#also the lighting on this lot was fucking awful it was doing that stupid 'your sims are glowing now' bug leave me alone

[dollracha]

𐙚 i want it ⋆ h.js x reader pt.2

part one ⋆ part two

pairing: han jisung x inexperienced! fem!reader genre: smut, smau warnings: swearing ⋆ spit kink⋆ virginity ⋆ needy han ⋆ slight perv!han ⋆ reader is called “baby” and “pretty girl” ⋆ no use of “y/n” ⋆ reader is referred to by she/her pronouns ⋆ piv ⋆ munch jisung ⋆ oral sex (fem recieving) ⋆ fingering ⋆ light cum play ⋆ lots of praise ⋆ dialogue heavy wc: 3.2k synopsis: a week after jisung eats you out, he takes your virginity at your eager request. author's note: i feel like this is a safe enough space to say that i kinda didn’t wanna write this pt 2. i struggled a lot, but it’s finally finished!! didn’t wanna leave you guys hanging so i pushed through and delivered! if you like it feel free to reblog or comment bc those make my day <3

© dollracha do not copy reupload or repost.

a pit of guilt grows in jisung’s gut. he promised you months ago that he’d take it slow. he broke that promise the moment it got too difficult to keep his dick in his pants. months ago, you would barely make out with him. you were so shy when it came to being intimate. but slowly, you got more used to it. slowly. 

he promised you that your first time together would be at the right moment. and he begged to get your pussy in his mouth before you were ready. he was such an awful boyfriend.

at least, that’s what he thought. 

jisung was oblivious to the lust that clouded your mind the following days. the way you’d wake up in the morning, only to feel slick between your thighs from the wet dreams the night before. the way you’d be going about your day, and suddenly the image of your boyfriend rubbing his dick on your pussy flashes in your mind. or the way you fantasize at night about how it’d feel to experience it all over again–his tongue, his fingers. how you'd fall asleep to the thought of his cock inside you.

he started a fire inside you without even knowing, and he needed to quell it before you lost your mind.

he’s barely even went further than kissing you since he ate you out. you know that jisung is scared to force you. but you also know that you’re ready. 

instead of asking him to fuck you, like any rational person would do, you decide the best way to what you want is to seduce him into it. it isn’t hard. really, it’s stupid easy. even a virgin can do it. 

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

when jisung gets into your apartment, all he wants to do is cuddle you while you stroke his hair. it’s one of the tamer things he’s been dreaming of all day. 

“baby?” he says, and shuts your apartment door. it’s silent. “baby?”

“bedroom.” is all you reply. when he opens the door, he pauses. he definitely had something to say with the way his mouth hangs open, but as soon as he sees you it’s thrown out the window. you see his adams apple bob as he swallows, and takes in the sight of you: naked except for a thin, cropped camisole and panties, your sweatshirt barely covering your arms before it falls to the floor.

“jisung.” you try your best to keep the amusement out of your voice. 

“shit! sorry, baby.” he snaps out of it quickly, adverting his gaze to the wall behind you. half of his thoughts for the past week come back to him all at once. seeing you barely covered makes the blood rush to his face, and his dick. it’s an instant reminder of how he had you just a week ago. he doesn’t look back to you, he might be strong enough mentally, but his dick sure isn’t. traitor.

“how was your day?” you're so casual about it, sauntering up to him and hugging him like you're not practically naked in front of him. like your tits don't press up against his chest when you hug him tightly.

“good. it was good. i missed you.” he's trying to stay calm. keep his dick from flying out of his pants like some deranged, horny adolescent who just discovered porn.

“yeah? still wanna cuddle like you wanted to earlier?” you ask, referencing a text he sent you a few hours ago.

screw his dick, his heart needed you more.

jisung sits on your bed, his back resting against the headboard. he watches as you climb into his lap, bare thighs against his sweats. you're so warm, and you smell so good… you're gonna kill him one day.

the moment your hands are in his hair, he's taking a deep, grounding breath. he loves when you play with his hair, it's the perfect stress relief for him. his girl, all pretty in his lap, running her fingers through his hair. dream come fucking true.

jisung can't help the low groan that escapes his lips as he adjusts his position. his arms wrap around you, shifting you in his lap so you're not sitting on his dick.

“fuck, baby.” he mutters. his eyes are shut, teeth biting at his lip to keep himself quiet.

it's cute, really. how worked up your boyfriend gets over you. you can't help but kiss the corner of his mouth, your hands cupping his cheeks as you try to push things further.

“kiss me, jisung?” the way you ask him is so sweet, so innocent sounding. like you don’t have a plan (you do) and all the pieces aren’t falling into place (they are). he can't resist, leaning up to kiss you short, sweet, and chaste. 

it's not enough. you take charge, kissing him and shifting in his lap to get a better angle. he gets the message, and lets you lead the kiss. in no time you're deepening it, your tongue in his mouth, and jisung's quick to pull back, your unusual boldness finally catching him off guard. 

“you good, baby?”

“mhm.”

“really?”

“you haven't kissed me in forever.” you're quick to defend yourself with a pout. forever, a week… same thing.

“c'mon, baby. you know i don't wanna rush you… i wanna take it slow with you, you asked me that and i'm doing my best…” he's looking at you like you’re too good for him, or he’s too bad for you. “you really don't know how hard that is for me, sometimes.” he mutters, eyes averting away from you. his hands come to rest on your hips, and it illustrates his point: he can't keep his hands off you.

“you're so gorgeous… prettiest girl i’ve ever seen. and you've got no idea how badly i just wanna push you down on the bed and fuck you sometimes.” jisung takes his hands off you, like they'll betray him. his hands ball up into fists at his sides. “you deserve someone who's able to wait for you, patiently.”

you don't like the implication of jisung's words. that you might ‘deserve’ someone better than him. your hands reach for his wrists, and guide his hands back to your body where they currently belong.

“i don't want anyone else, jisung, only you. it felt good when you ate me out. i liked it. i want more.” you cup his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. “fuck me. please?” you ask, thumbing over his cheeks. your eyes are so warm, so full of love for your just slightly perverted boyfriend.

“i don't wanna make you wait anymore. i'm ready now. please? i want it.”

jisung can't resist you: his dick is throbbing in his sweats, his mind clouded because you look so damn good on his lap. you're begging him to take your virginity. you’re clearing up the doubt and guilt in his mind. who is he to deny you any further? 

“i love you.” he grins, shaking his head. his hands travel up from your hips to your waist, and he presses a quick kiss to your cheek. “lie down, baby. let me take care of you.”

you’re quick to push yourself off his lap, and lie down beside his sitting form. there’s an air of excitement bouncing between you two as he kneels between your legs. he sits back to admire you beneath him. 

the way your hair lies behind you, the eager look in your eyes, the gloss of your lips from the messy kiss you shared. the way your top scrunches up beneath your tits, the strap barely falling off your shoulder. It’s the little nuances of your appearance that have him feeling like the wind’s been knocked from his lungs, and he wants to commit that beauty to memory, write about it like he’ll ever find the right words to describe you.

debauched. hot. perfect. ‘mine’. 

he can’t control himself, hands wandering your body to brush up your thighs. they reach your ribs and begin pushing up your top, freeing your tits for him to grope and tease. he takes in the way your breath catches, notes the things he does what makes you react. you’re so reactive and all he’s done is feel you up.

“shh… baby, i know…” he whispers as he takes your nipple between his thumb and index finger to give it a rough pinch. “want it so bad, right? want me to just put it in?” 

you nod. he’s worked you up quickly. “not yet. my girl deserves a special first time. i can’t just put it in. what kind of boyfriend would i be?”

“but, ji–” jisung’s hands trailing down your ribcage to your hips. his thumbs soothe over the skin, but his grip is firm, and keeps you in your place. 

“don’t be a brat.” the sudden sternness in his voice has you shutting up immediately. you don’t think he’s ever spoken to you with such strictness… it turns you on. with that, he stands, and pulls you to the edge of the bed. 

“let me take care of you.” his voice is softer as he speaks and drops to his knees on the floor. he ends all your thoughts of impatience the moment he begins kissing up your inner thighs. “gotta prep my girl first, okay?”

there’s a gentleness in his touch, as he spreads your thighs a little wider, taking in the sight of you. as if he didn’t make you cum on his tongue with no regards for your virgin status just a week ago. “relax f’me.”

he spreads your pussy open with two fingers, and in seconds there’s a slow, wet trail of his spit dripping down your clit. jisung starts with slow, gentle licks that have you melting into his touch. he works up a fire inside you that spreads with every deep shallow breath, every barely audible whine from your lips. when your wetness and his saliva are all glistening across his chin, he pulls away. “how’s it feel, pretty girl?”

“good.” you breathe out, and suck in a deep breath. “want more.” you roll your hips, desperate to get his mouth back on you. 

"yeah? more what?” jisung rubs your thighs, giving you a break whether you like it or not. it’s a form of self control for himself as well, he can’t get lost in eating you out if he stops. “what do you want more of, baby? tell me.”

honestly, you don’t know. you just want more of the feeling he’s giving you, the fire that builds slowly and threatens to take your breath away. luckily, jisung is more than happy to give you options. “want more of my mouth? or do you want to try my fingers?”

“just wanna feel good.” you decide, and jisung smiles. you’re cute, and you trust him with to make you feel good, even if you don’t know what you want. he’s eager now, your plea spurring him on. jisung teases his finger at your entrance, and slowly inserts it as he begins to suck on your clit. it’s not enough, not for jisung. as soon as he feels you relaxing around one finger, he’s quick to insert anther. it’s not a hard stretch. not when your pussy’s being so greedy, sucking in his fingers as he sucks on your clit. 

all the while you’re moaning his name so sweetly, rutting your hips up into his mouth like he’s just a pillow for you to hump. “fuck, baby…” he’s moaning into your pussy, reaching his arms beneath your thighs to pull you closer.

“ji…” the way you moan his name is obscene. he wants to hear it again.

“cum on my tongue.” it’s somewhere between a command and a plea. however he asks, he needs to see it again, feel it again–fuck, he needs to taste it again. “cum on my tongue and you can have my dick, baby. ‘s all yours.” 

it’s not lost on him that you’re close when your hands reach for his hair, tugging in a way that makes his eyes roll to the back of his head. he knows before you do, and he’s doing all he can to make you tip over the edge. 

“please–” 

the fire he coaxes within you builds and builds. until you’re warm to the touch and can’t speak anything but his name in broken moans. he holds you down when you cum, your hips fighting against his strength as his fingers fuck you through it.

“good girl… that’s my good girl…” he praises. his eyes are glued to your face, taking in every frame of you as you come undone on his fingers. once your breathing calms, and you lie still on the bed, his eyes trail down to your pussy. his fingers gather the wetness of your cunt and pull out in tandem with your whine of “too much!”

“look at you, baby…” he coos as he stands. “that’s my good girl, cumming on my tongue so pretty for me.” his clean hand trails up your body, and rests against your throat. his hand is warm, almost weightless as it rests above your throat. it’s oddly grounding for you.

“made such a mess, though…” an idea pops into his head.  “you ever taste yourself, baby?” you shake your head no. jisung brings two fingers up to your lips. “go ahead.” he brushes the slick pads of his fingers against your bottom lip.

“clean up the mess you made.”

jisung groans as you take his fingers into your mouth. He can’t recall seeing a sweeter sight in his life. the way you look up at him, eyes wide and glossy as his fingers hit the back of your throat. you don’t stop though. you keep sucking, even beginning to bob your head a little and it goes straight to his dick.

he’s enjoying this too much.

jisung slides his fingers out of your mouth, and runs the same hand through his hair. “feel good?” he takes note of the look on your face, so fucked out already. you nod. it’s not a good enough response for him. “talk to me.” he’s gentle as he speaks, and brushes your hair out of your face. 

“feels good, ji.” you sigh, and shut your eyes. 

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

“want more? or are you done for the night?” jisung’s thumb caresses your cheek, the other hand sits softly at your waist.

“more, please?” 

“of course, baby. you did so good for me. i promised you i’d give you my cock, didn’t i? gotta give my pretty girl what she wants.” it makes him impatient, to know that he has you prepped and eager for him. but he has to start slowly. 

he pushes his sweats down beneath his thighs, too impatient to fully take them off. he fists his heavy cock in his hands as the tip prods at your entrance. 

“gonna put it in now, okay?” he doesn't give you much time to think about it and before you can reply, he's pushing in. 

“jisung…” your eyes shut as you moan his name, and jisung watches the way your pussy welcomes him. you watch jisung: the hungry look in his eyes, the messiness of his hair, the way he breathes deep and slow as he takes you. half his cock is nestled inside you when he finally breaks the silence.

“you're doing so good, baby…” he mutters, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “taking me so well…” 

it's then that he starts to thrust. calculated and slow strokes that have you gasping as clenching around him. jisung is captivated. his eyes are glued onto the way you suck him in. he's barely able to keep himself from fucking into you deeper. 

your eyes wander down from taking in jisung's expressions, to the way his hips fuck into you with all the restraint he has. it makes you want more, want to feel him completely.

“more,” it's not an ask or a plea. it's a demand. you keen into his touch, and your eyes lock. “i want it all.” 

jisung laughs. he can't help it, you're cute. “more, baby? you want all my cock?” he teases and slowly begins to pull out.

“yes!” you whine, “jisung, please?”

it's cute. you're so desperate for him. it's hypocritical almost. he's using all his self control trying not to fuck you like he's a fucking rabbit in heat.

without any warning, he's grabbing your hips and pulling you closer. he slides into you, slowly. he groans as he bottoms out. you reach out to grip the sheets, but he's quick to grasp your hand instead.

“good job, baby. fuck, pussy's made for me–hold my hand, pretty girl…”

jisung pulls back and he swears he sees stars. “fuck…” he doesn't know how much longer he can control himself. his thrusts are deep and slow, falling into the familiar routine he fucked you with earlier. 

it's not enough for you. not enough pleasure to satiate the fire hes stoking inside of you. “more.” you demand. “more, ji.” something snaps in him. he’s quick to fulfill your request, fucking into you faster. 

“so dirty, baby. never been fucked before and already can’t get enough.” you can’t deny his words, or respond. all you do is moan his name again and arch into his touch.

“close?” you mutter, almost unsure of when your own orgasm is coming. with that, jisung spreads your pussy open with his fingers, and spits right on your clit. the high pitched whine that leaves your lips makes him smirk. 

“i know, baby.” his fingers work fast circles against your clit, and he feels the way you tense and squirm against his touch. “too much!” and it’s not. jisung knows it’s not. it’s just enough.

 “cum for me, baby.” and you do: with little whines and moans of his name, with little rolls of your hips to chase the pleasure he’s giving you. you’re clenching around him like a vice, each flutter of your pussy brings him closer to cumming, and he’s already trying his best to hold off.

he can’t take it anymore. jisung pulls out quickly and fists himself as he cums on your tummy. “that’s my girl… did so well.” he praises, his free hand soothing over your hip. 

jisung watches as you come down from your high. you're so pretty. his pretty girl. all ruined. your hair's a mess. the thin sheen of sweat on your forehead. his cum all over your tummy.

“how are you feeling, baby?” he asks with a soft smile on his face. 

“good,” you nod, a barely there smile on your face as you reach for his hand. “more than good.” 

you tug his hand, trying to pull him down to cuddle you. it's a signal that jisung responds to immediately. he's pulling you to the side to spoon you. 

one hand rests against your tummy, and he rests your head against his other arm. he kisses your nape, then your shoulder, then rests his head against you. it’s peaceful. 

“i love you, jisung.”

“i love you, baby.”

© dollracha do not copy reupload or repost.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Along the Line

Main Masterlist - Bucky Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Bucky Barnes/Female Reader, sex pollen, smut (fingering, oral f!receiving, handjob, p in v sex), angst, light fluff, humor, no use of y/n, love confessions

Summary: After you get hit with a chemical on a mission, Bucky has to take care of you. But he won't do the one thing that will fix it, no matter how much you want him to.

And he wants it too. Maybe more. And, at some point, something has to break.

Author's Note: Sex pollen won the poll. First Thunderbolts fic. Big things happening. Enjoy!

Word Count: 11.4k

“I told you this was a bad idea, Walker.”

“Yeah, you’re a genius. Do you want a trophy that says I knew it was a bad idea, or a sash-“

“Can I have a trophy?” Alexei pops into the screen, and you really don’t think this has to be a group activity.  “I could make it into a very fancy cup!”

You’re lying flat on the granite counter of the safe house, Bucky stiff at your side as he glowers to the video feed, and you might be dying. Or just burning alive. There’s a hot prickle over your skin that’s only getting worse, a series of cramps in your gut that feels like you’re being shredded apart then slammed back together, and an ache between your legs that isn’t foreign—at least, not when Bucky’s present—but is far too powerful given the circumstances. 

Maybe you’ve just lost it. You had been giggling an awful lot while Bucky killed all those Hydra agents, but he’d also called you doll again, and there had been a blissful, fuzzy feeling over your skull. And you’d moaned—really loudly, too—right in Bucky’s ear when he’d hauled you over his shoulder and carried you out of the building. 

“Fuckin’- Gonna throw Walker off a roof- We all told him this was a stupid new protocol-“

You’d hummed along to his grumblings, and most of your attention had been fixed on his hair. It was longer now. And he’d been taking care of it, so it was soft, and kind of smelled like vanilla. You’d wanted to tug on it. To run your fingers through it and see if he’d hum. Maybe yank on it while he was deep inside of you-

His muscles had flexed around you, and you’d whined that time. 

Whined and buried your face in his neck, before biting back tears as he’d tensed.

The line. 

You’d had to remember the line. 

Bucky smiles at you more than most people, but the line means that smiles are all you get. He sticks to your side most days, but you’re pretty sure he just feels responsible for you. You’re the lost puppy they picked up off the street. Sweet and likable, but mostly useless. 

You aren’t useless. 

You try not to be useless. 

That’s part of the line, too. 

You do a little more for Bucky than the rest of them. You’ll make sure Yelena has all the hamster food she needs, track down Bob all those coloring books he likes so much, and explain to Alexei that no, the government does not know how this season of Yellowjackets is going to end, so you’re not going to ask. But they can figure those things out themselves.

You think.

The point of your job is that none of these people have ever lived normal, 21st century lives, and they need to be likable to the public so please teach Ava about knocking, but none of them are stupid. 

They could all live without you. 

Bucky maybe the most of all. He has lived a life. He managed to—some fucking how—get his way into congress. 

So the line is do everything for him, because you’re a pathetic idiot with a crush on her boss, but also don’t do so much that you’re over stepping. 

Prioritize all his questions but don’t neglect the others. Return all of his smiles, and talk to him whenever you can, but he always has to initiate it. Always come when he calls—you really are a puppy—but don’t abandon other conversations for him.

Be an idiot, but keep your dignity. 

You’ll let him flirt with you—he doesn’t flirt with you, he just makes polite conversation, and you look at him like he’s sprouting gospel—but you won’t encourage it, because you really do like this job. It pays well. It’s morally questionable, but no well-paying job isn’t. And you’re going to use this money to pay off all your debts, and then your family’s debts as well. 

So if Bucky offers you his arm at an event, take it, and pretend you don’t want to grab him by the collar and climb him like a tree.  

If someone makes a comment—passing jokes from Walker about how you’re supposed to work for all of them, not just Barnes, or a dry look for Yelena when Bucky says good job and you flush like he just called you pretty—brush it off. Don’t make it weird. It’s obvious, and everyone knows, but don’t make it weird.

You’d whined, though. Whined and tried to nuzzle into Bucky as if he’d want that. 

You made it weird. 

And you’d pulled back with a mumbled apology, but Bucky had just grunted. You hadn’t spoken for the rest of the walk back to the safe house. If Bucky’s hand on your thigh had been squeezing on purpose, you’d bitten your tongue until you’d tasted the tang of blood. He couldn’t have been doing it on purpose. And you couldn’t make it weird. Again.

You’d gagged yourself with a cloth, when Bucky had set you down on the counter. If he’d thought anything of it, all you’d gotten was raised brows and a small frown before he moved on. Gotten you a second cloth—cold and wet and resting on your brow to combat the dry fever—and called the tower to report that the new protocol was, in fact, a stupid fucking idea. 

“Nobody’s getting any trophies.” He grunts, his arms crossed over his chest, and you want to spring up and tackle him. 

Maybe the metal arm could go inside of you, while the other one wrapped around your neck and kept you still against his chest, and that low, commanding voice would be right in your ear-

You’re moaning again. And your hips are jerking off the counter. 

It’s a good thing Bucky positioned himself where he did. You don’t need everyone to see you humping the air to the thought of metal fingers inside of you, cold and hard, pressing deep into your cunt at an abusing pace and-

That might have been another moan. 

The sound might have been too close to Bucky.

Fuck.

“Hey, I’m not handing them out,” Walker raises his hands on the screen. “And Yelena’s the one who started it-“

“No, I did not-“

“Uh, yeah you did. You said my idea was stupid-“

“It was stupid! It is going to get the bumblebee killed-“

Walker voice becomes almost a whine. “She’s not dying, she just got drugged! We’ve all been drugged, it’s not that big a deal-“

“Walker.” Bucky grunts, and that’s his everyone shut the hell up and listen voice, and your nails are digging into your skin with the effort not to grinding onto your hand. “Shut up. It was a stupid fucking idea-“

“But-“

“She’s a civilian-“

“She should know how to defend herself-“

“She shouldn’t have been here.” Bucky’s yelling now. The world is blurring slightly, and he’s not mad at you, but it’s still making your heart howl.

He’s not mad at you.

He still said he didn’t want you here. With him. 

The line says you should swallow that, then cry in your room later. 

But whatever is making your heart burn and your skin feel raw doesn’t care about the line. It’s just pressing on your eyes and feeding the sting behind them, lumping in your throat and shaking at your lips-

The first sob is soft, and weak. Muffled in the gag. If you’re lucky, too quiet to hear-

You’re not lucky. 

Bucky turns to look at you with wide eyes, his brow furrowed in tight lines your fingers are literally fucking itching to trace, and you shake your head. 

No attention. If he’s kind, he’ll pretend he can’t see the tears rolling down your cheeks and he’ll ignore you and let you just choke on it. On the overwhelming soreness in your chest and the way your heart is pressing into itself until hairline fractures start to form, and soon they’re going to turn into chasms and why is he moving, he’s a good man that should let you deal with your own problems, so why the fuck is he moving-

A warm, calloused hand rests on your face, wiping your cheeks before moving to your brow, and you have to squeeze your eyes shut. If you look at Bucky hovering above you, you’ll either cry more, or moan his name again. If you turn your head you’ll see the rest of the team on the computer, and they’ll be looking at you with all that sympathy—the kind that calls you weak—and you’ll scream.

Eyes shut. 

Don’t lean into his touch, even when his finger tangle slightly into your hair. Even when thumb brushes over your lips—why the fuck is he doing that too, he must secretly fucking hate you—hold the line. Don’t open for him. Don’t moan his name into the gag. Don’t-

“Shit.” Bucky’s voice is low, and you squeeze your eyes tighter. “You’re- Shit-“

“What is wrong with the bumblebee?” Alexei calls from the computer, and you can hear Yelena’s sigh.

“Walker’s brilliant plan got her exposed to something. She’s sick.”

“It was a brilliant plan-“

“She is crying, you dickshit-“

“I think you mean dipshit-“

“I am going to kill you-“

“Alexei.” Bucky grunts, his hand still on your face. You’re losing resolve. You’re going to lean into his touch. “Don’t let them kill each other.”

“Do not worry, Barnes. I will stand right between them, and their attack will not affect- Ow!”

Bucky’s hand moves away. 

Thank Christ.

“Yelena, why did you punch me-“

“I was trying to punch John, and you were in the way-“

“Yelena.” Bucky’s voice is a little further away now. 

You’d wanted him to move away. It was best for everyone that he moved away. You can open your eyes and stare at the ceiling now. 

But where his hand had been now feels white-hot, like he’d lit you on fire then poured liquid nitrogen over your skin. And it’s spreading. Through your blood before pooling in your gut, then leaking between your thighs-

“I need you to focus. Walker, shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything-“

“Good. Keep doing that.” 

“Whatever-“

“That’s not shutting up.” Bucky says your name, and you really hope he’s still blocking you from view. You’ve started to palm at your breasts—just for something—and you don’t really want to be a full, on display sex show. “We need to focus on her.”

Fuck. Your eyes roll back in your head, and his words are sending shivers through your whole body. Up your spine and over all your nerves, and he’s nowhere near you now, but he’s still fucking talking, and that seems to be more than enough.

“Whatever was in that gas, it’s making her- She can’t walk without falling over. And she’s got a fever.”

“A fever?” You can hear the frown in Yelena’s voice. “How bad of a fever?”

“I don’t know. I’m not a thermometer. But,” you turn your head slightly to see the screen, just in time to watch Walker’s mouth snap shut. “I can feel her skin burning. It’s bad. I need options.”

“Options?”

“What can we do.” Bucky mutters, and you can’t see his face, but there’s a strain in his voice that just makes you want to moan for him again. “We’re miles from a hospital, and it’s a two-day flight back. I gotta know how to make it better until we get pickup.”

Yelena hums, her eyes meeting yours through the camera. “Why is there a gag in her mouth.”

“I- Uh-“ Bucky glances over his shoulder, and you choke on another whimper. “She did that. To herself.”

“Can she talk?”

“Yelena-“

“Take the gag out.” Yelena shrugs, still holding your gaze. “She can tell us what she feels.”

No. 

That’s a horrible idea. 

And you’re trying to tell Bucky that, before it’s too late. Trying to plead with him, using an open, desperate expression. Begging him with your eyes to ignore Yelena and say that he can see that you’re in pain, so the best thing to do is just send the jet. 

But he just glances at you, his jaw tenses, and he shakes his head.  

It doesn’t look like it’s for you. 

It still pulls an almost broken howl from your throat. Like he’s driving a blade right into your chest. 

His knuckles brush your lips as he moves the cloth out of your mouth. He won’t look you in the eyes.

The howl splits through the room, falling into more of a whimper by the end, and if the ground opened up, you’d jump down to hell without a second thought.

There’s a long, taut silence—Bucky still won’t look at you—and Yelena clears her throat.

“Are you in pain?” She says your name carefully, and you nod. “Can you speak?”

“Yes.” Your voice is barely a breath, and Yelena’s lips move into a thin line. 

“Bucky, she needs to be closer. I cannot hear her from there.”

Bucky grunts, and suddenly you’re being scooped up into his arms. Your face is near his neck again, and you’re being cradled right against his chest, and you can’t tell if that’s your heartbeat, or his-

“Why didn’t you just move the computer, man.”

Bucky tenses around you. “Shut up, Walker.”

“No, I’m not insane about this one. I mean, Alexei, he could have moved the computer right- Fuck!”

“You are not helping.” Yelena snaps, and Walker groans from somewhere off the screen. “Be quiet, or go.”

Walker sighs, but doesn’t move away. There’s a tightness to his face that’s mirror on Bucky and Yelena’s, and that can’t be a good sign. You haven’t even said anything yet. 

Yelena says your name carefully, leaning closer to the camera. “What are you feeling.”

“A- a lot.” You whisper, and someone’s—you’re still not clear on if it’s yours or Bucky’s—heart stumbles slightly. “My- Skin. It’s on fire. And, um- I- My throat hurts, and it’s so much and empty and cold-“

“Cold?” Yelena cuts you off with a frown. “You are feeling cold?”

You nod, then shake your head. “It- I’m feeling everything. I- It’s- It’s like I’ve been turned up to a million and it all hurts-“

“Does anything feel good?”

Bucky. Bucky feels good. The feeling of him all around you and the smell of that shampoo and his woodsy body wash. The strength of him around you. Bucky feels so good-

The line.

You nod, and bite your tongue again. You can’t say it. Everything falls apart if you say it.

And Yelena sighs, scanning over you carefully, and shakes her head.

“Bucky, leave the room.”

He goes rigid. You don’t love the idea either. “What.”

“Put her back on the counter and go outside.”

“I am not-“

“Do you want to help her?”

“Of course I-“

“Then go.”

No. 

No, no, no. He can’t leave. If he pushes you away it will be like shooting you with a toxin, he can’t, no-

Bucky sets you down with far too much care, and you’re not fast enough to squeeze your eyes shut. He’s cupping your face. Forcing your gaze onto his, looking right into you with an unreadable expression, and your mouth is falling open—a split second from begging him to stay—but he shakes his head. 

“Call for me. If you need anything.” His grip tightens, and your hand flies up to his wrist. “I’ll be upstairs. I-“

“Bucky.” You whisper, and something flashes over his face. “Please.”

You don’t even know what you’re asking for. It doesn’t really matter anyway.

Bucky flinches back as if you’ve burned him, grumbles something to Yelena you can’t hear over the ringing in your ears—it was his heartbeat—and then stomps away. When your vision clears—it’s unclear when you started crying, but you’re really starting to lose track on everything—the laptop is right next to you, and nobody is on the screen but Yelena. 

“Are you done?”

You nod, wiping your nose with your sleeve, and she lets out a slow breath.

“Good. I mean, keep… Letting it out. As you have to. But if you are done, we can talk.”

“Yelena-“

“I am going to ask you a question.” She holds your gaze, and your arms wrap around your stomach. It’s honestly a miracle you haven’t collapsed to the side. “And you will need to be honest.”

Your voice is still too soft. “Okay.”

“What are you thinking about, right now. And,” Yelena raises her brows before you can answer. “Honest. Whatever you are thinking, I have seen and thought worse-“

“Bucky.” You whisper, and the floodgates open. “And his hands. And arms. And legs. And his face, his face is so nice, and his beard and hair look so good, and I- I need him- His hands- In me. And he smells so good, and I think he’ll taste good too, and if he kisses me I’m going to die- And if he doesn’t touch me I’m going to die- and he- he won’t look at me-“ You’re fucking crying again. You can’t stop. “And if he doesn’t look at me I’m going to die- But if he does look at me I’m going to- Shit, I want him to look at me and touch me and kiss me and his hands-“

You take a long, shaking breath as darkness creeps at the corner of your vision, and Yelena blinks at you.

“So you are… Thinking about Bucky.”

Fuck.

You give a tiny nod, and she- 

Grins.

“Oh, thank God.” Yelena leans back in her chair, running a hand over her face. “I was actually worried. I mean- If I say Bucky’s cock, what-“

You let out a loud, lewd moan, and Yelena’s still grinning. 

“And if I say we all hate you-“

It’s immediate. The rush of pain tightening in your chest, almost like an electric shock. You burst into tears, pulling your knees right up to your chest, and Yelena’s eyes widen. 

“Oh, shit-“

Something slams, and Bucky’s shouting your name far too close to your body. He shouldn’t be close to him. He hates you, they all hate you, you’re going to get fired and die alone and empty and you can’t breathe-

“What the fuck did you do to her-“

“I was testing it! I’m sorry, I didn’t think-“

“Obviously you didn’t fucking think-“

“Don’t yell at me, Bucky, I was helping-“

“She’s fucking crying-“

“I know, I-“ Yelena says your name, and you curl into a tighter ball. “We don’t hate you. Nobody hates you. You’re the bumblebee. You do all the work, and you’re sweet, I was- I was just kidding-“

“Just-“ A hand rests on your shoulder. You’d recognize it as Bucky’s even if there were a million others, pulling you right down into Hell. “You told her we hate her?!”

“It was a test-“

“What the hell, Yelena-“

“I can fix it! Listen,” she repeats your name, and you choke on the air. “We do not hate you! Shit, it’s- Bucky loves you!”

That’s your heart. Doing the scratch and break and rewind. Stumbling over itself before kicking up to pace that’s going to burst right out of your chest. And the silence in the air is too long, and too heavy, and you want to keep crying but you also feel like you’re sort of high. He loves you. Yelena might be lying, but she’s not the type to lie about that, so Bucky loves you-

You’re giggling again.

Something is seriously fucking wrong with you.

“Yelena.” Bucky grunts, and at least he’s still touching you. Because he loves you. “What the hell is wrong with you.”

“A lot, but- Look! She’s smiling! And I know what she got hit with!”

There’s a long pause, the only sound your soft, breathy laughs—Bucky’s starting to rub circles on your back, and you can feel the moan building back up—and Bucky clear his throat. 

“Are you going to fucking tell me?”

“I was getting to it. Keep your pants on.” Yelena laughs. “I mean, for now-“

“Yelena-“

“It is an old gas. The red room used to use it for torture.”

Broad, strong fingers still on your back. “Torture.”

“Yep, that is what I said-“

“What kind of torture-“

“Physical and mental. Her brain is scrambled soup. All of her feelings have been dialed up to a bajillion, so she is going to be very suggestive, and very overwhelmed.” Yelena sighs. “Emotionally. And, ah- Her reservations maybe be… Broken.”

Bucky’s silent for a little too long, and all you can do is focus on your breathing. That explains a lot. You really wish it didn’t.

“Do we wait it out?” Bucky’s voice is impossibly neutral. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t love you, Yelena had been lying to calm you down, and the tears are pricking back into your eyes-

“No. It has to be sweat out. Exercise or torture.”

Fuck. Something low and heavy, dreadful and tight, is starting to bubble in your gut. You can’t walk, let alone exercise. And you’re not strong enough to withstand torture. Not from anyone, but definitely not from Bucky, that’s going to shatter you into nothing more than scattered sand and glass on the floor-

“Or,” there’s a drawling kind of glee in Yelena’s voice, and you keep your face buried in your knees. “Sex. Sex should work.”

Your head shoots up, your eyes land on Bucky’s own, wide ones, his mouth hanging open and something that’s either sweat or the other thing is wet between your legs. He’s still touching you. 

“I-“ He coughs, still staring at you, and you’re feeling a little light-headed. “I can’t-“

Oh. 

Okay.

You don’t get a chance to cry this time. 

Everything just goes black.

———

“No.”

“Bucky-“

“I won’t.” He snapped, narrowing his eyes at Yelena. “Stop trying to convince me.”

“I’m not trying to convince you, I am trying to get you to save her life-“

Bucky shook his head. She didn’t get it. Didn’t understand that what was being painted as the solution was really just the worst crime he could ever commit. 

He’d done a lot of fucked up things, as the Soldat. And being at war hadn’t exactly been a picnic before that. But he’d never crossed that line. There were some fogged over memories—the kind that stung at his brain when they bubbled to the surface—where Hydra had told him to, but he’d resisted. Throttled that last bit of his humanity by the throat, and said no. He wouldn’t. 

It had been the only thing he’d always been able to fight back against, even when he couldn’t remember his own fucking name. The last thing he’d been able to identify as wrong.

And doing it to Her- When She was trusting him to take care of Her, and it was his own fault this was happening at all, because that gas had been meant for him-

Bucky would rather jump off a tower or shoot himself in the goddamn skull. 

“This isn’t saving her life.” He muttered. “It’s ruining it. We’ll wait it out until you can send a jet to us, and then we’ll put her in a sauna or some shit.”

Yelena’s nose wrinkled. “Or you could just fuck the girl you are obviously in love with-“

“I am not-“

“Yes, you are. Do not lie to me, Bucky. You make a really pathetic expression at her, it’s all-“ 

Yelena’s face went slack, her brows raising and drawing slightly, and Bucky scowled. 

“I’m hanging up-“

“No, wait- Just-“ Yelena sighed. “I know you’re a man, and feelings are scary, but this gas is- It will be the worst days of her life, if you do not just get over yourself, and stick your dick inside of her.”

Jesus Christ. If She hadn’t been trying to kill him before—moaning his name and opening Her mouth when he touched it, looking at him with pretty eyes and snuggling into his chest—Yelena was trying to kill him now. All Bucky could see was Her sprawled out below him, Her eyes blown-out with lust as he slid into Her, head thrown back as she whined for more, and Bucky gave it to Her with his lips biting and sucking on Her throat- 

These were the type of things he shouldn’t be thinking about. Not now. Not when She was rolling around in bed upstairs, and the last time Bucky had checked on Her, he’d gotten too good a look at Her breasts. Flushed with peaked nipples as the sheets stuck to Her skin, and he could’ve goddamn sworn She’d moaned his name in her sleep-

Not thinking about it. He couldn’t think about it. For so many reasons, Bucky couldn’t think about it, and he’d never do it.

He’d sworn to himself he’d never do it. That the well-played fantasies would remain fantasies, because he had no right. 

He was Her boss had been the first reason. The obvious one, when She’d been bouncing in Her heels and looking around the meeting room with an open, sweet expression. Valentina had said meet your new admin, it had clicked in Bucky’s head what that meant, and then suddenly asking Her to get a drink or something had been forcibly tossed out the window. 

Then that reason had become… less effective. She’d kept being beautiful—which just wasn’t fucking fair to anyone—and She was smart and charismatic and patient, and her hips swayed a little when she walked, and Bucky’s attraction had grown. Bloomed and spread and burrowed roots over his ribs, where it was impossible to dig them out. He liked Her wide smile, and he liked Her voice, and he liked how She could shut Walker up with just a look. 

He liked Her enough to take risks. Risks like walking closer to Her than he needed to, and convincing the rest of the team that She did actually need a room in the tower. And they’d all seen right goddamn through him—he’d heard Bob whisper to Yelena it’s because he has a crush on her, right, after the meeting was over—but they’d let it slide. So he’d taken more risks. Eating lunch with Her in a very professional way. Bringing He to events and keeping Her on his arm, for safety. Casual, flirty comments that were nothing if She didn’t want them to be, but did manage to take an edge off of his own pent-up hunger for Her.

Boss hadn’t been enough. 

So he’d turned to young. She was too young. Bucky was over a hundred and She was younger than Bob. 

Then he’d walked in on Her watching a TV show with Alexei and Ava, the former looking downright terrified about the comments that were being thrown at the screen. About how hot the actors were. And She’d pointed to one with a beard and longer hair—this hadn’t helped the situation—and said I’d let him do whatever he wanted to me. 

Bucky had been a fucking idiot and googled the actor. The guy was almost fifty.

He’d needed another reason. 

Too kind. She was nice to everyone, and it wasn’t just for Her job. She never got frustrated at stupid questions, and She’d listen to anyone’s stupid rants—She’d somehow sat through a whole I just think I’d have been a good Roman General speech from Walker without one eyeroll—and Bucky wasn’t rude, but he didn’t deserve that.

The too kind reason had lasted the shortest amount of time. She’d kept being kind, and then She’d made Bucky cookies for his birthday, and he’d wanted to kiss Her right goddamn there. 

His current reason was She deserved better. That one had been serving him well. She deserved someone who hadn’t done the things Bucky had, who was all smiles and kindness, who She’d want. That was a second, incredibly useful reason. She didn’t want Bucky. 

So he wouldn’t think about Her breasts anywhere but in the privacy of his own room, alone, while he beat his cock into his hand. And he wouldn’t stick his dick in Her, because it would be wrong. He’d be taking advantage of Her while she was vulnerable. 

He wouldn’t cross that line.

“Just send the jet.” He grunted, moving his hand the top of the laptop. “I’ll call you if anything changes.”

Yelena’s eyes narrowed. “Bucky-“

He closed the laptop, and let out a long, heavy breath. 

He wouldn’t.

No matter how much this was one of his fantasies come to life, Bucky had to remember that it was really more of a nightmare. 

For Her. 

For Her, she was stuck in a painful looking state of unpredictable emotion. Bucky tried to bring Her tea, and She’d started crying again because he’d remembered the way she liked it and that was apparently tear-worthy. Then he told Her that she needed a shower—she was drenched in sweat and other things that Bucky was trying really fucking hard pretend he couldn’t smell—and Her odd, soft and happy tears changed to weak, broken sobs. 

“Shit- What’s-“

“You think I’m disgusting.” She looking up at him with glossy, watering eyes and trembling lips, and Bucky felt like he was being goddamn shot. “You- You hate me-“

“No.” He grunted. “I don’t hate you-“

“Yes, you do-“

“No. I don’t.” Bucky grabbed Her face between his hands, forcing Her attention onto him. “Trust me. You’d know if I hated you, doll.”

It was a sight, before him. Her lips parted, literal drool falling from them—that Bucky would like to kiss away, but he wasn’t allowed to—and Her hands wrapped around his wrists with an almost strangling grip. 

“I don’t hate you.” He muttered, forcing himself to hold Her gaze. “Got it?”

She nodded, sitting up a little up She was on her knees, and Bucky didn’t have enough willpower for this-

His thumb moved of its own accord. Wiping just a little bit of drool from away.

She moaned. 

Fuck.

“Bucky.” Her voice was breathless, and almost songlike. “Please. I- I need it, I need it so bad-“

“Doll-“

“Please.” Her eyes were welling with more and more tear, and a few were starting to slide down Her cheeks. “I- I’m sorry- It just hurts- You can fire me after or call the cops-“

He frowned. “Why the hell would I do that?”

“Because I’m-“ She hiccupped slightly. “You’re saying no, and I’m asking again-“

“Jesus- I know you can’t help it, doll, it’s the gas-“

“So fuck it out of me.” She rose higher, and Bucky wasn’t sure if she was pushing Her boobs up on purpose or not. “I- I’m sorry- I need you, Bucky, I’ll do anything, I’ll suck your cock first or after and it can be however you want but please-“

Bucky had to let go of Her. He had to release Her and take a stumbling step back, or else he would have damned it all and listened to Her. She was drugged. Her mind was being altered, and when it left her system, She’d already be embarrassed about what happened. Bucky would rather still be at Her side to assure Her, then cast out into the dirt because he’d been a selfish dick and taken advantage of Her. She only wanted him because he was the only option. If Walker was here, She’d be throwing herself at him, too. 

That made Bucky feel fucking sick. Walker wouldn’t do that—at the very least, they all seemed to clear that last, impossibly low bar—but now Bucky was fucking thinking about Her on her knees, whining for Walker to fuck Her. Promising to suck his dick. And now he was thinking about Her under Walker, and there was a bad taste in the back of his throat, and he didn’t even care that it was Walker, Bucky just goddamn hated that it wasn’t him-

No right. Bucky had no goddamn right over the sour feeling in his chest, or the sickness in his gut. If he had a right, none of this would be a problem. She’d actually want him, and there wouldn’t be any complexities, and Bucky could help Her.

But this was Hell for Her. And all Bucky could do was help Her.

She was all that mattered. 

So he wouldn’t cross the line.

The rest of the night was hell. The two days for a jet thing hadn’t been an exaggeration. It was even looking more like three. They were trapped together. And Bucky was doing everything he could to make it better, but it only seemed to be getting worse. Bringing Her more tea just led to Her begging for sex. Avoiding Her just meant he could hear Her crying about how much he hated Her, but when he’d try to remind Her that he didn’t, She’d just ask him to fuck Her again. Then She’d start apologizing for asking, all while still pleading, and Bucky would shuffle away to hide in his own room. 

A lot of sleep was lost trying not to get a boner to the sounds of Her fucking herself into Her pillows. As the next day progressed, Her activities seemed to be limited to cry, beg for sex, sleep, masturbate.  

It was going to drive Bucky goddamn insane. 

And She had no way of knowing. No way to understand exactly what She was doing to him. 

She’d plead with him, and he said no, and his heart split in two as She’d start crying once more. There had to be some way he could help. He couldn’t just fucking sit here and-

“Bucky.” 

He squeezed his eyes shut. She was calling for him again, and he couldn’t ignore Her—what if something was actually wrong—but he didn’t know how many more Bucky, please fuck me’s or I’m sorry, I shouldn’t ask, it just hurts he could take. 

He murmured Her name as he opened the door, but She didn’t respond. 

The whole room smelled like sex. 

He had to ignore it.

“Bucky.” Her voice was breathy. Soft.

And when he moved to the mattress, She was knocked the hell out. Holding the sheets bunched around Her legs and pressing her face into the covers. 

Bucky whispered Her name, moving to pull a little hair out of Her mouth, and she snuggled further into the mattress. 

But his knuckles brushed Her cheek, and she let out a sweet little sound that was going to haunt him for the rest of his goddamn life. 

She was shivering. Breathing too shallow, with Her fever building, and Bucky didn’t know what the hell to do. Yelena said She needed to sweat, but She was only shaking and whimpering. Running wasn’t an option. They didn’t exactly have warm, sunny days outside. Torture had never even been on the table, and touching Her- 

She leaned into his hand. The human one, cupping Her cheek because Bucky had gotten lost in thought, and failed to realize what he was doing. 

But She leaning into him. Into the warmth of his skin. 

That wouldn’t be crossing any line. Body heat was body heat. Soldiers shared it all the time. It was a necessity. 

He stared at Her for another long moment, trying to weigh it out in his mind, and then She whispered his name again. Whispered it and shivered, and that was enough. Bucky wouldn’t do that.

But he wouldn’t just let Her fucking suffer either. 

“Hold on, doll.” He muttered, and She shifted slightly on the mattress. “You’ll be alright.”

She would be. Bucky would make sure of it. 

He detached his metal arm, first. She’d never had a problem with it—that was one of the things he’d liked about Her a lot, at first—but it wasn’t warm.

Then he crawled into bed at Her side, and used his remaining arm to pull Her right into his body. Her face tucked under his chin and Her fingers curled against his chest. She wasn’t sweating, but She was getting warmer. She stopped shaking, then a lot of the tension left Her body, and within what could only be an hour, Her breathing was steady. 

Bucky should go now. His work was done. 

He couldn’t move. 

And maybe if he moved, he’d have to come back. They hadn’t gotten it out of Her system. It might be better, just for it to worsen the moment he was gone. 

It was a good an excuse as any. The closest he’d ever get to Her without losing Her. 

So Bucky stopped trying to force himself to move. She felt to right in his arms to push Her away. 

And he held Her until morning. 

He’d like to hold Her longer. 

But he could also die a happy man with only this. 

———

He was here. It wasn’t a fever dream. 

You know Bucky was here.

The mattress is still dipped where he’d lain. The sheets have been more awkwardly shoved into your arms than caught in them by restless sleep.

You can fucking smell him. Vanilla and cedar, hanging in the silent air around you. 

He was here. 

But he’s gone. 

You don’t understand why he’d be here, just to go. Why he won’t help you. 

He must know about your crush, and he thinks that once he indulges you, you’ll be weird. You won’t be weird. You’ll suck it up. You know he’s off-limits, and this would just be a favor to stop how much this hurts. He can see that you’re just in pain from the drug, and it’s amplifying all your emotions, and one of your emotions just happens to be love for Bucky. 

Maybe he’s disgusted by that.

By you.

Maybe he hates you, and that’s why he won’t just save you from this hell and fuck you.

But if he hated you, he wouldn’t have been in bed with you. He would have heard you moaning his name—you’ve done that before, only in the privacy of your own room, but the drug doesn’t seem to be doing wonders for your self-control—and curled his lip and turned a blind eye.

He hasn’t turned a blind eye all day. He’s brought you food and made you drink water and helped you stumble to the bathroom. He checks on you every hour, and his jaw always clenches whenever he tells you no, and you burst into tears.

It could be frustration. He’s told you no, and you keep asking, and that isn’t cool. It’s mean. Cruel. Wrong. And a lump is forming in your throat because he’s trying to take care of you and you’re pushing him-

But he crawled into bed with you. Without you asking him to.

And you don’t know why.

You don’t call for him. Your legs feel like paper underneath you, but you’re standing on them. Taking shaking steps to the door, and- 

You fall in a second. 

Bucky’s there faster.

“What the hell,” he’s scooping you into his arms. They’re so big. “Do you think you’re doing.”

You swallow, trying to fight off a whimper at the firmness of his tone. He hates you-

The bed. He’d been in your bed.

You’re going to figure this out. Your brain feels like a hazy of very loud songs about pain and Bucky and love and it hurts and Bucky again, but you’re going to get to the fucking bottom of this.

“I was walking.” 

“You were walking?” Bucky’s expression is incredulous, as he sets you down. You’d laugh if you didn’t think you’d cry at the same time. “Why-“

“Was coming to find you.” You mumble, staring at your hands, and Bucky sighs. 

He’s holding your face between his hands. 

Why does he keep doing that.

“Could’ve just called, doll.” He mutters. “Nothin’ is so urgent you gotta hurt yourself-“

“Why were you in bed with me?”

He freezes. “What.”

“You were in bed with me.” You whisper, ignoring the blur in your eyes as you hold his gaze. “I know you were. And I- I don’t understand why you’d do that-“

“I-“

“But you won’t fuck me!” You push up on your knees, and Bucky’s so tall over you. Tall and firm, and you want to him to wrap around you forever-

Not now.

Bucky’s staring at you, and you’re trying not to fall into him, and no matter what this ends—either in your head, or real life—with Bucky over you. Right now you just have to push through the white-hot pain in your gut and over your head, and get through this.

“You-“ Bucky clear his throat, his voice suddenly a little hoarse. “You’re not mad. That I was in bed with you.”

“Yes. No. I-“ You take a shaking breath. You won’t moan. “I- I’m mad you were in bed with me and didn’t fuck me-“

“I’ve told you, I won’t-“

“But you will get in bed with me? Without me asking?” You raise your brows, and Bucky lets out a long breath. 

“I- You don’t get it.”

“I don’t. Bucky I- I know you don’t want me like that-“

“I never said that-“

“But it hurts.” You sound pathetic. You can’t remember how to care. “I- I just need it to stop hurting, and I’m sorry, I know it’s- I shouldn’t be asking more than once, but it hurts, and if you really don’t want to I’ll survive, but-“

Stop telling me what I- Fuck.” Bucky snaps your name, and pain shooting through your head. “I never said I didn’t want to.”

You’re both silent. Far too silent, for a little too long, and the air grows thin as you stare at Bucky, and he stares right back. Jaw clenched and arms folded over his chest, and you’re either floating or falling but you can’t really fucking tell. You can still smell him. Feel the heat from his body, only a foot away. 

Words come slow. Everything that isn’t Bucky is sort of far away.

“I-“ You swallow, your skin on fire and an iron is wrapping around your lungs. “You- Bucky-“

“Breathe.” He mutters. “Slow.”

You take a loud, stuttering gasp, and his eyes flare in slight surprise.

“You should lie back down, doll-“

“No- I-“ You shift around, bunching the sheets between your thighs to alleviate some of the pressure that’s pounding in your core. 

Bucky’s nostrils flare slightly, and you’re really trying to not make him uncomfortable—if not only because, if his lips curl in disgust, you’ll start sobbing again and maybe pass out—but it hurts. 

“Bucky.” You whisper, and he grunts, his eyes suddenly fixed right over your head. “Can you please-“

“I won’t.”

“Look at me.” You dig your fingers into your thighs, just to stop them from reaching for him. “Please keep looking at me.”

His throat bobs, and if he says no, that will be fine. Right now it feels like a death sentence, but in the long run you’ll get over it. You will get over it. You’ll change your name and move to Mongolia. You don’t speak Mongolian. You’ll figure out how to speak Mongolian, then move to Mongolia. You’ll build a life there. And Bucky will never find you, and nobody will ever have to think about you ever again except for your future Mongolian husband-

Bucky’s eyes drop to yours, and they’re darkened and pretty, and the whine that escapes your throat is involuntary. But Bucky’s jaw only ticks, and he holds your gaze.

You try to mimic Yelena’s cooperate or die tone when you speak.

“I’m going to ask you a question.” You whisper, and in your voice, the authority just comes out as breathless and needy. “Can you please be honest with me?”

Bucky grunts, giving you a tight nod, and you let out a slow breath. 

“Do- Do you want to?”

“Fuck-“ He runs a hand over his face, and your whole body braces for the no- 

“I’m sor-“

“Of course I want to.” He snaps, and this is floating, not falling. “You look so- I can fucking hear you, and I’d do goddamn anything to make this better for you-“

“Then please-“

“No.”

You gape at him, your heart shooting right into your throat. No. He wants to, but no, and every single nerve in your body is burning and freezing all at once. You can’t even find tears. It’s all just fogged thoughts and pain, torn between Bucky wants to help, wants to fuck you, and no.

“Why?”

Bucky mutters your name, and you shake your head.

“You don’t have to, Buck, I’d- It’s your choice and I’ll be fine-“ You won’t be. But that’s not Bucky’s responsibility, how you broke your own heart into a million pieces because you were an idiot, and this was how it was always going to end, but picking up the mess you made of yourself is still going to slice your hands open and leave your heart bleeding and lonely on the floor. “I- I’ll be okay, but tell me why-“

“I wouldn’t be right.” He mutters, and your chest is going to split open. 

“Why not-“

“Because.”

“That’s not an answer-“

“Doll-“

“Please, just tell me-“ You take a stuttering breath, curling slightly away from him. You can’t be close. It’s only making the pain worse. “I promise, I’ll stop asking, but I- Just tell me why-“

“Be-“

“Don’t say because.” You glare up at him, and his mouth snaps shut. 

Now there’s a pain in your gut that’s hot and bitter. Sore. You were mean, and it’s not his fault-

“I- I’m sorry.” You whisper, staring down at his knees. “It hurts, Bucky, and you say you want to, but you won’t, and that doesn’t make any sense-“

He grunts your name, and you wrap your arms around your stomach. 

“I just- I want to know why-“

“Because it can’t happen like this!”

Your world does the sane little stutter-stop from yesterday. That must be your own heartbeat in your ears, but- Maybe you’ve just lost your mind, and this is all a dream, yet the sound of Bucky’s ragged breathing is very loud. And you’re leaning forward. To Bucky. 

When you drag your gaze up his body—your mouth hanging open and your heart still stumbling in your ears—he’s staring at you. His voice is hoarse when he speaks. 

“You’re not in your right mind, sweetheart.” There’s a softness to his words, and this must be a dream. “I’m not gonna do this to you, when it’s not even you askin’ for it.”

“I- I am-“

“No. You’re not. It’s the gas talking-“

“And where do you think it’s getting the words?”

Bucky blinks at you. “What.”

“Nothing I’m feeling is new.” You stare at him, and his frown deepens. “I- I’m not- Yelena said it amplifies things, not creates them-“

“You’re looking for relief-“

“Why do you think I need relief?!”

His stare is cutting right into your body. There’s no fucking way it’s been this easy. That he thought that you just- That you wouldn’t, all the time, every single time you take a breath or lay in bed alone-

“I- I giggled.” You whisper. “And cried. When Yelena said you- That you felt something for me.”

“You were crying about everything.” He counters, but even his voice is dropping to a rasp. “And- Sex is just one of the ways to get rid of it, and I’m here-“

“I wouldn’t be desperate for sex if I didn’t want you.”

Bucky’s eyes widen, his mouth opening and closing, and you push a little higher off the mattress. 

“I- I want you, Bucky. It’s not the drugs, it’s me, wanting you, and I- It hurts how much I want you-“

He whispers your name, but you just fucking push on. Too late to turn back now, anyway.

“I want you to touch me and fuck me and use me and let me touch you and- And I want you to sleep next to me and kiss me and l-“

Your words fall into a long, loud moan as Bucky grabs your face between his hands. You don’t fight him. You could never fight him. It’s just waiting for him, and you’re really good at that.

He’s examining you so carefully. Slowly. Trying to give you one last chance to tell him no.

You’re not going to take it. 

So you hold his gaze, and let out a soft little sigh when he licks his lips.

That seems to be what he was waiting for. 

Bucky leans down, his nose bumping against yours ever so slightly, and then he’s kissing you. 

He’s fucking kissing you.

And God, you were right. It’s going to kill you. It’s slow and deliberate, Bucky humming against you as his mouth slots perfectly over yours, taking far too much—and still not enough—time to let you sigh and get lost in the taste of him. Somehow exactly what you imagined—coffee and mint and vanilla—and far, far better.

His tongue starts to trace over your lips before pressing down, and you open for him without a thought. Letting him push in deeper, until you’re moaning into his mouth and he’s eating the sound with low grunts, angling your head in his hands to grant him further access. All you can think about is the warmth spreading through your whole body in a way that doesn’t hurt, and how euphoria is building up like fireworks and light under your skin, and if this is just one kiss, sex might kill you. 

It will be a good way to go. 

When Bucky pulls back—his gaze blown out and your mouth still hanging open—you’re not above begging again. If he kisses you like that then walks away, you’ll crumble into a million, dented pieces that will scatter on the wind and sink into gutters-

“Is that okay?” His brow is tightened, his thumb toying slightly with the corner of your mouth. “I can do more, but-“

“More.” You nod a little like a bobblehead. “More is good, Bucky, please-“

He shakes his head, and a sob almost breaks out of your throat—he can’t do this to you, not after kissing you first—before you hear the borderline awe in his voice. 

“You’re- I can’t believe you’re real.” He murmurs your name, and his hands are so careful on your face. “You need to tell me-“

“I’m real.” 

Bucky chuckles, and the sound only spurs your need for him, rushing right between your legs. “Was going to ask if you were sure, doll.”

“Oh.” You swallow, and nod. “I- I’m sure. I’m so sure, Bucky, I- I want you- So bad-“

“How bad?” There’s something dark and hungry in his voice, and you don’t bother to stop your moan.

“So bad, I- I need you, Bucky- Just you, I- I love you-“

There it is. 

The second kiss is a little harsher than the first. More demanding, with teeth and spit and Bucky pressing you down onto the mattress. You let him move over you, his hands finding your thighs and slowly pushing them apart-

You gasp into his mouth when the metal hand traces over your core, your hips jerking slightly off the bed your fingers scratching at his back, and Bucky chuckles.

“You like that, babygirl?”

Oh.

That’s nice. 

And whatever sound that escapes you must echo that—high and blissful—because Bucky only laughs again.

“Yeah, I think you like that.” He nips at the corner of your mouth, then starts to trail a line of open-mouthed, sloppy kisses down your throat. “Been waitin’ for this so long, think-“

He cuts himself off, pushing up to frown at you. 

“You think you can take it slow, doll? Or, uh-“ He slaps your pussy lightly over your underwear, and you squeak. “Y’know.”

He’s still rubbing you with his palm, as he waits for you to answer. And slow sounds like fucking torture, but it’s Bucky asking, and there’s already some sort of relief being offered by him liking you back, he likes you back and it’s making the world slip from under you as your heart floats away-

Bucky grunts your name. “Words would be helpful.”

“Slow is fine.” You whisper, trying to spread your legs a little wider. “Just- Don’t stop touching me, please.” 

His nostrils flare, his hand gliding up your stomach to palm at your breasts with a look of what might be wonder on his face. “You want me to touch you?”

You nod weakly, and his tongue flicks over his lips as he mimics the movement. 

“Yeah, alright.” His thumb starts to flick over your nipple as he examines your face. “I can do that. Think you can take what I give you?” He lowers back down, just enough for his lips to brush yours as he speaks. “Think you can be good?”

Jesus fucking Christ. “Ye- Yes. Please.”

“Yeah.” His face splits into a wide grin, right as his hand moves away from your chest. “I think you can too.”

You’re about to shove him for the teasing tone—or just whine about how he’s not touching you anymore—but then his hand returns to your core, and he’s just rubbing, but his mouth has attached to your breasts and he’s sucking small marks all over your body, and you’re going to fly out of your skin from nothing at all. 

“Jesus, I can feel how wet you are.” Bucky words are muffled against your skin, and you start to grind against his hand. “Slow down, doll, I told you-“

Bucky cuts himself off with a groan that rolls through your body, and in the effort to stop your own movements, you’d yanked on his hair. 

Hard.

And you swallow when he tilts his gaze up to yours. He looks like he’s going to eat you alive. 

“Don’t stop doin’ that.” His voice is almost a growl. You might be able to cum from only that. “You like these?”

You frown at him. “Like wha- Oh.”

A metal finger shoves your panties to the side, his finger shoving right into your cunt without warning, and your mouth falls open in a silent moan. 

He’s moving so slow. Pumping in and out at a torturous pace, holding your gaze as he kisses his way back up your body. Then Bucky slams his lips back over yours right as a second finger splits you open, and his thumb finds your clit. 

“Feel good?” He mutters, and you make a weak sound into his mouth. “Words-“

“So good.” You mumble, clenching around him slightly. “I- I like it- want more-“

Bucky hums, kissing the tip of your nose with mock charity, picking up the pace ever so slightly. “Can you tell me what kinda more you want?”

“I- I don’t-“ 

He slows down again, and you shake your head, your fingers tugging at his hair. 

“Bucky-“

“I want to hear you, pretty girl.” His drawl is lighting a small fire over your skin. “Tell me what you want-“

“I-“ He presses his thumb right over your clit, and gasp. “Mouth. Want your mouth. And your fingers. At- Shit- At the same time.”

Bucky’s brows raise, and if it wasn’t for the way his was still slowly pumping in and out of you, you would’ve pleased for the mattress to swallow you whole. “You want my mouth.”

You nod, and then add. “And the metal hand. Keep using the metal hand.”

“You- Jesus.” He shakes his head, and before you can try to take it back, he’s kissing you again. It’s getting rougher every time, and your hips jerk sightly as his fingers find that deep, spongey spot inside of you. 

“I- Bucky- Fuck-“

“Such a good girl, using your words.” He starts to kiss back down your body, following the trail of spots he left before with perfect precision. “Hold on, doll.”

Before you can register what’s happening, Bucky’s shoving your legs fully apart, and-

“Oh- Bucky-“

You arch off the bed as his mouth replaces his thumb, and the speed on his fingers triples in half a second. Pumping in and out of you at an inhuman pace, pressing up and stroking inside you as his tongue leaves small, teasing licks on your clit. His free arm is pinning you down with a splayed hand on your abdomen, and his lips are latched around you and sucking, and every time you tug on his hair it only spurs him on- 

It’s building so fast. The tight, hot coil in your gut. And it might be built up frustration from the gas, or the hypersensitivity of your body, or just fucking Bucky, but you’re- 

“Fuck- I- I’m gonna-“ You can’t get the full sentence out. Bucky doesn’t seem to care. “Bucky- Please-“

He understands. He hums against you and nods slightly, and you know he understands.

But he doesn’t slow down. 

And when his fingers press into your already burning g-spot and rub so fast it feels impossible, you cum with a high scream of his name. Stars cloud your vision and warmth crashes through your whole body, but when the fog clears, you’re not coming down.

Bucky’s not stopping. He’s finger-fucking you harder than before, his tongue moving with almost a fervor and his beard scraping at your inner thighs, and before you know what’s happening you’re flying over the edge again, and again, and soon you can’t tell where one orgasm is ending and the next one is rising. It’s all just a rolling, swirling storm of Bucky and heat and perfect, torturous pleasure. 

It’s only when you’re shaking below him that he pulls away. Leaving a soft, gentle kiss over your swollen clit before crawling back over you, and you’re a needy, dazed mess, but he’s the best thing you’ve ever seen. 

“You doin’ okay down there?” He brushes a little hair from your face, and you nod weakly. 

“S’- Yeah.”

He grins. Your arousal is stuck to his beard. “Yeah?”

You hum, finding enough strength to trail your fingers down his chest. “You’re so big. And hot.”

“Thanks.” He says your name, and when you drag your gaze away from his, there’s a slight blush near his ears. “You look like a painting, doll.”

Your smile is love drunk and stupid, and you don’t care. “Thank you. Bucky?”

He hums, and you let your fingers trail a little lower.

“Can I?” You palm him over his pants—why the fuck are those still on—and he jaw clenches.

“You want to?” 

You nod and give him your sweetest smile, and he lets out a long, slow breath. 

“A- Just a little, but- Shit.” His eyes flutter closed as you squeeze him. “You’re the one who needs to attention, sweetheart-“

“I feel better.”

That earns you a flat look. “Really.”

You hum, your smile widening. “I feel good, Buck-“

“Uh huh.” Bucky rolls his thumb around your clit, his mouth lowering to rest back over yours. “I love you.”

You go slack beneath him in a second, and breathless sound escaping you as tears prick at your eyes and a giggle bubbles out of your lips, and Bucky looks way too fucking smug with himself. 

“Look at that.” He hums your name, and you pout up at him.

“That’s not fair, James-“

He groans, his cock jumping against your hand, and that’s a fun discovery.

Your mouth opens, and he silences you with a deep, rough kiss. 

“You can touch me a little, baby. Since you’ve been so good for me. But then,” he ruts into your hand, and you moan into his mouth. “I’m fuckin’ you until you can’t walk.”

He’s trying to distract you from the James thing. Trying to make you forget by rising back up and ripping his pants away, displaying his impossibly pretty cock—the perfect length and thick and making your mouth water—before stroking himself over you with a lazy grin. He’s trying to divert your attention by helping you sit up and guiding your hand up to replace his.

The strategy is working.

He fits so well in just your hand, and he’s making the most sinful, beautiful sounds you’ve ever heard as you pump him slowly. His head is thrown back, letting you suck and kiss at his neck, and deep rumbles roll from his chest whenever you squeeze the base of him or swipe your fingers over the angry head of him. You’re all but folded against him, grinding against his thigh as your hand picks up speed and he moans your name-

You’re being flipped back in a second. Bucky grabs your wrists and moves you back to the mattress with your hands pinned over your head and his mouth attacking yours. Bucky teases his cock against your dripping pussy for only a second—sliding between your folds and slapping it against your clit—and then he’s pushing into you with one, long thrust. 

“Shit-“ Bucky’s face drops to the crook of your neck, his breaths ragged against your skin. “You’re so tight, and- Fuck.”

He cuts himself off with another groan, and you understand. You didn’t know you could be this full. That someone could fit so right. And he’s staying so still, trying to let you adjust, but-

You clench around him, and Bucky hisses your name in your ear.

“Don’t do that, babygirl, you’re lookin’ to start something-“

You roll your hips, and Bucky draws over you with a narrowed gaze. 

“Askin’ for trouble, doll.” He gives you one, sharp thrust, and you gasp. “Yeah, I said you’d take it. And you told me you’d be good. You gonna keep bein’ good?”

You nod, not bothering to hide the eagerness on your face, and Bucky leans back down with one sharp thrust. 

“Say it.”

“I- I’ll be good-“

Another thrust, this one impossibly deeper. “Say you love me.”

“I- Bucky-“ His free hand is hiking your legs up, and he’s so big- “I love you-“

He groans, and his movements start to pick up. “Tell me- Fuck-“ His brow presses against yours. “Say you know I love you-“

“You love me, James, please-“

Tears are just starting to prick at your eyes when Bucky kisses you, and this one is borderline feral. The time for words seems to be over.

Now it’s just Bucky.

You can’t move, with his weight a heavy comfort over your body. He’s hammering into you and bruising against your humming and aching g-spot, but your hands remain trapped above you and whenever you try to bite at his lips he only moans and fucks you harder. Splitting you open on his cock as the bed squeaks below you, and twisting his on your thighs to rub furious circles on your clit, and you’re already ruined but now you’re never going to recover-

This orgasm hits you like a hurricane. Flipping the world on its head and drowning you in the high of Bucky, still pounding into your cunt and roaring your name against your lips as he fucks you through your orgasm, and there’s dirty praise falling out of his lips but it only sounds like a song. Then he’s kissing you down into the mattress and you can feel him painting your insides and inner thighs as he jerks a last few times, and a small, sweet aftershock hits you with a fucked-out sigh. 

Bucky’s face drops to your neck as he lets out a long, slow breath, and your smile might look fucking insane. 

You don’t really care. 

You let your fingers tangle in his hair, and you’re going to sit in the feeling of him as long as he lets you. Breathing him in and letting this last, small waves of pleasure wash away the rest of the pain. 

There’s still an ache between your thighs, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world. You might need help walking to the jet, in the morning. 

You’ll ask Bucky to carry you. And maybe ask him to keep putting that ache there, until he gets bored of you- 

“You feelin’ better?” Bucky mumbles in to your skin, and you swat that last thought far away. 

He might get bored of you. Right now, he’s still buried in your cunt and kissing a soft line over your neck. You won’t ruin this before you even have it. If you do have it. Maybe you’d just pressured him, and you’re going to lose your job, and Bucky, and he won’t get bored of you because he was never even interested in the first place-

Bucky mutters your name, pushing up over you, and you swallow. “What’re you thinking.”

“I-“ You shake your head, fixing your gaze on his neck. On the little bruises you left there. “Nothing.”

He chuckles, and there’s something so open on his face. Like all the smiles he’s given you in passing, but with a veil lifted. “You’re not a good liar doll.”

You frown at him. “Yes I am-“

“No,” Bucky lowers himself down, ghosting a soft kiss over your lips. “You’re not. You’re thinkin’ about something. Tell me.”

You shake your head, but wrap your arms around his neck all the same. You don’t want him to move away. Not yet. “It’s- It’s stupid-“

“Doubt that.”

“Bucky-“

He repeats your name back to you, his gaze driving right into yours that makes you somehow feel more bare than you already are. “If it’s- If you’re having second thoughts-“

“No!” Your voice is almost a yelp. “It’s- It’s not that-“

“Thank Christ.” Bucky lets out a slow sigh, his grin a little sheepish. “Damn near gave me a heart attack.”

“Sorry-“

“No, you’re not.” He squeezes a hand on your hip, and you all but melt into the mattress. “Tell me, pretty girl. What are you thinking.”

“I- I’m-“ He’s still inside you. And when you squirm slightly, his cock jumps. “Bucky-“

“Shit-“ He groans, and suddenly his hand is pinning you down, stopping your movements. “Nope. No distracting me.”

“But-“

“I won’t fuck you again until you tell me.”

Again. 

He’s going to fuck you again. 

And some of the drug must still be in your system, because your face splits back into a wide, easy smile, and Bucky raises his brows.

“Did you…” He tilts his head slightly. “Were you worried we were done, doll?”

You nod, not trusting your voice, and Bucky sighs.

“Did you miss the part when I said I love you-“

“No. Told you it was stupid.”

“Yeah, well.” Another kiss. This one softer, and a little more on your cheek. “We’ve both been kinda stupid today. Think I’d like to keep being stupid together, though. If you’re up for it.”

You blink at him. “Like, together together?”

He nods. “You can keep your job. I’ll do all my own shit, or we can get a second admin who’s not fucking me-“

“But what if you fall in love with that admin too?” You whisper, keeping your smile wide on your face, and Bucky rolls his eyes.

“I wouldn’t worry about that. Nothin’ is coming close to you.”

You can’t stop the clench that his deep voice and promise spark in you, and a low groan is pulled from Bucky’s throat.

“You want a round two?”

You nod, and he grunts, rolling his hips slightly. 

“Tell me what you want, baby-“

“You. All of you.” Your hands move to cup Bucky’s face. “This and… that. Please.”

He nods, and the last kiss is just as slow as the first. Deep and gentle, filled with the knowledge that now, you have the time in the world.

“You’re mine?” He mutters, and you don’t know why it’s a question. 

You have been for months. Maybe, even without knowing it, your whole life.

“Yes.” Your voice is soft against his lips, and Bucky grins.

“Good.” He nips on your lower lip, and the gas might be gone, but you don’t think anything about him is ever going to make you not want more. “Cause I’m yours.”

End Note: his hair in the post-credit scene.... nature is healing.

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[sturnsdoll]

NAUGHTY OR NICE ❄ -m.s, c.s

part two here

pairing: dom bf!matt x sub!reader, dom!chris x reader

summary: when your boyfriend matt decides that a vibrator at dinner with his brothers is a good punishment for your attitude, you don't expect to end up being teased by someone other than him. warnings: vibrator, semi-public, cheating!reader, fingering, dirty talk, humiliation, orgasm denial.

word count: 3,598

"pink" + reader speaking, "blue" = matt speaking, "orange" = chris speaking.

matt and you are supposed to meet his brothers for dinner in about a half an hour. swiping gloss across your lips, you watch through the mirror at matt idly pacing around behind you. he's picking up random things, checking himself in the mirror. your used to it, he's typically like this before going out anywhere. you close up your gloss, tossing it down onto your vanity with an exaggerated sigh.

with that matt looks over at you, annoyance already on his features "what now?", his tone is soft but still holds irritation. all damn day everything's been a problem for you. and when something upsets you, it somehow becomes a him problem too.

you give him a bit of a side eye in the mirror, a slight eye roll to follow "nothin', jeez." you respond passively, getting up to go grab your purse and matt continues watching you with a dissaproving look. "there a problem?" you add with a raise of your brow. matt shrugs "you gonna be like this all night?" he asks, slightly amused but also a little over the attitude you've been throwing at him today. he watches your pretty eyes when you look back at him "i'm not being like anything." you defend. directly after your defence, you bend down to pickup your purse and hear matt sigh with a "that's it". -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

the drive there, all you could do was wait. wait to see when he'd chose to torture you. the silicone of the vibrator was tightly fit between your panties and your (already embarrassingly wet) pussy, specifically nudging your clit too close for comfort. when you matt pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant you, him and his brothers were gonna be meeting at for dinner, he refused to acknowledge your anxious glances toward him any time he'd open his phone. every tap of his fingers against the screen had you anticipating the buzzing against your clit, but thus far he hasn't done it hasn't come.

entering the restaurant, you were in awe of the gorgeous christmas decor of green and red around the restauraunt. cinnamon sticks in a little bowl with bows around them on the front desk, a green tree off near the hall to the washrooms, chandelier with lights. it's gorgeous.

you were both lead to your table where nick and chris were already sat laughing and talking. there wasn't much greeting to be done, you just kind of took a seat across from them with matt next to you and hopped into conversation smoothly with your boyfriends brothers.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

the food was amazing, everyone having a great time. chris and nick are your bestfriends by natural selection of matt being your boyfriend so you've grown to be comfy around them. not this comfy though. it was still in the back of your mind that matt was more than capable of turning the toy on whenever the hell he pleased but till now, you'd done a good job just trying to enjoy dinner and forget about it.

currently you're mid conversation with chris, giggling at something stupid he said when abruptly, you go silent. the buzz that comes to your clit is low, gentle. but it's still beyond distracting. you can't help how your eyes grow wide for a moment as you swallow thickly. fucking matt.

chris catches your sudden change of expression and mood. he makes a funny confused face in response to your expression, breathily laughing "what?" in question. now chris is thinking maybe he'd said something outlandish and not realized it.

chris catching the change in your mood only makes your stomach drop further. you deadstare your boyfriend's youngest brother, zoned out in embarassment, feeling clueless on how to respond when there's a god damn vibrator on you in public. but your strange behaviour was cut short by matt's slender ring clad fingers giving a squeeze to your knee. quickly taking the hint, you smile with a soft laugh "oh i just remembered last week when that lady refused to give nick his order cause she thought he was lying about it being his" your almost proud of yourself for thinking of something so fast.

chris seems to believe it, responding with a small "hm". however despite his smile and nod, chris has this slightly intense stare, different from his usually childish and playful demeanour. you assume your paranoid because how would chris know something was up?

"omg and then she did the same thing to that poor girl!" nick's voice breaks your curiosity of chris's stare. your sure you can handle this for a little, just a light buzz. but quite abruptly the buzzing intensifies. you grab at matt's hand, nails digging against the back of his palm as you force yourself to respond to nick with a short and shaky "yeah." it only eggs matt on though, he thinks your reactions are adorably pathetic. before nick can even really notice how shaky your voice was, the waiter approached the table to ask if anyone needed anything. you leave nick and chris to speak to the waiter, taking the chance to look at your boyfriend with a look that shows your embarassment and irriation. in response you just get a sickeningly sweet smile, one that causes you to shut your legs together, frustration and arousal driving you udderly insane.

before your knee's can even touch he pinches your thigh, his smile dropping slightly in warning. "fuck you" you mouth to him stupidly. matt gives a playful pout, forcibly pulling your leg so that you spread em', preventing you from any relief outside of what he chooses to provide you through the toy. "you really gonna act like that when santa's coming to town?" he jokes quietly, almost laughing at his own dumbass joke but instead his mouth just turns up in a slight smile, then you watch him take a quick glance at his phone.

holy fuck. you nearly fold over at the leg tremling, panty wettingly intense buzz that he suddenly inflicts on your clit. your acrylics immedietly digging into his hand again, you look over and catch his amused and adoring glance to you. that evil bastard fucking loves this. it's a bit of a power trip for him to watch you squirming in your seat, all angry at him.

matt's gaze was doing nothing to help, merely mocking you. in a desperate attempt to not give anything away, your teeth caught your lip with a gasp before any other lewd noise could escape. you shift your hips uncomfortably as your eyes leave matt's to see if his brothers are paying any mind to you two.

you felt relief at nick's typical yapping, he was clearly clueless to your situation. but then your eyes meet chris's.

he's clenching his jaw slightly with an unreadable but intense look in his eyes. what's his problem? well, apparently your body doesn't care what his glare is for, because it's enough for your poor neglected cunt to start to clench around nothing besides the pooling liquid dripping into your panties.

you let out a shaky breath that's just shy of a whine. lucky for you it's loud as hell in the restaurant. you mentally curse yourself for letting something as simple as a look from your boyfriends brother get you worked up. then again, what won't get you hornier with that god forsaken buzzing that has you struggling to sit still? you're about to resort to distracting yourself with nick's yapping when the buzzing abruptly cuts short.

you almost let out a sigh of relief. finally a break.

then your jaw drops and your knee jumps up and hits under the table. you didn't even know this vibrator could be this strong.. but as matt tortorously turns it to the highest setting, you can't stop the small whine from slipping your throat.

in panic you look between the three boys. nick is somehow still oblivious, thank god. matt's too busy pretending like he isn't literally getting you off infront of his brothers as he picks at his food. chris is also presumably distracted with his meal, though he shoots you a questioning glance when your eyes pass over him.

clearing your throat, you quickly stand up, announcing that you have to go to the bathroom. you rush right off before anyone can say anything.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

before you can even close the bathroom door you hear a ding from your phone. taking a second, you take a deep breath and squeeze your thighs together with a soft whine, eyes shutting as you dig your phone from your purse.

[ imessage from: matt <3]

-if you turn it off , touch yourself or cum then you're in trouble sweetheart. pathetically so, just reading his threatening text has your knee's weak. you lean one hand forward onto the counter, your thighs clenching tighter together.

[message to: matt <3]

-please it's too much. chris and nick are gonna find out if i come back out there like this

[message from: matt <3]

-behave or i'll make you cum infront of both of them istg

the lewd image of being forced into an orgasm infront of chris at the dinner table creates both a humiliating and pleasurable ache in your stomach. trying to force the thought away hardly worked, already dripping at the thought.

you have to compose yourself. that thought must only be arousing because your so desperate right?.. right.

you look yourself in the mirror, passing off your glossy eyes as you breathe in deeply. you reach your hand beneath your dress to pull your panties down just a little so the vibrator isn't so tightly pressed against you. insantly you sigh in relief at the severly lessened stimulation. straightening yourself out, mentally you prep yourself to get back to the group, opening the bathroom door with the best poker face you can put on.

instantly you're met with two hands roughly shoving you back inside the washroom, the door being locked instantly.

"what the hell are you two up to?"

you swear you experience whiplash at the complete shock as you look up at chris with confusion. chris is staring right back down at you with an almost proud but soft little smile on his face. "hello?" he gives a gentle tap to your arm to urge you to talk. you just shake your head, feeling bewildered "nothing?" you don't even sound sure of yourself when your respond.

chris tilts his head to give you a stare of annoyance at the blatant lie. little did you know that chris had figured you two out much much earlier. his voice comes more accusatory than he intends "you think i'm stupid?" he asks.

you stare up at chris, trying to look irritated at his intrusion into the bathroom but honestly your eyes are that of a lost puppy as the buzzing in your underwear is still growing the ache in your stomach. your legs are squeezing as you struggle to not completely lose it. "and?" you try to seem unphased but there's a shake to your tone.

"and-" he begins in a mocking tone "i know matt doesn't have some fucking vibrator app for himself." he finishes with a cocky yet still adoringly soft look as he watched the panic in your eyes. chris doesn't want to scare you away so his hand starts at your shoulder, thumb gently stroking your shoulder to soothe the panic that's coming with your brain completely short circuiting.

you want to ask how he knows that but chris steps a little closer and you back against the sink counter, both slightly intimidated as well as just udderly so confused you can't really think properly. chris's voice break's into your frozen state "you guys have some freaky thing for getting off in public?" he questions you.

"what? no that's-" chris doesn't quite seem 100 percent sure of himself, almost like he's slightly scared that you'll just think he's a complete weirdo so he keeps his movements slow and his voice stays on the softer side as he speaks to you "you got yourslef in trouble or something then?" he asks tauntingly. his eyes glitter with amusement when he watches you freeze up. looking around, your mouth opens again and again like you wanna argue or deny it but instead you just scoff in disbelief, your eyes rolling at his audacity.

that was enough of an answer for him. he lets out a small hum in acknowledgement, like he's amused by you being punished by his brother. his hand slowly slides down from your arm to the bottom hem of your dress. you find yourself unable to do anything but follow his movement with your eyes, a small breathy whine leaving as the buzzing in your panties continues to make this all the more arousing.

"getting off with your boyfriends brother less than a foot away at dinner is kind fucked up not gonna lie." as chris speaks he uses his other hand to pull the fabric of your dress at the waist, tugging it up a little until you're just barely covered below the waist. his thumb slips beneath the material to rub gentle circles on your thigh "this okay? you tell me to stop and i'll leave n' pretend like this never happened, i promise." his eyes give a comfortingly concerned look, his hand freezing momentarily.

you severly hesitate, a shaky breath leaving your lips, feeling the slick spreading all across your pussy, panties and upper thigh from the nonstop vibrations on your sensitibe bud, now combined with chris's teasing. this is all too much at once. you're starting to feel lightheaded, not knowing how much longer you can hold off either crying or cumming right here on the spot. "matt would mm- hate me chris" you worry verbally to the youngest triplet. chris just shakes his head, chosing to lighten the mood with a joke as per usual "don't worry about him right now. you gonna be naughty or nice for me? cause santa doesn't have to be the only thing coming if you'll let me touch you." there's a shit eating grin on his lips now as he slips his hand just a litter further under your dress.

under other circumstances you would've laughed at his terrible joke. instead you meet his eyes, a suble smile on your face. you know you need to make a decision. guilt bubbles in your stomach, as well as the need to cum. your arousal speaking before you can, you blurt out a "please" your eyes begging chris right along with your words.

chris instantly smirks, stepping closer till there's nearly no more of your space for him to invade "so polite." he teases, his knuckles softly brushing up her thigh till he reaches her panties, where he pauses, his knuckles brushing along the fabric to feel the vicious buzzing. experimentally he uses two fingers to press it up against her clit just a little closer.

your hands both come behind you to grip at the counter top as your legs twitch, unable to hold off your physical reaction to the torture anymore. "ah-" you cry gently as one hand comes off the counter to grip at his arm, not to stop him but for some kind of support.

chris tuts at you "poor thing, bet he's been neglecting you all night" chris says, more so to himself as he shakes his head in genuine dissapointment of his brothers teasing tactics. then in a swift motion, his finger hooks around the front of your panties and tugs them down to your thighs. finally, the vibrator comes off of you. chris's eyes lock on yours for affirmation to continue and he finds your eyes pleading with him already.

you have the sudden thought.. why hasn't matt come to check on you at this point? or texted? your thoughts are quickly are ripped from your head when the buzzing returns once more, chris placing his palm over the vibrator, pressing it right onto your poor swollen clit again.

a strangled moan is forced loudly from your lips at the overstimulating feeling coming back all at once, your back arches off the counter as you look down, shaking your head. "chris no wait- fuckk, i'm gonna cum" you beg for him to stop, but not because you don't want to. for some reason your willing to sleep with matt's brother but you draw the line at cumming without his permission?? pussy.

chris watches as your hips squirm back against the counter, your face scrunched up like you can't take it. he raises an eyebrow at your panic and he subtly smiles, too sweet for the situation your both in. "so?" he urges an explanation with confusion and amusement at your struggle.

you look away from him, nails digging into his arm as embarassment eats you alive at your reason why. chris is having none of it though. he leans down to force you to meet his gaze in demand of an answer. a whine slips when you go to speak, but you manage nonetheless. "not allowed." you state, your eyes finally meeting chris's again.

he's enthralled by your obedience to matt's 'rules' and the guilty little look in your eyes. chris sighs, shaking his head as he brings his free hand to gently cup the side of your face "well i say you are, so go ahead." he says like this is completely normal.

before you can even consider responding, two of his fingers shove into your fluttering hole, his palm still pressing the toy to your clit. you cry out at the attention to your poor pussy that you've been craving all night, hips pushing off the counter to chase chris's hand. whines and choked sobs leave your lips.

chris taps the underside of your jaw "someone's gonna hear ya" he points out with a warning look, then his fingers curl up into your walls to force another response from you. and oh does it ever. you lean your head forwards into his chest with a desperate whine that makes chris's jeans grow a little tighter on him.

he gently cradles the back of your head with his large hand as he talks you through it "oh i knoww." he says with a mocking tone to his voice, a devilish smirk on his face that you can't see as he holds your face into the chest of his hoodie to muffle your cries of pleasure.

"g- gonna fucking- oh god chris" your brain is so far from working as he fucks his fingers into you, alternating between curling them at the perfect spot inside and then thrusting them quickly. the sound of you saying his name is enough to have his dick fighting against his pants. he wants nothing more than to stuff you full of him but this isn't about him, the only thing he needs right now is to watch you hold onto him pathetically whilst crying his name for more.

with the hand cradling your head, his fingers gently massage your scalp. the soothing nature is a vile contrast to the way his other hand completely ruins you. this only furthers the haze of euphoria your in, whining desperately as you clutch onto chris for life. if it weren't for him and the counter you'd be a puddle on the floor and chris knows it as he feels your walls squeezing in desperation for release. he knows that's his cue.

you experience the most horrible whiplash as within a second, chris's hand comes out from under your dress, the vibrator with it and all your left with is your cum dripping out of your fluttering hole.

instantly your head lifts off chris's chest. you watch up at him with pleading eyes "chris." you hate how you sound begging for his attention back.

the hand not holding your now turned off, soaked vibrator, is soothing your hair out. he holds the vibrator up to your mouth, tapping it onto your pouted lips. shamefully you open your mouth, allowing him to urge the toy inside for you to clean it of your own mess.

chris's eyes glimmer with satisfaction as he watches your gaze, eager to please him in favour of needing to cum. which is why you nearly wanna cry when he removes his other hand from your hair and brings it down to pull your panties back up, slipping the now completely still vibrator back into the fabric.

"i'm sorry pretty, but the only thing i want more than to watch you cum is to know you'll be left on edge all night thinking about me instead of him" chris states with a grin, giving a frustratingly casual pat to your shoulder before unlocking the door and opening it to leave. you're about to pull him back and cuss him the fuck out when suddenly you see your boyfriend leaning on the wall right outside the door, shaking his head at you as chris walks passed him with a cocky smirk. it all sets in and you feel more embarassed than you ever have in your life. they fucking planned it. matt let chris come fingerfuck you like some slut.

"you're un-fucking-believable." matt states, although not seeming as mad as he should. you have no choice in the matter as he grabs you arm and begins both of your journey to the car.

you fell right into their trap.

.....someone's getting coal this christmas.

lmk if y'all want a part two??

tags: @pleasebendmeoverxxx @mattsrod @sturncakez @watercolorskyy @pettydollie @sturniol0s @6ix9inewiturmom @sonicsmacks @fratbrochrisgf @eyelovedher89 @bernardsbendystraws @riversandwinds @ilovemenwithlonghairr @chrissweatytoes @courta13

[sqtorux]

saying somethin' stupid like 'i love you'

fwb!gojo saying the forbidden L word during the deed ????

slightly nsfw, minors please don't interact. also fluff bc i miss gojo :(

not proof read !

thankyou so much for all the support on my recent ♡

satoru thinks you're so cruel. one minute you're holding onto him, nails digging into his back as if you needed him to live.

chanting his name so so beautifully as he trapped you between his bare body and the bed, relentlessly thrusting into you.

and then the next you were back to acting like even his mere existence irritated you. in a way it does but not in the way he thinks.

not once had you been there the morning after. only the crumpled sheets and your nail marks served as reminders that you were here, with him.

“gojo can you not-”

“that wasn't what you called me last night. what happened to toru?”

you glare daggers at him as one of his hand held your notebook high up. he was ridiculously tall and he liked abusing that privilege. especially against you.

“shut up” you walk past him without bothering to take your book.

“hey you mad baby?” he chuckled, getting in front of you, stopping you again.

“come on, answer me. why'd you leave? i thought we agreed to go to class together hmm?”

you roll your eyes at him and crossed your arms.

“that's what you said. i didn't agree.”

“aw you're too mean” he pouted as you scowl and try passing him again only to be stopped by his hand on your arm.

“i wanted you to stay.” his words were heavy, his face not showing even the slightest bit of his shit eating grin he always has on.

he turns to you, his round sunglasses were low on his nose and you could see his oh so beautiful eyes.

you look away because if you don't, you were pretty sure you'd be hypnotised and you'd do whatever he wanted.

“if you keep doing this i won't stay over anymore.” your words shot a painful jab at your own abdomen. his grip around you loosened slowly until he lets go completely.

“alright then.” he hands you your notebook, more like placed them into your arms as he walked away, eyes never meeting yours.

the next ‘sleepover’ took place three days after the banter with satoru. he hadn't called or texted the whole time but when you asked if he was up for it, he replied almost immediately.

so here you were again, him ramming into you as you cling onto his bare body for dear life. you could feel your climax coming as your grip grew tighter and tighter.

satoru was the same, chasing his high. he had missed you a lot the past three days but tried distancing himself just so his feelings for you would simmer down.

it only resulted him thinking about you all day and even more during the night. he finds himself wishing you were here with him, either giving you the pleasure you both agreed upon or just you laying down next to him. he didn't care.

he just wanted you to be there. with him.

and now that you are, his heart clenches the way you clench around him as the both of you cummed simultaneously.

he holds your body tight as you both work your way through the orgasm, euphoria rushing through both your veins.

“fuck y/n…” he groaned as he felt your grip loosen. he can't let you go just yet.

“i love you”

he hadn't meant to say it really. not like this at least.

“satoru we've been through this-” you push him weakly but he stays grounded, eyes boring into yours.

“i mean it.” he says, one of his hands found themselves caressing your cheeks as the other supported him while he hovered above you.

“you don't have to say it back or… feel it back…” satoru's voice was full of emotion.

“but just give me a chance to show you how much i love you. then we can work things out from there.”

you find yourself falling into the charms of gojo satoru. it's not everyday he offers his heart to someone. he doesn't offer it at all but now here he is, handing it to you on a silver platter.

“alright”

you could see satoru's face visibly light up and his blue eyes gleammed. he leaned down to place a soft kiss on your lips.

“thankyou” he traced his fingers on your jaw, his touch so soft, so addicting.

“you better treat me like a princess” you chuckle as he physically melted at the sound.

“oh i plan to do exactly that, and more, lovely.” he leaned down to place another kiss on your lips.

[luvingjeanie]

oh my GOD!? GWI NAM😫😫 i’m grasping on to any post about my babe

i beg for some like maybe just relationship headcanons or anything to do with him pretty much!! xx

i love ur writing too it’s so good🤤🫦 pretty please x

i’m glad u like my writing! anything for u gorgeous <3

♡ he’s stupid. i’m so sorry but he is </3

♡ he knows that people don’t actually ‘like’ him, and that they just tolerate him, laugh when he bothers someone, because they’re intimidated by him, after all who wouldn’t be? bro literally stood on a kids head and near about crushed his skull.

♡ so because of this, he knows he can’t approach you normally, or at least he thinks he can’t

♡ so instead, he kicks your chair, tugs your hair a little harshly as he walks past, purposefully does that annoying thing where he stands on the back of your shoe to make it come off a little

♡ it’s a little odd though, because at times, it seems more like friendly teasing rather than malicious, and you get confused

♡ you’ve seen him treat other people far worse, like eun-ji, so why is he almost joking in his teasing with you?

♡ maybe you feel a little brave one day as ask him what his deal is, or maybe he realises teasing is getting him nowhere with you, but one day, he really fucking reluctantly tells you why he’s being such a little shit

♡ ears red, avoiding eye contact, slouched against a wall with hands in his pocket, tongue poking at his inner cheek after he asks you out on a little date!

♡ genuinely terrified you’re gonna say no

♡ but you don’t! you say yes! aw how cute <3

♡ he’s not overly sweet, or romantic, but as i’ve said in other posts, he does live to please his s/o. not because he’s a gentleman, but to make sure you won’t leave :(

♡ so, keeping it simple for the first date i honestly just think you guys would go to the cinema :)

♡ it’s cheap, gives you guys something to do, and sometimes to talk about after :)

♡ i really can’t see him being very affectionate on your first few dates, not that he doesn’t want to, but i really think he’d be uncharacteristically timid around someone he actually likes

♡ after a few dates he would just assume you’re a couple.

♡ he wouldn’t ask, why does he need to?? you like him, he likes you, you guys have hugged and kissed, isn’t that enough to seal the deal?

♡ only asks when he realises you’re sad he hasn’t😭

♡ “am i not already your boyfriend though??? :/“

♡ “fine, i’ll ask.”

♡ because he likes you, he’s happy to do so, he just really doesn’t understand why it’s needed

♡ he isn’t timid forever though, once he’s sure you’re together for real he’s a cocky asshole.

♡ ruffles your hair, bites your cheek or shoulder, draws on your hand in class, if you’re a smoker will blow smoke into your face when you guys sneak away for a cigarette during lunch

♡ not super publicly affectionate but doesn’t mind slinging an arm around your shoulder

♡ LOVESSS when you hug his bicep instead of holding his hand. makes him feel all big n’ strong

♡ also makes you light his cigarettes for him, something about it is just so hot and he fucking loves it

♡ goes over to your place a lot more than you go to his. honestly, you’ve probably only met his parents once and he likes it that way

♡ i dont think his parents are terrible or anything, but i think he can tell they’re disappointed in him, with his grades and behaviour, so he doesn’t enjoy being at home much

♡ SLEEPSS every time he’s at yours. your bed is his.

♡ runs hot, like furnace hot. the boy is an incinerator so the moment he’s at yours, his shirt is off, he’s changed into joggers and he’s sleeping on top of the covers.

♡ because he runs so hot, no cuddling in bed. he’ll have you on his chest or an arm around you watching a movie, or talking, but as soon as you guys sleep you’re on opposite ends of the bed because he just gets uncomfortably warm😭

♡ if your parents are cool with him sleeping over you’re late for school every time because you just cannot get him out of bed

♡ at school, you’re getting pulled away for the sloppiest make out sessions

♡ he’s such a perv for you, the moment he gets the chance, you’re being dragged to the construction site, pushed against a wall with his tongue licking into your hot, wet, open mouth, one hand in your hair and one on your ass

♡ passes lewd, dirty notes to you in class

♡ once he’s comfortable he’s just horny all the time i fear

♡ draws on your hands in class too, but it isn’t cute stuff, he’ll probably draw a penis or something

♡ special occasions!!!

♡ he doesn’t really go all out, and he doesn’t want you to either

♡ for his birthday he’d really just prefer some convenience store food and a casual date or sitting in your house😭

♡ doesn’t want too many presents, just a few small things, maybe a new jacket or cologne

♡ asks for birthday head

♡ for your birthday, again, the presents are small, but little things he’d know you’d like

♡ they aren’t wrapped, probably just shoved in his backpack or maybe a gift bag

♡ why buy wrapping paper if you’re jus’ gonna tear it open anyway???

♡ doesn’t really care for valentines day, but he will buy you little things like your favourite sweets if you care about it, but he will NOT give them to you at school because that’s embarrassing!

♡ doesn’t buy cheesy shit like heart shaped chocolates or whatever, if he’s buying you something he wants you to actually like it, and he thinks those little stuffed valentines bears look stupid

♡ is ODDLY sweet when he meets your parents

♡ similar to the scene in the principal’s office when he and his group were being questioned about bullying eun-ji, jin-su, and cheol-su, he’s a terrifyingly good actor

♡ “thank you for having me :)”

♡ “the food was lovely, thank you so much :)”

♡ OSCAR winning performance honestly

♡ will ask u to do his homework </3

♡ not really huge on pet names, he usually calls you mean shit to tease you, and actually enjoys when you do it back

♡ he wants someone he can joke and mess about with

♡ but if he does use little pet names it’s probably something simply like baby, and honestly only really uses it in private or when you’re making out

♡ or fucking

♡ lowkey, a surprisingly decent boyfriend, just not super romantic or anything

♡ but he’s loyal, because as i’ve said, he wouldn’t even consider dating someone unless he was super sure about them

[sugarlywhispers]

a.n; SMUT, oral sex (fem receiving), izuku is pussy-drunk because we know no other izuku than the one who LOVES eating pussy. lol i had an izuku itch that needed to be scratched so here it is *wink wink*<3

You and Midoriya Izuku have been friends for a long time now. He's such a good friend, always attentive, kind, funny and respectful. Yet he becomes cheeky, flirty and sometimes sarcastic when there's more trust in your friendship.

Friendship. It's just friendship. You have to remind yourself of that everyday. Push your stupid little –strenuously huge– crush on him very deep inside and lock it away. He's fucking Number One, Pro Hero Deku. How could you not have a fucking crush on him?

Still, when he gave you the opportunity to be friends, you didn't doubt it. You dug your feelings very deep and just accepted what he gave you; a funny, sincere friendship that you honestly didn't want to ruin. Especially because Izuku was also very intentional in watering this friendship with you.

It got to a point where you even slept in each other's places with complete normalcy sometimes. He had clothes in your closet for when that happened, and vice-versa. Izuku even talked to you about the dates he went on, and so did you.

He even held your head after a hard night out with friends, where you found the guy you were in a “relationship” with snogging another girl. Too much alcohol trying to bury what you have witnessed and an ugly date with the toilet as you threw up. Izuku held your hair back and caressed your back with patience and care that early morning. Even dried your tears and hugged you through the feelings. No, you didn't love the guy, but you could have if he hadn't been a fucker.

No one would ever fit into the standard Izuku had made you build around men. But you had to try and find, considering that the main standard was not interested in you that way, and would never be.

It's exactly why, here you are. Waiting in your car after texting said man “oi!, i'm here!”, after he expressed that he has had an awful week and was so stressed he could throw a train towards the sky, up to the atmosphere. Holy fuck. The imagery made you laugh at the moment, but also sent a shiver down your spine at his tone because damn, he was so frustrated and angry. So, you didn't doubt it. Told him to get ready, that you would pick him up in 20 minutes to take him out.

There was no other intention other than pamper him, help him distract his mind from all the troubles that stressed him. Like a friend would.

It had been a lovely night, filled with lots of laughter, jokes and accomplished smiles that felt too normal by then.

You suddenly feel his eyes on you, his body directing his attention towards you as you ride the car, softly mumbling to a well known song that it's playing.

“What?” You ask a moment later, stopping right in front of Izuku's building and looking back at him.

“I just realized… You took me out to dinner. We had ice-cream as dessert and even some cocktails after. You drove and paid for it all. And now you took me back home…”

You snort, “And? What's the problem with that?”

You are a bit confused, especially because he's talking looking dead serious, like he has come to a realization that makes him even imagine in his head whatever it is that he is thinking. Jesus, even his eyes look so determined and shiny it makes you feel weirdly nervous.

But of course, you were not expecting at all what he said next.

“Do I have to suck you off?”

You look directly into each other's eyes for a full minute. Death silent. Song playing in the background. A car passes, its light making Izuku's face become clearer and exposed for the second it took until it drove away. Both your breathing suddenly heard loud inside your car. 

And then you both laugh your hearts out. Almost to the point of crying.

It's so ridiculously funny. The way Izuku asked it was so sure and ready for it and also keeping a serious tone. This type of humor with him has become so funny and comfortable to portray, you can't help but to answer back, “I mean… if you want to.”

You obviously mean it as a joke. It's not the first time you joke with double meaning in your words. It has become normal by now between you two.

Yet Izuku suddenly stops laughing. Again looking dead serious as you slowly come back from your laughter. You clean a small tear that threatens to fall from your left eye as you look at him. His expression is... alert, attentive; eyes are on you, shining, waiting, excited. And as time passes, you realize with a quiet and small gasp; he wants to suck you off.

Next thing you know, you’re sprawled over Izuku’s big and expensive couch, your jeans and panties thrown around somewhere in his living room. Legs open, exposed, as Izukus delves into the taste of your cunt. Both his hands, callous and a bit raspy due to his injuries and in contrast to your soft skin, hold you down by the waist as his mouth doesn’t even separate a millimeter from its place, tongue dancing all around your very wet pussy. 

His eyes are closed and he lets a few grunts here and there that travel up in your body and make you shiver in pleasure, followed by a tongue movement that makes you roll your eyes back. He's fucking enjoying having you like this.

Finally.

[teaboot]

in WHAT universe is rising of the shield hero less of a dissapointment than spy x family? ppl glaze sxf a bit too much but theres few anime worse than Incel Isekai 20472.

anyway. if you want something actually good, frieren, odd taxi, and my roommate is a cat. havent watched ascendance of a bookworm yet but i hear incredible things.

Oh yeah no ROTSH felt like ABSOLUTE dogshit episodes 1-5ish, I have no idea why I kept watching cause the MC was so cringe but I’m enjoying it quite a lot now! (I was actually checking my inbox before catching the next ep, lol)

I’m actually really happy with how they showed the MC’s immaturity and flaws and all the stupid and confusing common isekai tropes in a realistic light- And I’m kinda sorry you didn’t keep watching too ‘cause it absolutely lays bare all that stupid “chosen one” crap about halfway through s1. You stop cringing at the awful stupid incel asshole shit E3 or so and start GENUINELY LIKING him, which is wild!

It’s not perfect media obviously- I kinda REALLY don’t like some of it- but it focuses a lot on personal responsibility and thoughtfulness and working within the context of your environment, learning to heal relationships, and the importance of diplomacy and communication.

What I REALLY like is the central theme that being a hero doesn’t mean everything you do is correct- but that people WANT TO BELIEVE everything you do is correct, so being a symbol isn’t so much a ritzy ride as it is a HUGE responsibility that one shouldn’t be eager for.

Also, I don’t want to give any spoilers, but I’m at a point now where they’re starting to touch on the idea that there’s a difference between fighting for an idea and fighting for PEOPLE, and I’ve never really seen that done well before so between that and the twist here that’s being foreshadowed I’m genuinely SUPER EXCITED to see where they’re going with it.

Also- even WITH all the “pretty girls love the hero” trope- if you watch long enough you’ll notice how they PLAY with the trope without investing in it. There’s genuine respect between the characters, and several times the MC makes it clear he sees some of them as family, that he’s not into kids and it’s creepy when others are, and there’s no fanservice panty shots or surprise “oops I’m naked” shit. It really does show by example how a REAL good-hearted protagonist should- or would hopefully- realistically act in the circumstances of an unrealistic isekai type series. There’s been pretty much zero actual romance or any interest in romance shown by the character after episode 1-2. (At least as of s2e1)

And I love that! It’s incredibly character-driven. It feels like the MC genuinely might fuck up, that there are real stakes, that the correct path is unclear, and I want to see if what I’m hoping for will happen. The MC is selfish and closed-off and heartless sometimes and TOTALLY has a cruel and pragmatic streak, and the narrative takes full advantage of that to force him to confront those issues. Some of his vices are even advantageous, as they would be in real life!

Spy X Family didn’t do anything for me. It appeared to be what it said on the tin. I never got any real sense of stakes or depth or personal development, or of reoccurring thematic elements or symbolism or overlying message, or any kind of statement that was poignant or meaningful. It came off as a fun story, but not anything exceptional or different.

I couldn’t bring myself to care much because it was pretty clear that the good guys were right and they were gonna pull something off and have a happy ending and live a cute little family life with a mom and a dad and a daughter and a dog. It was never surprising or curious and I never felt emotionally intrigued or invested or attached.

They’re both enjoyable, but I like Rise of the Shield Hero more because it’s been proving me wrong in exciting ways and making me think about why I feel the way I do, and I like that in a series.

Spy X Family is fine, I don’t think it’s BAD, it just didn’t scratch the itch for me personally.

If you watched like 15 eps and hated it the whole time that’s fair but if you stopped at e2 I’d super recommend giving it another shot!

[sugardollcurse]

I love ur writing so badly it’s amazing!!! Thought of this slightly silly idea that’d be maybe faintly angsty?? With Paul and a reader, where they were together when they were in their teens to their early 20s and broke up just in the early 60s. Only for the reader to also start their own musical career and completely blow up by the end of the 60s just as the Beatles were slowly breaking up 🧐 not a great idea so switching it around a little would be cool too!!

𝑠𝑒𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑑 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑒 | paul mccartney x fem!reader

𐙚 summary ; you and paul were each other’s first everything. but time and ambition drove you apart. now it’s 1969, the beatles are cracking at the seams, and you’re topping charts with songs that sound an awful lot like him.

𐙚 note ; this is SUCH a good idea ♡ teen love turned bittersweet stardom??? def gonna have fun cooking this one up ... thank u sm bb!!

“D’you know they’re here?”

Paul doesn’t look up from tuning his bass. Just keeps his eyes on the fretboard like if he stares hard enough, it'll turn to stone and smash in his hands. His fingers move too fast, sliding, twisting, retuning, again and again.

George nudges him with a pointed look. “You do know, don’t you?”

“Course I bloody do,” Paul mutters.

The string whines. Not right. Too high. He adjusts the peg, tightens, listens. It’s still off. Sounds like nerves. Sounds like they’d sound if they were on a stage under bad lights with worse feelings.

John strolls past, casual and cruel in that way only he can be, his footsteps unhurried, chewing gum like he’s in on a joke no one else got invited to.

“Saw ‘em in the hallway,” he sing-songs. “Didn’t say hello. Didn’t need to. Gave me a look like they were about to deck me. So naturally I said ‘hallo’ just to make it worse.”

Paul glares up at him, hands still. “Very helpful, ta.”

John just smirks, shrugs, and wanders off, humming something sharp and spiteful under his breath.

George raises his eyebrows. Doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t need to.

Ringo’s the one who asks, “You alright?”

Paul shrugs. He’s not. But there’s no point saying that.

It’s been years.

Years, and yet, he’d known the second they stepped into the building. Not by the creak of the studio doors, or the hushed laughter down the corridor, or even the way the air shifted around John like it always did when there was gossip on the wind. He’d felt it in the guts. Like a bass note too low to hear, just felt in the spine.

He’d caught a glimpse. Corner of his eye. Didn’t mean to look. Didn’t mean to look like that... all frozen and stupid and sixteen again, heart in his throat. Just a flash. Just enough to make his hands sweat and his head throb and his mouth go dry like he’d been dropped right back into the middle of it.

He drops his eyes back to the strings. Plucks again. Still not right.

Your voice had that thing. That inflection, that fucking curl to the ends of words that made it impossible not to remember how you used to say his name. How you'd say it like it cost them something, and gave something back.

“Right,” Paul mutters, almost to himself. “Let’s get on with it.”

━━

You’d never made a scene.

No thrown glasses, no screaming, no door slammed off its hinges. Just a quiet break-up in a cramped flat that had once felt like a secret shared, now echoing with too much space. The early morning light made everything look grey and unfinished, like someone had paused the world mid-sentence.

"I won’t sit around waiting for you to make room for me.”

Not cold. Not cruel. Just tired.

And Paul, he’d opened his mouth to argue, words half-formed on the back of his tongue, pride rising like bile, but the truth was, he had nothing left to give you but the same excuses in different keys. The band was taking off. The days were all sessions and static. He was always five places at once and never home.

You didn’t cry.

You just packed a duffel bag with two jumpers, your old notebooks, the record player he never learned to use, and left a half-used jar of marmalade in the fridge like an afterthought.

You slipped out of his life the same way you’d entered it: while music played from a crackling radio and the kettle never quite boiled. He still remembered the song that played as you walked out the door. Something soft and echoing and too on the nose.

Then you went west.

Not just out of town, west. Across oceans, across whole versions of yourself he’d never get to meet. You lived on couches. Fell in with some label bloke in Laurel Canyon. You wrote a debut record that was half acid, half open wound. A voice like honey poured over broken glass. The kind of record people bought on vinyl and listened to barefoot in dark bedrooms.

The first time Paul heard your voice again, it was on the radio in a car park. Rain smearing the windshield, a bag of chips going cold in the passenger seat. The DJ didn’t say your name till the end. But Paul knew. Christ, he knew by the third chord.

He didn’t turn the engine off.

Didn’t even breathe properly.

Just stayed in the car till the song ended, hands on the steering wheel like a prayer.

━━

“Paul.”

The voice behind him is steady. Calm. Familiar in a way that makes the hairs on his neck stand up before he even turns around.

He turns slowly.

You’re standing just inside the green room doorway, wrapped in some enormous coat, collar turned up against a draft that’s not really there. A glass of something cold in your hand, water or maybe gin, and a ring on the finger he used to kiss before every gig. Not a wedding ring, he clocked that detail immediately, filed it away somewhere between relief and disappointment.

He clears his throat.

"Y/n."

You nod. Your expression’s unreadable, but your shoulders don’t tense. That’s something.

“Didn’t think you’d still be here.”

Paul smirks, faint and brittle. “Didn’t think you’d show up.”

You tilt your head. “It’s my label’s event. And I’m nominated, remember?”

“I remember.”

He remembers too well. Every word of the song that got you nominated. Especially the chorus. Especially that one line, sharp, deliberate, cloaked in poetry but unmistakable in its aim. It had your fingerprints and his name all over it.

It’d played in his flat once, off a cassette someone passed him backstage. Some girl was over, he barely recalls her face now, just that her laugh was too loud and she smelled like wine. When your voice came on, he’d gone quiet. She noticed. Didn’t ask.

Now you’re in front of him again.

A little older. A little shinier. A little sadder around the eyes.

He hates how good you look.

“How’s it feel?” he asks. “Being the most famous person in the room?”

You snort. “Don’t start. You’re still you, aren’t you?”

He shrugs. “I’m not sure who that is anymore.”

The words slip out before he can filter them, and they hang between you, heavier than he meant.

You raise your eyebrows.

Paul fumbles to recover, gestures vaguely toward the floor. “I mean, it’s all... different now.”

“You mean it’s ending.”

There’s no accusation in your voice. Just a flat, observational kind of truth. It lands like a bruise anyway.

He doesn’t answer.

Instead, he deflects. Always does.

“You come to gloat?”

You blink. “No.”

"Could’ve fooled me." he was referring a song you wrote, one that he thought was definitely about him. It wasn't.

You stare at him. The silence that follows is long enough to make him wonder if you’re going to walk away. Then, slowly, you smile, but it’s not kind. It’s sharp at the edges. Like it was forged in self-defense.

“You think everything’s about you.”

He flinches. Only slightly, but you see it.

“Well,” he asks, quiet and raw, “was it?”

You don’t answer right away. You just take a long sip from your glass, eyes never leaving his face.

“If it was,” you say finally, “you probably deserved it.”

He watches you like he’s trying to memorize you all over again. The lines of your mouth. The slight shift in your weight. The way you don’t back down from his gaze. Everything unsaid rises up between you like smoke, curling into the corners of the room.

After a beat, he speaks again, voice lower.

“Do you still write in the bath?” he asks quietly.

You blink, caught off guard.

“Sometimes.”

“Still hum to yourself before you land on a melody?”

“Not if I’m around anyone,” you reply.

He huffs a quiet breath, half a laugh. “That’s a shame. I always liked that.”

It softens something. Not enough to be safe, but enough to hurt.

There’s a pause, long and loaded.

“I heard your demo last month,” you say, eyes flicking toward the floor.

He perks up. “Did you?”

“I liked it.”

He wets his lips. “Didn’t think you were listening.”

You glance at him then, direct.

“I always listen.”

That does something to him. Something internal and sharp. Like a drawer being yanked open after years nailed shut.

He takes a step forward. Not enough to reach you. Just enough to make it clear he wants to.

“You broke my heart,” he says quietly. “Back then.”

“What? You broke mine,” you shoot back. “And then sold records with it.”

It’s not bitter. Not cruel. Just a fact. But it slices deeper than if you’d screamed.

You’re both breathing heavier now.

It’s not a fight. Not really.

It’s something slower, older. A wound opening on both sides at the same time, in perfect symmetry.

“Did you ever miss it?” he asks, softer this time. Almost reverent.

Your fingers tighten on the stem of your glass. Not visibly. Just enough that he knows you’re feeling it too.

“Maybe.”

He nods, looks down. His throat works. You can tell he’s biting back words.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he says.

You nod. “You always do.”

Paul sighs. Drags a hand through his hair, a gesture that always meant he was about to say something he didn’t want to.

“I wanted to write to you,” he admits. “After Pepper. After India. After... everything.”

“Why didn’t you?”

He looks at you, eyes unreadable. Then: “I was afraid you’d write back in a song.”

You laugh. It comes out more like an exhale, bitter and fond and exhausted.

You lean in just a little. Just enough to make his breath catch.

“Well, Macca,” you whisper, “I probably still will.”

And then you leave.

Just like that.

But Paul doesn’t call after you. Doesn’t move.

He just watches you go, eyes fixed on the place your body filled only seconds before. And that night, alone in his flat, he dreams the melody to something new.

It sounds like a letter he never sent.

It sounds like you.

taglist: @sharksausages, @wavvytin, @wimpyvamps, @finallyforgotten, @lennongirlieee, @silly-lil-lee, @alanangels

[edamameimei]

Perhaps, Even This —chapter 39

A year ago, you were known as your friend group’s “sunshine.” You were able to light up a whole room with your energy and everyone could rely on you for your quick wit and easy humor. You lived life simply one day at a time. However, seemingly out of nowhere, that all changes. Now a Junior in university, you find it extremely difficult to do all the things you used to do. Especially being the Resident Assistant for the Geffen Dorms. New residents begin to move in and one them is a girl you could only describe as “radiant." Her name is Megan Skiendiel, and at first, you don’t welcome the positivity but as you two continue to meet and hang out, you find yourself becoming the person you used to be. Will you be able to be that person you were a year ago? Or will everything just stay the same?

39. yn n friends

half written (wc: 867)

Jen, Soobin, and Yeonjun squeeze together sitting down on your bed. They watch as you pace the room, your head down in silence as you try to think of the words to say. Talking about your feelings was always hard, but this was a lot more to unpack than anticipated. Finally, you stop, facing your friends with a distressed look on your face. 

“I’m scared of getting hurt again.” 

The moment the words leave your mouth, you begin to feel sick. Tears brim your eyes and you shake your head, willing yourself to continue, “So, I thought, if I pushed everyone away then my life would be so much easier.” You laugh, looking up at your ceiling because you can feel the tears streaming down your face. Your friends all look at you, waiting for you to finish. They sit patiently and for once, you know that they’re here because they care. You tell yourself, I’m not a burden. You convince yourself, they don’t think I’m weak. You look at them with a pained expression on your face. You whisper, “But It’s just really fucking hard right now without you guys.”

You look down at your shoes, fidgeting at the hem of your shirt at an attempt to find control over your emotions. Your voice cracks as you speak, “It’s really hard without Megan and I- I messed up so bad,” You wipe your eyes and sigh helplessly, running a hand through hair, “What do I do?” It’s almost inaudible, but they hear you loud and clear. Soobin reaches out to you first, grabbing your arm and immediately pulling you into his arms. Suddenly, you feel everyone’s arms around you as you finally allow yourself to cry freely. They rub your back, soothing you comfortingly. They allow you to cry knowing you had it pent up for months.

After a few minutes, your cries finally subside, now sniffling quietly. You pull away from your friends, your eyes swollen and red from crying for so long. Jen reaches out, her hands cupping your cheeks. She wipes the remaining tears from your eyes and looks at you, worried. She whispers the question that has been asked of you so many times before. And this time, you know you can’t turn away from it.

 “What happened last spring, Y/n?” 

Yeonjun wraps his arms around your neck, resting his chin on your shoulder. He murmurs quietly, “Take your time.” You nod, looking down at your lap. You take a sharp breath, bracing yourself. “Yeji… She hurt me a lot more than I led on…” You close your eyes tightly, shaking your head as if you were trying to rid yourself of the memories that swim around in your head. “She was so awful. She didn’t just hurt me emotionally… She also- She- fuck.” You choke up, covering your mouth when the words don’t seem to leave your lips. But your friends knew exactly what you were trying to say. And they were furious.  

Yeonjun’s arms tighten around you. You can feel his anger rising as you continue opening up, taking another deep breath to recollect yourself. “She was always so mean. She would say all these awful things. But she somehow convinced me it was because she loved me– I’m so fucking stupid.” Tears brim your eyes once more and you cover your face with your hands in an attempt to shield how vulnerable you are. But Jen grabs your hands, pulling them into your lap. She squeezes them tightly, tilting her head to look at you softly. She furrows her brows. “Y/n… You’re not stupid. This was never your fault–” 

You cut her off, your voice breaking as you speak loudly, “This is all my fault! I hurt everyone! I hurt Megan, I hurt you guys, and I’m the reason why Yujin is still with Wonyoung…” You look at Jen, pain in your expression as you continue, “I never told anyone that it was Wonyoung… The person Yeji cheated on me with.” Her eyes widen at your admission. You start crying again, looking down at your lap in shame. You felt terrible for never saying anything. It’s as if your friends read your thoughts because they hug you again, holding you tightly. You hear Soobin whisper, “This was never your fault.” His words sit with you as you clutch onto Jen’s shirt. You take another deep breath before shakily responding, “What do I do now?” 

There’s silence in the room. No one one knows how to respond. They all just hold you, letting your words settle amongst everyone. Yeonjun runs his hands through your hair and looks at the others with a determined look in his eyes. He looks back down at you, grabbing your shoulders to force you to look at him. He leans in close to you, his eyes staring into yours. 

“You're not gonna fix this, Y/n,” He cups your cheeks, his brows furrowing with sincerity in his eyes, “We're gonna fix this,” He continues with a small smile on his face. His next words light something in you, as if you were brought to life again.

“We’re gonna do this together.”

a/n: omg what they finna doooooo (i know exactly what happens next LMAO)

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requests are open

@saysirhc@urfriendlylocalidiot@daniiii267@xochitlisbest@minjisn1@mei2yok@goofymickeyr

✧.* taglist is open ✧.*

[call-sign-shark]

Heaven in Your Eyes

Summary: A haunting scent, a ghost from the past, and a confession too raw to take back. Masks always end up dropping in Arrow House. || to listen on repeat during your reading.

Words: 5.4k

TW: self-harm and extreme angst, grief, mental illness, manipulation, Hev is not your typical nice reader she's really twisted and it was the case from the beginning! I wasn't joking when I said that this story was going to take a brutal, very dark turn so please, proceed carefully. Also, if you wanna hate, be a warrior and switch off anon.

Notes:

✞ This is chapter 18 of the Arthur Shelby x You series Heaven in Your Eyes. Each chapter can be read as a stand-alone.

PREVIOUS || Masterlist || NEXT PART

The smooth metal of the razor blade caught the light perfectly when she turned it slowly between her thumb and index finger, tilting it just enough to watch the fascinating glint dance across the edge with a far-off look etched on her angel face. The way this delicate thing, small enough to disappear in her palm, was so sharp that all she'd have to do to get hurt was to lightly close her hand around it, almost hypnotized her.

Heaven was sitting on the edge of the cold porcelain bathtub, her left ankle resting on her right knee. Her silk nightgown had been pushed up over her thighs, their pale skin looking like freshly fallen snow under the feeble light. In the murderous angel's hand, the razor blade trembled slightly as she brought it to her thigh and lightly dragged the edge along her flesh. Not enough to break, but surely enough to feel the whisper of its pressure. 

The familiar thrill of anticipation, the one that simmered just before the pain and the relief, was as vivid as she remembered.

A sarcastic snort echoed in the bathroom when Heaven gave a second thought to that old habit she thought long buried. What did they say, here in England? Ah. Old habits die hard. 

Instinctively, her crystal eyes fell upon the coarse scars that were carved deep inside both of her thighs. The sight of the white, messy, and swollen lines made her stomach churn slightly.

It wasn’t really about the way they looked but it was rather the meaning of them that disturbed her whenever she deigned to look. Each slash was a testimony of when Heaven had lost control and, truly, they were far too many to count. Layer upon layer of healing tissue, she had marked the times she broke. The times Heaven didn't know how else to breathe. And before she could realize it, it gradually stopped being shocking and, somehow, became a routine. Until butchering herself felt like the most natural thing to do in case of overload.

It started after the slaughter of her whole family. Stopped when he found her. Started again when she left him.

It wasn’t fair for Arthur, she conceded. She had sworn to him she'd never go back to this. Not after telling him about the nights spent shaking on the floor. Not after Lucy found her curled up in her own blood and rage several times. But had Arthur wished to make sure she'd respect her oath and feel good enough not to dive back into it, he would have been here. In the meantime, Heaven was the one alone in this bleak bathroom, consumed by a dizzying void that was starting to grow insufferable. Alone while the whole fucking world spun too fast, and with a blade back in her sly, cold hand.

Fuck the lot of them. She thought, exhausted.

Tommy for poisoning her blood. Arthur for being so selfish and stupid. Polly for always tricking her into protecting this cursed family. Ada for always watching her with hidden disgust since the day she had killed a man to save Charlie. Michael just for being born and John for not being able to stay fucking alive.

The blade kissed her skin like an old lover in one clean and controlled cut. Instantly, the pain, or rather the slightly uncomfortable itch, bloomed when her flesh broke apart. For a split second, the angel felt it — the awful, guilty relief. The kind that said "you’re still here, Hev. You still feel something".

Her bambi lashes fluttered with pleasure as liquid ruby gushed from the cut. 

Alright, just a second one. Or a third. Maybe a fourth. Fifth, but she swore it was the last one.

Heaen stopped only when the canvas of her flesh was entirely painted in red, finally dropping the razor onto the tiles with a sharp clatter. The sound of it, chiming in the whole bathroom, brought her back to her senses.

“Merde.” The white-haired creature cursed when she saw how bad she had hurt herself,  heart banging in her chest so brutally she thought she'd soon throw it up. Her chest rose and fell rapidly at the sight of blood already blooming in warm, slick lines across her thigh. Too bright, too fast.

She pressed her palm against it on instinct, hissing through her teeth. Fortunately, neither the searing pain nor the dizziness got the better of her reflexes. Pushing away the looming madness to the back of her head, Heaven grabbed the white towel nearby and wrapped it around her bleeding thigh.

Something was wrong.

Well, something has been wrong for a while and she could trace it back to John’s death, if one wanted to be precise. Since that cursed day she found him lying in a crimson puddle of his own blood, riddled with bullets, Heaven's happiness had shattered like glass. Or, rather, the illusion of it. She had to face it: her wedding to Arthur Shelby only worked when things were fine, then turned into shit at the first hard blow. John died and, all of a sudden, Arthur’s worst flaws exploded and they proved to be more overwhelming than what she had expected.

Amos… He always had a knack for knowing what to do when it all came crashing down. He’d wrapped his arms around her and soothe her deepest fears as she nuzzled her nose in the crook of his neck, lulled by his sweet perfume, his warmth and velvet voice. Then he’d just take care of the problem with his teeth and claws.

The angel shook her head, chasing him away from her mind by forcing herself to focus on your wounds. Amos wasn’t here either, anyway. 

Once the bleeding had dwindled, she stood groggily and dragged her slim being out of the bathroom, careful not to look in the mirror as she passed by it out of fear of what would stare back. Maybe a ghost of her, or ink-black eyes, who knows? No matter what it could be, Heaven was pretty sure she wouldn’t like it.

Moreover, the need to flee from this ridiculous mansion had intensified lately. Arrow House’s walls had started to feel too suffocating for her to bear anymore. Sure, staying inside would drastically reduce her chance of getting shot by a bunch of fedora-wearing Italians, but the probability that she ended up dead and cold after bleeding herself dry increased day by day. That was why the killer doll paid no heed to Tommy’s rules and descended the stairs in silence. 

Once she had reached the back door, she pulled on a long black coat, laced up her boots, and slipped out into the vast garden, vanishing into the night, the thick fog swallowing her frail silhouette whole.

Heaven's legs automatically carried her to the mighty stables at the end of Arrow House’s garden. As much as she hated the mansion, the exteriors of it never failed to amaze her with its beauty and gargantuan size. Well, it wasn’t as impressive as the Alpine landscapes she was used to, but it still offered many places in which one could rob a fleeting moment of peace amidst some Shelby chaos.

After wandering for a while, the white creature had decided to keep a magnificent white mare, which was grazing near the stables company. The animal probably belonged to Tommy, taking into account that Charlies’ one was inside its stall.

Heaven ran her little hand along the mare’s mane and she shifted under her palm, asking for more rubs. The beast's reaction stirred a tired smirk that tugged on her lips. To be fair, she looked as ghostly as the angel with her shining white coat. 

Still stained with dry blood, Heaven's fingers moved in slow, tender strokes along the strong line of the beast’s neck to probe her reaction further. She seemed to trust her, which wasn’t particularly surprising. In fact, the angel always had a gift with animals, for lack of being good with humans.

Sometimes she wondered if she really was her mother’s daughter — Miss Lavey was known to be patient, empathic, and always smiling. Far away from the so-called Russian coldness people talked about.

And the more Hev thought about it, the more she came to the conclusion that she must have swallowed down all the darkness and somehow passed it on to her, drop by drop, like poison in a silver spoon.

A little sigh escaped the angel's juicy lips, slightly chapped by the cold. The creaking wood of the stable mixed with the warm scent of hay managed to soothe her restless mind a little. A well-deserved moment of quietness she knew wouldn’t last long, but that was still more than welcomed nonetheless. If only she could have slept there, curled up in a ball against the mare’s flank instead of rolling and tossing in her large bed in Arrow House Hev would have done it in a heartbeat.

The white-haired creature closed her eyes for a moment, letting the comforting melody of the wind and the leaves’ rustle play as she scratched the mare behind her ear. The living warmth beneath her palm and the sensation of the short-haired coat against her fingers kept her anchored as the winter air settled around her bones and numbed her pain.

 "So, are you happy?"

Heaven's eyes flashed wide open, as though she had been torn from a far-too-realistic dream. The air in the stable suddenly felt thinner, harder to breathe. 

It couldn’t… 

The hand that was resting on the horse tensed as each of her nerves burst back to life with a deadly combination of recognition, dread and longing.

"You're not real." The angel managed to reply, though her haunting voice was barely above a whisper.

"You didn't answer," the voice said softly, "Are you happy, Hev?"

She felt the unmistakable presence closing in behind her, as if he were rising from both the fog and the darkest corners of her mind. One of the mare’s ears twitched, as if she had heard him too.

“You’re not fucking here.” Heaven tried to be firm, but she was already faltering. In fact, her heart pounded in her ribcage as a familiar scent covered the musky hay. It was faint at first, but the more she tried to ignore it, the more persistent it became. A mix of myrrh and tonka, sweet and faintly smoky, that clung to the air around her. 

“You’re not—” The strength Hev needed to finish her sentence faded away, leaving the remaining words to die in her dry throat. As for that damn perfume, invasive and vivid,  it wrapped around her spine as though she had never managed to scrub it from her skin despite these last three years and sharing her bed with another man.

“You can keep pretending I’m gone for good if that makes you feel better, but we both know the truth.” His sultry voice vibrated through her body, shaking the killer doll to the marrow.

"You’re dead to me.” She spat, each word trembling with the effort it took to say them.

"And yet," He murmured and seemed to grow closer "I never left you."

Her stomach lurched like she'd just swallowed a whole broken glass, whose shards were slashing her from the inside. Heat flushed her face, but her limbs went cold, knees locking to keep from buckling. Surely, it couldn’t be happening right?

So why was her pulse thundering in her ears, panic rising fast, raw and feral? Why couldn’t she find the courage to turn around and make sure he was a fragment of her imagination?

Maybe because, deep down, she knew. Sheknew that some sick parts of her wanted to believe that he was really there.

“You never forgot me.” He added. 

A flock of birds burst out of the closest tree, swarming then flying away. 

“I tried to!” Heaven suddenly cracked.

It was too much. Silent tears of diamond rolled down her cold kissed cheeks.

“I tried my fucking best!” As the confession slipped from her sinful lips, a maelstrom of long-buried emotions crashed against her like a rogue wave. Heaven started to tremble, the ball of sadness growing in her throat. In a reflex, she pressed her forehead against the mare’s warm neck, eyes screwed shut as if to hold back a flood.

The mare moved gently beneath her and let out a low, sorrowful neigh that seemed to echo the angel's grief, as though it had bled into it.

"You did try." He replied. His tone was patient, but laced with the quiet, unbearable pain of a wound that refused to heal, ”you buried me alive and tried to build something new on top of our ruins… And now look at you, standing on your empire of lies. Are you sick of pretending?”

Every fiber of her coiled at the accusation, the bitter taste of guilt twisting her stomach.

“I thought…” Heaven gritted her teeth, swallowing back her sorrow with great difficulty even though her tears continued to flow endlessly, “I thought a clean start would do the trick. I thought putting as many miles as I could between us would be enough. Hell, I even married someone else but you’re still fucking here. Always. Like an infection too deep to be severed.”

A faint breeze blew in her long white mane, its moonlight strands fluttering in the wind. 

He was right. She had tried to outrun it, and here was the result after real life had caught up with her.

He spoke again after a brief silence. 

"Tell me, did you marry out of love?”  He asked, with words as sharp as a well-honed blade slid between her ribs, seeking to split her open and see the ugly truth that hid inside.  The voice was calm, but it didn’t keep Hev from feeling the corrosive burn of it, “Or was it because you couldn’t stand being alone with the version of yourself your evil, twisted, disgusting monster of a former fiancé left behind?”  He didn’t need to say me for the angel to know who he meant.

More tears rolled down her seraphic face, their salty drops dying in her neck and dampening the mare’s coat. It gently poked Heaven with her head, letting out a noisy sigh from her nostrils. 

“I was young. I was scared. And… what you did that night—” Her siren voice cracked, the confession feeling like razor blades in her throat. She had wished to keep blaming him for everything because it made things easier so hard, but the thought of him on the church’s floor, screaming in agony as he brought his hands to his maimed and bloody face flashed violently in her mind. Sure, he had tried to hurt her, but the guilt was here nonetheless, acrid and nauseating.

“I know,” he said, quieter than before but with the sharp edge of something that sounded dangerously close to regret. “I relive it every time I close my eyes.” 

Silence stretched for what seemed to be an eternity.

“Do you really think so low of me?”

The white-haired doll shut her eyes tighter, “It was the only way I could survive losing you.  I had to tear you apart in my head, piece by piece, ‘cause I knew I’d never get over you.“ Her breath hitched, tight chest heaving as something inside her snapped. Heaven gritted her teeth this time, finally giving up on her composure to burst into real tears. What was the point, anyway?  

“But I ruin everything, don’t I?” She spat, reopening her eyes wild and wet, a surprising boiling fury igniting through the cracks. Different from the angel's usual cold anger. Her fingers curled into a fist against the mare's side and, as she did, her wedding ring pressed into her flesh and seemed to cut deeper than the razor blade she had held one hour ago.  “Whether I mean to or not. Everyone I touch fucking dies or ends up shattered. That’s what I do, eh. I destroy. I rot things. And now look at me—” she couldn’t help but laugh without joy or humor, the sound of it indescribably filled with sarcasm, “still clinging to a ghost I never let go of.”

Heaven wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand, trying to breathe through the tightness in her chest as three years' worth of secrets finally came into light.

“You’re flickering, Light of my Life, like a flame in the wind, too tired to fight the night of Small Heath.” He murmured, but the resentment in his voice was gone now and replaced by tenderness. And somehow, his presence - this impossible fragment of him conjured by memory or madness, or both - didn’t scare her anymore.

Quite the contrary, it felt like a blanket wrapped around her trembling frame.

"Please, Amos, stop haunting me..." Hev's voice cracked, thin and fragile, like a thread pulled too tight.

“Stop haunting me too, then.” 

“Don’t start,” She warned, shaking her head weakly in a denial that lacked conviction.

The mare stirred beneath her again as she sensed the storm behind the ethereal woman's ribs.

 “Arthur is a good man, I don’t want to hurt him,” she murmured.

“He might be,” He said. “But you didn’t choose him. You ran to him.”

Heaven closed her eyes again, pressing her forehead against the mare’s side a little more as if it could shield her from the tempest raging within.

“Say it,” he whispered with the howling wind. “Say you never looked back. Say you don’t dream of me when it’s too quiet to lie to yourself.”

Her lips parted to deny, but no sound came. All that fell from her mouth was a shaky breath. Oh, Heaven tried to resist, to shove it down where all the other truths rotted, but she couldn't. Not anymore. 

“…I do,” She whispered, and the words felt like they tore straight through her chest.

“So come back to me, please.”

The sudden sensation of a tangible, warm hand touching her back tore her from the depths of her mind.

Jolting, Hev spun around in one quick movement, ready to unsheathe the knife she always hid in her garter.

Against all expectations, it wasn’t Amos that stood behind her but Tommy, half-shadowed by the fog that curled around his feet. The expression that was etched on his perfect freckled face was unreadable, eternally cool, save for the worries that burned bright in his piercing turquoise eyes.

“Are you alright?” He inquired with his hoarse voice, the thick brummie accent rolling on his tongue.

She blinked at him, looking confused as though she had just woken up from a feverish dream. His hypnotic gaze dropped to her thigh the moment a gust of wind blew her long dark coat out of the way.

“You’re bleeding.” He sounded concerned.

The killer doll looked down and noticed thin trails of crimson running down the inside of her thigh, soaking into the white fabric of her nightgown. The mare lowered her huge head to sniff it, visibly as worried as the Peaky Blinder Devil.

“It’s nothing.”  She retorted quickly as she tugged her coat around her, the memories of them almost fucking in the living room crawling back to her skull like a disgusting centipede.

It didn’t seem to convince him. Of course, she should have known that it wouldn’t be enough to push Tommy Shelby away. At least, he had the unexpected courtesy of not bringing up the fact she had been crying - quite hard to hide with her puffy red eyes and wet cheeks.

“It’s not nothing,” He stepped closer, slowly and carefully, as if his sister-in-law were a wounded animal too proud to limp. She took one step back as he did.

“Tell me what’s going on. You were talking to someone.” He growled, briefly surveying his surroundings to make sure no one was hiding beneath the stables but, sincerely, he doubted it.

“Oh.” Heaven sniffed and, for the first time in years when facing Tommy, her gaze fled from him and locked onto the far away distance, just above his shoulder, “It was just me talking to ghosts,” Her lips stretched in a humorless smile that definitely didn’t echo in her empty eyes, “Quite fitting for the diabolical witch I am, right, Thomas? You’ve come right in time for the sacrifice.” 

Tommy didn’t reply with any dry remarks, nor did he take advantage of the situation to hurt her more as he used to do. In fact, he only watched the angel in silence, his eyes narrowing at the sight of her trying to brush off the topic. The tension in his square jaw betrayed his genuine concern, and though he didn’t offer comfort, he might be the fittest person to understand how she felt. How couldn’t he when he lived in the same kind of haunted house, plagued by the memory of Grace that seemed to inhabit the very walls of the mansion? The blue-eyed demon let out a long sigh through his nostrils before shifting his focus from the white-haired girl.

He approached again, stopping only once he stood next to her little frame. Then, he began to stroke the mare for the beast had grown anxious due to her inner turmoil. Horses were quite empathic after all. He had barely touch the animal when calm settled in her again.

“What was his name?” Tommy finally asked, out of the blue.

“I’m sorry?”

“Your fiancé. What was his name?” He continued without looking at her, remembering what she had said just before her hands had wrapped around his neck.

I know the man you are because my former fiancé was cut from the same cloth. An egocentric criminal with bulging ambition, a far too high sense of self esteem and a greed beyond words. A man who dragged his loved ones down with him without even realizing it.

“No.” She replied, point blank. 

“No?”

“Don’t even fucking try.”  Heaven clenched her jaw.

Admittedly, she knew that Thomas Shelby had already done research about her past so, naturally, he probably tried to find out more about the man who used to share her life. It seemed like it had been in vain — not surprising when considering how well Amos handled the information that circulated about him.

His shoulders slouched down slightly as he side-eyed the ethereal doll, observing the tight line her mouth was forming. There was no way she'd talk about him to anyone. Especially Tommy. Not when the memory of him still clawed at her chest like a second heartbeat and that just pronouncing his name felt like a stabbing wound. So Hev did what she did the best: swallowing it down and letting it decay where no one could reach it. 

Tommy focused on the mare again, finding a bit of peace in the beast’s aesthetic and its similarities to his sister-in-law. All white and ghostly. 

“Do you know how to ride?”

The angem shrugged, “Yes, but it’s been a while.”

Tommy simply replied with a little hum before retreating into silence again. Here they both stood, petting the beautiful mare while the fog embraced them, like the Limbo’s mist calling two of its lost souls home. It was only after a while that he spoke again.

“You know… She haunts me the same.” He finally confessed, “Grace.” 

Her aquamarine eyes flicked to him, utterly surprised to hear the name leaving his mouth. One sole look at him was enough to notice how his jaw had tightened again. For a moment Tommy Shelby didn’t look like himself, but worn and far away as though not standing in the stable, but at the edge of a tunnel back in France.

“She didn’t frostburn like you do,” he continued, his gaze far off, “She was quieter. A calm strength that could move mountains. She had this way of looking at you… Like she already knew your worst, and loved you anyway. No flames. No storms. No shovels. Just peace.”

Somewhere behind him stood Arrow House bathed in darkness, the whole mansion a phantom of the bright, warm and full of life home it used to be when Grace walked around with baby Charlie in her arms.

Tommy blinked, trying to retrieve his composure, before reaching for a cigarette. As usual, he rolled the filter on his lower lips nervously and lit it with his zippo. Heaven had always found this little quirk of his kind of charming. The silver cigarette case was presented to her, open and inviting.

She thanked him with a little nod and took one, letting the Peaky demon light the tip. 

It was only after a few drags that her lips parted, “There are people you meet and you know. Not because they’re good for you. Not because they make sense. But because something in your soul remembers.” A bitter smile ghosted over her fleshy lips.

His eyes flicked to the angel briefly.

“That’s what Arthur is for you?” He asked, but the way the corner of his lips curled showed that he already knew the answer.

“Arthur’s a good man.” She repeated.

Tommy arched one of his brows.

“That wasn’t an answer.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Heaven admitted, her far-too-pale eyes fixed on the horizon as if Amos were standing somewhere in the mist, just out of reach.

“Why did you marry him then?” His voice held no resentment for once, just plain curiosity.

“Why do you fuck with all the girls you meet?” 

The question took him aback, she saw it in the way he had coughed right after his magnificent blue eyes widened a bit. To be fair, watching him almost choke on his cigarette smoke could have been comical in different circumstances.

“The answer to our questions is certainly the same, Thomas. Just to stop bleeding.”

Tommy sighed, watching the cigarette consuming itself between his calloused fingers as he took the bullet. He brought it to his mouth and said nothing, unable to do so. All he did was stand there, the smoke of the cigarette that was hanging from his perfect lips framing his face as though he had just walked out of hell. Then he nodded, accepting the bitter truth: his hated sister-in-law's pain was the reflection of his.

The mare gently nudged Hev's shoulder, and, instinctively, she reached up and stroked its face.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love your brother sincerely but..” She couldn’t finish the sentence for something monstrous crept slowly through her veins. Not a sudden jolt nor another storm of emotions like the one she had gone through before Tommy interrupted, but rather the quiet, creeping certainty that there was something definitely wrong inside of her. A rotten, twisted, beyond redemption thing.

Heaven still remember the night she met Arthur vividly. She had been singing in the silence of a candlelit church, letting her haunting voice rise like a prayer from the ruins of her soul. The enchanting lilt sounded as though it belonged to someone good. Someone holy. When Arthur Shelby stumbled in, bleeding, drunk and broken, she didn't ask any questions nor show fear, as the rest of Small Heath had done when facing the Peaky Blinders’ mad dog. On the contrary, the angel had simply gone to him and wiped the blood from his face with a torn piece of her own dress rinsed in holy water. Then she had cradled him like he was a fragile creature, not a ticking time bomb.

He had looked at her, dazed and teary.

Yer an Angel. I swear you are eh.

Oh God, how wrong he was.

She wasn't an angel and she had never been. Heaven was the abomination that had sung to mask the stench of blood that clung to her skin. The abomination that had murdered more than she could remember, stitched people together only to tear them apart when they got too close to what she kept buried beneath the surface ‘cause she couldn't afford them to know how fucking shallow, manipulative and twisted she could be.

Arthur had been so blinded by the light that he hadn’t noticed the shadows. A few crocodile tears and flutters of long lashes had done the trick to convince him further of her holiness. Of course, Hev had meant no harm to him. Her affection was sincere, it wasn’t just the same as she thought it would be. 

He thought of the so-called angel as a savior, but the truth was she couldn’t tell if she was truly able to save someone, or if she just dragged people down with her.

As for Tommy… He had seen through it from the very beginning. One of the first things Thomas Shelby had told her before strangling her the day of their first encounter was that he wouldn’t tolerate a witch and a murderer around his family, nor would he let her take advantage of Arthur and ruin him. At that time, Hev had bitten back. She had been sharp,and defiant as she retorted that it wasn’t her intention - and she didn't mean to lie. But now, with all the blood under her nails and the rot inside exposed as well as her marriage turning to shit, she slowly realized the ugly truth: little King Shelby was right from the start.

“Tommy?” The killer doll called, surprisingly softly.

“Hm?” He looked at her, curious. The way she sporadically called him by his nickname never failed to stir something in him.

“I know now.”  Hev murmured as a bitter, creepy but utterly tragic smile stretched the corner of her desirable lips “I see why we’ve always hated each other so much. What binds us. What pulled us together like two magnets.”

He straightened, throwing his cigarette away in the fog. It shot through the air in soft orange light. His strong jaw was still tense, all the muscles ticking beneath his skin and suddenly, his hand reached for the white Devil's face without any hesitation. His fingers, rough and cold, grabbed her chin between his thumb and index finger before tilting her face toward his. The scent of whiskey, cigarettes and expensive perfume rose all around her.

Heaven leaned into his touch softly, tenderly, and looked at him — really looked at him. In his turquoise eyes, she saw everything: the cold logic. The ruins. The grief that never healed. The habit of using sex to get whatever she wanted or dull the pain. The empire of lies and torn bodies. The blood. The self-loathing. The arrogance. Everything…

“So you finally admit that you fucking feel it,” He said without the shadow of a smile, but with a scorching intensity burning through his ice-cold eyes, the flames of hell dancing in his dark pupils and licking the edge of it.

The white-haired creature nodded slowly, and as she did, mask cracked… Then shattered. It fell to the forest ground and splintered into a thousand jagged pieces. 

His hand didn’t move. His eyes didn’t blink. But the electricity between them crackled again, like the charge of thunder before it breaks.

“Enlighten me then, ey…” he rasped, almost like a dare, with his hoarse voice making the world quake around them.

Heaven inhaled sharply, the wind whipping her long white hair across her seraphic face. It tangled across her cheeks, veiled her eyes in long streaks of ivory, bringing out the ethereal sharpness and perfect, inhuman symmetry of her features. Arthur's wife's beauty was too flawless to offer comfort. Too pristine to be trusted. Tommy stared at her, unblinking, because he knew — he had always known that face didn’t belong to something holy.

No, it belonged to nightmares.

When the white Devil spoke again, the forest fell silent around them.

“That’s the thing about monsters,” She said, her siren voice mingling into the howling wind like a spell, “they always recognize their own.”

And for a second, just one, they both stood there like mirrors. No more lies, no more pride nor walls of ice built high around their hearts.  Just two fractured reflections in the same cracked glass, splintered differently, but born of the same mess.

It wasn’t Amos she had hated in him.

It was herself.

Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @esposadomd @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia0082 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastic @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @kishie8 @zablife @alexandra-001 @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @peakyswritings @peakyltd @chaosinkest1996@vanhelsingsbigtoe @cherubswhispers @lokigirlszendaya @justrainandcoffee @mischievouslittlecreature @jjovin3221 @randomcreator-09@weepingdreammarvel @meadowshelby @evita-shelby

[on-a-lucky-tide]

I wanted to ask if you had any tips on how to make British characters more "believable" (writing accent, slang, etc), since i absolutely adore the way you write your fanfics

English is my second language so I'm already having a hard time with writing but I'd like to improve :)

Ahh, thanks, bud. I'm glad you like it. Firstly, amazing that you write in a different language. I'm in awe. Secondly, my secret is literally being British, I'm afraid; yes, it's a source of great distress. I do a lot of people watching in my day to day life as well, and I'm a bit of a social chameleon in that I can "try on" different presentations to best fly under the radar. Something something survival technique. And I'm not a formally trained writer, so I tend to write how I speak. I use parts of myself to inform the characters (e.g., my Soap is the worst parts of me dressed up in a Scottish accent, asdfg.)

But, if I were to recommend a strategy to get to grips with a range of British accents and dialects? Procedural crime dramas. I know it's copganda, but hear me out.

They're often deliberately close to "average life" because the writers are aiming for gritty realism. You have everything from the posh bird with that box fringe haircut storming out a court room saying, "for fuck's sake, Bradley, I thought you briefed the fucking witness" in the most clipped southern accent while she lights a fag to David Tennant storming around moodily in Broadchurch. You've got more genre shit like Inspector George Gently, Life on Mars, Midsummer Murders, which are a bit more quirky and distanced, but they have Scouse, Mancunian, Newcastle, Bristol, Wales, etc.

As you watch, imitate them. Write out their speech patterns on your notepad to see what letters they drop, how they use connectives, like... I'm studying the Yorkshire accent at the moment. They drop/change "the" and "h" quite a lot; put wood in t'ole -> put wood in the hole -> shut the door. Yorkshire is also part of the Danelaw, and you can see it in their turns of phrase: 'tek n'gorm" -> ignore him or her, as in, take no notice. Gorm comes from the Old Norse 'gaum' meaning 'heed'. It's also the origin of the northern word 'gormless' which describes someone who doesn't pay attention or is stupid/thick.

[twst-drabbles]

Leona 29

Summary: Winter is here and you light up the fireplace. Leona, ever the seeker for warmth. crawls into your blanket, and then eventually your hand.

(You all don't mind if I suddenly release a lot of depressive piece do you? I've been stuck in that state of mind for a while with there being trouble at home, and trouble with the home itself my fucking god it's falling apart…we still don't have hot water. Anyway, warnings about that, the Caretaker is going to be suffering with me.)

While you can't say you looked forward to winter, at least not actively, there is at least one thing you liked about it: the excuse to turn on the fireplace. Everything else about it is just a chain of inconveniences. Stored close early, hiking paths become dangerous ice slopes, your heater struggling to keep your poorly insulated house warm, and that's not getting into your shoddy electrical wiring that you still haven't gotten fixed.

All this to say that while you like lighting the fire in the fireplace, and watching that bright hearth burn, it dawns on you that it's starting to become a necessity. And when you have to do something rather than choosing to do so, it soils the fun.

So when you finally had everything set up, wood in the grate, excess to the side and starters at hand, whatever minute joy you had simmering was suddenly sapped.

…well, at least you have your blanket here on the floor. Your food can wait. You're really not in the mood for cooking and washing pots and pans. And ready-made dinners sound just awful right now. It also doesn't help that you haven't cleaned your fridge in a while, so all leftovers will have that disgusting fridge taste. And dry food? You haven't gotten any. You never bothered.

It's fine, it's fine. Just start the fire.

You sighed, tossed the starter in and torched it.

The fire was lit and the wood burned. A reaction that, if you were stupid and careless enough, could very well consume you and your entire house along with it. Fire wouldn't care, and you probably wouldn't care as well. All that's needed is a little ember and suddenly, whoosh. And then you're gone. Well, it wouldn't be as quick as that, now would it?

Would it be painful? Yes, but you've heard that, once all the nerves die, it becomes nothing. And when excruciating pain suddenly stops, that's when bliss sets in. The 'nothing' suddenly becomes something. Sucks that that phase is still something you have to work towards, to endure, for a very short-lived and not very fulfilling reward.

So you grab the poker and shove the tossed logs of wood deeper into the fireplace. And because you can practically feel Crowley pulling at your ear if you didn't, you placed the fireplace screen just as the wood gave a loud pop and spat out a spark.

You jumped, dropped the screen and covered your ears at the metallic clattering. Everything's just too… not loud, not ear-piercing, just… it's too much. And it's frustrating, annoying, all on top of all this nothing you've been stuck in.

The wood didn't do anything, neither did the fire, but you slammed the screen right in front like that'll teach it a lesson.

It was dumb, unneeded. Accomplishes nothing really, other than making you feel a vague sense of frustration that at least distracts you from your appetite-less hunger. But that's it. The wood crackles again, it spits out more sparks, and you're now just sitting there. Waiting. Watching. Because that's about the only thing you can do right now. No energy for anything else.

Something rustled the folds of the blanket right by your hand. It was small, and familiar. You knew who it was. You reached out and lightly tap the moving swell.

It stopped, huffed, then shuffled it's way to the nearest edge.

Leona's face popped out, eyes just the slightest bit annoyed, as if you somehow ruined his day.

"Hey," you couldn't muster a smile but you kept your tone light, just so he wouldn't think he's in trouble.

Leona looked as bored as ever as he tilted his head. When it's clear he wasn't going to move out of the blankets anytime soon, you turned back towards the fire. It's about the only source of light in this room. You have lamps, both battery and oil, but it's too much trouble. You're comfortable here anyways.

Something cold nudged at your fingers. You glanced down and watched as Leona pried your hand open and stuff his whole body into your palm. He looked less grumpy and more sleepy. You couldn't exactly deny him your hand when he looked like that.

He curled up and you loosely closed your fingers around him.

This is nice. This is alright.

…you're in a mood for a little snack. Something light would be best.

[hellaarknight]

I promised to protect you

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Genre: Angst

Warnings: swearing and mention of physical and psychological abuse, toxic relationship, mentions of bruises and about laying hands on a partner, some of the content may be triggering.

Author note: I would consider this a heavy fic for some. Do not engage if you think it might be triggering.

Images and art from Pinterest if someone knows the original creators let me know so I can tag them properly

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

" Well he's not always this bad, he's ok..."

Your weak attempt to defend your shity boyfriend only made Chuuya angrier. Why would you let yourself be in the company of that awful guy, he could never understand. You were bright and nice, powerful and determined and yet you got yourself a... A leech. No, it was worse but he was being generous while describing that abomination of a man... That guy had deemed your light in the past 6 months he's dated you and Chuuya hates himself for allowing you to get with him in the first place.

"Are you even listening to yourself right now?" Chuuya extended towards you a glass of wine.

"Listen Chuuya, I know he's not the man I've dreamed of and doesn't have all the qualities I've wanted my partner to have, but I also have to compromise on some things."

"Not on your dignity."

Your gaze fell on the floor a deep sight leaving your lips. Chuuya ran a hand through his hair, very frustrated. He didn't want to say it like that, but he had enough of seeing you suffer, seeing you renounce your hobbies because that guy deemed them "childish" or seeing you lose your spark when talking about what brought you joy just because your boyfriend found them boring. He knew you were smart, always talked about how you will never lose yourself in a relationship so he didn't really understand why and how you got to this point. Chuuya fell in love with you, but couldn't tell you because of his mafia position and him being away for missions a lot, or work trips how he called them in front of you. Then, when he decided he had to come forward and let you decide if you wanted to give him a chance with all that it would have entailed, he was a month too late. He returned from one long, painful mission and found you in a relationship, one that he despised wholeheartedly, so he chose to remain your trusted friend.

"Listen, I didn't want to say it like that...."

"No, that's not true, you did want to say it exactly like that". Your voice was on the verge of cracking. Something bottled up was about to spill if you weren't careful enough and Chuuya noticed it. The man groaned and took a sip of his wine. Maybe it was time to be honest about it.

" Fine. It's exactly like that. Since you started dating that douchebag you lost yourself. All the things you promised not to compromise on in a relationship happened. You lost your bright personality, you stopped rambling about books, anime and flowers. Hell, you even stopped gardening and that was your therapy. You asked me to stop bringing you flower bulbs from all over the places I go on my work trips and you stopped hanging out with me or your other friends. You stopped wearing your signature perfume and your red lipstick you were so fond of. So I'm sorry, but you're not in a fucking healty relationship! And you're defending that stupid fuck who doesn't do anything with his life and stays at your place, without paying any fucking bill! You left yourself to be a mat for that guy, what is wrong with you!?"

You looked at Chuuya stunned. It seemed that the red head had a lot bottled up as well. For some reason his words stung and made you feel worse. He was right and you fully knew it, but you just couldn't let him know... You could not put him in danger.

Chuuya was deeply unaware of your internal struggles. He only knew what he was seeing and what you were letting him know lately, which wasn't a lot that's for sure. He felt relieved to have finally spoken his mind. At the same time, guilt was eating him alive. This was the first time he raised his voice at you in a serious manner, but he couldn't control it, his anger towards the entire situation had the best on him. You looked frightened to say at least and he could swear that he saw you flinch when he was using his hands to express his thoughts.

Something about your crunched posture, your fidgeting fingers, the way you looked very exhausted made him open his mouth.

"Does he hit you?"

Why didn't it cross his mind sooner? What if you were in an abusive relationship? Your boyfriend's controlling behavior was concerning enough, but if it was worse than he imagined and all this time he blamed you for not keeping your ground? A pit formed in his stomach, he was going to be sick.

"What?? What, no... Is not really like that." You avoided Chuuya's scrutinizing gaze and forced a smile.

He gently reached for your chin and turned your head to face him. His voice was soft, barely a whisper, his gentleness making your heart flutter. Was his calloused hand always this comforting?

"Please, please if anything don't lie to me, especially with things like this. I promised you that I will protect you no matter what, remember?"

"I can't" you shake your head "If I'm telling you everything you're going to act impulsively. He's going to hurt you, he said you'd be the first one to suffer, I'm sorry, I can't..." At this point your cheeks were stained by your tears, your hand cupping his near your face.

Chuuya's heart broke at the sight. It was pitiful, he blamed himself for it. If only he wasn't a coward when it came to feelings. He swore to himself that he'd keep you safe from the mafia world, but that did not mean that in other circumstances he wouldn't be there for you. With his thumb he wiped your tears away.

" I am not going to get hurt, I promise you. There isn't any chance for him to lay hand on me. Don't hide yourself from me anymore, please. You're hurting and it's killing me to see you like this."

Chuuya felt as close to you as ever. Even if you kept your distance from him in the last few months, even if you tried your best to hide the hell you were going to. So you just broke down crying.

Chuuya was quick to pull you towards his chest, wrapping his hand protectively around you. He caressed your back and gave you space to let it all out. He was hurting with you, he hated to see you cry, let alone seeing how broken and hurt you were. He felt like the wall that rose between the two of you had finally collapsed.

" Is ok, is ok, you're going to be okay. I'm here now, you're safe, no one is going to hurt you here, I'll make sure of it. You are safe sweetheart, you're safe." He kept whispering sweet nothings and encouragement words until you got to calm down a bit. He used his gravity manipulation powers to bring closer the tissues and then handed you one.

" You' sure you're ok?" Your nod made him feel at ease, at least for a moment. Then he just grabbed one of your hands and intertwined his fingers with yours, squeezing lightly, silently encouraging you to talk.

" I want you to pinky promise that you won't do anything stupid." Your glossy eyes made Chuuya chuckle.

" You know very well that I can't promise something like that, doll. I'm gn'a promise that I won't get hurt, that I can do."

Your glare only made him raise his shoulder, but that will have to do.

" He... He may or may not have raised his hands at me. I definitely do have some bruises over my body, but they appeared from what he calls accidents. I tripped, or I fell into the chairs from the kitchen but he pushed me..." Chuuya silently listened, his blood boiling in his veins. He was ready to hunt the bastard down and bring him into the Port Mafia's torture chambers.

" ... and I kept all this to myself because he's a member in the mafia and said that he would put you on their killing list if I said anything to anyone so I was scared..."

" WHAT!?" Chuuya couldn't believe what he was hearing, your boyfriend was a what and did what? It was like his worst nightmare came to life but in a very twisted way. That was not plausible, the members in the mafia know very well the consequences of using their status to commit shit like this. Unless it was about some weakling, a newbie who got the hands on a bit of power and now thought nothing would touch him. What the fuck happened?

" I know, I know, it was very dumb of me to stay in the relationship, but I was really scared for you and for my family..."

" No, no, that's not it. Tell me his name and what he told you about being in the Mafia. That motherfucker is about to lose his head."

"Chuuya, you promised that you're not going to do anything stupid!"

"No, doll. I promised that I won't get hurt. But that isn't why I'm saying it. The guy can't use his mafia status however he pleases. There are certain rules even in the Mafia."

You looked at him confused.

" How would you know?"

Chuuya inhaled deeply. It was time to come clean with everything.

" Because I'm an executive in the Mafia and I can guarantee that the motherfucker you're dating isn't going to go about his day and live to tell the tale. I'm sorry, I'm going to explain everything afterwards, I promise. He's at your apartment?"

You were so confused, not really registering what he was saying so you just nodded.

" You stay right here until I come back. Go take a shower, take a bath, go in my office and read a book or you can find some manga collections that I have previously prepared in case you happened to stay here. You can find pajamas for you in the guest room. I'll be back later."

" Where are you going?"

Chuuya smiled and placed a kiss on your forehead.

" I'm going to show that bastard what it actually means to be in the Mafia."

[sashaisready]

Feel The Burn: Chapter 1

Lance Tucker x Reader | Destroyer!Chris x Reader

Series Masterlist

Your casual situationship with notorious flirt Lance Tucker comes to a shocking head at a party, fortunately the mysterious stranger you meet that same night is more than happy to help take your mind off it.

Wordcount: Approx 4.3k

Me again! I've never written for Lance but felt inspired by the wonderful @nickfowlerrr and her recent Lance fic (it's great, go check it out!) Expecting lots of angst, smut and drama cos you know I love that. Warnings for Lance being a dickwad. Also my first Destroyer!Chris attempt so let's see how we go. As always - reblogs and comments mean the world!

🥇

He’d snuck out before you had woken up.

The little shit.

You knew it shouldn’t be a surprise…but it still stung regardless.

You weren’t stupid. You knew your ‘arrangement’ with Lance was a casual one – no labels, no expectations, no exclusivity. You’d both been transparent about that, and you weren’t exactly looking to lock into anything serious at the moment – between work, friends, family and general surviving, you only really had time and headspace for fun and stress release.

Lance was the perfect candidate for that. Between his personal trainer role job and coaching on the side, he was just as busy as you were. He was also fun and wanted to keep things light, he didn’t put demands on your time and didn’t ask for more than you were willing to give.

He was also an asshole. Which helped keep the boundaries and lines clear.

You’d met at a bar a few months prior. He’d sent over a cocktail via the bartender, and you were rolling your eyes at the cheesy gesture from the guy who appeared to be wearing what looked like a bright red Olympics jacket at the dive bar. But then he came over, and you were surprised at how disarming his stupid smile was, and how easily he made your friends laugh. And then suddenly you were laughing along with them.

He was cute, you’d give him that. Big blue eyes swimming with mischief, a permanent smirk tattooed across his face. Carefully coiffed hazelnut hair that you just instinctively knew had to be perfect before he left the house.

A walking red flag.

Literally too, with that jacket.

You ended up chatting deep into the evening, your friends moving onto the club while you chose to stay with your new buddy. You found out he was a former Olympic gold winning gymnast turned personal trainer and gymnastics coach, which sounded so fake that you laughed out loud at the outrageous claim – until he smugly made you google him on your phone…

…Touché.

Your job wasn’t quite as impressive, but he did seem interested in the fact you owned your own coffee shop downtown. He’s big into the whole self-made thing.

He was cocky and arrogant; you rolled your eyes constantly and groaned at all his jokes all evening. He was everything you’d normally avoid in a man, yet you were strangely captivated by him. There seemed to be a self-awareness to him that intrigued you, as if he knew how awful he was and leaned into it with a knowing wink. At least he was upfront about his assholery, so many men you knew hid theirs until you’d fallen into the deep.

Of course you ended up back at his place, practically falling through the door as he kissed you feverishly, his hands all over you as if he couldn’t get enough – tugging your clothes off before he’d even closed the front door behind him. He spread you out across his couch and ate you out like a starving man, you were shocked at how quickly and how hard he made you come. Men like him often only talked the talk, so you were genuinely caught off guard that he could also walk the walk.

You’d giggled at the utter ridiculousness of the tattoo across his crotch after he’d removed his boxers, the fuzzy haze from your orgasm giving way to clarity as the ludicrous medal image snapped everything back to focus. What the fuck were you doing here??

But he was unperturbed, laughing along with you and shrugging off your reaction – surely, he must be the cockiest man on the planet. “I earned it,” he grinned wickedly, pulling you into him.

His touch was dizzying. He knew exactly how to hold you, how to feel you, how to push you to let go. You were initially conscious of your softer body compared to his rock-hard abs, you didn’t exactly have a gymnast body yourself - but he looked at you unashamedly – circling every inch, tracing every curve. He’d eyed you hungrily, helping himself to you as if you were the tastiest buffet he’d ever had. If you covered your tummy with your hand he’d rip it away, leaving no part of you hidden from him.

It was intoxicating.

And god, the stamina. The flexibility. You lost count of the positions he’d twist you into, effortlessly coaxing your figure into shapes and angles you didn’t even know you were capable of. Never too far, never leaving you uncomfortable for long – or you’d just be too euphoric to notice. Something just clicked with the two of you physically, your bodies fit together as if they’d been designed that way. If your body was a song, he hit every note.

You’d never experienced anything like it.

That was a few months ago and you were unable to fully disentangle yourself from him. What you had intended to be a one-night thing had spread into many nights. Texts. Filthy FaceTime calls. Meeting each other after nights out with respective friends. One of his buddies even began dating one of yours, so you find yourself in the same spots more and more regularly. You were very different people – he was loud and brash, you were more shy and reserved. He would talk the ear off anyone who’d chat to him, you’d quietly listen and observe the conversation. Nobody would have ever put you two together, and your friends were slightly baffled by the arrangement – but they just wanted you to enjoy yourself.

Every time you said you’d wean yourself off him, he’d pop up on your phone and it would be back to square one again.

You knew he was toxic, you knew he was bad, but you couldn’t help yourself. Your brain switched off when you were with him, no anxiety, no insecurities – just enjoying the moment, lost in your pleasure. Nobody had ever made your feel like that in the bedroom, or outside of it either, he was an addiction your body couldn’t curb. He was the bag of candy you knew was in the cupboard and couldn’t resist sneaking the occasional piece.

…You just had to be careful not to binge the whole thing.

All you’d ever asked from him was respect. You may have just been casual, but you wanted to be treated decently – no degradation or meanness unless you’d specifically requested for it in bed (and sometimes you had), no ditching once you’d agreed to meet, no asking anything too personal about each other’s lives. Sure, you were always mouthing off to each other, but it was infused with fun and banter – never cruel, never unkind.

Just because this was casual didn’t mean you should treat each other like dirt.

Sometimes you stayed over at each other’s places, you both enjoyed a post-coital cuddle – even if neither of you had ever said it aloud. You often ended up sleeping on his chest, hearing his breathing deepen as he absent-mindedly played with your hair. Or you’d shower together, and he’d carefully clean you up, the one time the wise cracks were muted as he washed your body and stood with you under the water, holding you against him. Sometimes you’d just stay up late talking, laughing into the night. As wrong as he was for you, he was also easy to be around. You didn’t need to put on a show or performance for him, maybe because you had never really felt the need to impress him. It took the pressure off.

If you didn’t know any better, the altogether picture might look like something resembling tenderness (but you did know better).

Leaning over this morning and seeing him gone felt like a surprising shot in the gut.

He knew full well you were a light sleeper, he’d accidentally woken you up numerous times at your many sleepovers during late-night bathroom trips or bumping against you after rolling over. He was very used to the angry pillow thrown in his direction as you groaned at the interruption and snuggled back into the sheets or allowed him to tug you back into his arms.

But this morning…He must’ve put his training to good use and crawled out of bed like Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible, carefully dodging the creaky floorboards in your bedroom like lasers and collecting his clothes at the same volume as a gnat's hiccup.

You frowned, not liking that.

It’s not like you wanted him to hang around. You had to go to the shop anyway. But normally he slept in with you, sometimes getting up before you to make you both coffee, or on rare occasions getting something started for breakfast. Ever the committed coach and former athlete, he often liked a detailed ‘debrief’ of the previous night’s performances – with focus on high points, and areas to develop and work on. Yes, really. He took it very seriously and wanted to be top of his game. Which only really benefited you in the long run, as farcical as the whole ritual was.

You knew his schedule, you knew he didn’t have any sessions booked at this time. Him sneaking off just felt…wrong. Rude, somehow. Like he’d got what he needed from you so felt no need to keep up niceties or courtesy, even though that’s always how this thing had worked.

You glanced at your phone. A message from Kat but nothing else. You checked your text thread with Lance – nothing except the ‘you up, Cupcake? 🧁’ text and selfie he’d sent you last night before you’d arranged for him to come by. Hmm.

Fine. Whatever. Unusual, but shit happens – maybe it was just a one-off. You shrugged it off, despite the faint pang of anxiety it left in your stomach.

You fired off a quick text to him, “nice disappearing act, Tucker. You must’ve pulled a muscle with all that stealth”.

You watched the screen and saw that immediately the little bubbles appeared to show he was typing. They hovered for a few seconds, then disappeared, then started again…only to disappear once more. Huh. Weird. Not like him to ignore a jibe like that. Oh well. Maybe he was in the middle of something.

You put it to the back of your mind and got ready for work, heading over to the coffee shop. Marina had opened that morning so you joined her behind the register, greeting her cheerily and asking about her day so far. You did a quick scan of the shop – a few regulars had piled in, but it wasn’t too busy yet. You threw yourself into your normal tasks – helping with customers, wiping down tables, checking inventory, doing some accounts in the back office. All very normal. You soon forgot about Lance and the unusual start to the morning, getting into full work mode. Filter and Foam Café was your baby, your life. It hadn’t been easy to get the business up and running, you started out with a second-hand espresso machine and a cart, then built your customer base brick by brick until you could eventually afford to lease a premises and hire a small team. It was the result of endless long hours and hard graft, but it had paid off. Maybe your business degree had been worth the money, after all.

You felt at home here with your regulars and your staff, life was hard for many, and you were never going to cure cancer or broker world peace – but if you could brighten someone’s day with a decent cup of coffee and a nice pastry, that was something at least. There were lesser contributions to life.

You took a break and checked your phone. Nothing from Lance, unusually, but you replied to Kat’s message from this morning. She was reminding you about her party at the weekend, asking you to bring a bottle. Kat was dating Lance’s friend, Matt, and they were throwing their first joint-party at their new place together. It was cute.

If all else failed, you could berate Lance for his radio silence when you got to the party.

The week rolled on. Still no word from Lance, which was strange as he normally replied to your messages quickly, but it also wasn’t unusual for one/both of you to vanish for a little while if you had a lot going on. You weren’t worried, and you weren’t the type to be obsessively checking your phone. A tiny voice at the back of your head told you that something felt off, but you easily smothered it. The whole point of your arrangement with Lance was to avoid stress and drama, so you wouldn’t entertain anything else.

Friday night came around. Marina was closing which meant you could leave the shop early to go get ready. You settled on a black dress you were fond of, not too showy, not too frumpy, but hugged your figure nicely. You threw on a pair of comfortable heels and did your hair and make-up how you liked, grabbing a taxi to Kat’s place with the requested bottle and feeling excited about spending some time with your friends – even if parties weren’t your scene.

As you walked in the party was in full swing. Kat rushed over to you excitedly and thrust a cocktail in your hand as she gabbled about the new place – giving you a mini tour. Matt chimed in where he could and you grinned at their dynamic – Kat the whirlwind of chaos, Matt the calming breeze. It worked. It was charming to witness, they’d moved fast - but anyone could see how much they meant to each other. Kat and Matt, even their names worked together.

As you moved through the house with them you recognised most of the faces dotted throughout the party, waving and promising to catch up with some of them after you had finished the home tour. You noted you hadn’t seen Lance, but no doubt he would be making himself known sooner or later.

An hour later you were perching on the arm of the sofa, giggling along with Kat as she regaled Matt and some of your friends with a notorious anecdote from your college days.

“I just can’t believe you did it!” Kat squealed with laughter as she playfully knocked your arm, “and here was me thinking I was brave!”

“Well in my defence, he did cheat on one of our best friends…and it was unlucky for him that I still had all that chicken feed after the farm volunteering day,” you grinned, slightly awkwardly as you’re not always comfortable holding court like this. “But hey, it wasn’t like he couldn’t get the bird crap off of his car after they’d finished eating…”

The group all laughed raucously but your eyes were drawn to someone watching you from across the living room. You sipped from your glass as Lance observed you carefully. His expression was strangely unreadable, not giving you the knowing grin he usually flashed when you locked eyes. He wore dark jeans and a nice navy button-down, no sign of the ubiquitous Team USA jackets this evening.

He made his way over to the group you were talking to, Matt greeted him enthusiastically and they did their buddy fist bump thing they often did. He said hello to the other members of the gathering then gave you a curt nod.

“Cupcake”.

“Tuck”, you responded with your own nod.

The group exchanged knowing glances. Your friends were very aware of the unconventional nature of yours and Lance’s ‘friendship’.

He joins in the conversation effortlessly, much easier than you, flowing and diving in with jokes like he’d been standing there all evening. When separate discussions broke off and formed within smaller groups, you took the opportunity to freshen your drink in the kitchen.

“What’s up with you two?” someone hissed.

You looked up from your glass as Kat slithered around the door, checking over her shoulder to ensure you were alone.

“What? With who?” you wrinkled your nose.

“Don’t play dumb! You and Lance! What’s the latest?” your friend pestered, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

You laughed, “oh, stop. Nothing. You know it’s just a physical thing…”

“Yeah, whatever,” she rolled her eyes. “I’ve seen the way you look at each other. Having your weird silent conversations with your eyes. When are you going to wake up and realise that you’re basically dating at this point??”

You huffed in protest but she persisted.

“I’m serious, babe, you know Matt said recently that he hasn’t seen Lance with any other girls for a while now…”

You were surprised by that. You and Lance had never been exclusive, but also had the manners not to discuss anyone else with each other. You’d had the occasional date but nothing much, and based on his aggressive flirting had just assumed he had a steady roster of women in his life (although sometimes you weren’t sure how he’d fit them in based on how frequently you saw him).

But you shook it off. You weren’t naïve enough to think someone as greedy as Lance Tucker would be satisfied with only one girl in his life.

You scoffed in response, “oh come on Kat. It’s not like that…it’s just fun. Besides, he snuck out of my apartment earlier this week and then didn’t respond to my text. Hardly boyfriend behaviour…”

“What? That little…want me to beat his ass?”

“I’d love to see that. But no, I’m good. Thank-you,” you chuckled, Kat was 5’1” – any ass kicking she did would be a sight to see. But you knew full well she could handle it, if she wanted to badly enough.

“I’m not letting him treat you like shit…you know that…” she warned as she squeezed your shoulders.

“I do, Kat,” you smiled, “but you know I’m not letting him do that, either”.

She nodded and grimaced, but that seemed to put her mind at rest.

As if summoned, Lance entered the kitchen a second later, making his way over to the rows of bottles to make himself a drink. Kat was being called back into the living room by a loudly drunk partygoer, she rushed out and shrieked an apology to you as she flew out of the door.

“Fuck, Marcy, not the vase!” you heard her cry out as she vanished.

You laughed at her disarray and finished pouring your own drink.

“So, what’s up with you, Tuck?” you asked Lance as you took a sip.

You watched as he made his gin and slimline tonic – always health-conscious, of course.

He shrugged, “what? Nothing. I’m good,” he said blankly without looking up.

“Right…well why did you sneak out the other day? That’s not like you,” you asked casually, “you’d never normally miss a debrief, and sneaking isn’t really your thing,” you laughed good-naturedly, “louder and prouder, in my experience”.

He shrugged again, “I had to run. Sorry”.

His voice was flat, with none of his usual vigour or mirth. It was…weird.

“Oh, okay. Well…you could’ve said bye. But no biggie. I just thought it was weird you didn’t text me back, so thought I’d check you were okay. All good? Gymnast emergency?” you joked.

“Nope,” he shot back – his tone contained none of the lightness that yours did. “And would you just get off my back, already?”

“Jesus, okay,” you frowned, surprised at his reaction. This wasn’t like him at all. “I was just playing…it wasn’t like you-”.

Suddenly he slammed his glass down, it rattled as it hit the counter, “Fucking christ – just drop it, would ya? Needling away at me…I’m not your fucking boyfriend, alright?”

You flinched, completely caught off guard by his vitriol. This wasn’t Lance, this wasn’t the usual dynamic, normally you bantered back and forth and teased each other. He was often crass, but never…mean.

You didn’t speak for a moment, scrambling for words as your brain tried to compute what had just happened.

“I didn’t say you were…” you mumbled.

“Do this, do that, let’s have coffee, don’t sneak out, blah blah blah. I mean what, are you my fucking wife or something?” he spat venomously.

He looked up at you with anger in his eyes, a look you’d never seen in them before.

“No…Lance, I’m just messing around…”

“Are you? Because it feels like you’re suffocating me here”.

You scoffed in disbelief, “what? How? Because I asked you why you snuck out of my apartment?! Because it’s something you’ve never done before. And then I dared to texted you once about it? Hardly a fucking marriage proposal!”

“I don’t need to tell you where I am every fuckin’ minute of the day…”

“I’m not asking you to, fuck! I just think it’s shitty to sneak out like that. You could’ve just told me you were going! Or sent a text or something, damn! It’s pretty basic decency! Like having to acknowledge me before you leave is that strenuous…”

Both of you were yelling now, fortunately drowned out by the blaring music from the living room, the party obliviously continuing in full swing as you two of you exchanged barbs across the kitchen.

After some time going around in circles, he eventually sighed, taking a deep breath as he placed his palms flat on the kitchen counter. His voice now lowered.

“Look…I thought we were on the same page about this. It’s just fun…just messing around. We aren’t a thing, you and me”.

“I know,” you scowled. “I’m very aware. But I don’t think it’s unreasonable to ask that you treat me with a degree of respect…We can have fun and be casual without contempt for each other. Sneaking out and then ignoring me…then acting like I’m the asshole for bringing it up…that’s just…”

“All of it…the coffee…the showers…the sleepovers. It’s just gone a little too far,” he sighed. “Cupcake I…”

You blinked at him, bewildered.

He continued, his voice was soft, as if approaching you like you were a frightened deer, “you’re a great fuck, alright? But that’s it. I can get it from 10 other girls in my phone, if I want. You’re cute, you’re funny, but you’re also a means to an end. You get my dick wet, and you’re good at it. Damn good. You make me so hard I can’t see straight. But I also don’t need you interrogating me about my business. Got it?”

You were shocked by his reaction and the callousness of his words…and the pang of hurt that radiated in your chest.

But more so you were angry. Angry at how he’d blown up out of nowhere, angry at his cavalier approach to all of this, angry at his patronising tone, angry at him for trying to talk you down like you were some kind of idiot. Acting as if he could say whatever he liked as long as he did it in a soothing tone. Like you were some kind of besotted lovesick pup he pitied and needed to let down gently.

Asshole.

You glowered at him so hard he actually leaned back a little, the arrogance in his eyes suddenly dulling in response.

“Cupcake, look, I’m sorry…that was-” he started, moving towards you.

“Oh save it, Lance!” you shot back furiously, shoving him away as he advanced towards you.

“Cupcake…I’m sorry-”

“And don’t call me that!”

“Okay, sorry, look, I was out of line…really…” he said gently.

Great. Pity. That was somehow worse.

You wished you had some witty retort for him, some clever insult to stop him in his tracks and put him in his place. But your rage paralysed any potential wit you may have been capable of.

“Tell it to one of the other 10 girls in your phone. Fuck this…and fuck you too!” you told him through gritted teeth.

That would have to do.

You downed your drink and stormed out of the kitchen. He was hot on your heels, telling you not to be like this and just to take a second but you could barely hear him over your own anger. You did a quick scan of the room but couldn’t see Kat, doing your best to ignore the stares from other partygoers as your newly found shadow tried to stop you from leaving. Some of your other friends were calling your name but you couldn’t bear to speak to anyone.

“Cupcake…hey, wait up,” Lance pleaded, cupping your shoulder.

“Just…leave me alone,” you hissed and wriggled his arm off you. You hope he didn't notice the slight crack in your voice.

He relented, letting out a low exhale and sheepishly shoving his hands in his pockets. You turned away from him, quickly grabbing your coat from the large pile in the hallway, leaving the house as fast as your feet could carry you.

You were trembling as the cold outside air hit you, not quite sure what had just happened. Your face felt hot and flushed with humiliation as you stood uselessly on the porch.

You somehow managed to quickly fire off an apology text to Kat saying you’d left. No doubt she’d be blowing up your phone imminently after the partygoers filled her in on all the drama. You suddenly felt immense guilt for making her big night all about you.

“Motherfucker!” you said aloud into the night.

“What did I do?” replied a smooth voice.

You flinched, confused until a man stepped out from the front of the house. He was smoking out here, initially hidden from your view as he must’ve been leaning against the wall just out of sight. He was tall, his hair shaved at the sides but longer and darker on top. He had a thick beard, cutting an intimidating figure in his denim vest, showing off the tattoos on his biceps. Mostly you were struck by his eyes, cerulean pools that were as striking as they were daunting.

They were also oddly familiar in a way you couldn’t place.

“S-sorry, I wasn’t talking to you…” you mumbled, embarrassed to have been caught out like this in your current state.

“Well, I got time. Just taking a break from the party,” he took a long drag on his cigarette, “I’m Chris. So, tell me about this motherfucker…”

🥇

[lovevxle]

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"I hope it's okay if I love you forever"

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Adam x f!reader

cw: cursing, Adam being Adam, kissing (no smut just cute fluff)

Smut ver. linked here!

A/n: First story I post on Tumblr! Hope you guys enjoy reading. Feel free to leave any sort of feedback in the comments :)

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"Aw Lute, I'm gonna fuck this up so bad!" Adam said as he paced back and fourth in his office. "Sir, it's really not that big of a deal. You're only asking her out-" Lute replied before being cut off "Not that big of a deal?! What if the bitch rejects me!? What if..." Adam panicked. He'd been planning on asking you out for months, he just didn't know how..

At first, he was his usual confident, cocky self but as soon as he looked at you, his mind blanked. Since then, he'd been trying to find the perfect moment just to ask you. "God, Lute...whenever I look at her..." Adam smiles as he speaks about you, "Her pretty face...her smile...even her voice is just..fuck, her hot ass voice is-" Lute cuts him off "I get it sir, you love her." "Y-yeah...I love her...a lot..but how the hell do I show it without saying stupid shit and being a fuckin' dick?"

Lute sighs and rolls her eyes "Just...be yourself but completely different, y'know? Girls like that type of thing." Adam inhales and exhales "Promise? What if I fuck the whole thing up?" He says, only slightly panicked now. "You wont. Well, you most likely will, but she wont reject you." Lute chuckles as she smiles for the first time in a while. She quickly goes back to her serious self and shoos Adam away to talk to you. "Now get outta here already!"

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ time skip ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Adam composed himself in the mirror, practicing what he was gonna say to you. "sooo...Y/n heh...you're pretty hot so- AW FUCK HOW IN HELL DO I DO THIS?!" he says to the mirror. He soon after walks out of his appartment and spots you walking through heaven. He rushes down to you.

When you see him, you immediately fix your clothes and hair, making sure to look extra cute for him. He appears behind you a few seconds later, acting 'cool' "Sup, buttercup~" he says, smirking seductively (or atleast what he thinks will be seductive to you), when in reality he's panicking. He makes a 'cool' pose, leaning against the wall.

"So~...you know how much i love that peice of ass and i also love railing that peice of ass...but...that's not why I'm here," Adam explains "look, you're cute and funny and..fuck..it's the first way I've felt like this since..Lilith.." He begins to blush and breath faster. "god...just-" he's cut off my your lips pressing against his. It was a light peck, but of course it still made his face heat up. He cups your cheeks (FACE 💀) and pulls away, smiling.

"So you were gonna ask me out?" you ask while you chuckle. "Y-yeah...I was..I'm taking that kiss as a yes?" he replies as he rubs the back of his neck, anxiously. "Yeah, I'll go out with you, dummy." Adam turns around and fist pumps the air "FUCK YEAH!" he yells, causing a few people to turn around and stare. "So I'll pick you up at 8?" He says as he goes back to his 'cool' pose against the wall. "Eh, right now works too."

‧͙⁺˚*･༓ Ars Goetia Reading Quarters (masterlist)

‧͙⁺˚*･༓Become apart of the Ars Goetia council (taglist)

[ghostyypawzz]

Appreciation Post

i seriously appreciate all my friends ^_^

@vanillacoffee8655 okay first of all, HOW ARE YOU SO SWEET WUAAHGG i seriously get so happy everytime we talk !! your super kind and genuinely light up people’s days— also your very thoughtful and so so patient with people, your the literal definition of comfort and positivity >_<💗 also your art ?? it’s so beautiful and it really inspires me, everytime i see a new post of yours i take a second to admire your talent <3

@ki-2-ur-heart KIIII OMG your so cool ???? legit one of my fav ppl on jiraiblr ! your very silly (/pos) and tumblr wouldn’t be the same without you !! also your an Ena fan so.. bonus points :3

@stupid-jirai i know we don’t interact much but your posts and comments are really nice, i appreciate you a lot !!!! also pretty blog theme.,… woahg.. <3

@zzombiehearts she doesn’t even open tumblr but whatever.. JENANANAN !!! we met randomly 5 years ago and we’ve been friends ever since, thanks for always being here for me, you’re so supportive and i appreciate it <3 also the fact you send me send me updates on your daily life really makes me feel included, thank you :3

@zxlofttt heheheh where do i start.. BECAUSE THIS IS ONE OF THE BEST PEOPLE ON THE PLANET— NO THE UNIVERSE !! OMG EMI THERES SO MANY AMAZING THINGS ABOUT YOU ?? i’m so happy to have you in my life, your one of the best friends i could ever ask for and i feel SO lucky to know you !!!!! you’re always encouraging and supporting people, you make people feel appreciated, and your really fucking talented— your like an idol to me and i look up to you soso much, i can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done. your kindness changed my life, ilysm <33 ALSO YOUR POSTS ARE SO AWESOME !! I LOVE YOUR ART !!! you deserve all of the support in the world because your the most talented person i know, your knowledge and artstyle leave me in awe everytime !!!! if angels are real, your definitely one of them.

@n0lhjng uwuaghhdfb okay this is more than a friend but my super sweet, cute, and loving boyfriend !!!!!! I LOVEEE YOU SOSOOSOSOOS MUCH FOREVER WUAHFJKJCJELGKD my days gets 10000x better whenever i talk to you, your the best boyfriend anyone could ask for, you remember details that most people wouldn’t and you really make me feel loved, you are genuinely the light of my life, you deserve literally every kiss in the world <33 your always on my mind, i can’t even begin to express how happy i am to know you 💗💗💗 also your liek… super cute and handsome and pretty and cute and— did i already say cute? your very cute ^_^💗 thanks for being here for me, your the best <3