#Wander on HIS turf

[ultravioart]

It's also kind of funny that Hater seems to have a type for "Green skin, pink eyes, tall, shoulder pads, sharp ears, etc..." considering Peepers and the watchdogs are basically just... pink eyes. Red technically, but with the pink/purple skin it may elicit enough "cute!" vibes that Hater hired them purely on aesthetics of "this looks totally cool and kawaii to have as minions" lmao It also just occurred to me than since the ol' red eyes are technically red heads, Hater probably doesn't mind orange hair (though he seems to have a preference for blondes). and I can just imagine Peepers slightly freaking out about that since Wander is Orange furred... with a mighty green hat... and Wander adores hater... and Wander is TALLER than Peepers..... lol.... someone is scared of being replaced.

[reignpage]

Frat Boy!Gojo

Cosmopolitan: sober thoughts

Word Count: 6.1k Contents: their first date, cursing, a little angsty, but mostly fluffy, not proofread (barely skimmed this so again, dunno how much sense it makes)

“Before you get any bright ideas, just know I’m sharing my location with at least ten people.”

Whistling, the biggest pain in your ass saunters over to you

The moon is full, a big white orb that would otherwise bring you a lot of peace to look at but right now, only pisses you off for reasons you’d rather not spend too much time pondering. Rarely anyone comes around these parts; it’s at the very edge of the city, a half-hour drive from campus, and surrounded by miles of dull, old suburbia. You’re standing in front of a metal gate, slightly taller than you, with vines wrapping around the pickets. It swings slowly with every gust of wind, creaking before it meets the stone wall with a bang.

Gojo grimaces. 

“Seriously, did you have to choose the scariest place in all of Eden? I mean, I respect the commitment to the aesthetic, but this is just crazy,” he grumbles, eyeing the cathedral from its huge marble pillars to the sharp spires piercing the night sky. 

You roll your eyes. Trust him to leave the date planning to you just to complain every step of the way. You’re already regretting playing along with whatever games he’s conjured up this time, but at least you’ve got home turf advantage; you know this place like the back of your hand. There won’t be any surprises happening tonight. 

Without replying, you walk off, heading straight through the gate. 

“Hey, wait! Don’t leave me here. I don’t want to end up as a statistic.”

Shrugging, you say, “If you’re scared, you can go back home.”

When he doesn’t say a thing and follows you, you smile. You win. But that feeling of victory doesn’t last very long because then he starts muttering about the cobwebs and how they’re everywhere, then about the tombstones, how they’re so messy with moss covering the engravings and that ‘the spirits must definitely be like so mad about all that’, and when you don’t respond to any of his musings, he even complains about the eerie music foreshadowing his pending doom, like in Jaws.

There is no music. 

“Where are we even going?” He pokes your shoulder, snatching his hand back faster than you can swat at it. “I thought we were going to, I don’t know, have a picnic under the stars and cuddle on top of someone’s grave, like Mary Shelley did.”

“How the fuck do you even know about that?” 

Gojo lifts one shoulder. “Must have heard it online or something.”

You roll your eyes again — you have a feeling you’ll be doing a lot of that tonight, maybe even for the rest of your life if things go the way your parents plan. When you had first found out the village idiot is the president of the most sought-after fraternity of the most prestigious university in the country, you thought maybe no one else had stepped up. But then you found out he’s a Legacy --the Gojos have governed that fraternity since its conception -- and well, the pieces fell into place. 

Mischief no doubt sparkling in your eyes, you look at him over your shoulder. His eyes are full of suspicion and when they meet yours, he becomes even more doubtful of your intentions. With a grin, you whisper, “We’re going someplace no one will hear you scream.”

“Kinky.”           

That didn’t have the desired effect. How annoying. Though you don’t fail to notice how he moves in closer to you, his warmth radiating to your body through your black, fur cloak. You don’t shift away. 

Gesturing for him to follow you through a gap in a wooden fence, you squeeze through to avoid splinters, pulling at your dress when a piece of lace catches on a nail. Just as you’re about to offer advice on how to contort his body to get through, he climbs over the fence and lands on his feet without stumbling, all in one quick sweep, like he’s who wanders these hallowed grounds at night and not you. 

“What?” He asks when he spots your glare. 

Not even those stupid sunglasses are out of place. Very annoying, indeed. 

“Come quickly,” you bark, fixing your silk gloves to cover more of your skin as the chill settles in. It’s only six in the evening, and yet there’s no hint of light in the broad expanse above you, just the moon and the stars lighting your way, and occasionally your companion’s phone flashlight when he needs to look at what he’s stepped in. 

He laughs. “No one’s ever said that to me before.”

“Do you make it a habit to talk about your sex life with a girl on a first date?”

“You’re the first, so not a habit. Not yet anyways.” 

Screeching to a halt, your hand clutches his elbow to still him. Your jaw is slack and you’re staring, completely disbelieving. “There’s no way this is your first date. You took that girl to the casino.”

Gojo stares off into the distance as he ponders the notion, fingers tapping his chin. Then, he insists, “No, it really is my first date. And anyways, I don’t consider that night a date; she pretty much invited herself along. It was more like I was just taking her to the casino as her escort. Or maybe that does count as a date. If so, then I’ve been on a lot of dates. But none where I’ve actually used the word date. Does that even matter because —“ 

You wave a hand in front of his face to cut off his rambling; he talks way too much. “So, you’re telling me, I’m the first girl you’ve ever asked out on a date? That’s insane, Gojo. You hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” he protests with a frown.

“You sure acted like you did for months,” you counter. 

He insists, “I don’t hate you. Never did. I just acted out but yeah, I’m sorry. I was a dick.”

Clearing your throat, you straighten up and continue walking. “It’s fine. Water under the bridge.” 

“You sure? ‘Cause I can get on my knees and beg.”

“Don’t tempt me, Gojo.”

He catches up to you and hums a playful tune, his light mood returning; Serious Gojo is gone like he never existed. “Guess that’s what you’re into, huh?”

“You’ll never know,” you snort, pushing a branch away from your face and letting it snap back into his chest, he yelps.

His hand reaches past you, lifting a thicker branch high above the both of you, before leaning close to your ear and whispering conspiratorially, “We’ll see.”

Disregarding the shiver than runs through you, you push on, moving almost on muscle memory alone. Your mind is attempting to distract itself by scanning the area, being careful not to be caught on church grounds after hours, pushing through the woodland to get to the clearing tucked away at the very back, where you go for peace and quiet. 

Truthfully, you have no idea why you decided to have this date here, of all places. This place is sacred. Literally but also figuratively — this is the place you always ran to when the world got a little too loud, a little too busy and bright for you. No one else knows about this haven as far as you’re aware and you always thought you’d do anything to keep it that way. And yet, you’re showing it to him. Actually, guiding him to the place. 

You should have at least blindfolded him so he couldn’t memorise the way. 

Maybe you wanted to spite him by living up to his expectations and being the gothic monster that he thinks you are -- you want to scare him off before he lets his curiosity take him too close to something that might scald him. He needs to be afraid of you. 

Or maybe you recognised that shadow in his eyes, the ones that suggests he’s lost as much sleep about this whole farce as you and thought he could do with a little silence. 

You both arrive at a thick bush, a massive wall of a shrub towering over even Gojo. Behind you, the cathedral is only a blob, lit up by lanterns, whereas you’re both submerged in darkness; there are no streetlamps here. 

“I’m totally going to be murdered here, aren’t I?” He whistles as if to say, ‘it’s been a good life, and I’ll have to just accept my fate’. 

“Yeah, I was lying when I said it was all water under the bridge. I’ve actually been colluding with the devil to sacrifice your white ass.”

Gojo laughs.

He laughs a lot, but rarely like this, you note. He chuckles when his friends do something stupid like push him into the fountain, and he snorts when he reads the most recent article on The Bulletin. But you’ve never really seen him throw his head back and clutch his stomach, at least not with anyone but you. He does it when you get caught texting him under the dinner table, when you give him the middle finger from across the Quad, and that one time you bumped into him in the hallway and almost apologised before you realised it was him.

It’s the kind of laugh that’s infectious, and you hoped every time he does it that you’re somehow immune. However, when he looks at you with a brightening sparkle in his eyes, you realise you’re very much not. 

You clear your throat again. 

“Through here, is a very special place. You must swear you will not desecrate this place, lest the Mother Crone curse you for your treachery,” you announce, wiggling your fingers at him for extra flair. 

Placing a hand on his heart, he stomps his foot like a soldier and swears, “I would never. I will take this secret to the grave.”

Satisfied, you grab the loose part of the hedge wall and pull it aside to reveal the little doorway to your secret hideout. He throws you a side glance before he ducks down and enters. You follow behind him, tucking the disguised door behind you. 

He doesn’t say a thing as you zoom to the side where you grope for something in the grass, right under part of the hedge. When you feel the smooth, cold plastic, you don’t hesitate to switch it on. 

Long wires of fairy lights light up, bulb by bulb, along the top of the hedge and down, like a really wide Christmas tree circling the hidden clearing. You hear him mutter a ‘woah’ under his breath as he scans the area — there’s only one thing here on the flat ground, it’s also lit up fairy lights along the top pole. It’s your most prized possession.

“You have a swing?” He shouts incredulously. Giggling like a child, he makes a run for it, jumping onto one of the two seats where he rocks back and forth on his feet. Then he’s whooping as he swings higher and higher, hair whooshing back and forth as he grins, taking in the cold autumnal air and the growing warmth of the lights. “This is freaking awesome!”

Sitting on the spare seat, you kick your feet gently so you can swing a little. Deep down there was a worry festering within, anxious that he would find this place boring, that he’d scoff at your idea of fun especially on a first date, but looking up at him, still hollering and grinning, you think, that was such a silly thought. 

Gojo slows to a mild back and forth momentum and wonders, “Are you sure I’m allowed to be here? This place seems pretty private, like your own mancave or something. Do girls have a version of a mancave? ‘Womancave?”

In the corner of your eye, you see him clamber down to sit as you answer his question. “I wouldn’t have taken you here if you weren’t allowed, dumbass.”

“Yeah, well, I’m still not convinced this isn’t an elaborate scheme to murder me and hide my body in a grave.”

“Neither.” You shrug. 

He laughs. 

Eventually, you both swing side by side, alternating up and then down. The wind is howling a little, rustling the trees surrounding you and the moon’s obscured by dark cloud. Neither you nor he say anything to break the silence. You were also worried that you’d come to hate his presence in your safe space, finding his tall, lanky presence an irritation, but surprisingly, you don’t mind it. 

It’s nice to have company. 

Especially when that company is keeping his mouth shut. 

“How often do you come here?”

Or not. 

With a sigh, you reply, “Like twice a week. I can’t come as often as I’d like because of all the classes and stuff, not to mention all the wedding planning we have to do.”

“Guess you have it worse than me since I don’t even need to be fitted for a suit; they already have my measurements,” he muses. 

“For whatever reason, it’s always the women who have to plan these things, even though it’s the men that propose.” You accidentally make eye contact with him. “Or at least, that’s how it usually goes.”

Gojo hums, a little sheepishly, before he changes the subject. “So, how did you find this place?”

“We buried my grandmother in the graveyard when I was fifteen. We were close and I took the loss pretty hard. I couldn’t stand all the people pretending they cared so I ran off, got lost and found this clearing. Well, I actually fell through the hedge, but I found it, nonetheless. And this swing was here already. I don’t know how long it’s been here or why it’s here, but it is.”

“That sounds like a fairytale.” He swivels, swinging a long leg over to straddle the seat, facing you as he leans back against the metal chain. “I’m sorry for your loss, by the way. I lost my grandmother too and it was rough.”

You saw that on the news years ago, it was one of those private family events that make the national headlines by complete virtue of the family name. Your parents grieved in public like it was their own loss and you didn’t understand why. Of course, as you got older, you became more and more acquainted with the idea of ‘reputation’ and ‘public image’, but you still feel that same distance to the concept as you did when you were but a child. 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you repeat back to him.

He shrugs. “It’s alright. I’ve got my gramps. We’re best buddies.”

“You have a lot of best buds, don’t you?” 

Gojo strikes you as the kind of guy who makes friends easily, thought you question the depth of most of those friendships; sincerity is a rare phenomenon in your world. 

“No,” he huffs, “I have Suguru, the girl that gave you my number, and gramps. I have lots of close friends, though.”

Considering his words, you realise you don’t have any best friends. Sure, you have friends you hang out with often, people that share your interest, that you can party with, but none you feel as strongly about as he does with those three people. You can hear it in his voice, the conviction, the pride, the confidence. And when you glance at him, you know he doesn’t even realise how defensive he sounds about his people.

How nice it must be to have someone like him as a friend.

“We could be friends, if you’d like,” he offers, and when you look at him with confusion, he adds, “You said it out loud, silly. You think I’m a good person to be friends with. Which, of course I am. I’m like super awesome.”

You burst out laughing. What he said isn’t even funny and he certainly doesn’t mean for it to be, but for some reason it is. So, you laugh, throwing your head back and clutching your stomach. He makes noises of complaints, telling you it’s rude to laugh at people. That makes you laugh harder. 

“Gojo, be serious for a second. We can’t be friends, idiot,” you push out between puffs of laughter. 

He frowns, lips twitching to fight back a smile at your flushed face. “Why not? We’re getting along fine right now, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, for now. But we’re going to be married. Or at least, we’re supposed to be. And think of all the complications that brings, it just doesn’t provide the conditions for a healthy friendship, especially considering our beginning. Think of all the people in our circle who had arranged marriages. How many of them get along? Like, really get along. Hell! Think about our parents.”

“Well, we could be different. We don’t have to end up like them. We can break the cycle or something.”

You stop laughing.

Something shifts in the air, like the moon’s reappeared, the wind’s slowed down, and his eyes shine just a little brighter. It’s sudden and you almost don’t notice it, almost shrug it off. But there’s a sincerity lingering between you and it demands your attention.

Fixing him a solemn look, perhaps similar to the one he gave you before, you assert, “That sounds an awful like an admission of surrender, Gojo.”

“Maybe it is.”

The speed at which he concedes, the sheer resolution in his eyes and the way he doesn’t falter when he says it all scream at you something you won’t accept. Can’t.

He grips your elbow, his long fingers wrapping around the limb with ease, demanding your attention. The sombre expression on his ghostly face haunts you. It’s like he’s shifted into a different person, into someone years older, a man burdened with great responsibility. 

“I’m sorry. About how I started this year off. I regretted everything I said as soon as I said them. I can’t even remember why I said and did those things, but I definitely don’t have a good reason,” he rasped, a desperation lacing his words like he needs you to understand, like he tosses and turns over it. “I know you’re just as much a victim of this as I am, but I was facing a problem I didn’t know to solve, and I lashed out. At you. At someone who didn’t deserve it. And I’m sorry.”

You reel back, snatching your arm away. His touch burns the way ice does, and you have to rub warmth back into it, despite the layers between your skin and his. The sincerity in his eyes is alien, revealing far more about the ongoings of reality than you can absorb in one night. Confusingly, your heart is pounding to the beat of a song you’ve never heard before. 

This date thing, taking him to your secret haven, giving him the opportunity to see you not as the enemy but rather as a woman was a mistake. It’s all one big mistake. It would have been fine if he had stayed as the Gojo you knew, the boisterous, obnoxious party animal that cares only about immediate gratification. But the man in front of you is not someone you can marry. He isn’t the type of man you can be around and feel absolutely nothing for. 

“I’m hungry,” you mutter, standing abruptly.

He looks up at you, something passing in his eyes, almost akin to disappointment or sadness, and you can’t bear to think about what that could mean, so you simply gesture for him to follow you. 

In silence, you walk back the way you came, using your phone’s flashlight to navigate through the thick haze of darkness. This was a mistake; you let him in for a second, gave him a glimpse into your life, and you aren’t even sure why. Was it because you could hear your mother’s voice telling you to do whatever it takes to drag the man to the altar or because, despite yourself, you actually wanted to see what going on a date with Gojo means? 

Maybe it was both. 

Or neither. 

You’re losing more and more of yourself these days, doing things you’d never thought you’d do for one reason or another, and you no longer even know what you want. Your pride or your family? A marriage with Gojo or the friendship he’s offering? Is there’s a third option.

“What’d you wanna eat?” He asks, rocking back and forth on his feet as he stares up at a streetlight. 

You’ve both made it back onto the main road, the swings a mile away. He didn’t press the topic more, simply walked beside you and pushed branches away like before. 

It’s nearing eight in the evening and your stomach growls. 

“Who said I’m eating with you?”

Gojo rolls his eyes and pokes your shoulder. With a sulky tone, he groans, “Don’t be mean. You’re hungry, I’m hungry, let’s eat. Simple!”

“Can you cook?” 

He beams, sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose as he looks at you over them, bright eyes sparkling with what you can only guess to be mischief. You realise you really should think before you speak. 

—

That’s how you find yourself in his frat house kitchen, cloak discarded, hair up and gloves off. His frat members are out, partying, he claims, so the whole house is free. When he suggested it, you looked at him like he was insane, but he only wiggled his brows.

“You scared?” He cocked his head, grinning at you in a way that made you want to punch his teeth in. 

Narrowing your eyes at him, you responded, “No, of course not.”

Gojo bent his arms and rocked his head, making clucking noises that echoed in the empty street. Every note pierced your body, mocking and goading. You knew exactly what he was doing, and it was fucking working, the stupid bastard. Without responding to his accusation, you stomped over to his car and gave him a glare. He fetched his car keys and spun them on his finger with a victorious whistle.

“Grate this,” he orders. 

His kitchen is huge, which is understandable for the size of the house and how many people live here. Apparently, there’s three more kitchens in the damn place, not that you believe even a quarter of the guys that live here know what a cutting board is. The kitchen is surprisingly clean, however. It’s sparkling clean. 

“We have cleaners that comes in every other day,” he chuckles, noticing your looks of complete judgement whilst he boils some pasta. “But we are pretty strict on cleanliness, regardless. And everyone knows, I’m not afraid to crack the whip to keep everyone in line.”

Scoffing, you clarify, “You? Cracking whips? I find that hard to believe.”

He leans against the island you’re stationed at, the sound of water simmering filling the small space between you. Watching you grate the cheese, he hums, fingers fiddling with the lace of your sleeve. He mutters, “I know how to be serious when I need to be.”

You hum too. 

Still fiddling with the fabric, you ignore his wandering hand, fingers slipping under to roll the soft lace between his fingertips. Goosebumps rise on your skin. His touch is tentative, hesitant and gentle — one would think he’s just afraid to snag the fabric, acknowledging the craftsmanship, but one glance up at him, seeing his gaze fixated on your exposed skin more than your sleeve, you know otherwise. 

“Hands to yourself, Geralt.”

“If I’m Geralt, that must make you Yennefer,” he retorts. With a laugh, he pulls away, returning to the stove to tend to the pasta sauce. You don’t realise how much warmth he generated until you feel a sudden draught. 

The smell of frying onions and garlic is delicious and you’re becoming more and more starved by the second. He’s agile, moving swiftly and on muscle memory as he opens drawers and cabinets to gather the things he needs. 

“How often do you cook?” You ask, arm getting tired from the motion of grating the block of cheese.

Gojo shrugs and admits, “Not as often as I’d like. Weekends are for parties and pizza and all the other days, everyone’s doing their thing, studying or whatever, and eating by myself is kinda sad, so I just eat out usually.”

“How is it possible that you eat out so often but still remain so skinny?”

That was apparently the wrong thing to say because the next thing you know you’re being spun around and pressed into the island with a hard body. His arms are caging you in, keeping you still as he grins at you. 

He had thrown his jacket by the door when you both walked in; his biceps bulge as he flexes. They’re so much bigger now, or maybe they were always like that. And he’s pressed so close his Adam’s apple is right in front of you, bobbing when you tilt your head back so you can meet his eyes. 

“I’m plenty jacked, actually,” he brags and to add salt to the wound, he leans down, cheek brushing against yours to whisper against your ear, “wifey.”

You shove him off, snorting at his lame line. He back away with little protest. Trying to hide the heat in your face, you wash your hands, turning away from him completely. 

The rest of the hour passes by in a blink of an eye, and you finally sit down at the dining table across from each other. He’s a decent cook and you pay him a compliment even though it physically hurt to do so. 

“Do you not cook very often?” 

“I make sandwiches and ramen, that’s as far as I know how to do,” you admit with no shame.

He pours you a cup of water and asks, “Do you not have a chef to pre-make meals for you? My father insisted I have one, but I complained to my gramps about the lack of privacy and independence, and he gave up pretty quickly.”

You pause. It’s a stupid question to ask someone, from anyone else it’d drip in condescension, but you know he’s genuinely asking and it’s a valid question, just not one you’re ready to answer. So, with a careful shrug, you say simply, “I’m fine with the way things are.”

Gojo doesn’t sense the tense quiver of your voice, or if he does, he has enough tact to ignore it, so he continues the conversation. He talks to you about what being a frat president entails, and you tell him your experiences as the Treasurer. 

He also shares stories of his friends: the time ‘the gang’ snuck into the gym to put shaving cream in Toji’s locker after he had his room bubbled wrapped down to every single pair of boxers, each and every one of his friends’ drunk habits, and how he’s actually a lightweight so he sticks to beers most of the time but he hates the taste and actually much prefer cocktails. 

“Wait, wait,” you say between laughs, “you drink cosmos in secret ��cause you don’t want your frat mates knowing their president actually hates beer?”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. But it isn’t my fault those things taste like wheat piss!”

You laugh harder. “They do! They totally do!”

“Has anyone ever said you have a pretty la—“

“Woah!” A voice yells out. “What’s going on here?”

You both turn to look at the wide-open door. Two men walk in, they’re in gym clothes, wide toothy grins on their faces as they stare between you and their president. You recognise them as second years, often hanging around Gojo in pictures or loitering in the Quad. 

One guy, a fake blond, wolf whistles when he sees you. “Satoru, you didn’t tell us you were having a girl over. It’s been a while; we rarely even see your bestie nowadays.”

“Yeah, this is a sight for sore eyes. This place was getting too much hotdog and not enough buns, if you know what I mean.”

When they both guffaw, you grimace. Their voices are grating, like sharp notes, and despite yourself, you cower in your seat. You hate the way they’re looking at you, in half desire and half repulsion — they’re enjoying the sight of a woman in their space, but they don’t know what to make of your attire. Usually, you don’t let people like them get to you, not their comments and not their stares. But something’s different, you’re more sensitive, less guarded. 

“Isn’t she your fiancé? We’ve heard all about her. The girls from Delta Sigma said she dresses like a witch, and well, they aren’t entirely wrong.”

“Get out.”

Three heads turn. Gojo’s standing; you hadn’t seen him move. He’s leaning on his fingertips, head hanging as he stares at his empty plate. No one says a thing. There’s no air in here anymore. Only silence, a grim, gut-wrenching silence. 

They stammer. “H-hey, man. What’s wrong?”

“Get. Out.”

“Come on, we’re just messing around,” the fake blonde chuckles nervously. 

Gojo looks up, slowly, like a creaking door. When his eyes settle on them, they stagger back with the force of his disappointment, and again with his wrath. Though you feel the tendrils of that infinite space between you, you don’t bear its impossible weight. 

With his body tense, veins bulging along his arms, broad shoulders pushed back ready for something you can’t quite grasp in this moment, you realise he really is jacked. And those muscles aren’t just for show or pressing girls against marble countertops. 

As great as it would be to be his friend, it’s even greater to not be his enemy. You didn’t realise it then, but you do now, if Gojo had ever really wanted to make someone disappear, he probably could have done so. 

“You would do well to remember that I, as descendent of the founder of Alpha Phi Delta, have a right to terminate any fraternity brother’s membership without a need for sufficient cause. Just because I’ve never exploited that clause doesn’t mean I’m above it. So, get out. Now.”

Cheeks red and heads hung low, they walk back out without sparing you another glance. 

Gojo sits back down, shoulders still tense. 

The silence hasn’t disappeared, but it has lightened, much more tolerable now. With an uncertainty in your movements, you push your knife and fork together and pat your lips dry. 

“Well, this has certainly been an eventful night,” you say. “I really ought to go, though.”

Gojo nods and takes your plate, leaving to go to the kitchen whilst you freshen up in the bathroom. 

When you come out, he’s already waiting outside with his hands tucked in his pockets, staring up at puffs of clouds he breathes into the night sky. There’s a sombre air around him, like you’re better off not disturbing him, but when he spots you from the corner of his eye, that air evaporates and he beams, literally brightens, practically shadowing the moon. 

“Hey, come on, I’ll drive you to your dorm,” he asserts with a smile. 

And he does. You get into his car for the second time of the night and watch the campus blur past you. Through the ten-minute car ride, he sings along to the pop songs on the radio, bopping his head to every beat like they’re coursing through his veins. 

“You don’t know these songs? Really?” 

He’s completely incredulous, looking at you as if you’ve grown two heads. You roll your eyes and jokingly explain you’re committed to the aesthetic. He finds that funny. The rest of the ride continues wordlessly.

“Alright, this is me,” you announce when he parks. He climbs out the car with you, leaning against his door as you shuffle awkwardly on your feet. “Despite certain parts of the time being…stiff, should we say, I had a lot of fun. Surprisingly.”

A tinge of red colours the tips of his ears. “Yeah, me too. I expected to lose my life, or at least a few limbs, at that graveyard, so I’m pretty happy with the turnout.”

You roll your eyes. “And I’m very happy I’m not covered in pig’s blood coming out of your frat house.”

“No, closest we had to that was the pasta sauce,” he chuckles. 

“Which was surprisingly delicious, by the way. You should cook more often instead of the junk food you eat.”

“Says you?” He pushes your shoulder lightly. “Miss Cup Noodles.”

“Whatever.”

The conversation dies there, laughter fading as both of you eye the doors of your dorm building. You pull your cloak tighter around you, irritated that, even though he’s just in jeans and a plain graphic tee, he’s seemingly unbothered by the temperature drop. 

“You should go in,” Gojo suggests, voice softer, barely louder than a whisper. 

You nod and make a step to go, but then a warm hand wraps around your wrist, tugging you back. He’s carrying the weight of it in his palm, thumb grazing your wrist. There’s electricity thrumming where he touches and you’re about to snatch your hand away before he tightens his grip. 

“Just a second,” he mutters, before pulling out something from his pockets. Something black. 

Your gloves. 

You forgot to put them on, having left them in the kitchen. 

He’s taking his time, smoothing the material over your knuckles, ensuring your fingers are tucked in properly. His thumb lingers on the curve of each finger, exploring the slopes. Your breath hitches as his hands envelope yours completely, his touch deliberate and light and there’s no other way to describe it: it’s positively reverent. 

The glove slide snugly into place, a second skin but they feel new, as if fresh from the machine, still warm. 

You shouldn’t let him reach for your other hand, shouldn’t just watch as he unfolds the other glove, slipping it on with much more care than you yourself had ever done. His eyes are watching the fabric consume more and more of your skin, until they meet the ends of your sleeve, and no skin remains. 

“Gojo,” you breathe out. 

He shakes his head, brows furrowing. “Satoru. Call me Satoru.”

When he finally looks up, your eyes meet and your pulse quickens, quick and short breaths pulling your chest up and down. You didn’t even realise one hand is clutching his shoulder whilst the other remains in his grip. And you certainly don’t notice that you’re standing much closer than before, only a hair’s breadth from finding out whether his lips are as soft and plush as his touch. 

“You smell really nice,” he whispers, thumb running across your knuckles, like he’s willing warmth into your hand. 

You’re so close it only takes one gust of wind to push you together, to taste what a future with him could mean, to seal the first date with something that’ll keep you up at night. Just one kiss, one bad decision and everything could fade away for a second. You could pretend he’s just a boy and you’re just a girl and this is a normal date, that you have a normal relationship and tomorrow you could go back to being arranged lovers. 

His lashes flutter, so long and wispy and you’re jealous. Flickering between your eyes and your lips, you know he’s searching for any sign that you might want this just as bad as he does. You’re craning your head back, back arched to reach him, and when your chest rubs against his for a millisecond, he shuts his eyes with a groan.  

“Hey! If it isn’t Gojo,” a gruff voice bellows.

You step back, gasping for air and desperately smoothing your skirt down as you give a shaky smile to the newcomer. He’s a tall, buff man wearing shorts and carrying a basketball. He pats Gojo on the back, oblivious to the tension, to the way his friend is pouting, grumbling about how he ‘ruined the moment.’

The man looks at you with a friendly enough smile, eyeing your appearance with nothing more than curiosity before he gives you one of those manly nods. 

“Whatcha doing at my girl’s dorm?” He asks. 

Clearing his throat, Gojo answers, “Just dropping my wi—I mean, my friend off. Yeah, just stopping by.”

The guy doesn’t look ready to stop talking. So you take the initiative to excuse yourself with an awkward kiss on the white-haired boy’s cheek and you whisper, “Goodnight...Satoru.”

You don’t wait for him to reply.

Just as you’re about to enter your dorm building, you hear a distinct, “Dude, I totally cockblocked you, didn’t I? Fuck, put that thing away. You’re gonna poke my fucking eyes out!”

You smile just as your phone pings.

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Imagine having deep discussions with the Whitebeard pirates

Ace: Have you ever wondered why the world government opposes people so far away from them, doing what we do?

Marco: [mutters] I wish you would just stop saying odd shit.

Whitebeard: well we're breaking the law, obviously.

You: It's a little deeper than that. It's because what many pirates do, is the same thing the world government does.

Marco: We are not similar in any way.

You: no, think about it, what does the world government do? They lay out a bunch of rules and if you don't follow them, they use violence to force most of the world into following them. And if a nation elects not to join the world government, or can't afford to join, they raid and pillage those islands and take their citizens as slaves.

Izou: On the other hand, if a nation does join the world government, they have to pay heavenly tributes, because if they don't, the Marines will raid and pillage your country. But if they pay the heavenly tributes, the marines will protect their nation from outsiders, like pirates and non-world-government-nations.

Whitebeard: However, on top of paying the heavenly tribute, the average person also pays local and national taxes, so it's a heavy burden for some countries.

Marco: Oh my gods, it's like a protection racket, that common thugs run, just on a massive scale.

Whitebeard: and, like many pirates.

You: they don't like pirates, for the same reason they don't like common thugs, because you all are muscling in on their turf.

Thatch: so most governments are just organized, and socially acceptable, thuggery.

You: Not all, look at Alabasta for instance, King Cobra has a lot of social programs for his people. Food programs and affordable housing for the poor. Medical programs that put a doctor in every village and a bunch of other stuff. The people should receive something back from their government besides 'protection'.

Ace: I know a lot of nations that are in the world government have a large lower class that they exploit labor from and bleed them dry with taxes, tolls, and fines. I can never forget what I saw at the Grey Terminal out of the Goa Kingdom's Great Gate.

Thatch: That's because in "normal society" they value wealth, and look down on and take advantage of people who don't have it. Meanwhile, in pirate culture, we value strength and look down on and take advantage of those who are weaker, like how we raid other crew's ships because we can, and they can't stop us.

Izou: [sighs] That's an oversimplification If I ever heard one.

Thatch: [steps into Izou's space bubble.] You got something to say to me?

Izou: I've been to both world-government nations and non-world-government nations, and I can tell you that they value both strength and wealth. It's just different classes value one over the other. The upper and more privileged class values wealth, and daintiness because they can hire the strong. While the less privileged value strength, because it helps them survive, because they don't have money.

Thatch: I know that, did you forget I grew up poor as shit, mister little daimyo's vassal-boy.

Izou: And I was a wandering beggar minstrel before that, also keep Oden's name out of your mouth.

Thatch: how about you fucking make me?

Marco: [hops between the two men and dramatically claps his hands together like a clapperboard.] Aaand scene, that was a brilliant performance, gentlemen.

Ace: it was almost hard to tell that you two are actually friends.

Thatch: [huffs] Alright, I'll take it back, I'm sorry Izou.

Izou: I'm sorry too

You: you all are too fighty.

Ace: bitch, you're the most stab happy out of all of us.

You: I am not

Whitebeard: Just last night, you stabbed Vista's hand with a fork because he kept reaching over your plate.

You: ... I did do that, but only after asking him to stop three times. Which is more than reasonable, he's a grown-ass adult, and he, and his fuck ass mustache, should know basic table etiquette by now.

Ace: and then you stabbed me for no reason, with the same fork!

You: that was for good measure, just in case you got any ideas!

List of Up-and-coming works || Master list || Twitter| Kofi || Patreon

[n0vazsq]

Winner | Lamine Yamal x Reader

pairing . . . lamine yamal x gf!reader

summary . . . After watching your boyfriend play a match, he invites you over to the field so he can teach you how to play

request . . . yes!! based on this request!

word count . . . 1.5k+

warnings . . . none!

faceclaim . . . N/A

alexavia yaps . . . idk why it took me sm time to write this like it could've legit taken me like 40 mins but idk </3 I HOPE YOU LIKE ITTTT! i forgot i was writing a fic halfway through the football tutorial so lets ignore that <3 I YAPPED MY ASS OFF IN THIS LIKE OMG

taglist . . . @barcapix (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)

. . . The football field was still buzzing with energy as the match wrapped up. The sound of boots pounding against the turf, the cheers from the crowd, and the sharp whistle from the referee all began to fade as players gathered around, stretching and cooling off.

You had been watching from the sidelines, eyes glued to Lamine as he darted around the field with the kind of ease that made his talent look effortless.

The excitement from the game was still fresh, but your mind wandered back to the way he had been glancing your way every time he had a chance. You’d been there to support him, of course, but you couldn’t help the little excitement that ran through you each time your eyes met his.

As the final whistle blew and players started to make their way to the sidelines, Lamine broke away from the group, his expression lighting up when he spotted you. A quick wave, a playful grin, and then he jogged over to where you were standing.

"You're watching or you're playing?" Lamine asked, a teasing glint in his eyes.

"Watching," you replied, offering a smile. "You guys were amazing out there."

"Not as amazing as you," he replied with a wink, brushing his sweaty hair out of his face. His gaze softened as he looked at you, his hands resting gently on your waist.

You smiled, your heart swelling at the sincerity in his voice. "You’re my favorite player, Lamine. Always." you said, your fingers lightly tracing his jawline.

The air between you two shifted, the teasing and laughter fading into something more affectionate. Without thinking, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his, the kiss slow and easy, like you both had all the time in the world.

He responded instantly, his hands moving to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. The kiss deepened, and for a brief moment, everything else disappeared, just the two of you, the feel of his lips against yours, and the quiet hum of the evening.

When you finally pulled away, your foreheads rested against each other, and you stayed like that for a while, just enjoying the quiet closeness. "I love you," Lamine whispered, his voice low, sincere.

"I love you, too," you replied, your voice soft. You could feel the warmth of his body against yours, his heartbeat steady and reassuring, and in that moment, everything felt right.

"You know," he said with a mischievous smile, "you should try it yourself."

You raised an eyebrow, unsure whether he was serious or joking. "Try what?"

"Football," he said, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. "I’ll teach you. We can make it a proper football weekend."

A laugh rose up from your chest. "I’ve never played before, Lamine. I’d probably mess it up."

He leaned in, the grin on his face widening. "You won’t mess it up. I’ll teach you. You’re smart, you’ll catch on quickly. Plus, it's just for fun."

You hesitated, but the enthusiasm in his eyes was impossible to resist. "Alright, fine. But only because you asked nicely."

Lamine led you to a quieter part of the field, away from the hustle and chaos of the game’s aftermath. The soft sound of the ball bouncing on the grass as the remaining players finished packing up and heading off was the only noise. It felt peaceful, almost surreal, like this was a private moment between the two of you.

"So, first things first," Lamine began, positioning the ball on the ground in front of him. "The basics. You kick the ball, try to keep it under control, and-"

You interrupted with a mock roll of your eyes. "I know how to kick a ball, Lamine."

He laughed and nudged you lightly, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. "Just making sure. But do you know how to pass, control it, and dribble without tripping over your own feet?"

"Fair point," you said, stepping up to the ball and kicking it lightly, feeling it roll a few feet ahead. "Like this?"

"Not bad," he said, his tone approving. He came closer, showing you how to position your foot, his own demonstrating the proper technique as the ball gently tapped the grass and spun away. "Like this. You want to keep the ball close to you, not too far ahead. And don't worry about looking perfect, it’s just practice."

You tried again, this time focusing on keeping the ball close to your foot as you tapped it forward. Lamine stood close by, offering tips and making sure you didn’t get discouraged when you missed or sent the ball off in the wrong direction.

"See? You’re getting it," he said after your fifth attempt. "You just need a little more practice."

"Easy for you to say," you muttered, smiling despite yourself. "You’ve been playing for years."

"Doesn’t mean you can’t learn," he said confidently. "Everyone starts somewhere. And you’re a quick learner. I’m impressed."

You couldn’t help but feel a rush of pride at his words, even if they were just about kicking a football around. It was nice to be noticed, especially by him. You had always admired his dedication and skill on the field, but seeing him take the time to teach you felt… different. It made your heart flutter in a way you didn’t quite understand.

"Okay, now for the dribbling," Lamine said, stepping back to give you more room. "It’s all about control, and… well, not letting the ball get too far away from you."

You focused hard as he demonstrated, showing you how to move the ball with precision. After a few tries, you started to get the hang of it. You felt more confident, and that confidence seemed to spark something in Lamine.

"Hey, not bad at all," he said, grinning. "You're a natural."

"Maybe I’m just good at listening," you teased, wiping the sweat from your brow.

He laughed, stepping a little closer to you. "You’re good at more than listening."

You tried to ignore the warmth that spread through you at his words. Lamine had always had this effortless way of making you feel special without even trying.

"Alright," he said, pushing the ball toward you with his foot. "Let's see if you can get it past me."

You gave him a skeptical look. "What, now we’re playing against each other?"

"Why not?" He shrugged, clearly enjoying the playful challenge. "Don’t worry. I’ll go easy on you."

"Well, aren’t you confident?" you said, laughing as you readied yourself to try and dribble past him. The challenge had you on edge in the best way, and you focused on the ball, taking a deep breath as you tried to maneuver it around him.

The two of you danced around the field, him weaving around effortlessly, showing off his moves while you stumbled after him, trying to keep up. But each time you managed to get close, he'd use his quick footwork to steal the ball away with a teasing laugh.

"You’re getting better!" he said, as you finally managed to get a little too close for comfort, kicking the ball out of his reach.

"Don’t get cocky now," you shot back, smiling.

He walked over, clapping you on the back lightly. "You’ve definitely got potential. Who knows? Maybe we’ll make a footballer out of you yet."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. You weren’t sure if he was joking or not, but the idea of spending more time like this with him, laughing and learning together, felt… nice. More than nice.

"Thanks, Lamine. For everything," you said, glancing up at him.

He flashed a grin, his usual cockiness replaced by something softer. "Anytime."

"Hey, get the ball, it's rolling away." you laughed, pointing behind him.

Running to get the ball, Lamine walked back to you, a troublesome grin playing on his lips. "Well," he said, pulling you into a side hug, "I think it’s time for my reward for teaching you football."

You raised an eyebrow, playing along. "And what would that reward be?"

"Well, first," he said, his voice dropping lower as he gently kissed your temple, "I get to kiss you again."

You laughed softly, your fingers tracing small patterns on his chest as you looked up at him. "Seems like a pretty good reward to me."

His grin widened, and without warning, he cupped your face, gently guiding you in for another kiss. This one was more urgent than before, his hands finding your waist like usual. You melted into him, your hands slipping around his neck as you deepened the kiss, savoring the taste of him.

When you finally pulled back, your heart was racing, and a playful sparkle flickered in your eyes. "Is that all I get for my efforts?"

Lamine laughed, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "For now," he teased. "But I think I’ll find more ways to show you just how much I appreciate you later."

You smiled up at him, holding his hand in yours. "I look forward to it," you said, leaning into him again, content in the warmth of his embrace.

Lamine might've won the football match, and maybe your heart too. But until now, you've won in life.

And maybe won his heart too.

[macfrog]

grilled cowboy like me chapter three

part iii of dbf!joel! parts i here and ii here. ask, dear readers, and you shall receive. i do just wanna also add a massive thank you to you guys for all the love on this series. every single like, reblog, reply, etc. means the world to me. i hope you enjoy this next chapter 💚 reader got joel quaking !!! 🥵

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: joel knows he shouldn't be looking at you the way he is, but you look so pretty on your knees; how can he say no?

warnings: 18+ minors dni!!! oral (m receiving), praise kink, jealous/protective joel, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), consumption of alcohol, cursing

word count: 4.6k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

You know what he means. He’s in a lot more trouble than you are if you both get caught; he’s your dad’s buddy. He isn’t supposed to be fooling around with his best friend’s daughter. You think over what you’ve gotta be doing to him – all the glances when no one’s looking, the touching, practically fucking begging for him to make you cum earlier. It’s no wonder he’s trying so hard to stop himself every time, no surprise he’s doing all he can not to give in to you. And right then, you realize – That’s exactly what you want him to do.

You spend a few more minutes up in your room before you follow Joel out the door and downstairs. You’re a little flustered, okay? Your dad’s best friend just had you literally wrapped around his fingers, and now you both gotta head off to a friendly neighborhood barbecue you’re supposed to be hosting. All smiles. All, Anyone need a refill? All, No, I haven’t just totally been fooling around with Joel Miller.

The house is empty and voices feed in from the backyard. You push aside the shades and step out onto the bright patio, where a few of your neighbors are sitting. Joel stands between Hank and Rita’s chairs, and you amble over to his side.

You sense his body tensing as soon as you reach him, your shoulder brushing off of his deliberately.

“Hello, my girl,” Rita calls, taking one of your wrists in her frail hands. “I sure am glad to see you back on home turf.”

You smile a little awkwardly, placing a hand on top of hers. “It’s nice to see you, too. How’ve you been?”

“Still livin’, honey, still livin’.”

She lets go of you when Hank takes her up in conversation, and your attention turns back to Joel.

“Busy, huh? Lotta people came.”

“Mhm,” he grunts, taking a step away from you and folding his arms. You eyes skim across the new distance between you both, noting it.

“Joel, your Sarah,” Rita swivels to face him, “she’s home soon, right?”

Joel nods. “The seventeenth.”

Hank gives a nod. “It’ll be a fine summer havin’ both you girls back home.”

Joel shifts awkwardly, his eyes darting around the patio. He spots Bill across the pool, by your dad’s work shed, and excuses himself. You track him as he makes off, and feel your face reddening.

Your dad’s head and shoulders materialize through the sliding door to the kitchen and he calls on you, beckoning you in. You hesitantly wander over, a cloud of shame forming over your head that you hope he can’t see.

“Bill’s beer,” he adds a Coors to a tray filled with glasses and bottles, “Marcia’s iced tea, a Coke for Sam…Joel– Shoot, we ain’t got Joel anythin’. Reckon he’ll touch Coors?”

You flinch at the mention of his name, and instantly try to recover it. “I wouldn’t know, why would I know that?”

Your dad’s hands lift like you’ve aimed a shotgun at him. “Alright, cranky, jeez. Go back to bed, get out the right side this time. Here.”

He lifts the tray and slowly passes it over the island to you, the glass trembling.

“…you remember, now? Bill – beer, Marcia – iced tea, Sam–”

“– Coke, yeah, I got it. Go take a Xanax, dad, your hair’s fallin’ out.”

“And ask Joel what he’s after!” he calls as you slip out of the sliding door.

Marcia sits beside her daughter, Lisa, on the pool loungers. You bend your knees and lower the tray for her to reach her drink.

“Thank you, honey.” She grins gratefully as she lifts it off the shaking tray and you return her smile, then continue on.

Bill is stood at the other end of the garden with Joel, arms crossed, both listening to some story Arthur Kennedy’s telling about a mechanic he works with. Arthur Kennedy always kinda scared you, was always loud and drunk. Your dad and Joel used to deliberately come up with excuses to keep you and Sarah away from him at parties.

This time is no different. You approach the group of men from Joel’s right side, dipping behind his back to stand between him and Bill, safely separated from the raving storyteller.

“He says he’d just oiled it, I said, Benny, that engine’s drier ‘n a nun’s nasty!”

He erupts into a roar of laughter despite the silence of his companions, and you nudge the tray against Bill’s arm.

“Oh, darlin’,” he says, turning to you and giving you an affectionate smile as he lifts the beer. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

You smile back. Bill can be gruff, a bit of a loner, but he’s always had a soft spot for you.

“How you doin’?” he asks, taking a swig.

You nod. “Good. Back workin’ at Sal’s, so…living the dream.”

You can feel Arthur’s stare on you like the hot sun. You shift awkwardly from foot to foot, tray tucked under your elbow against your hip.

“I’ll bet,” Bill says. “He got you workin’ hard?”

“Not really. It’s a pretty quiet store. Uh, Dad wanted me to ask,” you turn to Joel, whose eyes are glued to the ground, “what you’re drinkin’?”

He shakes his head, palm hooked around the back of his neck. “I’ll get my own. Thanks.”

“Aw, c’mon Joelie,” Arthur taunts. You try to avoid looking him in the eye out of fear he’ll take you up on it, but he does it anyways. “Why don’t you just let this pretty little waitress of ours bring you a drink? Since she’s bein’ so sweet ‘n offerin’.”

Your eyes flit to Joel. His jaw is tense, his eyes dark as he stares down Arthur.

“You know what,” he says through his teeth, “I’ll take a Bud. C’mon, you’ll know where they are, right?”

“Wh– We didn’t get any–”

“Be in the fridge, I’ll bet.” He takes your arm and pulls you away from the duo, who resume conversation as you leave.

You’re hauled back into the kitchen so fast that you almost drop Sam’s soda.

“Joel, be careful!”

He lets go of your arm and watches Arthur from the kitchen window. “Scumbag,” he mutters.

“Do you suffer from short-term memory loss?” you ask, throwing the tray onto the counter. “Didn’t we have a whole argument in the store about me not gettin’ Bud?”

“Just had to get you away from him, talkin’ like that. Guy pisses me off,” Joel huffs.

“Who pisses you off?” your dad calls, appearing from the bathroom.

Joel shoots him a look. “Arthur Kennedy. What’s he doin’ here?”

“I couldn’t not invite him; I know he’s a dirtball. You stay away from him.” He points a finger at you.

“Very good,” Joel replies. “Great plan. Make it her problem to keep the pervert off her tail.”

“Pervert?” You scoff.

“You don’t hear him at Frank’s!” Joel rounds on you now, and you raise your eyebrows. “That waitress line wasn’t even half of it.”

Your dad chuckles, patting Joel’s shoulder as he passes. “I’ll keep an eye on it.” He wanders out to the patio.

Joel’s still full of rage. You watch him, not sure whether to move closer or let him calm down on his own.

“I think you’re probably overreacting a little. It was a creepy line, and I won’t be goin’ near him anyways, but it’s fine. I can dodge Arthur Kennedy.”

“Shouldn’t need to. Shouldn’t be put in that position.”

He doesn’t take his eyes off of the kitchen counter, palms pressed flat to the surface, shoulders hunched, breathing deep. He looks like a wild bear, like he could rip Arthur Kennedy limb from limb if only he’d just stroll through the sliding door.

You decide to give him some time to cool off.

“I gotta get this Coke to Sam. You good?”

“I’ll be fine,” he snaps, and you take that as your cue to dip.

When you reappear into the sunlight, a pair of hands clamp down on your shoulders, making you jump.

“Hey, stranger!”

“Sam!” you cry, clutching your chest. “You almost gave me a damn heart attack. Here, idiot.”

You hand him the soda, and he tilts it in your direction, a thank-you in the form of a toast.

“I’ve been meaning to drop by Frank’s since I got home, come pay you a visit.”

“I’ll get you a drink on the house when you do.” Sam smiles, blonde fringe gleaming in the sun.

“So, how’s it going?” you ask.

“It’s…going.” He laughs. “Was just talking to Hank about college courses. Figured I might apply. This bartending life is not for me.”

“Do it. Come be a graduate with me. I got a degree, forty grand of debt, and absolutely no prospects!”

Sam laughs. “Nah, you got a brain, you’re gonna work somethin’ out.”

You both take seats by the pool to catch up. Sam’s a nice guy; he was in your circle of friends at school, and, like Anna, always stayed in Austin while you and the rest up and left.

Your dad always thought he had a thing for you, being that he was male and you two were close, and your dad’s an old-fashioned man who doesn’t believe any good can come from two people of opposite genders being friends. But Sam’s a sweet guy, and his being here pushes Joel’s sudden change in behavior a little further back in your mind.

“I’m working later on, so I’m only staying for an hour or so. My mom says hi, by the way.”

“Hi right back. Is she doing okay?”

“Fine! She’s fine. As fine as she can be, I think. Y’know, my dad leaving wasn’t too great. She took it pretty hard. But we’re settled into the new place, she’s doing good. Do you…Did you scratch yourself, or somethin’?”

He points underneath your hair to the side of your neck and your fingers run across the skin, wincing a little over a particular spot under your jaw. A memory flashes before your eyes as the sensitive skin tingles and your eyes instantly lock on the culprit: emerging from the kitchen door, beer in hand, dark eyes scanning the garden for you.

When you lock eyes, he makes a passive expression and wanders off in the opposite direction.

“Uh– No, that’s weird. Well, I had a nap earlier. I might have scratched myself in my sleep, y’know?”

Sam narrows his eyes. He’s twenty-three, dumbass, he’s not an idiot.

You smile sweetly at him and scrape together some reason to excuse yourself, dashing off to the bathroom to examine Joel’s handiwork.

It’s only a little red, probably more noticeable in the sunlight, but still, you grab some concealer and dab it over the mark. Feeling exhausted from running around and pretty pissed off with Joel, you march back outside and throw yourself into a chair beside Hank.

“Your dad knows how to cook a burger,” he tells you, holding a napkin to his mouth. “Delicious.”

“I’ll grab one in a bit. Not really hungry.”

You spend a little time chatting with Hank and Rita, answering their questions about college, telling anecdotes about work, asking about Anna’s makeup business.

“That girl,” Hank shakes his head, “there ain’t no tellin’ her. I’m just her ol’ uptight dad.”

All the while you periodically glance up, across the pool to Joel, and each time, he’s staring right back.

When you get up to grab some food, his eyes follow you. When Sam pulls you in for a hug to say goodbye, he’s watching. When Arthur stumbles over to sit across from Hank, Joel’s figure appears like an apparition at the side of him. Across the table, an appropriate distance away, but keeping an eye on you.

It fills you with equal parts thrill and frustration.

You find yourself laughing extra hard at Bill’s comments, leaning your head on Marcia’s shoulder, leaping to your feet anytime Hank wants a refill, or Rita asks you to light her cigarette. All to get to Joel. All so he has to watch you be unbothered by him for the entire night.

The garden is darker, porch light attracting moths and flies, but a small group of your neighbors sits congregated under blankets on the patio still. You’re talking about New York with Lisa when you notice Joel lean in to your dad across the table.

“I’m gonna head, early start tomorrow,” he says, getting up from his seat.

“You remember your gas tank, Joel,” your dad tells him, nodding over to the grilling station.

“Hey.” You feel a nudge on your shoulder and look up to find his brown eyes looking down into yours. “Give me a hand, would ya? Loadin’ this into the truck.”

“You got it out just fine on your own.”

He calls you by name, and you know from his stern expression he’s serious.

You stand, shaking the blanket from your shoulders, and follow him over to the barbecue. He detaches the tank and picks it up. You wrap your fingers around the handle beside Joel’s, but when the two of you waddle out the back gate, you can feel he has most of the weight.

You reach his truck, shrouded in darkness from the dusk. He hands you the keys from his back pocket and you drop the tailgate, then Joel hoists the tank up by himself and wipes his hands on his jeans.

“What’d you even need me for?”

“Been weird today. Wanted to check you were alright.”

“Are you fucking serious?” You groan. “Are you talking to me or not?”

“Of course I’m talkin’ to ya.”

“Then stop being an asshole, okay? I’m bored of asshole Joel. I want my Joel back.”

He looks at you almost solemnly.

“Look, if you don’t wanna talk about what happened upstairs, we don’t have to, but–”

“’s not that I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Then what is it?”

The floodlight over the garage switches on and your back gate clicks open. Your dad ushers Rita out, coat draped over her shoulders.

“Just walkin’ Rita home,” your dad calls.

“See ya, hon!”

You wave. “Bye, Rita.”

When you turn back, Joel’s making his way toward the truck door.

“Oh, go fuck yourself,” you mutter under your breath, and silently storm back into the house.

You hear his truck pull away as you throw yourself down onto your bed. Fucking livid.

Alright, you agreed nothing happened. But then Joel went and started acting like something totally happened. If anyone had caught on to the way he was acting, they’d for sure know something was up.

The anger rolls around in your stomach; his avoiding you, the way he kicked off when Arthur made that comment, the way his eyes followed you around the garden afterward.

And worst of all, you fucking liked it. You liked him protecting you, didn’t you? You liked the way he couldn’t help himself, had to make sure you were out of reach of any danger. You liked peering over Sam’s shoulder to find his gaze frozen on you.

You sit up, hands either side of your hips on your mattress. You look down and notice what they’re resting on.

Joel’s flannel shirt.

You’re halfway out the door, shirt in your fist, before you even have time to breathe. You run into your dad in the driveway.

“Woah, woah, where we off to?”

“Joel forgot his shirt.”

“I’m sure he can do without it for a few days, kiddo.”

“I’ll just take it back to ‘im,” you call, hopping in your car before he has time to protest.

You’re at Joel’s in five minutes.

Knocking and waiting for him to answer might ruin the argumentative vibe you’re trying to set, so you fling his front door open and walk straight into his hallway.

The house sits in complete darkness, save for a small light flooding in from the room at the end of the hall. You wander up to it and find Joel sat at his kitchen table, staring down at some contract papers on the wood. Aside from the dull light over his head, the kitchen is dark, orange tinge on the walls from the streetlights outside.

He doesn’t flinch when your shoe scuffs his tile floor. Instead, he just flips the papers back over and sighs.

“Subtlety not in your nature, is it, kid?”

“You left this.” You throw the shirt onto the table.

His eyes scan over it. “Thought I told you to keep it.”

“Oh,” you sit down opposite him, “my mistake. I thought you meant keep it until you’d had your way with me. Thought once you’d dumped me I was to hand the flannel back.”

“Dumped you?” He raises his eyebrows, sitting back in his chair. “Hm.”

“Hm?”

“I wasn’t tryin’ to dump you. I didn’t mean for you to feel…dumped.”

“The most you talked to me all afternoon was to give me a grilling about Arthur Kennedy. All you did was stare at me, then ask me to help you carry a gas tank at the very end of the night.”

He scratches his beard, considering what you’re saying.

“I mean, I thought we agreed to act like it didn’t happen,” you continue, “I thought we were fine.”

“Fine? You think what we did was fine?”

You struggle to find words to reply. Sure, it was better than fine. And at the same time, it was a terrible idea.

“We…We were…We were just messing around.”

Joel almost laughs. “Messin’ around.”

“Yeah,” you protest. “I liked it, you looked like you liked it. What’s wrong with it?”

“I’ll tell you what’s wrong with it. If we do this, if we’re ‘messin’ around’…what makes me any different to…to Arthur Kennedy? Hm? Just another creep on the street, hangin’ around and flirtin’ with girls far too young for ‘im?”

“The difference is I actually want you to do it, Joel.”

His expression drops. He stands up, shoving the chair back, and wanders off toward the kitchen counter.

You twist around to watch him. “I want this. And I’m twenty-three fucking years old, I can decide for myself. Arthur is, like, sixty years old, anyway. And he ain’t even a good sixty – he’s all grey, wrinkly skin, greasy hair like he doesn’t know how to work his own shower–”

“Alright, kid, we’re digressin’ here.” Joel waves his hand.

You snap back to reality and shake your head to clear it of Arthur Kennedy’s leathery skin. “Sorry, sorry.”

“It’s just not a good idea.”

“What’s not?” You stand.

“This. Us. You ‘n me.”

“And did you decide this before or after you fucked around with me in my bedroom?”

Joel sighs, shaking his head and turning away. He places one hand on his hip, the other to the bridge of his nose.

“I mean…” You throw your arms up, finally at breaking point. “What are you doing to me?”

Your tone forces him to turn back. When your expression matches it, he approaches you, gently cupping your face in both hands.

“I’m tryin’ to rein this in a little, baby. I’m tryna be the responsible one here. You know how hard it is not to give in to this? To you?”

You know what he means. He’s in a lot more trouble than you are if you both get caught; he’s your dad’s buddy. He isn’t supposed to be fooling around with his best friend’s daughter.

You think over what you’ve gotta be doing to him – all the glances when no one’s looking, the touching, practically fucking begging for him to make you cum earlier. It’s no wonder he’s trying so hard to stop himself every time, no surprise he’s doing all he can not to give in to you. And right then, you realize –

That’s exactly what you want him to do.

Your head falls limp in his grasp. “Then, stop trying.”

Joel’s eyes trace over your face; down the bridge of your nose, across your lips, over to where your jaw meets his rough hands. He’s tossing the thought of it over in his head like a penny. Only there’s no right answer.

Heads, you call it off, and lose any chance of ever knowing what this is between you guys. Tails, you fall down the rabbit hole; secret, clandestine, forbidden rabbit hole, and risk losing…well, everything.

Is it worth that risk? Just to feel him on you again? To feel his lips across yours, hungry, demanding, his hips grinding into you, his hands all over you, the way he looks at you as you cum for him…

Suddenly, like the realization hits him at the exact same time as it does you, Joel’s eyes darken.

Yeah. It’s fucking worth it.

His grip becomes rough, shifting from your jaw to around your throat. He pulls you toward him, lips connecting, and your hands press against his chest.

His grasp drops, squeezing your hips, before one hand leaves to settle between your legs. He just can’t get enough, can he?

“Uh-uh,” you mumble against his mouth, “you had your taste earlier. It’s my turn.”

You push him back against the counter. He’s staring at you with nothing but lust behind his eyes. Without a word, you sink down, knees hitting the cold tile.

“Baby…” Joel hums when your hands find his belt buckle. You smirk at his voice; you’re too good to be true to him. Like he can’t believe what’s about to happen.

You undo his belt and pull it through the loops, letting it fall to the floor with a clink. Then your fingers undo his jeans, almost tearing them apart by the zipper with your eagerness to see him.

As you pull the denim over his hips, you feel his hand softly rest on the crown of your head. A quick glance up tells you he’s watching every single thing you’re doing, lapping it up like it’s the last thing he’ll ever see.

You can see the bulge through his boxers; it’s big. Bigger than you imagined, even with your hand stuffed down your panties.

You place a gentle kiss to his thigh and pull the waistband of his underwear down, and his cock springs free. You gasp a little at the size of it, feeling your mouth watering at the sight of precum on his tip.

Your hands wrap around it, clutching his girth. You pump him a few times in your hands and he tips his head back, mouth agape. His free hand grips the counter, steadying himself.

His tip oozes more precum and you wrap your lips around it, sucking gently. Joel groans, audibly. The most audible you’ve heard him yet. It drives you insane.

You push your lips down his shaft, his cock filling up your mouth to your throat before you even reach the bottom. You push down as far as your throat will allow before releasing him with a pop, saliva mixed with Joel all over your lips.

“Good girl,” he’s mumbling, eyes still screwed shut, hand still knotting in your hair.

You drag your tongue along the underside of his dick, closing your eyes. All you can think is Joel, all you can taste, smell, and breathe is him. Completely dumb for this man, cock stretching your mouth so good.

When you take him in down to your throat again, he begins moving his hips; fucking your mouth. You steady yourself, hands on his upper thighs, and let him, trying not to lower your hand to your cunt to relieve the ache quickly growing there.

The sounds he’s making are enough to make you cum by themselves. He’s panting, moaning, breathing your name, groaning whenever your cheeks hollow and you suck until he’s so close he pulls you off.

“Wanna take my time, baby. You’re doing so good.”

You pull him back into your mouth. He tastes like sweat and salt and Joel. He tastes perfect.

When he bumps the back of your throat and you gag a little, you notice Joel’s head snap down to check on you. His grip on your hair loosens, and you softly gaze back at him, eyes blown with lust, to let him know you’re okay.

You drag your lips off of his head, a string of saliva still linking your mouth to his reddened tip. You’re panting now, half-turned on, half-tired from accommodating the size of him between your jaw.

Your palms wrap around his length again, pumping and twisting slowly while your tongue flicks over his head. He grits his teeth, both hands now against the countertop, knuckles whitening the longer you go on.

When you let go of him and dip your head down to take his whole cock in your throat, he lets out a deep groan.

“Keep goin’, baby, keep doin’ that,” he’s groaning, your head bobbing up and down. “Don’t fuckin’ stop.”

His hand falls to the back of your head and he applies a little pressure, fucking into you again.

When you begin to feel him jerk, you lean back, hands helping him to his high as you hold his head to your bottom lip.

Joel’s hand never leaves your head as his cock twitches, filling your throat and coating your tongue in warm, salty cum. He’s calling your name, breath heaving and hips shuddering.

His length slides out of your mouth. When his orgasm subsides, he watches you lick your lips and swallow his load, before tucking his softening dick under his boxers and pulling his jeans back up.

You watch in a distant haze of ecstasy as Joel does his pants up himself and takes your chin in his hand.

Breathing heavy, you look up at him, eyes hooded. Waiting for permission to stand.

“C’mere,” he whispers, and your tired legs hoist you back up to height.

He envelops you in his arms, placing a kiss to your forehead and letting you lean into his chest.

You let your eyes fall closed as you breathe each other in.

“So good to me,” Joel mumbles against your forehead, and you lazily smile.

You could let him carry you up to his bed and fall asleep right then and there, you think. That is, until you hear your phone vibrating on the table.

“Fuck,” you groan, and Joel releases you from his grasp.

“Just makin’ sure you ain’t dead,” your dad chirps down the line.

“I’m still at Joel’s,” you reply, “just leavin’.”

“Don’t you be keepin’ him, you hear?”

You pretend not to, and get him off the phone as quickly as possible. When you turn back around, Joel’s stood with a smirk on his face.

“Go on. Don’t want to make him suspicious.”

You skip over and place a kiss to his lips, and he runs a hand through your hair.

“Like I said, we’re not doing anything wrong.”

“Just messing around,” he says.

----------

As you approach the front door, you pause for a second and compose yourself. Glance in the window to check your reflection, take a deep breath. The last thing you need right now is your dad noticing something’s different.

He’s sitting in the recliner watching baseball highlights when you stumble in. He doesn’t turn to look at you as you dive straight for the refrigerator to grab a bottle of water.

“Hey there. Joel get his precious shirt back?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, sure. Just couldn’t be bothered with it lying around my room.”

He hums absentmindedly. You stand by the kitchen island chugging the water, avoiding conversation with him and looking for an excuse to dismiss yourself to bed.

“Hey,” he says after a bit, “did you find the burgers too…salty?”

You choke on your drink. “The– Too– What?”

“The burgers. Not sure if I over-seasoned ‘em. Were they salty?”

“No. They were fine. They were fine.”

Dizzy with adrenaline, you feign sleepiness and bid him goodnight. When you reach your room and collapse onto your bed, your phone buzzes.

Your eyes scan over the text; your heart skips and you feel a flutter just south of your belly button.

Joel: You free Sunday?

----------

tag list: @yvonneeeee @brittmb115 @subconsciouscollapse (let me know if u wanna be added!)

[slowd1ving]

hello!! Your fic is so cool and if your request is open, can I request DG x male reader when DG still in his James lee era while reader is the King of Busan

XENIA ゜゜・DG

Xenia, noun: the classical concept of hospitality to strangers. This, unfortunately, includes a wandering dog and his conniving owner—a most irritating, tooth-grinding conundrum the King of Busan has with Charles Choi and his boy-genius. sorry for the wait anon I was away from my laptop for the past week or so! and I couldn't write :'( first meetings and onwards for this particular work haha chicken and egg problem.. haha introspection on business and corruption... haha capitalism pairing: dg (james lee) + male reader warnings: male reader, canon typical violence, arguing (bickering) wc: 3.3k

LOOKISM MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

In the lengthy chronicles of Charles Choi’s grand plan—to mould the precarious South Korean underground into something far more profitable—James Lee finally came across his very own cause-and-effect conundrum. 

What came first, the chicken or the egg? Plutarch initially posed this question in The Symposiacs: a symbolic tug of war between creator and creation. James supposed, in his bored sort of way, that this question described the relationship between cities and Kings as well. Chronically, objectively, the cities existed first—tall structures and unique ecosystems that forged shadowy figureheads to rule the violent underbelly. But poetically, it was rather hard to ignore the hands etching—pummeling—a pathway for the power to flourish. Without those in charge, what were the cities? And without the cities, who were the people in charge?

Parsing the matter, it distilled into who influenced whom.

Of course, the dazzling sprawl of Busan refracting from the glass under his feet was no exception. Even he, who satiated his youthful wanderlust with blood on his fists, couldn’t deny his reluctance to sully this city more. But, what did it matter? The second most important city in South Korea (some would froth at the mouth and argue it was the first for its gateway to Eurasian trade, or at least for its world-class ports) was built from perfectly respectable trade; but alack! it was also protected by its snarling underworld. It had already been befouled: polluted by fists no better than his, trodden by legs more filthy than his own. Blood and toil smeared its golden sand, and its money was just as dirty.

 Sure, the city was propped up by honourable (hah) commercial deals, but it was shielded by the illicit ones. 

A defiled aegis, if you would.  

It was clear the current glitzy glamour of Busan night-life was carefully orchestrated by someone: from the specific mouthfeel the night air had, to the businesses that ran late into the witching hours. Those mythical beings and chaebols who fed and extracted money from this place, in endless loops, were culpable for these towering skyscrapers and glittering lights. 

Creators. 

In turn, the city cradled your grimy little body—chubby hands wrapping around index fingers of the metaphorical hounds—and made you. 

Did this metropolis represent you, or did you represent the metropolis?

It was not in a polite setting that James Lee scouted the venerable King of Busan: arguably the second most esteemed figurehead for the Kings of South Korea. In theory. In theory, since Busan’s reputation as a hub for trade and exalted trade (rather than the mere cold, hard cash ill-reputed other cities offered Choi) entwined with your own. Except, in practice, you were a far more reticent King than anyone could imagine. A shadow to fade into obliquity more than any other shadow. 

Underbelly, yes. This was the turf you were most at home in; he could forget all about the glamorous, illegal casinos in basements, he could forget about eavesdropping on business moguls and their lackeys, he could forget about waiting in the entertainment districts for the proverbial snake to finally rear his head. 

You were the fucking microcosm of this city: draped with expensive fabric and chainmailed with gold, but the blood on your knuckles stank of impurity. In a parking lot nestled on the outskirts of Busan, he witnessed the King in his court: complete with the luxury, the opulence, and the hamartia of brutality that came with capitalism. Yes, Busan had minted you as a shadowy side to a glitzy coin—as your eyes snapped to where he lounged against concrete, he couldn’t help but observe how your imaginary hackles raised. 

Thwomp. Casually, you tossed the grunt beaten black-and-blue to the frigid asphalt, with the magnanimity of tossing breadcrumbs to ducks in a pond. Like the lackey was the bread and James fucking Lee himself was the duck. A bloodied cheek squished into his sneaker, but you merely stared at him owl-like. No, cat-like, because it seemed to be the same nonplussed stare a cat would give someone after bringing them a dead rat. 

“Nice city.” Since you clearly had no intention of speaking first. Deftly, his fingers unravelled the mystic plastic of a lollipop: popping the cherry-flavoured candy into his mouth to soothe the acerbic irritation he tasted. “You treat all your guests like this, or do kings not follow xenia anymore?” 

It was a rather futile attempt to lighten the mood. After all, if he could help it, he’d rather negotiate to pave the way for the second generation before resorting to throwing his fist. No, that was a lie. His flexing fingers wanted nothing more than to curl into a fist to let off some of the steam he’d garnered from searching for you in this uselessly big city, but fate had him making stupid jokes based on The Odyssey he’d read just last week for his Classics competition. If he rummaged in his pocket, he could probably find the gold medal clanking against hard sweets. 

Your expression changed minutely—a slight disturbance in your brows. They furrowed, and for a brief moment James Lee thought his joke fell flat. With all the blood soaked into your expensive garb, maybe you just valued fists over Homeric hexameter. Violence over prose. Brawns over brains. You slinked like shadows. Crude. Ominous. He could barely see your face even with the city lights flashing neon in the backdrop, but when your loping gait came to a halt, there was an exasperation that afforded more subtle nuance to your character. A bitterness to tinge what he thought was mindlessness. 

“Mr. Lee.” Your voice curled low in your throat, as quick and elusive as mercury, and perhaps just as poisonous. Shadow King of Busan, the man who never introduced himself to you noticed. Silence was golden, and he suddenly understood why Charles Choi so badly wanted sway over the young King in charge of this port city. “I hope you’re aware that beating my subordinates would invalidate any sort of hospitality between us. You’re no god amongst men either, so ritualistic hospitality is a very weak premise to coerce my amiability with. Try again.”

Deity in the flesh. Perhaps James Lee was the closest thing to breaking the limits of humanity, but all men were fallible. That wasn’t what caused his brow to rise though; going in blind may have been risky, but it was worth it to find someone with a silver tongue like this. 

You looked about his age—treading on the precarious cusp between First and Second Generation, fists stained as red as his hair—but you spoke as if you were triple your years. 

“You wanna transfer to my school? It’d be fun to have you in the Debate Club,” he said on a whim, but it wasn’t really a whim either. His instructions were expressly to negotiate with Busan—the city was far too volatile to create a power vacuum in. For cities like Ansan, struggle was welcomed; but Charles Choi had too little of everything to contend with Busan, of all places. Just like in Seoul, the situation would resolve itself, and it was far too soon for the HNH Group to meddle in a place like this. “You talk like a teacher.”

His tone was as syrupy as his candy, but there was half-provocation, half-probing-curiosity entrenched in his cadence. Go on, it coaxed, throw a punch. Argue back. Unorthodox was his means of securing cooperation, but he’d have to be a little unorthodox to secure the deal old man Choi had painstakingly written out. A contract between Elite and the capricious man before him, between HNH Group and the microcosm of Busan himself; it sounded like every capitalist’s wet dream. 

“Good question, kid,” you smiled, but it was less of a smile and more of a sneer as you ghosted closer to him. Kid, like you weren’t one yourself. 

Crack. You stepped, heavy, on the hand of the man you’d pummelled—only his unconscious groan of pain re-alerted James to his existence. “The term isn’t over. You should still be in school. Playing around like this makes me far less likely to listen to whatever you’ve followed me for. Try again.”

The thick scent of metal invaded his personal space as you peeled your black gloves off; the rings beneath them were tinted with the blood that had seeped through the material. Just like that, you callously tossed the garment onto the slumbering man under your feet—though he truly wasn’t sure whether it was a final affront to a beaten man or throwing down the gauntlet towards James Lee himself. 

It was a reminder, once again, to not be hasty. There was the real possibility of fucking Charles Choi several times over if he didn’t get this right, but the thought of his imminent doom didn’t seem all too unappealing. On the contrary, he found his heart beating faster—pulse hot on his tongue as an intriguing challenge presented itself before him. 

“I’m sure your informants have relayed more intel than just my name,” he mirrored the jagged stretch of your lips. The Legend of the First Generation. The Genius. The original, associated with the base moniker of the Ten Geniuses to show just how unparalleled James fucking Lee was. “Take a guess as to how my scholastic life is going, then consider the opportunity that I’m bringing you.”

Ambiguous. His words were dusted with just enough information to seem straight to the point, but vague enough that it was tantalising. A hook to ensnare the snake of Busan himself. And rather than sating the itch in his fists, he found himself looking forward to a parley instead. 

You studied him, appearing to consider his words seriously. Syllables phrased like he was the one with the upper hand, when in fact the HNH group was still tentatively unfurling and in the process of negotiations with both yakuza and Triad alike. He awaited your favourable response, hearing the stats roll into your mind as you calculated the preliminary gains and losses to joining hands with Charles Choi. 

Bloodied fingers tapped a rhythm into your jacket absentmindedly. He watched, anticipating your invitation. 

“Fuck off.”

“Huh?” he spluttered. Maybe he misheard you. Maybe he finally choked on his candy and induced a coma in which he was now dreaming of your response. 

“Your boss sent a high-schooler to broker a deal with Busan.” Your fingers now drummed in irritation against your forearm, but he was just as irritated. He took care of every other prefecture and province, only to have this guy who was his age, nonetheless, tell him his presence wasn’t good enough. Like, what? “Tell old Choi to come himself to negotiate if he wants any sort of foothold in my city. If he truly wanted a respectable contract, why would he send you as a messenger?”

“Excuse me?” If he wasn’t restricted from fighting you—the only exception was valid self-defence—he would’ve made the asshole in front of him eat shit. Alas, Choi wasn’t that generous or lenient. “He sent one of the Ten Geniuses, the primero, for this. I’m one of his greatest assets.”

“Are you a damn car or a person?” you snapped, and it suddenly felt as though he was looking upon an ancient wizard as he lectured a troublemaker outside his tower. His eyelid twitched, and he was finding it quite hard to keep a cool head. “Talking about assets… can’t believe Choi’s sent the guy who’s fucked up all the smaller provinces to deal with us.”

The latter sentence was more grumbled to yourself; it appeared he annoyed you just as much as you annoyed him, which he found a delighted satisfaction in. 

“Tell Elite to come himself,” you uttered finally, not even letting him get in a word edgeways as you ambled back into the shadows—not even sparing a glance for the pile of bodies left in your wake. 

And despite his objective, despite the imminent yelling he’d no doubt face, he couldn’t help but stare at your blood-soaked coat fluttering in the frigid coastal wind. 

Out of hatred, obviously. 

・゜゜・

Charles Choi was a conniving bastard. You already knew it, but seeing him in the reception hall really drove the image home. He was polite, a little too polite; yet as soon as you slid that manila folder across the mahogany table, his demeanour prickled into something knife-like. 

Snake of Busan, you were nicknamed, but this guy was something else entirely. Once he sank his teeth into your determination to keep Busan flourishing, you could practically see his pupils contract into thin slits. Of course you’d dealt with tricky deals. Weaving through negotiation as though it were a riptide was how you clawed your way to the very depth of Busan’s underworld—navigating until you finally found that crown mired in cess. 

Or, more accurately, it was Miss Crystal Choi who’d pierced her venom right where it hurt. A Genius of Business, her father had called her—and boy, did it take all your wit to match her expertise in trade. 

But did he really have to bring that guy along?

The scion of the Geniuses was also in your office, leaning against the wall far behind Elite and his daughter. And though nobody asked for his input—not even old Choi spared his prodigy a glance—it still irritated you to no end that he’d tagged along. A bright, cheerful grin cast the sun against the city nightlife on the top floor of your building—one directed right at you, considering the only other two people he knew had their backs facing him. Quite the foolish move, but you weren’t one to concern yourself with people who were basically daylight robbing you. If the dog they’d raised bit them, all the better.

Or maybe he was beaming right at your bodyguard-turned-assistant, who stood discreetly in the shadows of the blinds: slatted light gently cresting over his tall build. Well. It certainly was one of the less strange things Mr Lee had done.  

Still, for someone who’d been glaring at you just a week ago, the change felt far too eerie to ignore. 

“—and onto the temporary personnel exchange section—” A feeble attempt to pry open the walnut that Busan was, which would only end with the unfortunate bastard failing. You’d choose a loyal subordinate, they’d select someone who was doomed to only grunt work—far from the impenetrable fortress of this building. Boredly, you tapped the pen on the contract, before freezing up at Miss Choi’s next words. “—we’d like to recommend James Lee to transfer to this office.” 

A pen snapped, and ink spilled onto the page. Dumbfounded, you barely registered her sliding over a fresh sheet, as though she knew full well this would happen. 

No, it was no recommendation. Her very mention of his name was a forceful shove of him into your office. No wonder he was grinning like the devil. No wonder he was here in the first place. At that moment, you wanted nothing more than to leave Busan behind. 

Your eye twitched. 

He kept smiling—an ominous prelude to the brimstone and fire you were sure to experience promptly.  

・゜゜・

“Aren’t I a better bodyguard than that useless one you keep around?” 

James Lee had been a bit too quiet these past few days; duly loping around behind the lower-ranked subordinates as they made their rounds, never crossing the proverbial line when you’d handed him his duties as interim grunt. Though, whenever you passed him, his eyes followed the shadows of your fluttering hem—two pinpricks of an arid glare sweeping on your back. 

But James Lee was a dog, and whatever command Elite gave him, he’d obey. Heel. Roll over. Serve under the King of Busan for a month. A jester, if you would, with a leash around his neck that kept drawing more and more blood from him. What were the limits? Just how far would he go for the man with a crimson shadow?

“No,” you said. He stood, far too proud, on a summit of lackeys that had been sent your way by one of the companies who’d attempted to cheat their way to getting a more favourable deal. It would’ve been a simple ambush—one doomed to fail—fated to end with you tossing blood-soaked gloves right on them before you postponed the meeting you were on your way to. 

But not today. It appeared the limit of the dog of Elite was passing up petty competition with the man two paces behind you.

“Unlike you, Song’s actually pleasant to listen to.” Yes, Song wasn’t the most useful of bodyguards point-blank, but it wasn’t like you particularly needed someone to take care of protecting you. He made people lower their guards. And he made a mean cup of tea. “I don’t have any use for you, so you’re still worse.”

“Semantics,” he shrugged. “I made your life much easier, did I not?”

He was smart. Too smart, but you already knew that from the intel that had not yet been erased. Hushed up, because of course Elite would painstakingly conceal his cards. 

And unfortunately, you were always drawn to a risky hand. A pleasure far removed from the mundane violence of your everyday life—a heart-pounding thrill of betting all your chips in a hazardous (though not desperate) gamble. 

“Maybe.” For it was one day removed from the multitudes of late meetings and burdensome glove changes. Your hands weren’t seeped in oily red, sliding and dripping onto your expensive clothes that were tailored—though still felt so fucking ill-fitting that it made you sick—right to your body. 

You considered the man toeing carefully past the dogpile located against a cargo container: donning what could’ve been your life. A beige school uniform, pinkie slightly indented from books and study, pen marks still dotting his fingers. Closer. He ambled lazily to your direction, and as he approached with the dying sun behind him, you could see his smile. Just as languid as the day you first met him, and just as irritating. 

Closer. Strawberry candy laced the iron odour, though you could faintly taste lemon in the profile too—testament to the yellow wrapper stuck crudely on one of the men. Closer—he was far too close now, standing chest to chest while he stared directly at you. 

If there was one thing that came from this ill-fated encounter, it was probably the permanent furrowed brows that decorated your perplexed face—the bloodhound had been reduced to this fluffy thing demanding your attention. 

And it was just as unfortunate that your impression had been chipped away for him too—a King whose expressions were utterly delightful to witness. A straight mouth, grinning ever-so-slightly when a deal went your way. A routine rhythm to your biro tapping your notepad. Eyes that shone with practical constellations as you breathed the briny air of the port in. 

A particularity to the way you treated others, steely to the strong, awkward with the weak. So utterly flustered, when it came to tiny kids tugging on your long coat, or the grandmas you lent your arm to on the streets. If he had to compare it, he’d attribute your personality as a non-Newtonian fluid: your very own mix of cornstarch and water. Tough with pressure, all soft without. 

Like now. 

“Come on,” he whined. Psychologically, he was doing a damn good impression of pitifulness—even if you’d just witnessed him commit a beatdown so one-sided that you could feel the second-hand pain. And little by little, he was watching you falter: breath caught in his throat as he watched your brows default to their furrow once more. “I saved you a good few minutes, didn’t I? Don’t tell me Busan can’t even acknowledge hard work and effort.”

“Fine, whatever,” you crumbled just like that, under the heavy weight of his triumphant eyes. “Good job.”

So cute, he thought, then froze almost immediately the moment the words came to mind.

Fuck. 

・゜゜・

[ramp-it-up]

Peach VII

Peach VI | Peach VIII

Summary: Steven Grant Rogers is a mob boss trying to get clean. It’s definitely because he’s in love. With you. He's got you on his turf in NYC. Do you leave there single or a married woman?

Pairing: Art Dealer/Artist/Philanthopist (Mob Boss) Steve Rogers x Reader (Peach)

A/N: I have all of the words and none of the confidence. Oh I hope you like it. It may not be everyone's cup of tea. This is part one of the Valentine's weekend bundle. I hope you like it. Let me know my LOVEs! ❤️

This fic is connected to the Bucky Barnes Knock You Down AU, and DIRECTLY AFTER the events in Peach VI. Your interaction keeps me writing, so let me know if you like it by commenting and reblogging.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT. Read at your own risk. Steve Rogers is rich, bitches!, the big one bling, the event! stripping, pole dancing, lap dancing, sloppy blow job, is this Subby!Steve? woman on top, nipple play (m receiving), size kink, definite breeding kink, raw p in v, a lil bit of cum play. Family feeeelings, Bucky being Bucky, Steve being a simp, jealous bitches, almost catching a case at a gala.

Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

I don't have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

--------

“If you ask me, I’m ready…”

“Is that what you want?” Steve said as his hands gripped your waist.

You couldn't look away from his eyes which were deeply searching yours.

When you moved your hand to his chest, his heart thudded through the muscle and the bone to your fingertips.

You nodded and marveled at how far you both had come in such a short amount of time.

You were sure.

“I’m not going back on what I said, Steve. If you ask me, I’m ready.”

Steve couldn’t believe his luck.

“How much is that promise worth to you, Peach? Because when I make a promise, I keep it.”

His beautiful deep velvet voice had you swooning in his arms. 

“Everything. It’s worth everything, Steve.”

It was unthinkable what you were feeling. But it was oh so right.

Steve’s look was so serious for a moment and then he kissed you again. He flipped you over, torso pinning yours down, abs between your legs. You whined with need as he kissed you, tenderly, his fingers tracing your face.

Then he pulled away.

“Get dressed, Peach.”

“What?

“Get dressed. Pack up. You’re checking out of the hotel.'

You looked at him and cocked your eyebrow.

“Oh. Am I?”

Steve chuckled at your sass. It was so cute. Then he pulled you close and whispered in your ear.

“Yes. You are. Remember I said that I was going to give you what you need, when you need it?”

You shivered at the way Steve handled you.

“Yes, Mr. Rogers.”

“Well, I need you to trust me. And I need to ask you a question."

“Understood.”

Steve kneeled at the side of the bed, those eyes focused on you. He looked like a little boy.

And then he asked you a very grown up question.

The elevator doors slid open to reveal the corridor to Steve’s penthouse at the top of the Rebirth building. There were two doors on the entire hallway, both mirroring each other. 

Steve walked beside you to one of the entrances, his hand resting lightly at the small of your back, a touch both casual and possessive. 

Your mouth dropped open when the door opened on floor-to-ceiling windows framing the Manhattan skyline. 

The view went on forever.

"Jesus, Steve. This is… Beautiful!"

Your eyes shone as you turned in a circle to take in the room.

"Wait until you see the rest."

You were wandering now, your fingertips trailing over the sleek countertops, the rich leather of his couch, and the curated artwork lining the walls. Everything about the space was sophisticated, masculine, Steve.

You wondered how you could lend your touch.

Steve had gone into another room, his bedroom, you imagined, to put your things down. He came up behind you as you stared out of the window, wrapping his arms around you from behind. He kissed your neck as you leaned your head back on his chest.

“This place is… it’s amazing, Steve. I can’t believe we just did that.”

“More amazing now that you’re here. And you better believe it.”

“I have something for you…a wedding gift”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box, bringing it in front of you. 

The diamonds on your hand glittered and caught your eye as you reached to touch what was inside. It was a necklace with double diamond solitaires, one cushion cut and one pear shaped, nestled side by side on a thin, gleaming chain.

A moi et toi design.

To match your ring.

You blinked up at him, craning your neck to look him in the eye. He pecked you on the lips.

“Steve…”

He reached out, and plucked the necklace from the box. His fingers brushed the nape of your neck as he draped it around you.

“Moi et toi,” he murmured near your ear. “Me and you.”

You swallowed, your fingers rising to touch the stones on your skin as you gazed out on the city. 

“It’s beautiful.”

“Two stones side by side; one strengthens the other.” 

His thumb brushed over your collarbone, tracing the edge of the necklace. 

“That’s what we are. It’s what you do for me. Make me want to be a better man.”

You exhaled, your lips parting slightly as you turned around in his arms.

“Steve. You are a good man. You’re just doing things in a slightly unconventional way. You’re talking to the queen of unconventional. Remember where we met?”

There you were, being adorable again. The way you’d fought him up until this week made Steve stand in disbelief at how accepting you were of him. And how easily you’d run off with him to Connecticut tonight to become his wife. 

It was crazy, but it was so right.

“I do. I seem to recall meeting you in heaven, because all I remember thinking is ‘who is this angel?’”  

You rolled your eyes and laughed.

“You’ve been hanging around Bucky too long.”

Steve chuckled, tilting your chin up with a knuckle. He was happy.

“You’re right. But anyway, the necklace is for tomorrow, I mean the Gala tonight. Something to remind you that no matter who else is in the room... you’re my wife."

You swallowed at the octave drop in Steve’s voice and he traced your throat with his thumb as you did it. Steve gathered you to him, pressing his lips to your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered into your ear.

“Come with me, there’s something else I want to show you. " 

He grabbed your hand and led you down a hallway. 

You followed until he stopped and turned to you with a mischievous grin. Then, he opened the door behind his back and backed in so he could watch your face.

Curious, you followed him inside. 

Then you froze. 

It was a good sized space. Mirrors lined one entire wall, reflecting the soft glow of LED track lighting. You stepped out on the wood floor and realized that it was made from premium materials.

But what really caught your attention was the sleek, stainless-steel pole standing tall in the center of the room. You turned slowly, meeting Steve's expectant gaze. 

"You have a dance studio?" 

"You have a dance studio," he corrected. 

"I arranged for it to be started while we were in Hilton Head and it was just finished yesterday. I wanted you to have a place to move. To feel free while you’re in Brooklyn."

You went to the pole and grabbed it and leaned out, checking it. It was sturdy and conditioned. You twirled a little and came to rest, the pole between the ass cheeks of your leggings. 

Steve’s look became hungry, and his cock jumped in his sweats. If he was thinking of sleep earlier, he was wide awake now. 

And some parts of him were more awake than others. 

“So… you had a dance studio built, for me, while we were in Hilton Head? Me, a woman who was threatening your life?”

The way you smiled at him made Steve’s heart flutter. He nodded and came close and tried to kiss you, but you twirled away from him to the other side of the pole. He flashed you a smile and your butterflies started up again.

“It was right after you threatened to shoot my balls off. I knew you had it bad.”

Steve sighed as if he was nostalgic for your death threats. You laughed as Steve grabbed for you again.

You scooted away from him.

“Don’t touch, Mr. Rogers,” you admonished as your finger wagged in front of those lips. 

Then you pointed, and Steve followed your hand as if mesmerized. He was the one who had it bad.

“Why don’t you sit down so I can test this thing out? Haven’t had a proper dance workout all week.”

Steve nodded and went to sit down on the chaise lounge in the corner of the room.

You stepped forward, and your pulse quickened as you held Steve’s gaze. He leaned back against the back of the chaise, arms crossed over his broad chest, and his t-shirt straining across his shoulders, biceps, and chest.

His blue eyes were focused with an intensity that sent a shiver through your body.

"Music?" you prompted. 

Steve smirked and tapped his phone. A pulsating beat filled the room, the bass vibrating beneath your feet, and causing your hips to sway. You didn’t have your heels and you were in loungewear, but one of those things was to your advantage.

You grabbed the hem of your sweatshirt, teasing a glimpse of your skin as you swayed to the music.

Steve’s eyes darkened and his breath visibly slowed.

You took your time, dragging the cotton up your body as you shimmied, baring the skin of your stomach, then your bra, then your collarbones as your head was hidden for half a second.

You winked when you emerged and you moved closer as you leaned over him and placed your garment on the lounge next to him.

Steve didn’t move. Didn’t blink. But his jaw clenched, and you didn’t miss the way his fingers flexed at his sides.

Then, you turned around, hooking your thumbs in the waistband of your leggings and looked over your shoulder to find him staring at your ass and licking his lips. Steve looked up at you, his blue eyes burning now as you smirked at him and peeled the black material down to reveal your flesh, in black lace, bent fully at the waist. 

Steve’s hands twitched for want of reaching out. He exhaled sharply, restraint hanging by a thread.

You straightened up slowly, twerking and slapping your own ass, holding a cheek so that he could see the lace-clothed split of you. You shot him a saucy wink as you stepped out of your clothing, pushing it aside with the tip of your toe before slowly running your hands down your body. 

You brought your hands up to your face, sliding them down your neck to your chest, then your sides, letting your fingers skim over your ribs, down your stomach, then back up, skirting along your bra and pulling your nipples through the fabric. 

Steve made a low sound in his throat, his control cracking.

It was just as he decided to reach out to touch you that you walked toward the pole on tip toes, the only way you knew how to do it. 

“No touching unless I give permission. That’s the rule in Peach’s Parlor.”

Steve cocked his head, grinning now.

“Peach’s Parlor? So you like it? You taking ownership of the place?”

He was proud that you seemed pleased. You smiled back at him in response, exhaling and letting the rhythm take you.

You started with a slow walk around the pole, each step deliberate, your hips swaying just enough to raise the temperature of his blood degree by degree. 

His smile dropped and his jaw tightened, but he didn’t move, his restraint evident in every rigid line of his body as his eyes followed your every move

You reached up, gripping the pole above your head, then lifted yourself effortlessly, letting momentum carry you into a slow spin. The world blurred for a moment, the mirrors reflecting your every movement as you let your legs extend, toes pointed, body fluid. 

The way you moved was unhurried, deliberate, and so alluring. Steve sighed and bent his head to the side, taking you in. Then he bit his lip, remembering how you felt earlier. You felt so fucking good, your sweet, hot pussy pulsing around him.

He was putting the cart before the horse, but he wanted to be your baby daddy so bad. He head was in the clouds as you hooked one leg around the pole, arching your back as you slid downward in a controlled descent, your body moving with the music, sensual and confident. 

The way your muscles flexed and relaxed, the roll of your hips was mesmerizingly beautiful. You were performing your art for Steve, moving for his pleasure. 

But you were in control. 

And it made Steve remember that this is what it was that made him fall for you in the first place. Damn, he wanted you, and even though you were only steps away, it was driving him crazy. 

When you reached the floor, you dropped to your knees, your thighs spread, fingers skimming down your skin as you stared at him.

Steve rubbed his hands on his pants to ease the itch of his fingers wanting to grasp you.

You stood and grabbed the pole once more, swinging around in another smooth, effortless climb. You wrapped your legs around the metal, suspended for a moment, before twisting into an elegant descent, your body brushing against the pole in a way that made Steve’s balls ache.

When you landed, you moved toward him on tiptoe again, all legs and glistening body, hips swaying, eyes locked onto his.

Steve only moved to put his hands on the back of the lounge, but other than that he was still.

In a graceful move, you straddled him carefully, knees on either side of his slim hips. You were close enough for him to feel your warmth, but were barely touching him. The heat coming from your core made him feral and his eyes were drawn downward to the source.

You felt a tremendous power, so you reached for his chin and tilted it up so he could look into your eyes. 

Steve almost got lost there, but when you whispered, “Good boy,” he forgot how to breathe.

He didn't know he liked that, but the fact that you'd guessed it made you even more perfect for him. 

He covered a whimper by clearing his throat, causing a secret smile to grace your lips as you slowly rolled your hips and arched your back, your tits barely grazing his chest. 

Steve's eyes were everywhere, watching everything, especially your nipples, which were so hard and beautiful through the lace.

He felt like if he could just to suck them for a minute, everything in the world would be alright.

A minute each. 

Maybe an hour.

Steve's breath was hot against your skin, but he still hadn’t touched you. His grip on the chaise tightened, his control hanging by a thread.

You ran your fingers down your body before leaning backward and grazing his thighs and it was just enough to plan out the pattern of his skeet along your skin.

He was sure, with practice, that he could spell out his name.

In one fluid movement, you turned around, pressing your back to his chest, and, lightly, so lightly, too lightly, ground against his rigid cock with slow, deliberate precision.

Steve felt delirious and close to expiring.

“Fuck, Peach… You trying to kill me?” Steve murmured, his voice low and rough. “We just got married.”

Married!

You looked over your shoulder at him and moved your lips close to his, smiling as you saw the muscles in his corded neck tense.  You leaned in, your lips hovering near his ear.

“You're so good for me Stevie… Such a good... big... boy.”

You twerked the last three words in his lap, causing him to exhale sharply and his hands to twitch. You arched, rolling your body against his again. 

And then.

Finally, finally, you let yourself sink into his lap, pressing fully against his cock. He could feel your moist pussy lips through layers of fabric.

And that’s when Steve’s restraint snapped.

His hands shot to your waist, gripping hard, his fingers digging into your skin. You leaned back and his lips found your shoulder, his breath uneven.

You smirked and turned around, dragging your nails lightly down his chest, feeling his heartbeat hammer beneath your touch.

Steve crashed his mouth to yours, swallowing your laughter in a kiss that was deep and desperate. His hands roamed your body, tracing lace, his need evident in every touch.

“My sweet Peach. Mrs. Rogers,” he growled against your skin, voice thick with hunger.

You reached up to run your fingers through his hair, tugging just enough to make his head tilt back.

“Yesss. Say Heyyyy, Mrs. Rogers…,” you teased.

One hand clasped his throat, squeezing his Adam's apple lightly as his blue eyes shone from his slitted lids. Steve's cock pulsed in his pants, then he took a ragged breath before he spoke.

“Heyyyyyy. Mrs. Rogers...”

You rolled your hips against his impressive bulge as Steve’s baritone rumbled in your ear. As you reached for the hem of his shirt, he kissed you, grabbing the collar to take it off.

You looked at Steve appreciatively as you bent and licked one erect nipple, then wrapped your lips around the tiny button, pulling it into your mouth and eliciting a small groan from him.

You took your time, enjoying his sounds which got louder and louder.

"Such a good boy making those pretty sounds for me, Stevie."

You licked, sucked and savored him as you alternated from one pec to the other.

“Wanna always be good for you, Peach...” 

Steve gritted it out as you grabbed him by the hair, pulling him into a filthy, long, deep kiss. He grabbed for you and held on as your mouth plundered his.

Then you pulled away.

“I have a question, Mr. Rogers,” you unclasped your bra, then leaned forward and stuffed your nipple into his mouth, moaning as he looked up at you with those clear blue eyes and sucked enthusiastically.

“How is it you married me, and I hadn’t even sucked your cock yet?”

Steve pulled off your tight, wet nipple with a plop and chuckled. Then he got serious.

“Must be true love.”

You felt his cock pound between your legs and knew what had to happen. His fingernails scratched your thighs trying to hold on to you as you moved back to stand.

When he saw that you were going to kneel, he quickly moved a pillow from the chaise for you to settle in front of him. He then lifted his hips from the couch and pulled down his sweats and boxers in one move.

His erection sprung out and you licked your lips, ready to finally feel the smooth skin in your mouth.

"Touch yourself for me, Stevie."

Steve took himself in hand and started stroking from base to head, thumb swiping the drops of precum in passing. His burning gaze was on you but your eyes were glued to what was in his fist. 

“Fuck that’s hot… Wan’ taste you,” you were whining now, feeling deprived. 

“Whatever you want,” Steve whispered in a strained voice after looking into those big, beautiful eyes.  

You ran your fingers over his thick dick all the way down to the heavy, tight balls. 

“So pretty…” 

You kept eye contact as you leaned in and gave him a long, wet lick from balls to head. Your tongue rolled over the soft skin of the large mushroom cap, taking in the dewey drops leaking from it.

You licked down the hard shaft, until you reached the base and ran your tongue over his large sac.

You began sucking on his tip, tonguing underneath, and humming around his head, causing Steve to murmur, “Fffeels so fucking good, Peach.”

He was carding his fingers through your hair as he said it.

Inspired, you took him as far as you could, until your lips were stretched to the limit and tears coursed down your face. You inhaled the musky scent of him in the hair at the base of his cock and looked back up to watch his contracting abs and heaving chest, his open mouth and those mesmerizing eyes. 

This was a fucking beautiful man.

Steve’s big hands gathered your hair and held it, just tight enough to send a zing to your clit. 

“Peachhhhh, that mouth is so fucking good.”

Steve was in love with how you sucked him off. He rolled his hips and found out just how snug your throat really was. When you pulled off, tears were rolling down your face.

He wiped your tears away with his thumb. 

"Y' look so fucking pretty like this, Peach.”

The way you took him all when you deep throated him again sent the cum crawling up his balls. 

“Fuckfuckfuck. Shit.”

You pulled off and released him with a filthy plop, watching as he desperately squeezed his cock at the base, trying to stop the impending explosion.

He reached out for you with his other hand and you climbed up onto his lap as he marveled at your messy hair, your bouncing tits, and fucked out expression.

“You’re a fucking goddess. Wanna cum down your throat, Peach, but don’t swallow our kids. Need ‘em inside you.”

The tip of his cock nudged your entrance, and you reached down and grabbed it, perfecting its position as you sank down on it loving the feeling as he stretched you out again.

You both watched in fascination as your pussy engulfed him preceded by the juices from your wet pussy. Steve’s hands grabbed onto your hips, and you wanted him to bruise you, to have a mark on you from this for days. 

Your head lolled back as you glided down on your husband’s thick cock. He lifted you by your waist and alternated fucking you up and down his dick and thrusting into you, hitting angles he hadn't before.

His grunts and your moans were beautiful music.

“Please look at me, Peach.”

His tone was reverent and you couldn't help but obey. The sounds you two were making sent you right to the edge of a precipice.

“Oh… right…there… right fucking there!”

You keened as you scratched the skin on his shoulders and biceps. 

“Fucking me so good, Stevie…So righttt. N-need you to keep hitting it like that…give it to me just like that. All your cum. Inside me.”

He was hitting those bundles of nerves just right.

“You need it like that hunh? I'll give it to you until it drips out of you... Need it dripping down my gotdamn balls....”

And he proceeded to fuck up into you perfectly. Your hands moved from his shoulders to his hair and you leaned in for a filthy kiss.

He gripped your throat and carefully squeezed to control your airflow. Your eyes began to roll and your cunt clenched down on him. Hard.

"Ffuckk, " He had to grit his teeth to keep from cumming. "Need you to fucking cum, Peach....."

“I- I’m close Stevieeee. Ahhh. Give it. Gonna have all your babies….”

Your pussy started clenching around him.

“Holy FUCK!”

Steve picked you up and placed you on the chaise, pulling your legs over his shoulders as he drilled into you. He slid a hand between you and rubbed your clit in soul-destroying circles.

“Drain these fucking balls...shhhhhitttttt!"

You clutched him close as you felt his cock start and continue to spurt hot cum inside you. As he softened, he sat back on his heels and spread your legs to watch his cum drip out of you. He trailed two fingertips down your sensitive slit and pushed it back inside you, all the while a sly grin on his face.

He caught your eye. 

“Can’t waste a drop.”

“You are filthy slut, Mr. Rogers.”

He laughed. 

“Only for you, Mrs. Rogers.” 

Steve grabbed his t-shirt to clean you both up a bit. Next thing you knew, you were being carried out of the studio and through to his master bedroom 

It was daylight when you were lightly snoring in his arms and Steve was grinning wide, his wife in his arms.

—

The next afternoon, you sat in front of the vanity in Bucky’s penthouse as the hired glam team worked around you and your cousin. The stylist meticulously worked with your hair while the makeup artist added the final sweep of highlighter across her cheekbones.

The two of you had been getting ready together for years, first as teenagers sneaking into her mother’s closet, and now as women preparing for an extravagant event in a high-rise overlooking Manhattan. But this afternoon was different.

Her eyes met yours in the mirror. You had just her the rundown of the day before, complete with the news that you and Steve were married. She’d been quiet for a while, but now it seemed she was ready to talk again.

“You’re really happy, aren’t you?” she asked, her voice soft but certain.

You blinked, then exhaled.

“Yes I am.”

“You and Steve are perfect for each other. "

She leaned over and grabbed your hand, grinning at you.

"This isn’t a race. I’m never gonna be jealous of you, girl.”

You grinned back.

“I’m pissed that I wasn’t able to be there, though.”

You sighed. Your one regret.

“I know. But it was perfect. Just the two of us. We’ll have a party later on, though. And tonight, we’ll celebrate.”

You turned thoughtful.

“The way Steve loves me should terrify me. But it doesn’t.”

She studied you for a moment. 

“Because?”

“Because when I’m with him, it makes sense. The way he looks at me, the way he is with me—it doesn’t feel rushed. It just feels… right.”

“Then that’s all that matters.”

Your cousin smiled, tilting her head as the hairstylist and makeup artist switched and her hair was being fussed over. 

“I know you think that I feel some kind of way, but I know you girl. I was shocked, but not surprised..”

She laughed and you shook your head.

“Running off and getting married is so you. It’s so Steve too when you think about it.”

You took a sip of the mimosa that Bucky had brought in earlier. You thought what was about to happen for your cousin.

“Real talk. Bucky adores you, Cousin. And I know you. And I’m getting to know Bucky. This engagement and wedding are going to be events. Events, I say. You wouldn’t have it any other way. .You’re about to get some bling to match that jewelry you got on tonight in Vermont next week.” 

You two laughed together, the mood lighter now. 

“You’re right,” she replied. I’m secure. It will happen. And just at the right time for us. And no matter what, Peach. You are never gonna lose me as your biggest fan, no matter what.”

“I love you.”

“Love you too, cousin.”

You hugged each other so hard, the stylists had to touch you back up.

As you finished up, the sound of deep voices and approaching footsteps echoed from the hallway. The door opened, and Bucky stepped in first, his navy tuxedo perfectly tailored, his gaze immediately softening when he saw your cousin. 

“Damn Frumoasă,” he murmured, taking her in with slow appreciation. 

“You’re making it real hard for me to let you out of this apartment tonight.”

She shot him a look.

“Smooth, Barnes,” she smirked at him. “Nice suit.”

“What? This old thing?”

Bucky smirked back as he took her hand and led her out of the room.

You rolled your eyes at them because you had the feeling they were being freaky, you just couldn’t prove it.

Steve walked in, ensconced in an impressively tailored dark tux, his presence commanding as always, but the moment his eyes landed on you, something in him shifted. 

You were wearing a short gold sequined gown that showcased your legs, and you felt like a princess. 

Like a wife.

His usual air of control wavered for a fraction of a second, his gaze dragging over you like he was memorizing every inch.

You arched that adorable brow at him, tilting your head. 

“No comment?”

Steve exhaled, stepping closer, his voice rough around the edges. 

“You already know, Mrs. Rogers.”

Bucky chuckled, clapping Steve on the shoulder. 

“Think you broke him, Peach. Congratulations, Mrs. Rogers.”

You grinned, gave Bucky a hug and reached for your clutch. 

Steve reached out, his fingers grazing your wrist as he murmured, “Hold on.”

You frowned slightly, watching as Bucky guided your cousin toward the door, leaving just the two of you in the room. Steve reached into his pocket, pulling out another small black velvet box.

Your breath caught, your heart skipping for just a second.

He popped the top, revealing a pair of dazzling double diamond drop earrings, the perfect complement to the moi et toi necklace resting against your collarbone and the ring on your finger. All you could do was look at them and then blink up at him.

“Steve…”

He smirked, clearly enjoying your reaction. 

“Thought you should match.”

You shook your head and laughed.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

Steve lifted an earring, stepping close to help fasten it in place and his touch lingered.

“You say that now,” he murmured and then moved to the other side, his lips just a breath away from your skin.

“But you love it.”

You turned into his arms and looked into his eyes.

“You know if you keep giving me gifts like this, you’re going to spoil me.”

His eyes darkened, and his hand came to rest on your hip, fingers pressing into the fabric of your dress. 

“That’s the plan,” he murmured, voice low, “Mrs. Rogers.”

Bucky cleared his throat from the doorway, breaking the moment. He was leaning against the frame, smirking. 

“Hate to interrupt, but Nico’s waiting. Unless you two want to skip the gala entirely.”

You rolled your eyes at the dark headed man and flipped him off.

"You're going to get enough of watching us like a drama."

"Never. You two are my favorite romcom."

Steve exhaled through his nose, the ghost of a smirk on his lips as he kissed your neck, producing a shiver. Then, lacing his fingers with yours, he led you toward the door.

—

The way the night was going seemed like a dream, arriving on Steve’s arm and watching the reactions. Some were surprised, but most just commented that you were such a handsome couple and gave congratulations.

Sharon was clearly not happy, but fuck that bitch.

Steve hadn’t given her, or anyone else that matter, a second glance.

When the music started, Steve danced with you to all the tempos, even the Salsa when that genre was played. You had a time, and then you two went to the bar to get refreshments.

Sharon chose that moment to show her ass. You barely had a sip of your amaretto sour before she started on her bullshit.

“Steve,” she purred, looking up at him under her lashes and placing her hand on his forearm. 

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

Steve tactfully removed his arm from her grasp while the fingers on his other hand reached for you and rested low on your back, his thumb stroking a slow, deliberate circle against the sequined fabric of your gown.

“It’s been two days, Sharon,” he replied, his tone clipped. And annoyed.

Your cousin and Bucky moved closer, probably because she clocked what was going on.

Sharon ignored Steve’s tone and turned to you. 

“And you must be the entertainment. Nice dress. Is it easy to take off?”

The words sounded sweet as honey, but you heard the venom underneath. 

“I guess congratulations are in order? I hear you two ran off and got married. I guess that's a choice. It’s probably refreshing, going from someone like Peggy to someone like…Peaches..”

“It’s Peach,” you replied. 

The bitch was silent.

Sharon’s gaze flicked to your ring, then your jewelry, then down the length of your gown. 

“Although you do wear luxury well. Tell me, how does it feel knowing it’s all borrowed? That he’s probably going to dump you tomorrow. Get an annulment and leave your ass in the gutter strip club where he found you.”

You could feel the heat of Steve’s fury at your side, his body tensing like he was about to snap.

Your mouth opened to reply, but your cousin stepped up, anger rolling off of her body.

“You know what’s really refreshing, Sharon? Watching a woman who wants to fuck around with me and my family and find out.”

She lowered her voice.

“And like a cable, we jump hoes.”

The air around you shifted, and a few party-goers slowed their conversations to listen.

Bucky stepped forward as Sharon’s jaw twitched into a twisted smile. Bucky whispered in your cousin's ear. She glared at him and started taking off her jewelry, handing her earrings to him. Bucky shook his head and pulled her to the side while she gave him the business.

“Oh, I didn’t mean that in a negative way.” Sharon simpered. “It’s just the truth.”

Sharon looked between you and Steve.

“You are nothing but negative. You don’t have to worry about my marriage. Or your endowment anymore, Sharon.”

Steve spoke to her, his eyes blazing blue.

You smiled at your man, then took a slow step forward, closing the space between you, lowering your voice just enough that only Sharon, and Steve, could hear.

“Do you think calling me a stripper is an insult?” 

Your voice was strong and steady.

“I own what I do. I’m damn good at what I do. And you?” 

You looked her up and down, eyebrow deadly.

“You’re standing here, burning because even with your family ties, and your desperate little designer dress, the only woman Steve wants is me. He married me.”

You leaned in even closer.

“The difference between us? I don’t have to chase him. I just have to walk into a room.” 

You smiled at her sweetly.

“And he follows.”

The moment the words left your lips, Steve did exactly that. 

As he left her in her feelings,  Steve tossed a comment over his shoulder.

“You just got your ass handed to you in front of half the room,” he mused. 

“I’d cut my losses and walk away.”

One of the staffers turned up at that moment. 

“This way, Ms. Carter. I’ll be escorting you out.”

The four of you watched as she turned red and huffed and puffed on her way out of the door. After everyone around you went back to minding their own business, your cousin hugged you hard.

“I love you. That was perfection.”

You hugged her back. 

“Thank you, Boo.”

You released her as Bucky handed her earrings back and Steve looked at you with admiration in his eyes. 

“You handled that well.”

You smirked. “I know.”

Steve pulled you into his arms and kissed your forehead, not bothering to lower his voice when he said, “I’ll remind you how much I love that later.”

Your cousin groaned dramatically.

 “You two are disgustingly perfect for each other.”

Bucky grabbed a bottle of Moet from the table display.

“A toast. To Mr. and Mrs. Steve Rogers!”

Your husband looked at you with a smile. You don’t know what was coming your way as Steve's wife, but you knew it wouldn’t be boring.

[kill4luvina]

"Who's that?"

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Plug!Armin x Plug!Reader x Plug!Eren

Summary : Eren and Armin go out to a party to find out who this mysterious "Stunna"(Y/n) is after she's stepped in the game they've been losing mad business and at first they were going to jump you, until they saw you. Instead they decide they were tag/double team you.

Warning : SMUT, Car sex, just sumin nasty for the girlies because i said so, not proof read, ngl eren and armin get a lil intimate(they on some gay shi ngl), use your imaginationn if sumin don't make sense.

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The room was awash in a spectrum of colors, pulsating neon lights flickering and casting a glow hue of different colors. The walls throbbing in the same rhythm as the heavy bass as the room was filled with bodies pressed up against each other – some grinding, others chatting it up. The vibe was wild, a crazy energy swirling in the air, getting everyone hyped. Smoke twisted up towards those neon lights, adding this trippy scent to the mix.

The air was thick with the mixed scents of sweat, perfume, and the distinct earthiness. Eren and Armin had only popped out to this party because of some info someone dropped, thinking they could catch the mysterious "Stunna" who had been stealing their costumers. "Bro, what if this shit was a set up." Armin whispered, eyes scanning the crowd, getting jumpy at any sudden moves. "Relax, man. You're incognito with that ski mask, nobody knows it's you,dumbass" Eren shot back, pushing through the crowd, Armin following close behind with his hand under his shirt holding onto his glock.

"Oh damn, Luvii!" You greeted your bestie as she practically dove through your car window for a hug. "I was starting to think you weren't coming!" Luvina would say as she pulled away. "And you popped out with the all black hell cat? Okay I see you!" You chuckled, stepping out with your tote bag as she acted all surprised, though she had the same whip in pink. "Come on, girl, quit playin'."

"Luvi, you look so fine stop fuckin playin wit me..." A guy would come up to the two of you at the party, he'd start talking to luvina as he started touching up on her. "Ew, girl get a fucking room.." You'd say walking away, wandering throughout the party giving them some privacy. "Yo, Stunna!" You'd hear one of your favorite costumers yell out, making your quickly turn your head. "You got anything on you I can buy?" He'd ask, you'd nod your head opening your tote bag pulling out a few carts & vapes. "Lemme get that one, how much?" "75." "Aight, take 100 and I'ma put the 25 into the next thing I buy."

Then, out of nowhere, some dude grabbed you and pulled you outside. Caught off guard, you clocked they were both rockin' ski masks, so you didn't waste time, pullin' out a gun from the waistband of your jeans. "Who the fuck are yall?!" You demanded, sizing them up, outnumbered but ready. Armin lowered his mask, checkin' you out before speaking up. "Ease up, mamas, we ain't here to cause trouble, we on your turf remember?" Armin would remind you making your ease up a tiny bit. Eren would pull his off too, you had seen them before on Instagram but damn they looked finer in person.

"Fuck yall doing on my turf anyway?" you questioned, gun still raised, keepin' your distance, looking for answers. "Damn, chill mamas, we came to see if ya shit as good as we heard." Eren would lie, both of them knew they wanted to jump your ass but as soon as they saw how fine you were they couldn't. Now they both just wanted to see if they could could hit it before they left. You'd put your gun down staring at the two silently for a moment before walking past them to your hellcat. The two would silently watch you before dabbing eachother up and follow you in excitement.

Honestly, you don't even know how it happened but it started off with you 3 in the back seat smoking up a storm. Not even 20 minutes into your smoking sesh, your body started heating up at the sly comments the two would throw at you. You'd pussy throbbing at the sound of Eren telling you how fine you were and Armin touching you in all the right places at all the right times, what a duo. In about 10-15 more minutes you found yourself making out with Armin's lap, Eren giving you kisses from the side making your overwhelmed not knowing who to kiss.

"Mmph!" You'd cry into Erens mouth as kissed you, not even being able to think straight. You were completely drowned in bliss as you felt Armin lap up your juices with his tongue. You've never been eaten out the good before, and it was a complete game changer when you felt him sink his fingers into your brown and pink fat pussy.(im such a troll for that one) Your eyes would roll to the back of you head as you pulled away from eren moaning into the crook of his neck as your nails scratched him looking for something to grip on. "Doing so well for us." You'd hear eren say softly as he held you, continuing to praise you.

On the other hand, Armin was fucking your pussy up real good. He was nose deep, not able to even contain himself and just you moaning made it even worst. You'd feel your eyes fill up with tear as you cried out even louder cumming all of his face as you held onto Eren even tigher, trembling as you came down from your high. Armin would pull away licking his fingers as he wiped his face. "My turn." you'd hear Eren say, you were to tired to even complain feeling yourself getting moved around. "Mamas, be a good girl and arch for daddy." You'd hear Armin's voice now from infront of you, you'd look up from your fluffy lashes to see his pretty blue eyes looking right back down at you.

He'd smile, his sliver braces showing as he'd whip out his dick as it hit you head in the center of your face making your slightly flinch. Not knowing who to pay attention to you'd feel something poke at your entrance. "wait-Fuc--" you'd be shut up by two dicks filling you up from both sides, your moans muffled by Armins dick. You'd start tearing up again but this time you'd actually start crying, the amount of pleasure you were getting at once was insane. Your make-up getting completely messed up as Armin kept face fucking you. Eren on the opposite side ramming your shit.

"look at you go mamas." Armin would say pulling his phone out as he started to record you, with his hands now away you'd quickly pull away coughing as you looked back up to the video. You'd could help but start moaning loudly again from eren as you started to pump his dick from the base spitting on it. You'd start sucking him off harder making a sloppy mess with bubbles every wear not taking your eyes off the video. "Fuckkk, so good for us.." Armin would whimper, voice slightly cracking as he moaned. Eren letting out groans as he picked up his place leaving you a moaning mess not even able to focus on the task at hand.

Armin would stop recording as he went back to face fucking you, but he was looking behind you this time. You'd feel both ends slow down as you looked up once more to see the two kissing. Your pussy couldn't help but twitch and suck Eren in even more from how hot that was. Slightly shocked, you assumed it was just the weed kicking all 3 of ya'll differently. But this didn't last long because after a few seconds they were both back to abusing your holes. The game ender for you was when Eren brought his fingers down and start rubbing on you clit, you came so fucking hard you started squirting tear rolling down your eyes.

Armin was next pulled away as you brought your tonuge out and he came on your face leaving you a mess. Eren would do the same after a few more thrusts cumming your ass and back. You'd fall, your body fully limp as you caught your breath. "Damn, if your drugs ass addicting as you are i might have to switch over." Armin would joke as pulled you up giving you a kiss as eren laughed at his stupid joke. "ngl, being opps stupid asl, why don't we conjoin and just become sumin bigger?" Eren would ask, but you were sound asleep leaving the two.

"Eren, did we kiss?" Armin would ask "Shut the actual fuck up idk what your on."

(LOL IDK WHAT THIS IS I STARTED WRITING AND COULDN'T STOP, BUT IMA START WORKING ON REQUESTS NOW.)

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[radiance1]

Danny, has been turned into a cat.

Why? He may or may not have pissed off more than wizard after they failed to summon the ghost king successfully and gave them massive shit for it.

They wanted a powerful ghost tyrant, got a ghost prince with a shit eating grin instead.

Was it worth it? Yes, yes it was.

However, now he is stuck in this dimension, and wanders around experiencing the life of a street cat. Somehow, someway, he became the leader of a clan of cats, some of them surprisingly having powers, other not, but he never knew the life of a street cat was so...

Intense? Is probably the word.

Gang wars, negotiations, managing resources, taking care of the injured from said gang wars or the occasional shitty human, etc, etc. The resources like food weren't really a problem, his powers made it very easy to just, take whatever he wanted, how much he could take was a problem though, nothing a bag can't fix.

Some kind of villain (If what he heard was correct) stepped on his turf, and he couldn't have cared less what they were going to do, until some of the casualties involved his family of cats and, safe to say.

That villain did not expect to be beaten up by a superpowered cat. Much less robbed by other superpowered cats.

Of course, such an event wouldn't go unnoticed.

[potionpeddlerpatchy]

word count: 8.9K

paring: Wolf!Bakugou x fReader

warning(s): cunnilingus, marking (biting and claws), loss of virginity, loss of innocence, some blood (very minor and only mentioned briefly), and dirty talking/slight degradation.

authors note: well, hello again! I'm currently in the middle of writing something new, but I figured it might be a good idea to repost some of my favourite works from my old blog here - especially this one (and another one soon) as I will be adding a sort of continuation to this story; so best to have both in one place - just to tide you over until new pieces are done. Besides I am quite fond of this one, spun three wheels to get prompts (dialog of “Can I just hold your hand?” the trope of Fake Dating, and the AU being Fantasy). I've always enjoyed how this turned out, though it is one of my first works so apologies if it doesn't have the same caliber, and I hope you all do too - I know Bakugou is quite the favourtie~ 🔮

You weren’t from around here.

Bakugou could tell the moment you entered this seedy tavern, the way your boots clicked against the old wood made his ear shift to your direction, His whole head following suit when he could smell the sweet scent that sat on your skin.

You stuck out like a sore thumb. Maybe not to all the other low lives that surround this place, but Bakugou could tell. Your clothing, though it seemed to match that of the other women around, was too well-tailored; the cloth too fine and expensive and the leather used was not worn enough.

And you had jewels; real ones he could tell. Though you did hide them well, he just had very good eyesight. And really that was the main reason he kept his gaze on you. He wouldn’t mind snagging a few of them for himself; it would allow him to live comfortably for a while – and you could spare a few, couldn’t you?

But there was also a hint of curiosity too; a noble-born on the run? What kind were you exactly? A runaway Princess perhaps? No. He rolled his eyes at himself for the thought – there weren’t nearly enough royal guards around searching for you and causing a ruckus for you to be that.

But there were a few. So perhaps a Countess or even a Duchess? His money was on the latter. The way you carried yourself was not as self-assured and haughty as those that were countesses. If he remembered correctly, those women always flaunted their wealth because they had something to prove.

But the way you sat down and paid for a drink made it clear you didn’t have anything to prove; so, a countess you were not.

You were a pretty thing too. A beauty like you didn’t come around these parts often, and Bakugou couldn’t help but want to continue to look at you. He wasn’t the only one, all these lecherous creatures that were around kept glancing your way – their excitement clear as the whole place grew rowdier.

Not like they had a chance with you, not in hell. They would have to stick with the barmaids and brothels full of women to satisfy any of their barbaric needs. And though Bakugou was technically a part of these grotesque creatures, he was more human than anything; most wolves were. If anyone had a chance it was definitely him.

He knew he was good-looking, could probably pass for a Prince himself if it weren’t for the stupid ears, claws, and tail that held him back. Reduced him to living with others like him on the outskirts of the land, to be treated as a lesser than. That’s why he always found joy whenever a noble, like you, wandered around his turf. He loved scaring them, the frightened expressions as they tried to weakly defend themselves always proved that they were the ones that were beneath him.

But you were different. Bakugou didn’t want to scare you into giving him what he wanted, he wanted you to give it willingly.

“It’s rude to stare.” You mumbled, as you picked up the large mug placed before you and brought the frothy drink up to your lips.

“You’re not gonna like it.” Bakugou replied, eyes moving back to stare at his drink, swirling it, like he was doing before you walked in.

You just rolled your eyes at him, shaking your head lightly before taking a sip. The froth was nice and fizzy, but the rest of it all was the most bitter thing you ever placed in your mouth. You grimaced as it slid down your throat, making it burn all the way down to your stomach. You held back your coughs in defiance of the stranger beside you, not wanting to prove that he was right.

“Told you.” He chuckled, his tone mocking as he downed the rest of his drink, he rested the glass back down heavily on the counter before him “It’s the most bitter thing in this whole world, but it gets you messed up the fastest. But I don’t think you knew that, did you, princess?”

“Don’t call me that….” You mumble, bringing the glass back up to your lips – though it was awful it was helping you blend in more “M’not a princess”

“Could have fooled me.” Bakugou purred as he slunk closer to you, forgetting his glass entirely “Then what are you exactly?”

Your exasperated sigh just made his grin, wolfish and almost feral, spread wider on his face as he leaned on the bar counter; your arms almost touching. You shuffled as much as you could away from the stranger, his breath reeked of alcohol, and you weren’t overly comfortable with how close his face was to yours.

“A traveler, just like you.” You kept your tone pointed, trying your best to prove to this stranger that you didn’t want to talk to him or have him as close as he was.

“No, you’re not.”

“Oh really, now?” You asked through gritted teeth, unable to stop your angry gaze to fall back onto him and his shaking head “And how would you know?”

“These clothes….” He started picking at the wrist of your cotton sleeve, sharp claws ran delicately up and down your forearm “Are too nice, too well-tailored. If you really were a traveler then they wouldn’t be as clean and pristine. They would look more rugged like that chick over there.”

You followed his head movement to where a woman, surrounded by a few men around a dark wooden table, sat drinking merrily – not caring that with each shove and playful push would cause half their ale to slosh onto the floor. But the stranger was right, though her clothing looked nearly identical to you, it wasn’t quite as polished. Loose strings would hang off cuffs and hems, the colouring of the fabrics was more dull, not as vibrant. She looked like she had traveled across many lands, you looked like you just started.

“And” You tensed when you felt his breath in your ear and his hand wandering to your waist “Not many people around here have trinkets such as yours.”

You gulped, throat suddenly very dry, as you looked back at his face; the glint in his eyes made you even more nervous. A lamb suddenly in the jaws of the wolf.

“Are you going to rob me?” You asked, voice trembling. Fright filled your being and shook your body in his loose hold, as you watch him lick his lips “Are you going to hurt me?”

“No.” He chuckled, mirth feeling his being over your frightened state “I’m just wondering who you are, and why you showed up here.”

“Why?”

“Call it curiosity.” He shrugged his shoulders, eyes darting towards the entrance of the tavern; watching briefly as two well-dressed and armed men entered “And you better tell me quickly before they figure out you’re here.”

Your head darted to the entrance as well, eyes widening in fear as you saw the insignia engraved on their chest plates; there was no doubt they were here for you. And that bastard who wouldn’t let you go knew it too.

“Can I just hold your hand?”

“What!?” You whipped your head back as you watched him pull away from you, your breathing quickening in pace as your heart was thumping loudly in your chest that you knew that he could hear it.

“Just take my fucking hand!” He hissed at you, a hand quickly grasping yours before you really had a chance to reach it out to him.

He slunk his other arm so it was now encircled around your waist as he nodded his head at your drink; silently asking you to hold it up for him. You did with a shaky hand, the proximity of his entire being – having it wrapped around you like this – was making your cheeks flush red. You had never been this intimate with a man before, let alone with a stranger. It was all so incredibly overwhelming, it didn't help that being this close only made you realize how attractive he really was.

You wanted to take your eyes off his face, especially when you watched his tongue peek out from his lips to lick around his mouth at the few drops of your drink that spilled out due to your clumsy hand not keeping it steady. You could see his eyes darken and it made you want to shy away; out of fear or something else, you were not sure - the weird sensation that flushed your body was foreign and frightening.

You almost forgot all about the armed men hunting for you until you heard one call out to the pair of you; two pairs of boots rushing to where you sat. You wanted to let out a sigh of relief when his eyes moved from your face; but held back the urge.

“What?” His gruff tone proved he was agitated as he glared daggers at them, almost smirking when he saw them be taken aback by him.

“Excuse your tone!” One of them spoke first, chest-puffing out to look more intimidating than he was. “You do not speak that way to a royal guard!”

“Well, sorry” His mocking tone countered the apology “But I don’t appreciate having you assholes ruining the moment I was sharing.”

“Well, that woman-!” The other interjected, clearly not as afraid as his partner as he got into the stranger's face “Is the runaway Duchess of House L/N! And we are on direct orders to bring her back!”

‘Ah, so you were a Duchess’ Bakugou thought to himself as a smirk crept its way on his face; both out of knowing his assumption about you was right and from this dick of a man who thought he could take him on for size.

“Do you really fucking think that?”

“Don’t speak to me that way.” The man’s tone was dark, his teeth on display as he started to draw his sword out, to prove he meant serious business.

“Then don’t speak to me like that!” Bakugou snarled, fangs on display to show he also meant serious business “Or threaten me in front of my mate! Continue to do it and I’ll rip your throat out right here and now.”

The low, continuous, growl that was coming from his chest was breaking the guard’s tough façade – though it was barely noticeable. But Bakugou could tell that he was getting a little frightened by him, especially when he glanced towards your profile and saw you trembling with fear. Though he couldn’t stare at you for long as he watched a clawed hand place itself at the back of your head and pull you into his chest.

“If she really was the person you’re claiming her to be, then why the fuck would she be in here? Why would she be in a situation like this? Why would she let a beast like me this close?” Bakugou narrowed his eyes at the two men before, as if to challenge his logic wrong.

You both could see, though your vision was limited, the guard’s hand trembling on the hilt of his sword; clearly taking this stranger’s word as fact and now debating what to do next. Bakugou could see the conflict in his eyes – clearly not knowing if he should harass the two of you or move one. His partner, on the other hand, took a step away.

“That’s what I fucking thought.” Bakugou muttered, his eyes watching the weaker of the two, “Now if you’re done threatening us, I suggest you leave before this gets real fucking messy”

You had to commend his acting, truly, as the more brash guard stood upright. He muttered something under his breath, though you couldn’t hear, before both pairs of boots walked sullenly away from you; the footsteps becoming harder to hear the further they went until you couldn’t hear them anymore. A sign that they had left the tavern. The coast now being clear.

“They bought it?” You whispered, pulling yourself more upright as you looked towards where they left.

“Of course, they did” He shrugged, taking your drink once more and downing the last of it “They’re not smart. Besides….” You felt sharp claws take a gentle purchase under your chin to turn your head back to him “They wouldn’t want to fight someone like me”

“Aren’t you full of yourself?” You scoffed, moving away from him fully now. Your mind now coming back to you.

“A ‘you’re welcome’ would be fucking appropriate right now, sweetness. Especially seeing as I risk my life to get you out of that bind.”

You felt him grip your wrist again, and when you looked up at him you could see that same self-satisfied smirk back on his face. It made you roll your eyes and look away once more, a clear look of displeasure on your face as your lips formed a scowl.

He was right, he had helped you out of a really tough bind. His on-the-spot thinking meant that you didn’t have to go back to your home kicking and screaming within those guards’ hold. But, at the same time, he kept touching you without permission. Along with his full-of-himself attitude made saying your gratitude feel as bitter as that liquid burning down your throat.

“Thank you.” You finally managed to mutter out, pulling your hand away from his grip, your scowl deepening further.

“That muuuuuch better!” He cooed, his mocking tone made you ball your fists in anger; but that seemed to only spur him on even more “Now come on, pay up.”

“Pay up…?” You mumbled, your eyebrows furrowing as confusion replaced the annoyance “What…?”

“You owe me, sweetness. Did you a huge favor, now you’re gonna repay me in kind” His arms crossed over his chest that was now puffed out in overconfidence “I can think of a few ways you can too, though let’s start with why those losers were after you in the first place, duchess.”

You sighed; you knew that you had no real choice in the matter, there was no way you were getting out of this. He was strong, and though it was a little hard to tell due to his olive coat and baggy clothing, you were sure he could easily overpower you without breaking a sweat. And well, you weren’t made to fight.

“Fine. I –“ You began, only for one of his fingers to press against your lips; effectively shushing you from speaking further.

“Not here, sweetness” He smirked, enjoying that his little nickname made your nostrils flare in annoyance. “As much as I would love to see you plastered off your ass, I’ve had enough of those low-life extras staring at you.”

He tilted his head towards the other patrons. And true to his word a lot of them were giving you, what they thought were sneaky, glances your way. It could be due to the display that just occurred with those guards stomping your way and causing a scene, but with the suggested undertones of the stranger's words made you question those glances as innocent curiosity.

“Good idea…” You nodded, pulling your head away when you felt the tip of his claw tickle your nose.

You watched him get to his feet, offering you his hand after he got a few paces ahead of you; as if realizing that you didn’t know where he was going. You gingerly took hold of his hand and allowed him to pull you from your seat to stand before him. It was at that moment you realized just how tall and imposing he was compared to you. He didn’t really seem that way when he was hunched over the bar counter, but now? Well, it was enough to make a shiver run down your spine when he loomed over you with that wolfish smirk as he wrapped his arm around you and began to lead you out of the seedy place.

“W-wait!” You whispered; voice frantic as you tried to gain some sense of control over this less-than-ideal situation you found yourself in “I need to know your name before we go any further.”

You heard him huff out an annoyed groan, bringing his free hand up to pass through his hair before it fell limply at his side. “It’s Bakugou, now come on.”

He didn’t give you any time to say anything else, or really to process what he just said. His name only ran through your head with certainty when you felt the cool summer night’s air hit your face.

~ 

It was cold.

And damp. Though it was to be expected to some degree in the dense forest you were currently being dragged within. It put you on edge, every little thing that moved and seemed to whisper through the branches; made you tense and cause your breath to quicken at points.

Though after the first little leg of the journey you felt silly for being so afraid. Arguably the most fearsome creature within these forests was the one that was walking beside you in the first place, so really what harm could befall you if you had him on your side?

Bakugou.

He was leading you through this place with expert ease like he had done this thousands of times before to the point where it was more memory than thinking. To where, you were not sure, but given the familiarity and ease you could only assume he was leading you to his home; or den, or cave, or wherever it was a creature like him would rest his head.

The moment you began walking, out of earshot of all those around, he asked you to tell your tale; wanting to fill the silence and hear just what led you here in the first place. And though he was quite chatty at the tavern just moments prior, he was quiet now. Trudging along like it was a chore. Listening to you with almost disinterest even though he was the one curious about your situation in the first place.

It wasn’t like he wasn’t listening or found it boring. He was just lost in thought at the details of your story. How overly complicated life was like at court. All those rules and regulations on how to do the most mundane of things, like living and eating, all boiling down to a miserable, controlled, and boring life.

He didn’t envy you at all. If he had to wake up every day and be told what to wear, how to wear it, how to eat, how to talk to people, he may have just ended it all and run away too. No amount of wealth was worth living in such a way.

Though his interest peaked when you brought up the engagement. The straw that broke the camel’s back as it were; the whole reason you ran off in the first place. It caused his ear to stand pointed atop his head as he listened to your mutterings as best he could.

Enji Todoroki, that was the man who had asked for your hand. That was the man your parents more than willingly threw you out to if it meant more land to their name. Bakugou almost laughed at the sudden shift in your tone when speaking about him, with such anger and disdain. A far cry from the soft-spoken women you were moments prior.

But you couldn’t help it. You didn’t want to marry this cruel man. You didn’t want to be sold out to him like cattle simply for more prosperity for your family. The only reason he was interested was because you were a pretty young face, nothing more really.

It made Bakugou roll his eyes. Of course, Enji would be asking for your hand, even someone like him knew the habits of that old man. One recently separated from his wife and was now looking for a younger, prettier, bride. It was all people could gossip about for months. Wondering which woman he was going to propose to – and well it seemed like it was you.

It was ridiculous really. Not only could he be your father, but he also had sons that were of marrying age. In fact, a more suitable match would be for you to marry one of them. You knew that Shoto was your age, and it would still lead to fortune for your family as he would inherit plenty.

But no. Your parents wanted your life, your destiny, to be tied to the older man. To breed and bear his children until another younger and more beautiful thing came around. It happened to his previous wife, and you knew it would happen to you.

“I deserve more.” You declared, your rant about the whole situation over “I won’t even say I deserve love. I just want to be with someone who at least respects me, and I can tolerate sitting in a room with.”

You let out a loud sigh, glancing at your companion who was still as quiet and unreadable as when you started. The only thing that indicated that he was still listening, or just remembering your presence, was the small hums of acknowledgment he would give every now and then.

“I don’t think that’s too much to ask…” You mumble out, feeling slightly awkward from the silence that had now befallen you.

“Your life is ridiculous.” Bakugou finally muttered, bringing a hand up to move a branch out of his way “No wonder you want to fucking leave it. I wouldn’t wanna spend one day as you, let alone deal with that bullshit.”

He had a way with words, one that made you chuckle at how brash and crude they were. No one dared speak that way at court, let alone around a lady. But you found it refreshing that he didn’t care; that he spoke what was on his mind regardless of decorum. That he was honest.

“What are you smiling at?” Bakugou asked, tone irritated as he looked down at you – hating the way your lips turn upwards in that annoying little grin.

“Nothing…” You giggled out, your tone going up in a teasing way as you turned away from him. “You just talk differently.”

“Eh!? What do you mean by that!” He yelled, stepping ahead, and blocking your path with ease.

“I-I don’t mean any harm by it!” You held your hands up in defense to prove your point further “I like it actually…”

The way you mumbled out the last part, and how you bashfully moved your head to look downwards made the man before you smirk. That wolfish grin was back on his face, one that you didn’t know whether you missed or hated, as he leaned down to breathe in your ear. The way you shivered slightly when it hit your ear did not go unnoticed by him.

“If you like that, then you’ll love the way I sound when - !”

You pushed past him before he could even think of finishing that thought; catching him off guard if the little grunt was any indication. Your whole being was too flustered to even want to know where his mind was going.

“D-don’t!” You warned, your voice still sounding nervous but the volume it was at was proof you meant serious business “I don’t want to know!”

You were cute like this, Bakugou couldn’t deny. A little thing so easily flustered by him was refreshing, and it made the animal in him roar loudly. Oh, what he would do to something like you. He would absolutely wreck you, ruin any little part of innocence you had left within you.

His motive now changed. He no longer wanted your trust so you could give him those jewels that were tucked neatly away. He wanted something more precious, more untainted than money. But he would have to play it smart if he were ever going to obtain it.

“Come on,” Bakugou rolled his eyes, trying to seem unfazed by your little outburst “It’s only a little further ahead.”

“What is?” You asked, fidgeting on the spot as you watched him walk ahead and away from you once more – his arm pulling back a branch to clear the path before you.

“My house, dumbass. I want to get out of the cold as soon as possible, so hurry up!”

You didn’t hesitate to scramble yourself forward; feet trying their best to move as quickly as they could to heed his command. You would be lying if you said you didn’t want to get out of the cold night’s air and get some rest. Even if it was in the home of the strange man-wolf in front of you.

~ ~ ~

His home was not what you expected it to be.

Not at all.

It was cozy. A small cottage that seemed just the right size for someone to live in comfort, but not with too much space to spare. It looked soft too, the upholstered chairs, his bed, even the bear-skinned rug before his fireplace, all looked so soft. That if you were to touch them you would delve into them – sinking eternally in their plushness.

It really was what you wanted most. You had been running all day, and after that walk through the forest to get here, only proved just how worn your feet and body had become. You sighed out in relief once you had the chance to take off those dreaded boots; watching in curiosity at the wolf before as he placed birch logs into the open maw of the fireplace. Humming constantly when those logs burned and quickly filled the home with a gentle warmth.

“Get over here.” You heard Bakugou growl out, watching him in confusion as he rested back on his haunches; elbows resting on his knees as he rubbed his hands together at the flickering flames. 

“Come on!” He urged again, head finally snapping back to you. Rolling his eyes at the witless expression on your face as you continued to stand uncomfortably at his threshold “I know you’re cold, so hurry and get yourself warm.”

You nodded your head, scrambling once more to heed his command. Feet padding gently on the wooden floor before it was muted by the softness of the fur before the fire. When you sat, you couldn’t stop yourself from running your hands through the dense fur, marveling at how it felt under your fingertips. This was possibly the only time you would ever get to touch this kind of beast, and you were going to enjoy it as much as you could.

Though, after a few moments the lure of the fire called your name. Your cold bones were unable to resist the temptation and you found yourself with outstretched arms towards it. Enjoying the warm glow as flames almost seemed to lick and nip at your fingertips.

“What’s your next step?” Bakugou asked, unable to keep himself quiet. Not when he had you all to himself once more “You’re staying the night, obviously. But after that.”

His tone made it clear that it wasn’t up for debate on whether or not you would find shelter here for the night or continue on your way. Not that you were complaining. You would spend every day here in the warm solitude this small cottage provided.

“I’m not sure…” You finally whispered out, after pondering that question in your head for a few moments. “To be honest I didn’t expect to get this far…”

You saw the look he gave you; it was a mixture of annoyance and disbelief. Like he couldn’t believe that you truly had no plan, no thoughts on where you might go and do, as you figured the moment you started to run you would be caged again. It made you pull your hands back into your lap, fidgeting with them nervously, clearly showing you were a little embarrassed by your truth.

“He’s a powerful man.” You reasoned, trying to get him to understand “And I have never known life outside of my family’s estate and court. I wasn’t expecting to get far with the little knowledge I had. Or with his hounds on my tail…”

You chuckled, Bakugou joining you for a moment as well, remembering those idiotic guards you had crossed paths with. How useless they were. Though, after tonight you knew more would be spread out in an attempt to find you. And as the man before you had stated the moment he met you, you stuck out in a crowd. So really, where could you go to hide?

“I have nowhere to go.” You finally admitted, shaking your head. You had been foolish to even think that this would work in the first place “Even if I were able to slip through the border, someone would alert them of me once I tried to sell my jewels. Or they would take them and sell me out for the bounty that will surely be over my head soon.”

“So what? That’s it?” Bakugou retorted, bewilderment in his tone at how easily you were accepting defeat “All that work just to go running back with your tail between your legs!?”

“I don’t have a choice!” You snapped back, eyes narrowing back at his own “I have no friends outside these walls. Only those that wish to see me go back to that horrid fate for a quick coin! Much like you!”

“I don’t want your stupid jewels anymore!” Bakugou defended, hands turning into fists at your truthful accusation – claws digging into his palms.

“So what? You still wanted them the first moment you saw them! Who is to say someone else won’t rob me for what I have on me, and leave me penniless and stranded? Or worse…”

You shook your head at those horrid thoughts. Not wanting to think of those dark and twisted outcomes that may befall you if you were to continue out of these woods. And though returning back to that man was not a fate you wished to have, it was better than whatever may come to you if you continued.

“The safest outcome for me is going back….”

You whispered your sealed fate; taking in a shaky breath to try and calm yourself down, trying your best to ignore the crimson eyes that stared intently at you. Though those breaths quickly turned heated as anger clouded your mind. You threw your fists against the rug as you let out a wail of frustration and anger over that decision; a foot kicking out to topple the small stack of wood that sat before you.

“It’s just not fair!” You declared through clenched teeth “It’s my life! Why can’t I have any say in how it will go!? Why do I have to marry that bastard?”

You took one glance at the man beside you, searching his eyes for some sort of answer. When you could not find one, you sighed out once more before bringing your knees to your chest, resting your chin upon them like a pouting child.

“If you’re gonna have to go back…” You heard Bakugou, his tone softer as if in sympathy for you, as he raked his brain for that solution you were hoping for “Then get even with them.”

“What?” You softly questioned, your face turning back to him – that wolfish grin was back, and it made you nervous at what he was going to say next.

“If you’re gonna have to marry that asshole no matter what. Then the best way to get back at them all is to give up that sweet virtue of yours. And what better ‘fuck-you’ would it be if you gave it to someone like me?”

Your mouth went dry at his words, finding it near impossible to swallow that lump that was now in your throat. He wanted you to do something that was ingrained into you since childhood as sacred; something only to be done to by the person you were to be bound with for the rest of your living days on this land.

And the almost casual way he brought it up, accompanied by those burning eyes – ones that made the fire before you seem mild in comparison – meant that this wasn’t his first time in seducing a lady; to ask her to keep him company for the night.

But a part of you couldn’t help but be seduced by it all. By the thought of going against tradition, against your family, and especially against that man that already broken the sacred oaths before; so why shouldn’t you? Why should you deny yourself this one, and only, rebellion you could dish out? Why should you deny yourself to feel the touch of this handsome man before you? One that seemed to want to give you, probably, the only night of passion and enjoyment you will ever receive?

You couldn’t.

And that was probably why you felt your heart nearly explode in your chest, as a fire ignited in your belly once you felt his warm and slightly chapped lips touch yours.

Your whole body seemed to melt when you felt his palm reach up to caress your cheek and pull you closer, and deeper, into the sweet kiss. A gesture that seemed so small, yet it showed to you a level of tenderness that he had yet to openly give you since you met him. It made you want to return his kiss with fervor.

Bakugou chuckled at your eagerness, finding it endearing at your clumsy and inexperienced actions that were hidden behind your enthusiasm. It meant that you wanted this. And if you wanted this, then it meant that he could show you a night you will never forget. One that you would remember every single time that old bastard took you into his bed at night – that whenever he took you, you would only be reminded of him instead.

That thought made Bakugou growl deep within his chest. For some reason, he really hated that thought. And when he pulled away from the kiss, he couldn’t help himself but duck lower, to your neck, and start to leave his mark on the untouched flesh.

Your whimpers doing nothing but spur him on. He wanted to hear every little sound you could make; wanted you to hear you wail, moan, and scream his name. The animal in him was being set loose, and he was trying his hardest to not let it run free. Though it was proving harder to do when he felt your trembling hands tug at his coat, feeling your hands slip under the fur of his collar to the smooth skin underneath it.

“Kiss me again” You breathlessly whispered to him, your hands pushing down on his neck to bring him closer “Please?”

Bakugou was unable to suppress his low groan at your words, as he brought his head away from your neck back up to yours. Lips clashing with yours in a messy kiss, one that he dominated easily. Who was he to say no to such a pretty request?

Your kisses become more urgent, almost hurried as the moments pass. Unable to let each other part for too long, even if it was to breathe. A part of it was because his lips felt so wonderful on yours, a tantalizing sensation that left you tingling all over. But the other reason was out of bashfulness. Unable to let yourself fully part from him, to look at him, as he slowly untied and unbuckled every piece of clothing you had.

His touches were gentle. The way his fingertips, and claws, would slightly drag over your skin, like a butterfly’s kiss, made goosebumps appear in their wake. Made you shiver and let out shaky breaths as you parted from one another. Your breath mingling with his, and allowing this reprieve, to fully undress.

You bit your tender lip when you felt his heated gaze wash over your skin. It made you squirm; made you place your hands around your chest to hide from his piercing gaze. Unable to stand the heat of it.

He truly was a predator that caught himself a prize, at least that’s how it seemed when he looked at you. He certainly didn’t appreciate you hiding your beautiful skin from him, your wonderful body. A low growl, one that almost mimicked the warning he gave to those guards an hour prior, rumbled into his chest as he pulled your arms away from your chest.

His grasp was firm, but not painful, you could feel the warning in it; telling you to not do something similar again as he laid your nearly bare form down onto the fur. Pinning your arms above your head

“Keep them there.” Bakugou commanded, his rumbling voice that resembled gravel made it clear to you that you had to obey.

And obey you did. You relaxed your arms and turned your wrist inwards as your fingers once again threaded through the bear’s fur. Trying your best to keep yourself grounded, avoiding becoming too sheepish, as to let him continue his ministries.

Swift hands made quick work of your skirts, ridding them and causing you to lay bare before him; the first man to ever see you this was since you were a babe. His gaze was telling more than words ever could at just how wonderful you seemed to look. And though you couldn’t keep eye contact with him for long, he could see the heat in your eyes as well once he started to shed his garments. That smug smirk was the main reason you turned your head away.

Bakugou’s hands started tracing your collarbone, following it along from shoulder to shoulder. His lips came down onto it a moment later to lavish it with wet kisses. You could feel his smirk on your skin when he nipped at a particularly tender spot, enjoying how your hips bucked up slightly into his own.

He was enjoying this as much as you. If the slight breeze of air that came in contact with your legs, the slight brush of coarse hair, caused by the wagging of his tail was any sign. It made you giggle breathless as you watched the appendage pick up speed the lower his lips descended on your body.

He kept up this tender care all throughout your chest. Slowly moving his hands downward, his lips following moments later over the swell of your breasts, allowing the soft kisses to distract you as his fingers pinched at your hardening nipples.

Your mewls spurred him on to take one of the hardened buds into his mouth, eyes glancing up to see if you were liking the way his tongue flicked over it rapidly. Chuckling when you arched your back, and let out a keen, over what he was doing to you. That needy whine sent shivers straight to his cock, as it bobbed up against his stomach.

It was only when his hands slipped themselves down in between your legs that you moved your hands to grasp his wrist. The combination of the low groan that left his mouth mixed with all the wetness that found itself on your thighs was too much for you.

“I said!” Bakugou growled once more, speaking to you through clenched teeth “Keep your hands out of the way.”

He pried your hands off his wrist and moved them once again, this time to rest at your sides. And though you closed your eyes once more in embarrassment, he kept his eyes trained on your face when pressed his hands moved behind your knees to pull them up and apart – baring your weeping cunt to the fire's light.

“Look at me.”

It was hard for you to follow his request, a whimper escaping your throat to show your unease, but finally opening your eyes when he asked once more, tone soft and gentle, to look back down at him. He was handsome and looked so alluring with his hair all mused and ears pointed in between your legs, as he gently caressed your plush thighs in a comforting manner.

You couldn’t help the gasp that came froth, almost in a shrill manner, when you watched his tongue take a long and heavy stripe up your core; not missing the way his claws now dug into your skin, it was almost painful.

“S-stop! Don’t…” You cried out, hands twitching at your sides, trying their hardest to not push him away “Don’t do that, it – it’s dirty down there!”

Bakugou scoffed at your claim, taking a bite out of your thigh to have you look back at him. Once you do he repeats the action, this time accompanying it with a groan – smirking once more at the flush that was now making it down your neck.

“Not dirty at all.” He shrugged his shoulders before settling into a more comfortable position “How can something that tastes as good as you, be dirty?”

You didn’t have an answer for him. Not that you could really, not when your brain did nothing but short-circuit and turn to mush when you felt his tongue swipe up and down at your glistening folds. Unable to hold back any of the mewls and moans that crept out of your throat; especially when his lips found that special bundle of nerves and began to suckle on it.

Bakugou was taking his time, though it was a little bit agonizing. As much as he wished to go faster, to hear the wonton screams that he knew he could make you sing, he knew that you needed this to be as passionate and tender as it could be. So, whenever you would look back on this night, you would not regret allowing him this.

Not that he truly minded. The sounds of your gasps, your twitching thighs, and your bucking hips made up for it. Especially when he slipped a finger into your warmth and felt you tight walls fluttering around the digit. It was delightful, so much so he couldn’t help but let a growl; the vibrations making your hips jump once more. If you felt this good around his finger, he could only imagine how amazing it would feel having your gummy walls around his cock.

After a few pumps, he added another finger. Pushing through your tight entrance to help properly prepare you for his thick member; not wanting it to hurt once he finally got around to fucking you. The sinful, loud, whines you let out as your back arched when he began to scissor his fingers made his head a little dizzy. So aroused by it all that he couldn’t help himself from rutting his hips, and hard cock, on the rug beneath him.

You had the rug gripped between your fingers, your knuckles going white at how tightly you were holding on, as you felt a bundle start to twine in your gut. One that seemed built out of fire and that twisted almost painfully the more he licked, sucked, and played with your weeping core.

“Come on, sweetness” He nearly begs, his voice going hoarse “I can feel you fluttering around me, just let go. I got you.”

You babbled, though you’re not sure of what, as you listened to his gentle command. Unable to resist, you did as he said, and let go of that tight knot deep within you; allowing it to snap and your body to go rigid. Head moving side to side as you whimpered and wept over the overwhelming sensation.

Though it was only now that you truly understood why so many called this feeling ‘le petite mort’ as you felt a part of your soul had died and found its way to heaven. You couldn’t help but want to feel this feeling over and over again until you yourself passed on. Though it was sinful, you had never felt anything so wondrous.

You whimpered when you felt his fingers slowly leave your tender hole, not wanting the feeling of being full to leave you so soon. And neither did Bakugou. He didn’t want to let up when you finally came, wanting instead to continue – to overstimulate you until you were a blubbering, teary-eyed mess, that was begging him to stop. But he couldn’t help himself. He needed to be in you, right now.

“You ready?” He whispered, bringing his hand up to softly caress your cheek, the tip of his cock twitching against your thigh “Cause we can – can stop if you want.”

“No!” You begged, bringing your own hand up to grasp his; kissing his palm “P-please, I want more.”

Your soft confession made Bakugou moan out, hiding his head in the crook of your neck, as he tried to compose himself once more. He knew what he was doing when he started, corrupting your innocence, however he was not expected to become this turned on – affected – by your turning.

He now needed more, want a distant memory from when he began. He placed the blunt head of his cock at your entrance and slowly pushed in, groaning at the tight heat that welcomed him as he slowly, inch by inch, sheathed himself. The stretch itself was a little painful for you, the more he pushed in, but not in a bad way. It simply just felt strange, as you had never felt a man in you before.

Though the more that kept entering you, the more you would whimper out. You had felt full when his fingers were within you, but this was an entirely different sensation; an entirely different feeling of being full. One that made your eyes shut tightly as your mind could only focus on the slightly pleasant burn of being stretched wide.

Bakugou let out a huff, head dangling above yours; some of his hair tickling your cheeks as he allowed you the time needed to adjust to the new sensation. And himself if he was honest. Your cunt was so tight that, mixed with his earlier actions, made him almost cum then and there once he bottomed out.

“You can move now…” You mumbled, pushing his hair back so you could look into his eyes.

He didn’t say anything back, just simply nodded his head as he adjusted your legs to rest upon his hip. It made you moan softly at the shift, his cock feeling deeper in you. Though that moan turned into a hiss when you moved his hips back slightly, your walls still sore from his intrusion; still burned. But Bakugou was careful with his movements, only moving an inch at a time before moving back fully into you.

It was a slow process, but soon he was able to pull almost all the way out before snapping his hips back into yours, quiet pained whimpers turned themselves into cries of pleasure with each thrust. You couldn’t help but bring your around his shoulder, your nails pressing crescent moons into his back with every slam of his cock into you.

The burn of feeling your nails drag into your skin made Bakugou grip your hips ever tighter. You both knew with the way his nails into your flesh, breaking your flesh and having slight trickles of blood run down your legs, meant that there would be scars; ones that your soon-to-be-husband would soon see. And that made you moan out louder, knowing that there would always be a reminder of this night for years to come.

“You like that, don’t you?” Bakugou asked through labored breath, his pace picking up speed as pulled you down to meet his thrusts; salivating at your bouncing chest “You like when I mark your skin? Like when I use your sloppy cunt, use you like the slut that you are?”

Bakugou laughed darkly when you whined at his words and shook your head no. Though you were denying his claims, your body was telling a very different tale; if the amount of slick that dripped down both your thighs was any indication.

“No?” He mocked, a smug smirk forming on his face as your lidded eyes met his “Then why did I feel you clench at my words, huh? Like – ah – like that sweetness? You like when I’m mean to you, don’t you? I told you, you would love how I would sound.”

All you could was keen, brain turning hazy at the sensations he was overloading you with. He was leading you back to that cliff, and you wanted nothing more than to fall over it once again as you brought your legs to lock around his back as you babbled out strings of pleas for him to keep going.

 “Yeah, you’re gonna cum again? I can feel it, sweetness, your walls milking my cock.” Bakugou grunted when he felt one of your hands tug the hair at the base of his neck “Come on then, cum. Cum all over my fat cock, milk it – come on!”

He took your hand away from his hair, clasping it into his as he lowered his body onto yours; entwining your fingers together as he continued to say filthy words to help bring you over that edge. When you felt his pelvis rub so deliciously over your clit you couldn’t help but be sent over the edge; pulling him even closer as your body shook at the powerful release.

Bakugou groaned, quickly following suit when he felt your walls clamp down on him. Unable to stop himself from painting your insides white, with rope after rope of his seed, as he bit another mark onto your neck.

You let the moments pass, let it go by serenely as you basked in each other’s afterglow. Not wanting to leave one another so quickly after such an event. You wanted to hold him close as your heart slowly started to beat at a normal rate, and Bakugou wanted to do the same.

Though, once his cock had softened, he felt it was time to get you both cleaned up. And with a soft hiss as he left your warmth, he slowly lifted himself from your warm embrace; suddenly feeling cold even with the fire next to him.

“Be right back.” He mumbled as he got to his feet, not bothering to hide his body like you were as he walked to where his washing room was.

You took this moment to sit up, wincing at the soreness that now encompassed your lower half, as you searched for your shift; wanting to cover yourself, if only slightly. That’s when you found your small leather pouch, the one that contained all the valuables you thought to take with you.

Around the drawstring of the bag, helping to keep the thing closed, was your family heirloom. A giant sapphire broach that was surrounded by silver in an intricate design; a pattern that was designated to your family only. It was invaluable. And you thought that if Bakugou was kind enough to leave you a memento, you should do the same.

You clutched the item to your chest when you heard him step back into the room, washcloth in hand. You continued to hold it close to you, hiding it away, as he tenderly cleaned between your legs and the now dried blood at your hips. A kind gesture that made you relax once more into his touch.

He crawled up your body once more to place a soft kiss on your lips as his arms wrapped securely around you. You yelped when he picked you up, head spinning from suddenly being off the ground. He chuckled at your reaction, it only increased when you scolded him.

He led you to his bed and allowed you to get yourself comfortable before joining you. His heart thumping in his chest, and his tail annoyingly wagging, when you moved yourself to snuggle into his side. Your hands softly wandered over the muscles on his chest, as you gazed up at him once more; a small smile formed on your face.

“Here,” You whispered, holding your trinket out to him, waiting for him to take it. You relished in the soft, gingerly, touch he gave your hand before grabbing hold of your treasure.

“What is this?” He asked, voice still dark and raspy as he inspected it further in the moonlight.

“My family broach. It’s invaluable, probably worth a lot of money.” You explained, rubbing small circles with your fingertips on the skin of his collar bone “It was what you wanted to take when you first saw me. And though you can’t steal me away, you can steal this. As something to remember me by.”

You meant it as a joke, light humor to help ease yourself into more mirthful humor rather than one of sadness over what was to transpire once you woke. You snuggled yourself deeper into the blankets, into his embrace as you placed your head on his chest. The lull of slumber began to swiftly overtake you.

Bakugou couldn’t follow suit though. Couldn’t stop his mind from racing as he looked at the broach. The more he thought about it, as he now looked down on your slumbering face, how sweet and perfect you looked under the moonlight rays, the more he realized that he wanted to keep you. So maybe, just maybe, he would steal you away from them after all.

[putellasawfc]

please may you do a beth mead fic where reader is new to arsenal and super shy but beth being beth is very welcoming and shows her the works and they get really close and eventually get together :) i’m happy to request more beffy fics because you’re very right in saying that there ARENT ENOUGH!!! tysm

best decision !

beth mead x arsenal!reader

-

stepping onto the turf, your eyes wandered over to the group of girls who were running around together, passing the ball back and forth in their different groups with looks of either enjoyment or concentration, depending on who you looked at. your heart was beating wildly in your chest and your grip on your water bottle tightened as the man beside you whistled with his fingers in his mouth which quickly grabbed the attention of the arsenal players who looked over in curiosity, all their eyes darting between you and your new manager, jonas eidevall.

today was to be your first day training with your new team, and you were both excited yet nervous about the whole thing.

you weren’t great at meeting new people, blaming it on your shy and quiet demeanour, it usually took awhile for you to warm up to anyone new and come out of your shell so today was a big day for you, for many reasons . you were grateful that jonas had given you this opportunity, signing you onto the arsenal team a couple of weeks back. you loved your old club, the girls you played with were incredible and you had created many long lasting bonds but unfortunately as the years went by, your game time was decreasing and you were no longer satisfied with the minutes you were getting on the pitch.

the bench had become a familiar place and you worried that your talents were being wasted there. so when the offer to sign to arsenal appeared, you all but leaped at the opportunity, excited to spread your potential elsewhere. though of course, despite being eager to join the new club, the goodbyes to your teammates were emotional but they understood why you left and assured you that you made the right decision, no hard feelings.

your thoughts were dismissed as an array of colours clouded your view. the blacks, greens and blues from the arsenal training kits were up front of and centre, matching the new one you had fit yourself into only an hour prior. you were a little intimidated by the many stares you were getting, though none of them were made with malicious intent, some of the girls even sending you a welcoming smile as they sensed your unease which you quickly returned.

“alright girls, our new member is finally here, this is y/n y/l/n and she’s going to be joining us today for training, friday’s game will be her first game with us so i expect you all to welcome her with open arms and ease her into the team as quickly and smoothly as possible please.” jonas’ voice sounded from the side of you, and you felt a little heat rise to your face with all the attention now pointing at you.

a few of the girls piped up with ‘hi’s’ here and ‘hello’s’ there, and you returned them all with a simple wave and a quirk of your lips.

“you can all get your proper introductions later, for now i need you to start working on your drills, so partner up and show y/n she made the right choice coming over here.” he clapped his hands together, and you smiled at the playful jab he had made towards the team, already liking the atmosphere within the coach and squad dynamic.

your nerves came rushing back as soon as he wandered off though, and the girls began to jog off back onto the turf already grabbing onto each other as they called dibs on their partners before others could. you hung back, feeling a little awkward at the bond they all had that you weren’t yet apart of, though you had high hopes it wouldn’t be long before you were there with them. your eyes flickered around as everyone partnered up, feeling a little bit like a loner as it seemed you were the only one without one, but just as you were about to accept the embarrassment, a hand touched your elbow and you spun your head around to see a freckled blonde with gorgeous blue eyes and a beaming smile.

“you wanna partner up, newbie?” her yorkshire accent reached your ears and you perked up at the invitation.

“um, yeah.” you mumbled, your voice coming out quiet before you coughed and spoke again. “yes please, saves me standing on my own like a loser.”

she laughed at that and you smiled, happy to have amused her with your slightly self degrading comment.

“yeah i think we’ve all been there.” she hummed, walking you both to the only available miniature sized goal left. “i’ll pass, you shoot, yeah?”

you nodded in agreement, happy to be in any position as long as you were practicing and learning. you stood a good distance away from the goal post, and awaited beth to get into her spot so she could shoot the ball your way.

she placed the ball down by her feet and glanced your way, the smile that she had first greeted you with still on her face as if it was permanent. “you ready?”

you nodded once again, and so with that she pulled her foot back and kicked the ball with moderate power. you watched as it flew towards you, backing up a little as you quickly predicted where it was going to end up. as soon as it aligned with your foot, you made your move and kicked the ball, watching as it hit the back of the net with ease.

“go on!” the blonde cheered, clapping in approval at the strike you made. “already showing off i see.”

you blushed at the praise, not being able to keep the smile from your face at her genuine appreciation of your skills. you retrieved the ball from the goal and ran to where beth was just stood, the striker moving to do the same and stand in your position.

“now i have to make this or else jonas might kick me off the squad.” she teased, and now it was your turn to laugh at her remark.

“i don’t think he’d ever do that, can’t lose his meado. your fans would start a riot.” you told her, only half joking.

she barked a laugh at that, “i wouldn’t be surprised.”

the training session continued for another two hours, and you stayed partnered up with beth for the majority of it. apart from the last half an hour when you all had to get into groups of four, but beth still remained in your team and you were glad. being the first girl on the squad to start an actual conversation with you, you were clinging onto that warm exterior as you allowed it to bring yourself out of your shell a little bit and mingle with the other two on your team, who happened to be catley and foord.

both of them brought you into the group as if you’d been friends for weeks, no awkward small talk or even worse, awkward silences and that took a lot of weight off your shoulders. though you didn’t doubt the girls would give you any less than a friendly welcome to the squad, you still had your worries that maybe you just wouldn’t mix in with them quite so well, but as the minutes passed you realised that those worries were no more than a silly waste of head space.

-

the next few days passed quickly, each day you’d go into training and instantly just find yourself drawn to beth who seemed just as excited to see you. she’d always bring you into a hug, her hands rubbing comfortingly up and down your back that had your insides tingling with excitement at the act of affection. you couldn’t deny the feelings inside of you that had been building up since you first met the blonde, for some reason you couldn’t get her off your mind.

whenever you were together you were always seeking her out, making sure she was always nearby. you blamed it on the fact she was the first person to accept you into the squad, though the quieter part of you brain knew that it was more than that. she had followed you on instagram when you had returned home on your first day, and after following her back you were ashamed to admit you had stalked her profile and found yourself grinning like a fool at her posts, her sense of humour something that had drawn you in from the get go.

but other than that it was her effortless beauty that had you hooked. you had yet to see her with more than a bit of mascara on her lashes, and you were taken aback by how great she looked. even after a day of training, all red faced and sweaty you were still admiring her from afar. you could only imagine how incredible she’d look if you ever got the honour to see her all dolled up, the photos on her social media’s never did justice so you just had to wait for the opportunity yourself.

over the days your bond with the other girls had grown stronger too. three girls specifically. caitlin, steph and alessia were your definite best friends on the team (aside from beth of course), you just seemed to mesh well with the trio, they were lovely people and you all shared the same humour and energy so it just made you all work so well as a group.

and your relationships with the other girls were slowly building too, you even had the pleasure of meeting leah williamson which you look back on now and cringe at how awkward you were around the arsenal legend. she had shown up at training one day, ready to begin easing herself back in with the girls ahead of her big comeback for the team and you had bumped into her in the gym. the blonde looked at you unsure, and you guessed she hadn’t realised there was anyone new joining the team. but unsurprisingly, beth was there to save you and introduce you both.

you were sure you looked like an idiot, stood there mouth opening and closing like a fish as you struggled to find words. it wasn’t everyday you met people you had looked up to for years, and to not only be playing along side her (when she was recovered of course) but also have the chance to build somewhat of a friendship with the defender was enough to have your brain short circuiting. you were just glad beth was there to keep the conversation flowing.

now, you stood on the pitch ready to play in your first game officially as an arsenal member. you were incredibly nervous, but determined to prove your spot in the squad, wanting to show jonas that he had made the right choice when he seeked you out. and it wasn’t just jonas you wanted to prove yourself to today, it was the girls and the fans that were all anticipating your debut. you didn’t want to let anyone down, including yourself.

you jumped in your spot, kicking your legs out whilst letting out a deep breath, trying to warm up whilst simultaneously attempting to decrease any anxious thoughts. you watched as the girls did the same, some passing you and sending exciting smiles and encouraging words as they passed. it wasn’t until she appeared, did you take the encouragement seriously.

“you’re gonna do good, yeah? you’ve been great in training just do the same as you did then.” beth patted your shoulder, “act like the crowd and cameras aren’t here, just focus on us and the ball.”

you nodded, rolling your neck with a sigh. “yeah, okay. i’ll keep that in mind.”

the lioness smiled, turning so now she was walking backwards to her spot whilst keeping her eyes on you. “i believe in you.”

and with that, she sent a quick wink your way that would’ve had your cheeks burning if it didn’t feel like it was minus ten degrees out, before she turned on her foot and your eyes met the ponytail that swayed with her body movement.

you didn’t have too much time to dwell on the whole thing, the whistle blew and all the players took a knee, before it blew again and the ball was kicked to pelova, and the game began there.

-

fifty-seven minutes flew by faster than you had imagined. the first half was a frustrating one for arsenal, with the opposing team scoring two goals and your team yet to have scored one, you were all given a stern talking to at halftime by jonas, who ended the talk with some words of encouragement in hopes that it would help you bounce back and play at the best of your ability. katie had given some words of her own, being the captain of your team for the match she was obligated to make sure you were all in the right headspace, there was no more room for mistakes, you had to go out and score before it was too late and you lost a valuable three points that could push you higher up on the table.

and you must’ve had the luck of the irish, because all of a sudden your team was on fire.

the ball stayed on your side of the pitch for the majority of the second half so far, always at the feet of a player in red, being kept far from anyone who wanted it with intentions of shooting it at your goal. you jumped for joy when in the fiftieth minute stina scored a long goal, the ball hitting the back of the net, just grazing the goalkeepers hand. you all ran to the swedish player, with grins on your faces. now, you only needed two more goals for the win.

and the second opportunity came only two minutes later, when you earned a corner kick that beth took, the ball finding its way nicely into the penalty box where you all stood, but it was lia who had the best chance. she jumped on her feet and headed the ball into the goal, the crowd erupting into loud cheers and applause, feeling more optimistic now that your team was levelled. after celebrating her goal, your team again running to the goal scorer with grins and high fives, you all ran back on the pitch now more determined than ever to win this game.

now here you were, 57:22 on the clock and the ball falling at your feet after a pass from caitlin. you quickly scoped your surroundings, working out who was being covered and who wasn’t. you held back for a few seconds, not being able to find a free player, beginning to panic a little as your opponents began closing in on you. but from afar, a hand raised and you only took a quick second glance to see it was beth on the side of the pitch, with lots of open space and ready to take the ball on. so, without any hesitation you pulled back your foot and shot the ball through the sky, past players who watched it go, too high to try and take with a headshot.

the ball landed just an inch away from beth’s foot, a perfect ball that she didn’t waste as she took the shot at the goal instantly.

you stood back in anticipation, watching the ball fly through the sky, past players who jumped up to defend the ball and stop it from reaching the goal but to your joy, they missed it by inches and the ball secured itself in the top corner of the net. once again the gooners who had been watching with extreme apprehension launched up in their seats and cried out in joy at the added goal, leaving your team now leading by 3-2.

beth’s hands pumped in the air as she ran to the fans, mirroring their reaction and cheering as loudly as she could. she was quickly followed by the rest of the girls, who jumped on her and pulled her into hugs, all bearing huge grins. you made your way over, being one of the last to reach the pile of girls but were quickly accepted into the team celebration with different sets of hands finding their way on your back and waist.

as the huddle began to separate, getting ready to continue play and hopefully score another one or two goals before full time, it was just you, beth and a few others who remained at the sideline. beth’s eyes landed on yours and her grin widened even further, if that was even possible. she didn’t waste another second and pulled you to her, her hands clapping down with gentle force on your back as she whooped in your ear.

“beautiful ball! couldn’t have done it without ya.” she praised, pulling back from the hug so she was now inches from your face.

you smiled, elated that the ball had perfectly reached beth, but more than that, you couldn’t get over the immense joy on her face as she looked at you as if you had told her she had won the lottery. you didn’t want to pull away from her intense gaze, her blue eyes shining bright under the lights that made her look even more captivating than usual. your stomach fizzled with butterflies when you caught her eyes lowering, flickering down to your lips that were parted and back up to your eyes again, the whole interaction happening so quickly you wondered if you had imagined it.

but when you pulled apart, much to both of your disappointments, your eyes met steph and she sent you a knowing look. her lips quirked upwards as she looked between the pair of you, and you knew, she knew. you had feelings for beth.

luckily the aussie didn’t stay to make any teasing comments, instead she just cocked her head to the side, signalling that you should get back in position which you did immediately, not wanting to slow the game down any further. but when you looked back at beth, you saw she was still watching you with an expression you couldn’t quite read, but it didn’t look negative in the slightest.

she sent you one last breathtaking smile, and with that, the game resumed and just silently prayed that your now racing mind wouldn’t affect the last thirty-or-so minutes of game time.

-

the final whistle blew and your team erupted, finishing the game with a 5-2 lead was definitely something to proud of, especially since you had started the second half two-nil down.

you all collided with one another, the whole thing being a blur really as you were surrounded by the whole team, even the girls on the bench had come up to join in on the joyful huddle. you were engaging in hugs here, high fives there, you even got a few kisses on your cheek and a pat on your back. it was safe to say the team was in very high spirits after the win, and you were being applauded for your assist to beth that gave your team the advantage. it was one of the best feelings, knowing your team was proud of your performance during your first game with them, and now you just had to keep playing how you did today and surely your name would move up the ranks.

“hey, we’re all planning on heading to jen’s for a little after game celebration, you down?” alessia had approached you as you all began making your way back into the tunnel, and you considered the offer.

it would be your first time hanging out with the girls out of work, and it sounded like some great bonding time that you would be stupid to pass up. so with a quick shrug, you nodded.

“yeah, sounds good. she’s alright with me coming?”

you felt an elbow playfully nudge into your arm from the opposite side of you, and you couldn’t say you were very much surprised when you saw who it was.

“don’t be silly. course she is.” beth’s voice sounded over the rest of the girls walking by you. “so you better be there or else i’ll kidnap you myself and force you there.”

you rolled your eyes in amusement, leaning into her embrace when she slid an arm over your shoulder, bringing you into her side.

“i’ll try my best.”

-

arriving at the beattie residence, you were instantly greeted by the woman herself who ushered you into the house with giddiness, clearly she had already had a drink or two in her system which was obvious by her lopsided grin and inability to stop talking as she led you inside. you tried to nod along to her ramblings best as you could, but she was talking so fast you kind of gave up in the end, relieved when you entered dining room full of the other girls who quickly pulled you into hugs, saving you from the one-on-one encounter.

sat at the table was alessia, victoria, caitlin, beth and leah. a few of the other girls were lingering around, katie and lia sat talking on the couch, viv and kyra you could see stood in the kitchen, watching steph as she seemed to be recounting a story with the way her hands were moving wildly with her words. there was music playing though it wasn’t too loud, and there were snacks littered around the house, albeit most of them had been already eaten.

you sat down at the last empty seat at the table, which happened to be between beth and vic, the dutch woman quickly handing you a beverage.

“you’re two drinks behind, time to catch up slacker.” she told you, tapping the top of the can and you rolled your eyes playfully.

“give her chance vic.” beth laughed, “she hasn’t even taken her jacket off yet.”

vic held her hands up in mock defence, “i just want to see if the newbie can outdrink any of us, that’s all.”

“god when is that nickname gonna go away.” you grumbled whilst you opened the can, eyes flashing over to beth who watched your movements. “i blame you for this.”

“me? why me?” she cried out, pointing her finger at herself in question.

“because that’s what you called me when we first met! remember?” you asked her, amused by her reaction. “and since you said it, it’s stuck. how long until i’m no longer a newbie?”

you honestly weren’t that phased by the name, you knew it was only coming from a place of love and that there was no venom behind it, but it was fun to tease the girls, especially beth who had the best reactions.

“i’d give it another few weeks, alessia had to cope with it for about a month so.” caitlin’s voice trailed off as she looked up to the ceiling in thought, “i’d say three more weeks?”

alessia nodded along with the aussie’s guess, “yeah that sounds about right.”

you all laughed at that, and you began drinking from your can as you all found yourselves floating into conversation. you talked about anything and everything, plans for the weekend, what leah had attempted to make for dinner the previous night, how excited vic was for the next season of her favourite show, the game you had just won. chat flowed so easily amongst you all and you couldn’t help the smile that had permanently etched itself onto your face, looking around at everyone you couldn’t believe how easily it had been settling in at this new club.

“what’re you so smiley about?” a yorkshire accent whispered in your ear, and you turned your head to see beth had leaned in to talk more privately.

the newfound close proximity had your heart beating in your chest just a little faster, if you were to lean forward just a few inches more your lips would be on hers. you pushed the thought to the back of your mind as you realised beth was still patiently waiting for a reply, with a raised brow.

“just happy to be here, that’s all.” you confessed.

beth’s face lit up at your answer, clearly happy with it. “good. i’m glad, we’re lucky to have you with us, you’re a proper gunner now.”

not having anything else left to say, you kept your eyes on her for a second longer, admiring the way she stared back at you with a look of fascination that you weren’t used to receiving. you were conflicted. a part of you was glad you were in a room filled with people, if it was just the two of you, you’d no doubt be a blushing, squirming mess with the intensity of her gaze that still had yet to dissipate from you.

but then the other part wished it was just you two, alone. maybe things would happen, things you had been thinking about nonstop for the last three days now. like maybe she’d confess she liked you, that she felt the same way and couldn’t get you out of her mind. then she’d kiss you, it’d be timid and gentle as you both got used to the way the other moved, but you’d eventually ease into it and want to do it for the rest of the night. and the day after that, and the day after that. everyday if you could.

but alas, that was not going to happen anytime soon. so with one last smile towards beth, you finally tore your eyes from her and began to refocus on the conversation that had been ongoing, this time with jen who had sat herself down on leah’s lap.

-

the night flew by, before you knew it the time on your phone read 11:47pm and you knew you’d have to get yourself home soon before it got too late. some of the girls had already left, the only ones remaining being steph, beth, leah, katie and caitlin. you decided you would be the next to leave as you stood from your spot on the couch, where you had moved to when you were called over by katie who wanted your opinion on something she was debating with lia.

jen watched you stand and collect your jacket, a groan of disappointment catching the attention of the others.

“not you as well newbie, come on! when did everyone get so old? you’ve got at least another hour in you.” she complained, as she had done everytime someone announced their departure.

“i know, i know.” you said, “i’m sorry but if i don’t go now there’s a risk i’ll pass out on your couch.”

“no bother, i’ll even get you a blanket if you need.”

you grinned, shaking your head whilst you retrieved up your purse from the dining room table. “as lovely as that sounds, i think i’ll get a better nights sleep if i’m in my own bed. maybe next time?”

jen waved you off, grumbling under her breath but you took no offence to her drunken mannerisms.

“how’re you getting home?”

you looked up from your phone as beth approached you, placing her half finished drink down on the table.

“oh, just gonna get an uber. same way i got here.” you shrugged, opening the app on your phone.

“why don’t i give you a lift home? saves you some money and waiting around.”

you paused as you looked at her again, “are you sure? i don’t want to make you leave early or anything.”

she shook her head instantly, diminishing any worries lingering in your mind that you’d be cutting her night short. “it’s okay i was planning on leaving myself anyways, jenn’s on her fifth drink she’s gonna start getting soppy in a minute. nobody wants to be around for that.”

you giggled at the playful jab, your eyes wandering over to jen who as beth said, was opening her next drink. you almost lost it at the worried glance steph and leah shared but managed to hold it in, instead turning your attention back to beth who was now gathering her own belongings just as you had.

you both bid farewell to the remaining four, and jen who was even more upset when she realised beth was going to be leaving too, going on another short rant about how all her friends are getting old, which entertained you to no end. you missed the way the girls all leaned in, whispering and giggling as you and beth left together, wondering if either of you were gonna stop beating around the bush and finally have a chat about your feelings that were obvious to everyone but the both of you.

you climbed into the passenger seat of beth’s car, telling the woman your address whilst you clicked your seatbelt into place at the same time, both of you happy to find out that you only actually lived a five minute drive from beth’s home.

“means i can come over whenever i want.” she had said, making your imagination run wild at the thought of her showing up at your house so you could hang out together.

the drive wasn’t too long, the journey passing by even faster than expected with beth’s great company as the two of you chatted the whole way, sharing lingering looks a few times throughout. you were almost upset when you pulled up outside your familiar driveway, knowing you probably wouldn’t be seeing beth until monday since you all had the weekend off.

you grabbed your purse, before unbuckling your seatbelt and making a move to get out of the vehicle.

“thank you for the lift, i appreciate it.” you began your goodbyes, hand moving to find the handle of the car door.

“don’t worry about it. i’ll feel a lot better going to bed tonight knowing i watched you walk through your door.” she replied, and you smiled at the heartwarming comment.

you couldn’t comprehend how close you had grown in such a short amount of time.

“well i guess i’ll see you monday then?”

“actually, i was wondering if um.” the blonde paused, swallowing as her eyes began to drift throughout the car, a huge contrast to her usual cool and calm demeanour.

“yeah?” you asked, furrowing your brows.

“i’ve just been thinking, and you can always so no! don’t feel like you have to say yes, there’ll be no hard feelings i swear. i’d just be so annoyed with myself if i went home today knowing i missed this opportunity to ask and-“

“beth, breathe.” you laughed lightly, watching the poor woman ramble on without taking a breath, “you know you can ask me anything, yeah?”

she took in a deep breath and nodded her head, seeming to gather her thoughts for a moment before she turned back to you. now her eyes stayed on you this time as she spoke with more composure.

“i was just wondering if you’d maybe like to meet up, tomorrow or sunday i’m not fussed. i’d like to take you out somewhere, like … on a date?”

your heart pounded in your chest once you brain had registered what beth had just asked you, not expecting a question like that to come from her in a million years. not right now anyways. your mouth fell slightly agape, your grip on the door handle faltering, whilst you attempted to come up with some form of response before it began to get awkward.

but it took you longer than beth liked, so she retreated in her spot and shook her head in disappointment. “it’s okay, i get it. i just thought i’d ask, i don’t even know if you like girls! i’m sorry i-“

you cut her off once again, this time with a more physical interruption rather than verbal. you surged forward, a random fluke of confidence overtaking your usually timid self that you wanted to act on before it left you again. you grabbed ahold of the blondes face at either side, shutting her up mid sentence just in time for your lips to collide with her own with urgency.

her lips were soft against yours, and you could taste the strawberry chapstick you had seen her reapplying a few times during the night as you relaxed into the display of affection. it had taken her a second to kiss back, obviously not expecting you to be so forward, especially after she was so sure you were about to reject her. but once she did, it made the kiss even more enjoyable, her lips worked against yours as if you’d done this before, several times.

you were half enticed to take the kiss a step further, with how good it felt you weren’t wanting to part anytime soon. but when a car drove past, it’s headlights shining through your eyelids, you were made aware of the fact that you were both still very much sat outside of your house, in her car, where anyone could peek in and see you making out with the footballer.

so, reluctantly you pulled back, breathing heavily as you fought to reclaim all the oxygen in your lungs that had ran out during the kiss.

“well.” beth breathed, a smile now working its way onto her slightly swollen lips. “i wasn’t expecting that.”

you both fell into a round of laughter, both just as shocked at how the night had turned around. you never imagined that waking up today, you would end the night by kissing the arsenal striker after she had asked you on a date.

“it’s a yes by the way, if it wasn’t already obvious.”

“hmm?”

“i’d love to go on a date with you beth.”

that noticeably cheered up the woman immensely, she perked up in her seat and the smile you had been obsessing over recently doubled in size. she reached over the console and grabbed ahold of your hand, bringing the back of it to her face so she could press a gentle peck to your knuckles.

“great. i’ll message you tomorrow and we can plan it, yeah?” she said, and you nodded in agreement.

“sounds like a plan.”

with that, you reached for your purse and turned to leave once again, this time less disheartened about having to abandon the woman beside you now that you knew you’d be back together sooner rather than later.

you climbed out, shutting the door behind you before you turned to lean a tad through the open window. “get home safe.”

“i will, don’t worry. i’ll message you when i’m in.”

“yes please do.” you smiled gratefully, “i’ll see you later.”

“bye gorgeous.”

your cheeks burned at the compliment, already liking the turn in your relationship. beth noticed the darker shade in your face and laughed, making you tutt in faux offence as you turned your back on her.

“hey now! none of that. if you can’t handle something as simple as that then you’re gonna hate what i give you on our date.”

“as long as i’m getting fed free food at the same time, i don’t think i’ll care too much.”

again, the blonde laughed and you revelled in how much she seemed to enjoy your humour, the moment taking you back to when you first met her, when you had managed to make her laugh within the first ten minutes.

it was safe to say, signing over to arsenal was easily the best decision you had made in your entire life.

[starlightshadowsworld]

Concept: Pre-canon Chuuatsu where Atsushi, being the most expendable and hated child was sent on the orphanages supply runs.

To Suribachi city.

And because of Atsushi’s infamously bad luck it’s no surprise he manages to run into the protectors of Suribachi city, the Sheep.

Who don’t take too kindly to a stranger trespassing on their turf.

The only reason Atsushi is let off is because one of their members show up tell Shirase to knock it off. To Atsushi’s surprise Shirase grumbled but walks away.

The new guy’s eyes are kind as he helps Atsushi pick up his fallen supplies. Chuuya as he introduces himself is surprisingly patient as Atsushi nervously rambles about why he’s here.

Somehow Atsushi’s granted safe passage as long as he doesn’t start trouble. He mumbles that he never tries but it finds him anyway and Chuuya laughs.

But it doesn’t sound like the cruel sound Atsushi’s used too. If anything it almost sounds warm.

Atsushi hears his stomach rumble and to Chuuya’s kids’ surprise he takes out an apple from his basket and hands him it.

As a thank you gift.

It’ll get him beaten later but seeing Chuuya’s eyes light up with surprise, then gratitude feels worth it.

To Atsushi’s surprise, Chuuya pulls a knife out of somewhere and cuts if in half, handing one half to him. They both eat the apple together and leave in opposite directions.

Yet their paths continued to cross as time went by.

Chuuya became the King of the Sheep but he’s still the kind kid that Atsushi met that day. He always seems to know when Atsushi’s wandering through his city.

And falls into place beside him like he belongs there. Every time Atsushi hands a piece of fruit to him and every time Chuuya gives half back.

Chuuya figures out Atsushi’s the tiger and is overjoyed to meet another ability user. He reminds Atsushi that he’s someone worth caring about.

Atsyshu reminds Chuuya that he’s human too. He’s never treated Chuuya as anything else. Admired him sure but knows he’s not perfect.

The Sheep even warm up to him at some point because it’s Atsushi how can you not? And tease him and Chuuya relentlessly over their very obvious but not to each other crush.

“Oh Chuuuya you’re boyfriends here!”

“He’s not my boyfriend!”

It’s an agonisingly slow wait but they do eventually get together. And having Chuuya by his side gives Atsushi the courage to leave the orphanage for good.

He does swipe some chazuke as a parting gift and gives Chuuya it. To which Chuuya jokes about eating it all before laughing at Atsushi’s pouting face.

And handing him half.

[ryescapades]

hii rye!! happi 1k follows, for the event, can i have prompt 10 (lyhfmb) with a jealous! nrm gen please!! nsfw ofc!!! luv ya soo much <3

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prompt: 10 - “lift your hips for me, love.” characters: ex!narumi gen (kn8) x afab!reader contents: nsfw mdni !! oral (f! receiving), marking, slight possessive + jealous!nrm, sparring as an euphemism, possibly exes to lovers, implied nrm having past hookups, tiny bit of angst if u squint, ooc i think? somehow ended up being a bit of a character study.. wc ~ 900

a/n: thank you for participating anon !! <3 i’m kinda killing two birds with one stone here bcs there’s an old req in my inbox asking for a nsfw nrm piece (supposedly) inspired by lana’s serene queen :’>

you have absolutely zero idea how you got yourself in this situation.

it was a normal day for you; you woke up, did your morning routine, checked in with your fellow coworkers and spent a whole lot of your time on the training grounds, especially with your closest friends, shinonome and tachibana. everything would’ve been perfectly and routinely mundane, if not for the sudden private invitation to spar, ordered requested by your very own division captain.

the way those roguish hues darken at the sight of you straddling tachibana’s hips during training, the deep frown on his lips, the clear displeasure marring on his face, the scrutinising stare he sent towards his platoon leader… for a second there you would’ve thought that he— you shake your head to disperse the thoughts away.

no way in hell, right?

it feels weird. doing a one-on-one with captain narumi without other people watching really gives you the ick, an irksome itch that you couldn’t quite scratch away. you know full well that you could pack a punch or two, know that your skills are just as good as any officer from the first division, but you are also aware that narumi gen is not just any man.

he’s a man who was born with such exceptional strength and yet had his childhood ripped to shreds by those monstrous kaiju, a man who would occasionally lash out if something ever triggers the fragility of his inner child, a man who holds the weight of the world on his shoulders, a man who was still on pins and needles when it came to affection, a man who is also your ex lover.

but just because you’re exes doesn’t mean he had any reason to pull his punches on you. and because you’re exes it makes no sense that the exchanging blows and jabs would suddenly turn to a different kind of clash altogether.

your unfocused eyes can barely make out your surroundings, but you at least know that it’s already late into the night, long into the after hours. a soft moan breaks free from your lips, eyebrows deeping into a furrow. “we shouldn’t be doing this,” you breathe out.

you wince just as narumi’s teeth nip on the tender flesh on your collarbones, soothing the pain with a swift lick of his broad tongue. the discolouration blooms red on your skin, another mark accompanying the similar ones on the span of your neck.

he doesn’t reply, opting to slide his hands underneath your shirt to trail wet open-mouthed kisses down your stomach. he then starts fidgeting with the hem of your sweats, lifting his head up to look at you.

your body burns at those hooded gaze of his rosy eyes.

the million rational thoughts of denial and object are immediately turfed out, your body going pliant under his familiar touch as you close your eyes in relent. narumi gently slips his fingers beneath your pants and underwear to pull them both down simultaneously. “lift your hips for me, love.” he murmurs, the petname smoothing out of his lips like silk.

a shiver runs through you as you oblige, your lower part now exposed to his wandering eyes. he shifts down, his head now leveling with the space between your thighs.

the first swipe of his tongue against your folds nearly sends you reeling and narumi can feel his pants getting tighter by the second. “god, i missed your taste so bad. no one could ever compare,” he quietly groans before eventually diving in, eating you out like a man starving for days.

“fuckin’ sweet… this pussy’s mine, yeah?” he mutters as his tongue slides into your dripping hole with ease, licking up your arousal as more of it trickles down to your ass. it’s wild, full of hunger and intent as narumi buries his face between your thighs to consume your very essence into his own.

“f-fuck, hah—” your chest stutters as his arms wrap around your quivering thighs to keep you in place, his tongue thrusting in and out of your cunt just as desperately. loud slurping sounds and your moans can be heard throughout the training room, though neither of you have the mind to care about that as narumi intensifies his efforts, sucking on your swollen clit between his lips before dipping down again to your hole. 

he knows you’re close; he’s painfully familiar with the way your legs jerk beside his face, breath whiny and hitching in your throat as you teeter on the brink of ecstasy. narumi laps at you so greedily that it’s becoming messy and wet and rough and downright filthy.

it’s only when he growls against your flesh, the almost possessive sound vibrating against your sodden pussy that it finally pushes you towards the edge, coming undone on his tongue with a lewd cry. narumi hums, eagerly drinking up your slick and eyes closing in content as his face glistens with your sticky wetness. “nngh - gen…” nerves now oversensitized, you let out a whimper and weakly push at his shoulders to get him to stop. “gen!”

the man finally yet reluctantly pulls away from your cunt with a faint pop, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before he languidly plants kisses on your thighs, eyes still hidden by his ashen bangs. the both of you are breathing hard, and somehow the post-orgasm clarity decides to hit you then.

‘seriously, what are you doing?’ you throw your head back against the mat below you and squeeze your eyes shut as those same conflicting thoughts invade your mind again. “gen— narumi, sorry… i-i should—” you try your move your legs away from his shoulders but he cuts you off, leaning his forehead against your stomach as he rubs random figures on the side of your hips.

little do you know he’s actually tracing the kanji of his name on your skin.

“stay,” narumi whispers. with me, he means. “...please.”

and how can you ever say no to that?

thinking abt this nrm the whole time i write this :]

tbh i kind of had a different idea for the song inspo but i don’t think i’d be finishing that anytime soon (i’m just lazy). i could share like a little rough draft of it if anyone wanna tho

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

[miniyellow5]

Part 2 of marking designs on the cephs: Sol n Ami :)))

as written, Sol is based on a longfin inshore squid and Ami is a day octopus! They are portrayed as their current ages :)

Sol used to be an ex competitive player even while she joined the Squidbeak Splatoon because at the time, that's how she was lowkey making income. After the battle with Octavio, she was able to score a job/apprenticeship under Sheldon and has been learning about weaponry, even helps out in the shop with him. Sol sometimes dreads when there's a new weapon because she knows Sheldon is going to talk about it for maybe.. hours. But she tries to fight the urge to almost pass out and hear him cause she admires his passion about it, also to just keep notes in the future too.

Ami is still going strong on Grizzco, but she has been taking some classes towards horticulture. She likes plants :)) Sol always insists on Ami to take a breather from Salmon Run to focus on her classes so she sometimes take a whole week break for it, Sol makes sure on it hehe.

Her brother (which I must write/draw out soon within what I see in my head on how this story goes- gosh im a mess @-@ ), Suke, is just exploring what the overworld land has to offer after he had been stuck in the Metro. He's been going to different cities and what seems like months, comes back to see Ami and Sol at their apartment. He's rather nomadic and draws a lot within his small wanderings, its like when he's done filling out his sketchbooks he comes back. He'll always be overjoyed to see how happy his sister is, but still feels rather awkward around Riley. Suke leaves after maybe a month or more (depending on how he felt on his trips) when hanging around with his sister, since he's heard that Ami took a liking to plants, he sends some seed packets stapled to a postcard from places he went :))

here are some overviews

they play turf/anarchy together for fun ^^ Sol likes supporting Ami if she's trying to be a slayer in the match, and protects her if Ami's anchoring.

bonus: fistbump? nah smooches

~✩ 

[sashaisready]

This Must Be The Place: Chapter 5 - I feel numb

Biker!Bucky x Femme Reader

Back at your beloved late grandmother's home to pack up her house, you have a run-in with the town's biker gang 'The Howling Commandos' and find yourself entangled with the metal armed President.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Bucky is a dick in this one. Angst! Jealousy! Idiots who don't communicate!! But I’m loving Steve...He’s moving in a different direction than planned but I’m enjoying it.

Surprise chapter drop! This came outta nowhere lol. Thanks again for all your reblogs and comments, I truly can’t emphasise enough how much they mean to me.

You had whiplash after the kiss with Bucky in the office. It all happened so fast, so fast you didn’t even really think about it. Not that you needed to, your body thought and spoke for you. Every feeling you had for him was poured into that kiss. Every stolen glance, every secret second of pining. Kissing him felt like the most natural thing in the world. As if you were meant to be doing this. A tiny part of you had almost hoped that if you ever did manage to kiss him, that it would be bad…or worse - uneventful. Then maybe the mediocrity would snap you out of your infatuation and allow you to move forward, finally stop you crushing on a man who you knew would be no good for you.

Alas, no. It had only stoked the embers, the fire for him burning brighter than ever before.

That night you had driven home, Clint riding alongside you on his bike until you were safely behind the front door. That was sweet. You had insisted you were fine and apologised to him for the waste of gas, but he was nonplussed. A loyal soldier doing his duty.

You had laid awake in Granny’s old bed that night, wondering what exactly had led Bucky to make a move. Yes, there had been a bit of flirtation between you both, but you’d got the impression he was like that with women generally – especially if his interactions with Amber and co were anything to go by. You’d met many flirts in your time, and you knew better than to pin hopes and feelings on a bit of banter. Some flirts treated it like a sport, getting girls to fall for them with a few sweet words and well-timed winks just to see if they could. Others just did it to pass the time, enjoying the buzz of the exchanges but never really intending it to go further. You didn’t know which category Bucky fell into, but you were smart enough to keep your wits about you. Or at least try to...

He seemed genuinely shaken up by the incident with the customer, angry that he hadn’t been there to save the day and keep his employees out of harm’s way. Was he worried about you? Or was it a bit of a macho display to save face in front of the MC? Someone had caused trouble on his turf, after all. You didn’t know. Why had he even hired you? Did he like you, or were you just a bit of fun that he knew had an expiration date when you sold the house? Did he feel the same way you did, or just think you were a good time girl who would serve him beer and maybe let him into your pants for a few quickies after hours? You didn’t know. But a glimmer of optimism was blooming.

And just how far would the kiss have gone if Sam hadn’t interrupted? You definitely didn’t know that. All you knew was the dizzying feeling you’d felt when he’d kissed you…and just how down bad you were.

Ugh.

To your disappointment, and possibly helping to confirm where Bucky stood, you didn’t hear from him over the next few days. Only a cursory text from Steve to confirm your next shift. You weren’t sure what you expected, but making out with your boss in the back office wasn’t a regular work activity for you – you at least thought he’d text or something. But maybe that’s where you were going wrong. Maybe that was a typical Sunday night at the bar for him.

You pulled up into the parking lot of The Snake Pit on Wednesday evening to begin your shift. As you wandered in, various members of the MC greeted you and asked about your injuries. You smiled and amiably chatted back, reassuring them all was fine. Nat gave you a wave over by the jukebox before berating Sam about his song choice. Just another regular shift. If anyone knew about your little tryst with Bucky, nobody gave anything away to suggest it.

As you got to the bar, Steve was leaning across it and meticulously inspecting a CCTV camera he must’ve unscrewed from the ceiling. You said hi to Tom who was already working, his tongue sticking out of his mouth as he acknowledged you while very carefully cutting up some lemons.

“Still playing up, huh?” you asked Steve as you started putting clean glasses away.  

“Yep,” he replied without looking up. “I thought the connection was loose, but I can’t see any problems with it – so I think it’s something with the individual cameras”.

A couple of the cameras had been on the blink for a week or so, leaving surveillance blindspots in the bar. Bucky was very blasé about it all, but Steve was clearly nervous.

“Want me to call the repair guy?” you asked as you worked around him.

Steve grimaced. “Not yet…I’m just gonna have a play around and see if I can figure it out”.

You poured him a beer as he pulled a screwdriver from his pocket and began opening up the camera’s case.

“Thanks,” he mumbled as you placed the glass in front of him. He hadn’t looked up at you the whole time you’d been there. It would’ve bothered you when you first started here, but you knew now that was just how he was.

“How’s the arm?” he asked suddenly, his eyes still locked on the task in front of him.

“All good, thanks. Bandage was off the next day”.

“Good. And the head?”

“Also good. Just had a bit of a fetching goose egg on my head for a few days”.

“Eh, a look you pulled off, I’m sure”.

You smiled. Steve may have been a man of few words, but he did listen. He did care.

“And don’t worry about that guy. He wouldn’t dream of coming back here. Trust me”.

“Thanks, Steve”.

“Mmm. Y‘welcome” he muttered.

He went quiet again, and you knew that meant the conversation was finished for now so you continued working.

You were just re-stocking the bottle fridges when you realised you hadn’t seen Bucky around yet. You did a quick scan of the room when the front door suddenly flew open.

You couldn’t help the wave of nausea that rushed through as you watched Bucky sweep into the bar, Amber glued to his side as she giggled hysterically at whatever he’d just said. He’d never been that funny, you thought.

Some of the MC members called out to him and he hollered back. Amber was clinging to him, grinning like a Cheshire cat. He dashed by the bar and his eyes caught yours as he walked. He seemed to give you a double take as he stopped.

“You’re working tonight?” he asked, pointing at you accusingly. “I thought you were in tomorrow”.

“Well, hello to you too,” you mumbled back, a little grouchier than planned. But you couldn’t deny that you were expecting a warmer reception.

“I scheduled her,” Steve replied gruffly. “You know those guys from the manufacturing plant are in here Wednesday nights after their shift. We need all hands on deck”.

As if on cue, Tom stumbled behind you and nearly dropped the liquor bottles he was holding.

“Yeah. Guess you’re right,” Bucky replied unconvincingly.

“Buuuucky,” wailed Amber as she tugged on his kutte. “C’moooon…”

Bucky huffed. “Alright…”

He looked at you for a split second, but then they moved over to the other side of the bar. You finally exhaled. You felt stupid. What did you expect? He was going to sweep you up and continue kissing you in front of everyone? You hadn’t even heard from him. God, you thought you’d grown out of this type of thing. Your embarrassment curdled into anger.

As you seethed silently, Steve spoke up again. Well, it was more like a growl than anything as you couldn’t make out what he said.

“Sorry, what did you say?” you asked.

“I said,” and his blue eyes flickered to finally look at you, “Don’t believe everything you see”.

You frowned. “Cryptic…”

“You heard me”.

You watched as he turned and pointedly looked over at Bucky and Amber. Bucky was chatting away to Nat as Amber held onto his metal arm with a vice grip, holding court with the other girls. She was showing Bucky off like a prize.

You felt your face flush. Did…he know? Did Bucky tell him about what happened between the two of you? And what was he inferring about Bucky and Amber?

You went to question him further, but he slipped off the bar stool without another word, zipping off across the room to reattach the CCTV camera.

*

The shift was a particularly painful one. You had to stand and watch as Amber was all over Bucky like a bad rash. He wasn’t necessarily reciprocating her attention – moving through the group drinking, chatting, but equally he wasn’t shaking her off, either. He seemed perfectly happy to have an Amber-shaped appendage, occasionally giving her breadcrumbs in the form of a smile or a wink which she happily devoured. He hadn’t acknowledged you since his admission of surprise that you were here.

Ugh.

Fortunately for you, Steve’s prediction about the plant guys keeping things busy was entirely correct. You and Tom would have bursts of activity as the group all seemed to go in for another round at once, then moments of quiet as they guzzled their drinks back at the tables. You were grateful for the distraction.

The hours clicked by towards the end of the night, and you were tired. Tired of being on your feet all evening. Tired of picking up the slack for Tom. Tired of keeping up with the plant guys who seemed to have bottomless pits inside them that no amount of beer could fill. Tired of how embarrassed you felt by Bucky’s rejection. Tired, tired. Your tank was empty.

The bar had emptied out with only a few stragglers left alongside the MC, so you started cleaning up and closing. You were just stacking some dirty glasses when the high-pitched giggle cut through the air.

You and Tom both turned to see Amber sitting rather unashamedly in Bucky’s lap, giggling as she ran her finger across his chin. He looked back at her with amusement, grinning like a fool.

You squeezed the glass you were holding so tightly that it was a miracle it didn’t break. All the feelings you’d been suppressing suddenly bubbled up, your stomach a nauseating soup of fatigue and hurt. And some rage thrown in for good measure.

“Oh man, she’s so hot…” Tom practically drooled.

That didn’t help.

“I’m just gonna change the Bud barrel,” you muttered in reply, your voice monotonous.

You slipped out through the door behind the bar and quickly rushed down the stairs to the quiet basement where the barrels and stock were kept. Grateful for the privacy, you threw your hands flat against the concrete wall and bent your head towards the floor, exhaling. It took you a moment, but you managed to compose yourself. God, you were stupid.

You unhooked the old barrel and got to work replacing it with the new one, relieved to be doing something with your hands. You berated yourself for getting to this point. A brief make-out session with your boss was hardly a binding contract. It didn’t mean anything. Nothing. Bucky probably got up to more mayhem before 10am most weekdays with his little harem of women. You were just another skirt to him. Jesus. How silly you’d been. You realised maybe you’d let yourself to be caught up in this crush to distract yourself from your Granny and the house. And it was a welcome distraction. But here you were, hiding in the basement at your job and feeling like a high schooler whose crush had invited someone else to prom.

Enough.

You inhaled and finished the task, standing back up and wiping your hands on your jeans.

You straightened up your back and shook your limbs out as you climbed back up the stairs. Time to do what you did best. After all, the only way is through.

[the-s1lly-corner]

Angel, Husk, Alastor, and Pentious x kind!sinner reader

Prize 2/5 for @coldsushisworld !

Notes: they knew reader before they died, making it all the more shocking that they ended up in hell

ANGEL DUST

A mixture of shocked and angry on your behalf. He had overheard from charlie and Lucifer that heaven was strict, and you being here in hell seems to serve as proof. Similar to Husk, Angel makes sure that you dont get dragged into any nasty business. Asides from that, he shows you the ropes of how things work; around the pride ring as well as at the hotel. He confides in you about what's going on in his personal life, though it's not often. He knows you won't judge him for anything, but opening up is still tough. He firmly believes you can be redeemed, if redemption is possible.. after all none of the characters in Hell seem to know what happened to Pentious... theres mixed feelings there, on one hand he wants you to get access to a better place but on the other hes going to miss you. Its selfish, and in a way he starts to pregame the grieving if that makes sense...

HUSK

It deepens his lack of optimism about.. everything really. Out of all the people he knew in his life, you deserved to ascend more than them all. The fact that you're here feels like a punch to the gut. Husk surrounded himself with a lot of people in his life, and in death as well; his belief that the universe isnt fair is cemented. Even still it's nice having a familiar face wandering around. He keeps you filled in on what's going on at the hotel, and hea very adamant that you keep away from sinister characters like Alastor. He doesn't want you to be dragged down into anything... terrible..

ALASTOR

Intruigied but vaguely amused. He already believes that sinners cannot be redeemed so hes not betting much on your redemption. It's nothing against you of course, its just his beliefs in general. When he has the time he does make sure to catch up with you, even jokingly asking if you've gotten meaner since you've died. Conquered any territory during a turf war? Yet any contracts? You still have ownership of your soul, right? Hes fairly sweet and affectionate with you, similarly to how he acts with Mimzy and Rosie. He doesnt have much time to spend with you, however..but anytime there is, you're both left with a good time! Being friends with the radio demon does have its perks, especially when you're too good natured to fight anyone...

SIR PENTIOUS

Confused, mostly. He is happy that you're here, because that means he has a friend down here in Hell. But hes also a little mad at the universe for condemning you. He has a reaction similar to Husk, actually. Even when he gets over the initial shock hes still a little sour about your situation, though its quickly put to the side when you propose hanging out with him.. oh my god please spend time with him he hardly ever gets the excuse to be friends- "besties" as people say nowadays- with other people. Hes lonely and it really shows in your early interactions after reuniting. If this is prior to him joining the hotel he tries to rope you into the turf wars, insisting that power and control is the way to go here in Hell. He promises to share with you, though he never... gets any influence...