of sohee's. your turn back to your boyfriend and you're met with his warm expression, love dripping from his words.

"you're beautiful..."

the adoration in his eyes makes you feel shy, your heart flutters and even more when sohee's hands surround your waist to bring you close to him. the scent of the cologne he used makes your head dizzy and you can't get enough of him, you hold his face to make him look down at your lips. the kiss you share is tender and gentle, sohee's fingers draw little circles on your lower back. he didn't admit it, but that's all he needed to turn his heartbeat from anxious to flustered, the tension in his muscles relaxing immediately when you're in his arms. you drag your hands up his clothed chest to reach his tie and you tidy it a little, your fingers brushing sohee's neck. he looks as handsome as ever. you both walk out of the bathroom, sohee grabs his vest that composes his black suit and you make your way outside. everyone at the seminar's place is probably waiting for you two to show up.

sohee swallows thickly and shifts on his chair. he feels like his chest is burning, his shirt is too tight around his body. he's so nervous the feeling that made his heart jump in his ribcage went up to his head and flushed his cheeks. the reception is going well, his manager very happy to meet you when sohee introduced you. you sit next to your boyfriend, watching different heads of the company department present the future goals and challenges for the teams.

your eyes focus on sohee when he wiggles again on his seat. he's so tense you can see his thighs flex each time he takes a breath. you put your hand on his knee and sohee's head that dropped low jerks up in surprise. his nervous and dilated pupils can't hide the darkness in his look, his eyelids heavy. he leans a little closer to you, the warmth that irradiates from him reaching your face. you ask him in a murmur if he feels sick or nervous, and you watch sohee's lips tremble when he speaks.

"i-i think i'm... please i need your help i-i can't do this anymore..."

you cock you head to the side at his words, his voice just a shaky whisper.

"touch me... please baby do something..."

his built-up anxiety turned into lust that flows his veins a little more each second. he's trying really hard to concentrate on the important speeches of his superiors but each time he can only focus on how tight his pants feel again his legs. red creeps on his cheek when you grab his hand and make him stand up, excusing yourself in front of his coworker so you could exit the hall. the sound of the seminar resonates in the empty corridor and once the door of the venue closes behind you, you drag sohee to the darkest corner you could find.

your poor boyfriend feels so bad for his behavior, he can't even look into your eyes when he feels your hands quickly undoing his pants. you open it just enough to have access to his boxers and you drag slowly your hand on his lower stomach. sohee needs relief so badly, he can barely hold himself against the wall you pushed him on. your hand grip gently the base of his cock and you start stroking him at a steady rhythm. you need to be fast so no one would notice that you're both gone, you wouldn't want sohee to be in trouble.

sohee's head rests on the wall behind him, the dim space around you surrounded by his breathy whines. he tries to be as quiet as possible, but when your thumb runs on his slit, your hand around his tip, he can't help but moan a little louder. you don't want to mess up his outfit, it would be too hard to hide what you were doing, but you wish you could open his shirt to nibble at the skin of his chest. you put a little kiss on one of his hardened nipple and watch sohee arch a little more into your touch. you squeeze his cock between your fingers, sohee's thighs shaking. your other hand rests on his cheek and you cover his jaw and neck in soft kisses that you want relaxing. his hips buck a little into your hand, your pace too slow for him to handle. your grip on his dick gets a little more tight when you whisper in his ear.

"it's okay... let go a little..."

sohee's tense shoulders relax a little at your words, and you hold his chin to tilt his head down until you meet his lips. his breath is so messy he can't hold the kiss for too long, his soft moans echoing against your mouth. outside the corridor, you can hear the clapping that closes one of the presentation. you really need to get back to the hall soon, your hand starts working faster on sohee's almost painful length. you can feel his dick throbs in your palm and his hands that tried to grip the wall the whole time grab on your shoulders.

"i'm so... s-so close please don't stop-"

you run your finger on his slit again and it sends sohee over the edge. you make sure not a single drop of his warm load hit his black pants, rubbing your hand painted of white ropes against his lower stomach and his underwear. sohee holds himself on your shoulders while you help him ride his orgasm. you let his breath gets slower before taking your hand away from his softening cock, and you put back his clothes correctly. you close his pants and tuck his white shirt inside, sohee whines about the sticky feeling on his skin but it's better than everyone knowing he almost creamed his pants because of his stress.

when sohee finally gather the strength to lean on the wall, his eyes meet yours, and you can tell he feels much more relaxed. the lust that illuminated his pupils turn back into sohee's usual dark toned eyes that drip with love when he looks at you. he's still embarrassed for what just happened but he's mostly thankful, his hands cupping your cheek to give you a well deserved kiss. sohee wishes he could deepen the kiss and stay there with you forever, but the presence of his coworkers probably wondering where you both disappeared on the other side of the wall stops him. he whispers so many thanks in your ear, he holds you close to his chest before intertwining his fingers with yours. you both head back to the venue. no one said a thing, and it seems like your missing presence didn't bother anyone.

from that point, sohee is more than confident. the evening goes as perfect as it could. sohee proudly introduces you to his coworkers one by one, his hand around your waist so you always stay next to him. you watch his eyes shine with pride when he speaks about you, and the passion that burns him when he talks about his job with his friends. even if his work is so important to him, you are always his priority to the point he couldn't be without you at such an important meeting. you rest your cheek on his shoulder and the grip sohee has on your hips get a little tighter, more possessive. you feel like it's only you and him.

you couldn't love him more.

kgma sohee made my head spin so much i had to write this. happy early sohee bday work. i love sohee very much i love him so much i could explode i hope you all know that. also first sohee work i hope you enjoyed 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

[lilacxquartz]

My request 💜: I would like inexperienced Gojo with a reader who knows what they’re doing, so he tries to overcompensate

first times;

plot: you and satoru are ready to move it to the next level — themes: smut, inexperienced gojo, experienced reader, guiding him through it, established relationship, f!reader — w.c: 800ish

a/n: hope you like this one, he’s just very excited & tries to show off <3 i proofread this on a train so i’m sorry for any errors 💀

masterlist • ao3

“God, I’m so excited to explore things further with you,” Satoru murmured as he leaned against you, unable to keep his hands off of your body—not that you minded at all.

In a way it was exciting, especially with how all too eager he was to please you; to connect with your body on a deeper level. You understood fully well that his job and lifestyle held him back from personal relationships, but you were also just as patient for the right moment.

(Could it have been… tonight?)

“Let’s start slow if so,” you encouraged, guiding his roaming hands to brush over your still clothed breasts, “I’ll show you exactly how to make me feel good… and how to make yourself feel good too.”

Satoru nodded enthusiastically albeit nervously, his complexion betraying soft rosy hues, contrasting for a change with his frosty hair. Feeling confident enough, he squeezed and carressed your supple skin through the thin fabric of your top. His head dipped forward into the crook of your neck, planting rushed, sloppy kisses down to your collarbones.

While enjoying his uncharted enthusiasm, you decide it still might be best to properly guide him through the journey. With an encouraging and breathy tone, you redirected his hands over to the hem of your top, “Why don’t you help me take off my clothes?”

Happily obliging, Satoru rolled up your top to reveal your bare breasts to his eyes. His gaze slowly widened with clear excitement, but also, maybe a hint of nervousness. Unsure where to begin exactly, he looked towards you expectantly for some guidance.

Taking the lead, you placed his warm yet calloused hands on either side of your hips, prodding at his fingers with your own as to encourage him to take off the next set of clothes in line—and with guided ease—he pulled down the remainder of your jeans along with the trim of your underwear.

Ever so gently, you pushed him onto his back against the sofa, straddling over his hips. You could already feel his excitement as his cock strained hard against his trousers, so desperate to make contact with you—in you. You slowly peeled down his clothes, dragging his boxer briefs down before initiating the first touch over his throbbing length by taking it right in your hands.

Satoru’s breath devolved into a series of shuddering gasps as his fists grasped against the coarse threading of the sofa, his knuckles turning white from the tension. The moment he locked his dreamy blue eyes over the sight of your hand wrapped around his shaft, a heavy feeling of deep arousal washed right through him.

You continued onwards, feeling amused by his awestruck stare; guiding the tip over to your soaked entrance, coating the head with your own glistening flow. Slowly, you eased him inside, wiggling your hips gradually to fully swallow him in between your legs and once completely buried in you, Satoru couldn’t help but instinctively thrust upwards, his larger size eliciting a moan from bucking into your hilt.

“Just let the heat of the moment guide you,” you whispered in gasping pants, still adjusting to the almost painful swell from him completely filling you up.

With an enthusiastic thrust, Satoru rocked himself upwards into your core, feeling your pussy tighten around him with every rutting motion. You began to move in unison with him, rolling your hips in dreamy circles, building the pleasure onwards with each passing second.

“Fuck,” he gasped, blurting out desperately needy moans, grasping over your slightly leaning form—feeling—kneading against your bouncing breasts, “you feel so incredible…”

You hummed, barely able to respond, “So do you, Toru—“

“—I seriously can’t get enough,” he grunted, palming his hands around your waist as though to bounce you over him with more fervour.

You huffed out a ragged breath, feeling him quite literally fuck the oxygen right out your lungs while continuing to ride him all the same. You leaned even more forward, giving him a better view of you from below. This sort of tilted angle somehow drove him in even further, making him hit all the right spots in your cunt.

The air in the room quickly grew heavy, the atmosphere burning thick with want and need. Soon enough, his body was moving much more erratically than before, signalling that he was soon about to finish.

“Let’s finish together,” you encouraged, flicking your hips at a much more unforgiving pace. God, you were so turned on.

The sensation was equal parts painful but hotly dizzying, pushing you over the limits of what you could handle. Satoru’s first time against your skin—against anyone’s—was quickly overwhelming you, especially since he had not once paused or slowed his feverish tempo.

Reaching your hand down to meet with your clit, you rubbed furious circles around the bud to will yourself to cum sooner, soon feeling yourself tighten hard and coil hard around his length while he too, pounded you almost mercilessly, shooting a radiating spilling warmth into your core.

And although thoroughly exhausted—although the two of you were completely and utterly spent—something else in his crystal blue eyes glinted… with what was it?

Excitement…?

As though he was already excited to this all again with you.

As much and as often as he could.