#and like. for good reason i mean look at him

[thebarneschronicles]

Nine Lives

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: 9.4k

Synopsis: Bucky Barnes drives you insane—in every possible way. The bickering, the reckless plans, the way he smirks like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. But when a mission goes sideways, leaving you both bloodied and too close for comfort, the tension between you ignites into something impossible to ignore.

You can keep pretending. Keep fighting him. But Bucky isn’t one to back down—especially when he knows you don’t really want him to.

Trigger Warnings: Bullet wounds, unprotect sex (wrap it before you tap it!), p in v, dirty talk, BUCKY BARNES (he needs his own warning)

Author’s Note: I had been tinkering with a few scenes in this and the Thunderbolts trailer made me finish it. Hope you like it! B x

-- Bucky Barnes was going to be the death of you.

Whether it was because he got on your last nerve or because you were desperately, irrevocably, undeniably in love with him—either way, he’d be the reason your heart stopped beating.

And honestly? It might happen in the next five minutes. Because God help you, the man was insufferable.

The room smelled like burnt coffee and bad decisions.

Sam stood at the front, gesturing at a holographic map as he laid out the mission plan, his voice steady and patient—too patient, the way a parent speaks when they know their kids are about to cause problems.

You were paying attention. You really were. But out of the corner of your eye, you could see Bucky leaning against the wall, arms crossed– and looking bored out of his mind.

Every once in a while, he flicked his gaze to you, not saying anything. Just watching.

And you knew that look. That I’m about to do something reckless and you’re going to yell at me for it look.

You gritted your teeth.

“—we’ll go in through the east entrance,” Sam continued, pointing at the building layout. “Stealth is key. No unnecessary attention.”

Bucky made a quiet sound. It wasn’t quite a scoff, but it was close enough.

Sam’s jaw flexed. “Got something to add, Barnes?”

Bucky shrugged, like the whole thing was barely worth his effort. “I just think you’re overcomplicating it.”

Your brows shot up. Oh, here we go.

Sam closed his eyes, visibly counting to ten. “What part is complicated?”

Bucky shifted, pushing off the wall. “The part where we’re tiptoeing around like we’re on a damn field trip. We go in, take out the threats, get what we need. Done.”

You turned in your chair, slowly. “Take out the threats?”

Bucky smirked. “What?”

“What?” you repeated, voice rising. “You mean brute force? Like some kind of rabid raccoon?”

Sam sighed deeply, rubbing his temples.

Bucky grinned, which somehow made it worse. “I’d say more wolf, but sure.”

Your grip tightened on the edge of the table. “Barnes, if you go off-script, I swear to God—”

“Relax, doll,” he said, casual as anything. “I’ll mostly follow the plan.”

Your eye twitched. “Mostly?”

Sam exhaled sharply, muttering to himself. “I should start charging overtime for this.”

Bucky wasn’t done, though—he turned that damn smirk back on you. “You do love bossing me around, don’t you?”

And that? That was the last straw.

Your chair scraped against the floor as you stood, planting your hands on your hips. “We are sticking to the plan, Barnes. No improvising. No wandering off. No turning this into some solo hero death mission.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, inhaling through gritted teeth as you fought for patience you absolutely did not have. “Why is your solution to everything brute force? Sam has a plan. A good plan. A plan that does not involve you punching your way through every obstacle.”

Bucky folded his arms across his broad chest, looking completely unfazed. If anything, he seemed amused. “First of all, rude. Second of all, my way works.”

“You mean it works when it doesn’t get us killed?” you shot back, voice rising. “Which, by the way, is not a guarantee.”

His mouth twitched like he was trying not to grin. “C’mon, doll, you’re overreacting.”

And there it was. That goddamn nickname.

You felt it like a spark in your bloodstream, a rush of heat you refused to acknowledge. Instead, you rolled your eyes so hard they nearly got stuck. “Don’t ‘doll’ me, Barnes. I’m serious. We are sticking to the plan.”

“I am sticking to the plan,” he said, far too casually. “I’m just… modifying it.”

Your jaw dropped. “Modifying it?”

“Enhancing.”

“You mean ignoring it?”

He shrugged and you had never wanted to strangle and kiss someone in equal measure more in your life.

God, this man was going to be the death of you.

You took a slow, deep breath, curling your fingers into fists at your sides. “Bucky. No modifications. No enhancements. No Barnes-ifying the plan.”

He tilted his head, looking irritatingly pleased with himself. “Barnes-ifying? Huh. I kinda like that.”

You threw your hands in the air. “Of course you do.”

Sam, who had been observing this entire exchange with the long-suffering patience of a saint, let out a loud sigh. “Are you two done? Or should we clear the room so you can work out all that tension?”

Your head snapped toward him. “There is no tension.”

Bucky, the absolute menace that he was, had the audacity to murmur, “Oh, there’s tension.”

Your entire body went rigid. Your face felt hot. You whirled back to him, pointing an accusing finger at his chest. “I will kill you.”

His lips twitched. “I’d love to see you try, doll.”

You weren’t sure what infuriated you more—the way he said it— doll —like it was his own private joke, or the fact that you liked it. Loved it, even. That it sent a pulse of something traitorous through you, something that made you want to either punch him or grab him by the collar and—

No. Focus.

You squared your shoulders, planting your hands on your hips. “Here’s what’s going to happen, Barnes. You’re going to follow the plan. No making things up as you go along. Got it?”

His blue eyes glinted with something unreadable. “And what if I don’t?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Then I’ll personally make sure you regret it.”

Bucky grinned, slow and wicked. “Kinda looking forward to that.”

Your breath hitched. Your brain short-circuited. You opened your mouth, then shut it again, because there was absolutely nothing appropriate to say to that.

Oh. Oh, that son of a—

Bucky chuckled, clearly enjoying the way he’d just rendered you speechless. Then he leaned in just slightly, voice dropping to something low and smug.

“Face it, doll,” he murmured. “You’d miss me if I was gone.”

You scoffed, even as your stomach flipped. “I’d miss arguing with you. That’s it.”

“Mm-hmm.”

The knowing look on his face made you want to smack it off. But more than that, it made you want to—

Nope. Not going there.

You exhaled sharply, turning on your heel. “I’m done. Sam, let’s go before I change my mind and let him get himself killed.”

Sam snorted, giving Bucky a pointed look. “See what you did? Now you’ve pissed her off.”

Bucky only smirked, watching you walk away. “Nah,” he said, mostly to himself. “She likes it.”

—

You didn’t like it.

Not one bit.

And do you know why? Because you knew—knew—he wasn’t lying.

Bucky Barnes didn’t say things he didn’t mean. He wasn’t the type to play games with words, wasn’t the type to tease just for the hell of it. If he said there was tension, if he said you’d miss him, then he meant it. He knew.

He knew before you did.

And that was the worst part.

You had no idea when your constant bickering turned into something else, something deeper, something dangerous. One day, you thought you hated him—the next, you realized you couldn’t imagine a world without him in it.

It had terrified you.

So you fought.

You fought harder, argued louder, refused to let him see just how deeply he had burrowed into you. You clashed over the stupidest things—his reckless plans, his stubbornness, the way he called you doll like it was a secret between you. Because if you didn’t fight, if you let the walls slip for even a second, you weren’t sure what would happen.

And it infuriated you.

How dare he?

How dare he make himself at home in a corner of your heart you didn’t even know existed? How dare he take up permanent residence there, until that tiny space expanded into the whole damn thing?

How dare he make you want him when you were supposed to be angry at him?

How. Dare. He.

The memory took over before you could stop it…

It had been a disaster from the start.

The mission was supposed to be a simple recon—go in, get intel, get out. No unnecessary engagement. No close calls. No getting shot.

But Bucky Barnes? He didn’t believe in simple.

You were fuming as you dragged him into the safe house, your grip tight on his arm, ignoring the way his blood seeped through your gloves. He was bleeding all over the place, but of course, he still had the audacity to smirk at you.

“You’re manhandling me, doll.” His voice was rough, teasing. “If you wanted to get handsy, you could’ve just asked.”

You pushed him down onto the rickety cot in the corner, none too gently. “I swear to God, Barnes, if you don’t shut up, I will make your injuries worse.”

Bucky groaned dramatically as he flopped back, far too casual for someone who had just taken a bullet to the shoulder. “You’re so mean to me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry—should I be nice to the guy who just got himself shot?” You tore open the med kit, grabbing a pair of scissors and snipping at the sleeve of his tactical suit. 

Bucky’s smirk vanished. “Hey, whoa—this is a perfectly good jacket.”

“You’ve bled through half of it, Bucky!” You glared at him, slicing the fabric open with zero hesitation.

Bucky scowled. “Still wearable.”

“Still ruined.”

“You’re ruining it more.”

“Oh my God—do you wanna keep arguing, or do you want me to keep you from bleeding out you reckless, metal-armed asshole?”

Bucky huffed a laugh, because of course he did, the sound painfully casual. “Little dramatic, don’t you think?”

Your hands shook as you tore open the med kit, fingers fumbling over the supplies. “Shut up.”

“Oh, come on, doll, it’s just a—”

“Don’t you dare say ‘scratch.’”

Bucky sighed, dropping his head back onto the cot. “I’m not bleeding out.”

“You got shot, you dick,” you snapped, peeling the fabric away to get a better look at the wound. Through and through, just above his bicep. A clean hit, but it would scar if you didn’t take care of it properly.

Bucky peered at the wound like it was barely an inconvenience. “It is just a scratch.”

Your eye twitched. You gritted your teeth, pressing an antiseptic wipe to the wound with zero mercy.

Bucky hissed, body tensing as he glared at you. “Jesus—are you trying to kill me?”

“Oh, now you feel pain?” You didn’t let up, pressing a little harder just for good measure. “You didn’t seem too concerned when you ran into a hail of gunfire like a rabid golden retriever with a death wish.”

Bucky scoffed. “Golden retriever?”

“You just charged in, Bucky! What part of ‘stealth mission’ do you not understand?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I had to.”

“No, you didn’t!” You grabbed a fresh gauze pad, pressing it against the wound. “Sam and I were handling it just fine before you decided to be stupidly heroic.”

“Doll, you were cornered,” Bucky argued.

“No, I was waiting for backup.”

Bucky gave you a pointed look. “You were outnumbered and had a jammed weapon.”

You locked your jaw. Because okay, maybe that was true.

But he didn’t have to jump in front of a bullet for you.

You cleared your throat, trying to sound unimpressed. “I was fine.”

“You were two seconds away from getting shot.”

“I know, Bucky!” You slammed the antiseptic wipe against his skin, not caring when he hissed. “But you didn’t have to—you didn’t—you— I told you not to do it!” you cried out. “But no, you just had to go full Terminator and jump in front of a goddamn bullet for me—”

You stopped.

Because suddenly, your throat was too tight, and your breath was coming too fast, and you hated that the panic was winning, that it was spilling over.

You weren’t just mad.

You were terrified.

Bucky blinked at you, actually looking concerned now, which only pissed you off more.

“Doll—”

“You think you’re indestructible, don’t you?” You threw the used gauze aside, grabbing another one, your hands shaking as you pressed it to the wound. “Just because you have the serum, you think you can—can take all these stupid risks—”

Bucky sighed, clearly exasperated. “I heal faster than you do, sweetheart. It’s not that deep.”

Something inside you snapped.

“Oh, fuck you, Bucky!”

His eyebrows shot up at that.

“You think the serum makes you invincible?” you seethed, eyes burning. “Is that why you keep throwing yourself into danger? Why you never hesitate before taking a hit? Why you jump in front of bullets like it’s your damn job?”

Bucky opened his mouth, but you weren’t done.

“Guess what, Barnes? The serum doesn’t make you immortal! One day, your dumbass luck is going to run out! And what then?”

Bucky stilled, blue eyes searching yours.

But you were unraveling too fast to stop now.

“I swear to God, Bucky, I’m gonna lose my mind if you keep—” You sucked in a shaky breath, voice cracking. “I can’t—I can’t keep watching you do this to yourself.”

Something changed in Bucky’s face. The teasing, the smirking—it all vanished.

You didn’t want to see whatever was in his eyes.

You dropped your gaze, fingers moving on autopilot, taping the bandage down over his shoulder. Your hands wouldn’t stop shaking, but you pretended not to notice.

You felt him watching you.

For the first time since the mission, Bucky was quiet.

The weight of it pressed against your chest.

You swallowed hard, clearing your throat. “Just—just try not to die next time, okay?”

Bucky let out a slow breath, something almost amused slipping into his voice. “Not really my style, doll.”

You snapped your head up, narrowing your eyes at him. “Yeah, I noticed. You’ve got a real stubborn track record of coming back from the brink of death.”

Bucky grinned, slow and lazy, like he couldn’t help himself. “What can I say? I’m persistent.”

Your jaw tensed.

“Yeah? Well, I don’t want to be the one watching you zero out your nine lives.”

The smirk disappeared.

A flicker of something serious passed through his eyes—so fast you almost missed it.

For a second, you thought he was going to say something that would change everything.

But then, as quickly as it came, he shoved it away.

He exhaled a soft chuckle instead, shaking his head. “You worry too much.”

You clenched your jaw, standing abruptly. “And you don’t worry enough.”

Bucky watched you, his expression unreadable.

You grabbed the med kit and turned away, before he could see just how badly your hands were still shaking.

Because the truth was—

You weren’t sure what scared you more.

The fact that Bucky Barnes kept coming back from the brink of death—

Or the fact that, one day, he might not.

–

You exhaled sharply, shoving the memory aside.

No. Not thinking about that.

You couldn’t.

Because if you let yourself sit with it for too long—

If you let yourself acknowledge how much he meant to you—

You weren’t sure how you were supposed to breathe through it.

Bucky must have sensed the shift in you, because as you stalked ahead, fuming, he was suddenly there—keeping pace beside you, his presence entirely too much. Too close, too solid, too him.

“You’re quiet,” he murmured. “That’s never a good sign.”

“Maybe I just ran out of things to say,” you snapped, not looking at him.

He made a low sound, somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle. “That’ll be the day.”

You whirled on him before you could stop yourself, jabbing a finger into his chest. “Do you enjoy driving me insane, Barnes? Is it, like, a hobby for you?”

His lips twitched, that damn smirk already forming. “I mean… yeah. Kinda.”

You let out a frustrated noise, turning on your heel, ready to put as much distance between you and that insufferable smirk as possible. But before you could take two steps, his fingers curled around your wrist—gentle, but firm enough to stop you in your tracks.

The warmth of his skin against yours sent a jolt through you. His grip wasn’t rough, wasn’t forceful, but it was steady, intentional. And for a split second, you couldn’t breathe.

When you looked up, his blue eyes were locked onto yours, unreadable, intense.

“I’m not trying to drive you insane,” he said, his voice softer now, but laced with something heavier, something that made your chest feel tight. “I’m just trying to figure out why you won’t admit it.”

You swallowed, pulse hammering. “Admit what?”

Bucky tilted his head slightly, studying you like he was searching for something, peeling back layers you weren’t ready to let him see. His gaze dragged over your face, lingering—too long—on your lips before flicking back up.

Your breath hitched.

He was going to say something else. You knew it. Could feel it. But whatever he saw in your expression made him change his mind at the last second. His features shifted, the quiet determination giving way to something smug, teasing. A deflection.

“That it’s a good plan.”

Your pulse stuttered.

This wasn’t what he wanted to say. Not even close.

But he was giving you an out. Letting you pretend, letting himself pretend, like this was still just another argument. Another round of your never-ending bickering instead of… whatever the hell this was becoming.

And that? That scared you more than anything.

“It’s not,” you shot back, seizing the escape he’d handed you. You took a step back, yanking your wrist free of his grasp. “It’s stupid. It’s reckless, and it’s going to get one or all of us hurt if we do it.”

Bucky’s jaw tensed, his smirk faltering for the first time. His eyes darkened, something unreadable flickering in them before he asked, voice quieter, but rougher—”Why do you never take my side?”

The question hit like a sucker punch.

It knocked the breath from your lungs, left you reeling in a way you hadn’t expected.

“I—” The words caught in your throat.

He wasn’t teasing now. Wasn’t throwing out some cocky remark just to get under your skin. This was something real, something raw, and it left you woozy.

A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Second time I’ve got you speechless today, huh? Must be a new record.”

His voice was light, teasing again, but the look in his eyes said something else entirely.

Then, before you could recover, before you could shove something sharp and defensive between you, he turned and walked ahead—leaving you standing there, heart racing, breath unsteady.

Completely, utterly furious at him.

And even more furious at yourself.

Your hands curled into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms as you forced yourself to breathe. In. Out. Don’t let him get to you.

Except he had. He always did. And the worst part? He knew it.

You glared at the back of his head as he walked ahead like nothing had happened, like he hadn’t just thrown you completely off balance and left you scrambling for solid ground.

Why do you never take my side?

You hated that the question still echoed in your head. That it stung in a way you weren’t ready to unpack.

You stormed after him, your boots crunching against the pavement. “Barnes, we’re not done talking about this.”

He didn’t stop, didn’t even turn around. “Seemed pretty done to me.”

Your jaw clenched. “God, you are infuriating.”

“Yeah, you’ve mentioned that once or twice.” He threw a glance over his shoulder, his smirk still in place, but his eyes? His eyes were still sharp, still waiting.

You caught up to him in two quick strides, grabbing his arm to yank him to a stop. “Don’t walk away from me.”

Bucky arched a brow, glancing down at where your fingers gripped the sleeve of his jacket. “Thought you couldn’t stand being near me, doll.”

You ignored the way your stomach flipped at the nickname. Ignored the way your traitorous hand lingered for a second before you let go.

“That plan of yours?” You crossed your arms, tilting your chin up. “It’s reckless. And you know it.”

His smirk faded, just slightly. “And what if reckless is the only option?”

“That’s bullshit, and you know that too.”

Bucky let out a slow exhale, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I get it. You think I’m some idiot who just punches his way through problems—”

“I know you are,” you shot back.

He glared at you, jaw ticking. “But maybe—just maybe—I actually know what I’m doing this time.”

You opened your mouth, ready to argue, but something in his expression stopped you.

There was no smugness, no teasing. Just raw frustration, something worn down underneath.

You stared at him, chest rising and falling too fast, the words dying on your tongue.

“Right,” Bucky muttered, shaking his head. “Should’ve known better than to expect you to trust me.”

The words weren’t loud. He wasn’t even looking at you when he said them. But they landed like a slap.

Your breath caught. “That’s not—”

“Forget it.” 

— 

Shockingly, Bucky had followed Sam’s plan.

And—even more shockingly—it had gone wrong.

In the end, brute force had been the only way to get all three of you out alive.

You weren’t sure when the dust had settled, when the ringing in your ears had finally faded enough for you to hear your own breathing again. But when your vision cleared, Bucky was still standing.

Standing over a pile of bodies, bloodied and exhausted, his chest heaving with exertion.

There was a split in his lip, a gash across his forehead, and a bullet graze along his ribs, the fabric of his tactical suit dark with blood.

And you hated it.

You hated how your stomach twisted at the sight of him hurt. Hated the way your fingers curled into fists at your sides to stop yourself from running to him, from touching him, from grabbing his face and checking.

Most of all, you hated that you had doubted him.

Bucky Barnes had a century of combat experience. He had spent his entire life surviving fights he shouldn’t have walked away from, and still, you had dismissed him. Still, you had refused to listen.

And now? Now all of you were bleeding. All of you were shaken.

But the worst part—the part that made your throat tighten and your breath shudder—was that Bucky wasn’t even gloating.

No smirk. No I told you so.

Just silence. Just his sharp, assessing gaze, scanning the aftermath like he was still bracing for another fight.

By the time Torres had you all back on the plane, you were shaking.

The adrenaline should have worn off by now, but the weight in your chest only grew heavier. You knew—you knew—Bucky would heal faster than you or Sam. Logically, you understood that.

But logic wasn’t stopping the tightness in your throat when your eyes landed on the bruising around his temple.

It wasn’t stopping the way your fingers trembled as you grabbed the first aid kit and sat down in front of him, against every warning screaming in your head.

Bucky exhaled slowly, tilting his head back against the seat. “I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding,” you shot back, voice sharper than intended.

“So are you.”

You ignored that. “Just—hold still.”

For once, he didn’t argue. But when you reached for him, when your fingers ghosted over his skin, his gaze flickered—just for a second—to your hands.

He noticed.

Noticed the tremor in your fingers, the way they weren’t steady.

His brows drew together, just slightly. He didn’t say anything, but you felt his stare, felt the question lingering on the tip of his tongue.

Your breath hitched. You curled your fingers tighter around the antiseptic wipe, focusing too hard on dabbing at the cut on his forehead.

When he flinched, you huffed. “Big bad super soldier can take on twenty guys at once but can’t handle a little stinging?”

His lips twitched, but the teasing was half-hearted. “Not my fault you’re rough.”

You shot him a look. “I wonder why.”

His jaw flexed. “You do like making things difficult.”

“Oh, I make things difficult?” You shook your head, pressing a little too firmly as you cleaned the wound. “I don’t remember me running in headfirst with zero regard for a plan.”

Bucky scoffed. “Right, because your plan went so well.”

You froze, fingers stilling against his skin.

His voice hadn’t been sharp, but the words still landed heavy in your chest.

“You didn’t have to follow it,” you murmured.

Bucky let out a slow breath. “Yeah. Well. I did.”

Silence stretched between you, thick and weighted.

You forced yourself to move again, forced yourself to focus on the cut rather than the way his eyes lingered.

Your throat was dry when you spoke. “You were right.”

His expression didn’t change, but you felt the shift in the air.

“We should have done it your way,” you admitted, barely above a whisper.

Bucky’s fingers curled over the edge of the seat. He didn’t speak, didn’t move, but you knew he was watching you.

Finally, he exhaled, his voice quiet. “Didn’t do us much good, did it?”

You pressed your lips together. “Would’ve gone a lot worse if you hadn’t stepped in.”

His eyes flickered. His jaw worked, like he wanted to argue but didn’t have the energy for it.

“You don’t have to say that,” he murmured.

“I do.” Your voice wavered, but you swallowed hard, pushing through it. “Because I was wrong.”

Bucky was still. Unreadable.

Then, after a beat, his voice dropped lower. “That an apology?”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no real fire behind it. “Don’t push your luck, Barnes.”

A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Wouldn’t dream of it, doll.”

But his eyes? His eyes told a different story.

—

The hum of the jet was steady beneath you, the vibrations deep in your bones, but it did nothing to ground you. The cabin lights were low, throwing long shadows across the metal walls. Sam was already passed out in the back, his breathing even, the tension from the mission finally easing from his shoulders.

You should be doing the same. You should be closing your eyes, letting exhaustion take over, shutting out the memory of the chaos you’d just escaped from.

But you couldn’t.

Because Bucky was still watching you.

He sat across from you, silent and unreadable, his blue eyes darker in the dim light. He hadn’t spoken since you finished patching him up, but he hadn’t stopped looking, either.

It wasn’t his usual sharp-edged irritation or teasing smirk. No playful bickering, no cocky remarks about how he’d been right. Just this.

Something softer. Something heavier.

Something you weren’t ready for.

“You should get some rest,” he murmured, voice low and rough around the edges.

You shook your head, fingers curling into your palms. “I’m fine.”

Bucky exhaled through his nose, like he didn’t believe you. “Yeah? You don’t look fine.”

You hated that he could see it. The tremor in your fingers, the tension in your shoulders, the way you were still breathing too fast, like your body hadn’t realized the fight was over.

You hated that he noticed. That he cared enough to notice.

And then—because you were tired, because you were furious, because he had almost died and you were still trying to claw your way back from the sheer panic of it—you snapped.

“You could have died, Bucky.” Your voice was sharper than you meant, thick with something you didn’t want to name.

His brow twitched, but his expression didn’t change. His voice stayed infuriatingly even. “Yeah. That’s kinda what happens when people shoot at you.”

“That’s not funny.”

“I wasn’t trying to be.” His lips pressed into a thin line, his jaw tight. “You think I don’t know what I’m doing out there?”

“That’s not—” You exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down your face. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what do you mean?”

The question hung between you, thick with unspoken things.

Bucky didn’t move, didn’t blink, just watched you—his gaze steady, patient, like he was giving you the space to say it.

And God, you wanted to.

But the words sat like stones in your throat, impossible to force out. You clenched your jaw, tried to shove them back down, but they wouldn’t go away.

Because the truth was, you weren’t just shaken by the mission.

You were shaken by the way seeing him bleeding had made your stomach drop, by the way his pained groans had made your hands shake, by the way you had wanted—needed—to run to him, to wrap yourself around him and never let go.

You were terrified.

Because this wasn’t just anger or frustration or a heated argument in the middle of a mission.

This was Bucky.

And you couldn’t lose him.

So instead of answering, instead of trying to put words to the panic still rattling inside you, you did the only thing you could do.

You reached for him.

It wasn’t sharp or defiant, wasn’t out of frustration or anger.

You just—needed to touch him.

Your fingers brushed over his wrist, barely there, hesitant. A point of contact. Something to anchor you.

Bucky stilled.

For a second, he just stared at your hand, at the way your fingers curled against his skin like you weren’t even sure if you had permission to hold on.

Then, slowly, he turned his wrist under your palm, letting your fingers slide over his pulse point. His skin was warm, his pulse steady. Alive. Here.

Your throat went tight.

Bucky’s voice was quieter this time. Rougher. “You gonna tell me what’s going on in that head of yours?”

You swallowed hard, but you didn’t let go.

Your thumb ghosted over his pulse, barely a whisper of touch, but it still wasn’t enough.

You didn’t know what you needed, what you were searching for beneath your fingertips, but the slow, steady thrum of his heartbeat wasn’t easing the raw ache in your chest.

Your eyes flickered around the cabin.

Sam was still dead to the world, Torres nowhere in sight. The only two people awake on this jet were you and Bucky.

Something inside you snapped.

One second, you were gripping his wrist, tethering yourself to him like that alone would make this feeling go away. The next, you were moving before you could stop yourself—sliding out of your seat, crawling into his lap, wrapping yourself around him like holding on tighter would somehow keep him safe, keep him yours.

Bucky made a sound—something low, something confused—but his hands came up anyway, large and warm and steady as they settled on your hips, instinctive.

His breath hitched, and you felt it against your temple, the subtle shudder of his inhale.

You buried yourself closer, curling into his chest, fingers winding into the hair at the nape of his neck. His scent was everywhere—gunpowder and metal and something distinctly him—and you could have drowned in it.

“If you ever tell anyone I did this,” you muttered, voice muffled against his neck, “I will find ways to kill you.”

There was no bite to it. No real threat.

Just you—raw and exposed in a way you didn’t know how to take back.

Bucky let out a breath that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle, but he didn’t pull away.

Didn’t tease.

Didn’t shove you off like he should have.

Instead, his arms shifted, wrapping around you fully, pressing you into him like this was what he had been waiting for, like this was something he had been needing just as badly.

Like he wanted to.

His metal fingers flexed at your waist, pressing against the fabric of your suit, a steadying grip. His other hand flattened against your back, tracing over the curve of your spine as if he was committing the shape of you to memory.

His touch burned.

His warmth was everywhere.

You squeezed your eyes shut, your fingers sliding from his hair to his cheek, brushing over the stubble there, the still-healing cut on his temple. And then—before you could stop yourself—you were tilting his face toward yours.

For the first time since the mission, since the gunfire, since you watched the blood dripping down his temple and felt your entire world tilt on its axis—you met his eyes head-on.

Bucky swallowed.

His gaze dropped—just for a second—to your lips.

It was enough.

Your resolve snapped like a frayed wire.

And before you could second-guess yourself, before you could remind yourself that this was Bucky, before you could convince yourself that you didn’t love him like this—

You kissed him.

It was desperate, messy—nothing like the slow, sweet build-up you had imagined in the deepest corners of your mind.

Your lips crashed against his, your hands fisting in his suit, pulling yourself closer, closer, closer, needing more, needing everything.

Bucky froze.

Didn’t move when your lips parted against his, when your tongue flicked against his bottom lip, when your teeth caught the cut there, tasting blood.

Didn’t react when you kissed him again, soft and searching, when your nose brushed against his, when you sighed against his mouth, the sound fragile and aching.

Didn’t kiss you back.

The realization hit slow, creeping in at the edges of your desperation, sinking its claws into your chest.

He wasn’t—

Oh, God.

The sting of rejection burned hotter than the wounds littering your body.

You tried to breathe, tried to steady yourself, but your lungs felt too tight, your hands shaking as you forced yourself to pull back, to put distance between you before you shattered entirely.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, a shaky breath washing over his lips. Your throat was tight, your vision blurring at the edges. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

Your voice broke.

Bucky was still silent.

And that was somehow worse.

It took a second to register the weight of what you’d done, to catch up to you.

You had kissed him.

You had kissed him and he hadn’t—

Your stomach plummeted.

“I’m—” Your breath hitched, panic clawing at your ribs. “I’m so sorry, Bucky.”

You tried to untangle yourself, tried to scramble out of his lap, to preserve whatever dignity you had left, to put distance between you before you completely fell apart in front of him—

But then—

God.

Then his hands tightened on your hips.

Hard.

Before you could even get further, Bucky dragged you back against him, fingers digging into your skin, like he wasn’t about to let you go. He maneuvered you until your legs were astride his hips, your arms around his neck, your chest pressed to his.

Your breath stilled, eyes wide, heart hammering against your ribs.

His expression had changed.

The shock, the hesitation—it was gone.

In its place was something darker.

Something heated and unrelenting.

Something like want.

Bucky’s breathing was uneven, his lips parted, his pupils blown wide as his gaze flickered between your eyes, your mouth, back up.

Then—

Then his fingers traced up your spine, slow and deliberate, leaving goosebumps in their wake. His metal hand trailed over your ribs, up your arm, curling at the back of your neck, tipping your face toward his.

And then, finally, he spoke.

“Doll,” he rasped, voice wrecked and low. “Can you do that again?”

Your stomach flipped.

“I—” You swallowed, your pulse hammering against his fingertips. “You didn’t—”

“I froze,” he cut in, jaw tight. “I won’t now.”

Oh.

Oh.

Your lips parted, heart stumbling over itself.

Bucky let out a breath, something between a laugh and a groan, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you. His grip on your hips flexed, strong and sure, and for a split second, all he did was look at you.

Like you were something he didn’t know how to handle.

Like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to devour you or worship you.

Then—slower this time, more sure—he leaned in.

And kissed you.

You had been right.

Bucky Barnes would be your undoing.

He’d kill you with the way he kissed, slow and deliberate, like he wanted to ruin you, like he wanted to take you apart with nothing but the sweep of his tongue and the heat of his mouth.

You felt it—every glide of his tongue against yours, every careful press of his lips, every sharp inhale between kisses—like a spark lighting up your spine, sinking deep, settling between your legs with a heat so intense you could barely breathe through it.

You shook on top of him, the way he touched you sending shockwaves through every nerve ending in your body. His hands were everywhere—tight, possessive squeezes against your hips, reverent drags of his fingers down your back and thighs, gripping you like he never wanted to let go.

A whimper escaped you, completely unbidden, and Bucky groaned, a deep, wrecked sound that vibrated against your mouth.

Then, suddenly, his lips left yours.

You gasped at the loss—until you felt him move.

Felt the warm brush of his breath against your throat, felt his nose skim along the sensitive skin there before his mouth followed.

“Bucky—” His name left you in a sharp breath as he kissed down your neck, slow, teasing, his lips dragging over every inch of exposed skin he could reach.

The problem was—there wasn’t enough.

Your suit covered too much, kept him from truly touching you, and it was driving you out of your mind.

You arched into him, restless, desperate. “Take it off,” you whispered, the words spilling out before you could stop them.

Bucky stilled, his lips pausing against your collarbone.

His hands tightened on your hips, but he didn’t move. Didn’t continue.

“Take it off,” you begged, fingers digging into the fabric of his suit, tracing over the zippers, tugging uselessly at the buttons, trying to feel more. “Please, take it off.”

His breath was uneven, ragged. “Doll, there are people—”

“I don’t care.” You tugged at his collar, leaning in, pressing another desperate kiss to the corner of his mouth. “They won’t see.”

Bucky’s hands flexed against your waist, like he was warring with himself.

You kissed him again, lips parting over his, trying to convince him, trying to make him understand, to feel just how badly you needed this, needed him.

He let out a shaky breath, his forehead pressing to yours, his chest rising and falling unevenly beneath you.

“Please,” you whispered, voice breaking. “Please, before you change your mind—I need this. I need you.”

That did it.

Something snapped in him.

The hesitation vanished.

And then, suddenly, you were weightless.

Before you could even process what was happening, Bucky was standing, lifting you effortlessly, your legs tightening around his waist as he carried you toward the back of the jet, moving with a singular, determined focus that made your breath catch.

Your back hit the cool metal wall of the jet, the impact sending a shiver down your spine, but you barely had time to react before Bucky was kissing you again—hot, rough, devouring.

You gasped against his lips, fingers curling into the hair at the nape of his neck, holding on for dear life.

His hands roamed down your back, over your thighs, squeezing, gripping—and then, finally, finally, he found the zipper of your suit.

“I’m not changing my mind,” he murmured, his voice thick, edged with something raw that made you shiver. His fingers curled around the fabric, tugging just enough for you to feel the weight of his words. “And you’re not changing yours.”

You nodded without thinking, without hesitation, without fear.

There was a faint awareness of the reality around you—the steady hum of the jet beneath you, the wall of gear shielding you from the others, the knowledge that Sam and Torres were mere feet away. The fact that you were both bloodied and bruised from the mission, that maybe this wasn’t the time, wasn’t the place.

But then Bucky moved, and all of that faded.

The zipper came down in a slow, deliberate slide, the rasp of it against your skin sending a shiver down your spine. His hands worked quickly, efficiently, but gentle, pushing the suit down your arms until you could shake it off completely. The moment it was gone, he pulled your arms around his shoulders, guiding them to hold onto him, like he needed you to keep him close.

“Hold on to me,” he murmured, voice quieter now, almost reverent, before dropping to his knees.

Your breath caught, your pulse hammering as his hands gripped your hips, firm and unshakable, guiding the rest of your suit down your legs. His head dipped, his lips grazing the fresh bruise blooming along your hip. He kissed it once, then again—soft, lingering. Worshipping.

You swallowed hard, your fingers threading into his hair as he nuzzled along your thigh, your knee, before rising back to his full height.

“Not getting these off,” he muttered, his fingers ghosting over your soaked panties. You’d be ashamed if it weren’t for the way his lips parted, like he was desperate to get back on his knees, get his mouth on you, There was also something else. The look on his face - regret, you thought - like he wanted to take his time with you, but was disappointed he couldn’t.

His hands moved up your body, skimming over your waist, tracing along your ribs. You shivered at the sensation of warm and cold, flesh and metal. His eyes darkened at the sight of you trembling under his touch.

“We have to be quick.”

You nodded, obedient, but there was something clawing at your chest, something making your breath catch, making your hands shake as you reached for his belt, undoing it with frantic fingers.

“This—” You took a breath, sliding the zipper down, pushing his pants and underwear down in one swift motion. His cock sprang free, thick and hard, the tip already slick with pre-cum. You ached at the sight of him. Ached to drop to your knees and taste him.

Instead, you swallowed hard and met his eyes. “This isn’t how I imagined doing this with you.”

Bucky let out a low, disbelieving chuckle, shaking his head. “Me either.” His voice was rough, wrecked, breaking apart at the seams. His lips brushed your ear as he groaned, deep and ragged, when you wrapped your fingers around him, stroking him slow, teasing. “Fuck, sweetheart—”

A shudder rolled through him, his forehead pressing to yours, eyes fluttering shut.

“But I’ll make it up to you,” he promised, voice thick with something dangerous, something devoted. “I promise.”

His arms wrapped around you again, lifting you effortlessly, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, your hips rolling forward to grind against him.

“Bucky—”

“You want this?” he asked, pressing you back against the cool metal wall, the contrast making you gasp. His mouth was everywhere—dragging down your jaw, across the swell of your breast, open-mouthed and hungry.

“I do. I—”

The words faltered on your tongue.

Your heart was hammering, your chest was aching. This was reckless. This was insane.

This was everything.

You squeezed your eyes shut, pressed your forehead to his, your lips brushing his with every ragged breath. “I want you,” you whispered, voice breaking. “All of you.” Your fingers twisted into his hair, tugging just enough for him to feel it. “Please.”

Bucky exhaled sharply, his grip tightening. “You have me.”

His words were iron, unbreakable, true.

Something cracked inside you.

And then—there was no more hesitation.

His lips crashed into yours again, raw and consuming, leaving no space between you, no air, no room for anything but him. His free hand slid down, tugging at your panties, dragging them to the side. Your own hand moved between you, wrapping around his cock, guiding him to where you needed him.

“Jesus, doll—”

It wasn’t gentle.

It wasn’t careful.

It was one full thrust, his cock pressing inside you inch by inch, filling you completely, stretching you to the edge of pain. Your nails bit into his shoulders, your head falling back against the wall as a gasp tore from your throat.

You felt full. Too full.

Your legs shook around him, your walls clenching tight around his cock, the overwhelming stretch making your eyes slam shut, your mouth parting on a silent moan.

Bucky groaned, deep and wrecked, his forehead pressing to your temple. His body was shaking too, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps against your skin.

“Fuck,” he ground out, metal hand locking around your thigh, keeping you open for him. His other hand tangled in your hair, his grip tight, desperate. “Fuck, you feel—Jesus, sweetheart.”

Your breath hitched, your arms trembling as you clung to him. “I can’t believe you’re inside me,” you whispered, voice barely there, overwhelmed and ruined. “Oh my god, Bucky—”

He snapped his hips forward, and your world split apart.

The pleasure was sharp, blinding, a lightning strike surging through your veins. Your body clenched around him, gripping him so tight he groaned against your neck, his rhythm faltering for a beat. His hands tightened on your hips, metal and flesh both possessive, both desperate to hold on.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he choked out, voice strangled, roughened with something close to reverence. He thrust deep, his cock dragging against every nerve inside you, every sensitive place that made your stomach coil so tight you thought you might shatter.

“For you,” you confessed, arching into him, letting him feel it, letting him know. “All the time. Every time you look at me—”

Bucky snapped his hips forward, harder, deeper, tearing a cry from your lips.

“Shit,” he breathed, voice breaking, cracking at the edges. “Shit, shit—”

“You’re so deep,” you gasped, barely able to breathe. Your nails raked down his back, desperate, pleading, needing. “Bucky, I—I can’t—”

“I’ve got you, doll,” he groaned, pressing his mouth to yours, swallowing every sound you made as he ruined you completely.

Every thrust was a curse, every breath a kiss, and you were careening toward the edge so fast it was dizzying.

The pleasure ripped through you before you could warn him, before you could even process it. Your walls tightened, pulsing around his cock, body shaking so violently that he had to pin you to the wall with his hips, burying himself to the hilt, his hand cradling the back of your head, shielding you as you contorted in his grasp.

His mouth devoured your cries, catching every broken, pleading gasp as the orgasm tore you apart. It was an explosion that didn’t stop, that kept rolling through you, wave after wave.

You rocked against him, desperate for more, still chasing, still needing, barely hearing the way he rasped your name, telling you to slow down, telling you to look at him, warning you that he was—

“God, you’re heaven,” Bucky breathed against your ear, grinding deep inside of you, his voice wrecked, every syllable tinged with something broken, something beautiful. As you slowly came down, you could feel how close he was, how tightly he was holding on, trying to keep himself from falling over the edge. “I can feel you—fuck me, I should pull out.”

“No.”

It came out fast, urgent, a whisper laced with something dangerous. Your legs locked around his hips, keeping him trapped in your hold.

His entire body went rigid. His breathing stilled.

“Baby.”

Bucky’s voice was low, frayed at the edges, filled with disbelief. The word hung in the air between you, unspoken until now.

You froze.

Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you knew you shouldn’t have given that away. Shouldn’t have let it slip, shouldn’t have handed him something so fragile, something you couldn’t take back.

But what was a drop to someone who was already drowning?

Bucky’s hands tightened on your hips, but he didn’t move. If he wanted to, he could have pulled you off of him without lifting a finger. You had always been painfully aware of how much stronger he was, how easily he could overpower you.

And yet, he stayed still, locked in your hold. Completely at your mercy.

You swallowed, your fingers shaking as they curled into his hair, pulling him closer, refusing to let him run.

“C’mon, doll,” he whispered, his lips brushing yours, stealing a kiss that felt like it was more for him than for you. “Let go.”

His hips rolled, his pelvis grinding against your clit, making you whimper. Your body was still trembling, still oversensitive, but fuck, if he kept going just a little longer—

“I want you to cum inside me,” you pleaded, your voice trembling, your nails digging into his skin.

Bucky froze.

The words echoed between you like a shot fired into the silence.

His hips stilled. His breath hitched. His hands trembled where they held you.

You had to bite your bottom lip to keep from crying out, from begging him to move.

“Doll,” he rasped, warning in his tone, his forehead pressed to yours. He looked wrecked, as undone as you felt.

“Stop arguing with me,” you shot back, voice shaky, grinding against him, dragging your soaked, sensitive heat over him, pulling a moan from his throat so deep it made every hair on your body stand on end.

“Fuck,” he groaned, head dropping to your shoulder, his grip on you bruising.

“I want this.” You tightened your arms around his neck, pressing yourself closer, wrapping him in you, cocooning you both in the moment. “I’m begging you, Bucky. Please.”

“It’s—” He swallowed thickly, voice strangled.

“Irresponsible, yes, but what’s a little irresponsibility?” A breathless laugh escaped you, but your voice broke at the end, too raw to keep up the teasing. You squeezed your eyes shut, inhaling deeply before forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “I’m on the pill.”

His jaw clenched.

“I need this,” you whispered, the truth clawing up your throat before you could stop it. “I need you.” Your voice cracked, your breath hitched, emotion swelling too fast, too much. “You don’t get it, I—”

You didn’t even realize you were crying until he softened.

Something in his eyes clicked, something changed, and suddenly, his arms were wrapping around you tighter, his hands cradling your face like you were precious, like you were fragile, like he had to hold you together before you broke apart completely.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, kissing your temple, your cheek, your jaw. “It’s okay, sweetheart.”

And then he moved.

His thrusts were slower, deeper, his lips brushing yours between each movement. His hands wandered, soothing, worshipping.

“Giving you exactly what you want, yeah?”

You nodded frantically, breath labored, losing yourself in the way he felt, the way he surrounded you, consumed you.

“Don’t pull out,” you begged, voice barely there, a whisper of devotion, of desperation.

Bucky let out a shaky breath, forehead pressed to yours. “I won’t, baby,” he promised, voice breaking. His pace picked up, hips rolling against yours, pushing deeper, harder, dragging against your oversensitive clit in a way that had you whimpering. “Gonna fill you up like you wanted.”

Your toes curled at the words, at the image, your walls fluttering around him.

“Oh, please don’t stop,” you gasped, rolling your hips, needing, aching.

Bucky groaned, his head dropping back as his rhythm faltered, as he snapped his hips harder, chasing the end, giving you what you wanted, giving you everything.

“Fill me up, baby,” you pleaded, your voice a broken, desperate thing. “Make me yours..”

And that—

That was what finally broke him.

Bucky snapped.

A curse tore from his throat, his grip on you bruising, unrelenting as his hips slammed into you, chasing the inevitable, giving you everything. His rhythm turned frantic, needy, his body demanding what you had just offered.

And you took it.

You craved it.

Your body tightened around him, coaxing him deeper, begging for more. Every thrust was an answer to a question neither of you had spoken aloud, a declaration in the language of skin and breath and longing.

“Fucking hell, sweetheart,” he gritted out, his forehead pressing to yours, his breath hot against your mouth. His hand slid down between you, his metal fingers finding your clit and pressing, rubbing tight circles, dragging you back to the edge with him.

Your body shook, every muscle tensed, the pleasure sharpening into something unbearable, something deadly.

“Bucky—”

“I know, baby,” he groaned, his voice cracking at the edges, his own body trembling as he held himself back, as he waited for you. “Give it to me.”

You did.

Your orgasm hit like a tidal wave, knocking the air from your lungs, blinding in its intensity. Your body locked around him, your hands clutching desperately at his shoulders as the pleasure ripped through you in violent, unrelenting waves.

And that was it. That was everything.

Bucky followed, slamming into you one last time before breaking, burying himself as deep as he could go, a shuddering groan torn from his chest as he spilled into you, filling you like he promised. You felt it as his warm cum Costas your walls, so much of it you weren’t sure there wasn’t some spilling out.

His body trembled, his arms locked tight around you, holding you close as he gave in, as he let go, as he let himself have this.

For a moment, there was silence.

Just the sound of your breathing, labored and uneven. The quiet, lingering shock of what you had just done.

Bucky’s forehead pressed against yours, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his heart hammering so hard you could feel it through his suit.

Neither of you spoke.

Neither of you moved.

You stayed like that—wrapped around him, his cock still twitching inside of you, his arms cradling you like you might disappear if he let go.

You let your eyes drift shut, your fingers tracing slow, lazy circles against the back of his neck, the weight of him comforting, grounding, even as reality started creeping back in.

You should let go.

You should move.

You should say something.

But when Bucky finally pulled back, just enough to look at you, his hands coming up to frame your face gently, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones—

The words died on your lips.

Because he was looking at you like you had just ruined him. Like you had just changed something fundamental inside of him.

Like you had just made him yours.

And you had.

Slowly,, Bucky eased his grip, his arms still wrapped around you, his hands still mapping the shape of you, like he needed to memorize every curve, every ridge, every place he’d touched.

His lips brushed your temple, then your cheek, then your jaw—soft, tender kisses that made your heart clench, made something deep inside you ache.

It felt too big.

Too much.

But you couldn’t stop touching him.

Your fingers traced the lines of his jaw, the stubble rough beneath your touch. You pushed damp hair out of his face, ran your knuckles down the slope of his nose, his cheekbone, memorizing him the way he was memorizing you.

A hand slid up to cradle the side of your face, his thumb tracing your cheek, his expression unreadable.

When he finally spoke, his eyes were soft, but serious.

“You meant it,” he murmured.

It wasn’t a question.

You swallowed, lips parting, breath hitching.

“Bucky—”

His other hand was still pressed to your lower stomach, like he could feel himself inside you, like he could brand this moment into your skin.

“I felt it,” he whispered, almost to himself. “The way you—” He exhaled sharply, like the words were too heavy to get out.

You closed your eyes, trying to give yourself some kind of reprieve from the enormity of it all.

“Don’t run from this.” His voice was so calm, but it cut through you like a knife. “Please, doll.”

Your throat tightened.

You weren’t sure if it was the aftershocks of pleasure or the overwhelming emotion of it all, but your body was still trembling—and Bucky felt every bit of it.

His arms tightened around you, securing you to him, anchoring you.

“I’m not running,” you whispered.

He pulled back just enough to search your face, like he didn’t quite believe you.

And maybe you didn’t quite believe yourself.

Because what came next?

What happened after this?

There was you before Bucky Barnes.

There was you after Bucky Barnes.

And they weren’t the same.

[specialgradefckr]

nerd!gojo is so cute! please give him a kiss on the cheek for me.

you stare at the note you found in your locker. it's written in glittery purple ink, which only adds to the insult.

gojo, "cute"??? give him a kiss on the cheek???

like an ill omen summoned by its name, a terrible presence looms over your shoulder, "watcha got there?"

"hate mail." you say dispassionately as you quickly shove gojo away.

when you face him, you see gojo's face change - smooth features and rounded eyes hardening into anger.

"hate mail?" gojo frowns, "in your locker? who would send that?!"

"you want a list?" comes geto's snarky voice. "she's kind of a bitch."

you shoot him a glare, but gojo speaks before you can.

"don't talk about her like that."

the room feels a little bit colder. since when did gojo sound so... mean?

"i'm just saying," geto says, shrugging, "you'd know better than anyone, she's always on your ass."

"yeah, my ass," gojo turns to you, a pout on his face, "you're not bullying other people, are you? i don't have any other bullies."

only satoru gojo could get into an argument this stupid.

"no," you drone, "your drain on my time and attention is uncontested."

rather than being ashamed of this, gojo looks absolutely tickled.

even when you punch him in the shoulder, his good mood is undampened.

"nerd," you grouse, stalking off to your next class, which gojo naturally follows.

it sucked being in the same classes as him, but at least it meant you could get his help. he really is a huge nerd. all those hours you put into it, and he seems to understand everything effortlessly.

the class feels like it takes hours. you pay diligent attention, take so many notes, and somehow, gojo comes out of it completely chipper.

you're left in peace for a few blessed minutes afterwards as he bolts out of the room for some reason or another.

is he finally starting to fear you as his bully? took him long enough -

"here!" pressed into your hands, your favorite snack from the campus vending machine.

gojo smiles at you, that big, boyish smile that makes him look extra stupid. "sorry i messed up last time."

you don't know what comes over you. maybe it's pure delirium brought on by hunger. or the joy from having something nice to eat.

maybe it's a new form of torture, humiliating him by making him endure a kiss from his bully.

it's just a kiss on the cheek. it's whatever.

he stands there, still, face completely red, blue eyes wide in shock. gojo looks even dumber than usual, which shouldn't even be possible.

you fan your face for a moment as you turn to leave.

"come on, you idiot. we've got a test to study for."

gojo whistles some unbelievably stupid tune, practically skipping the whole way to the library.

"i can't believe it! she kissed me on the cheek!!! a real kiss!" "uh-huh." "don't uh-huh me, suguru, it was REAL! anyways, it all makes sense now. she was just hangry. no wonder she shoved me into a locker. it's my fault for not taking better care of her..." "would you listen to me if i reminded you that you're not dating and this is all pure delusion?" "not dating yet." "so a no, then," suguru says, rolling his eyes as he returns to his work. satoru's already finished with the homework and scrolling through his text message history with you, no doubt spamming you again with memes or pictures or just remarks. but you haven't blocked him yet, have you? suguru smiles to himself, closing his notebook, tucking away a shimmering violet pen.

[seriouslysexyflanders]

The Scholomance Trilogy. It's YA,but those books are awesome.

Also,watching Rubi 2020 made me appreciate Rubi 2005 even more. Camila Sodi was miscast as fuck for the role,but I firmly believe she carries 10% of the responsibility for that fiasco(and they could make Camila's Rubi work with a bit of actual ingenuity and hard work). The writing and direction of Rubi 2020 always made me cringe - for some reason,they gave her shitty lines,made Camila force some sensuality she sorely lacked, and made Héctor into some monster in order to make Rubí look better(so much for doing away with manichaeisms). Besides,the Y2K Rubí gave a much more nuanced view on seduction,IMO.

While Barbara Mori's Rubi was extremely attractive,she had her limits - many of them imposed by her excessive focus on her beauty and superficial "feminine wiles",to the detriment of her other strengths. Besides,the attention she got from men often did more harm than good. In fact,I'd say the Count won their game of seduction by appealing to her greed and laziness - Rubi gave him all her economies,and he ended ruining her. Mind you,that was her giving power over her to a guy she knew had bad intentions.

On the other hand,Camila's Rubi was often portrayed as this irresistible femme fatale,and almost no one in charge was able to portray such a woman. The actress was poorly chosen,the script was childish and didn't do justice to the premise. Rubi 2020 hit on Héctor on the most obvious way possible(the bar scene was ridiculous,I find it hard to believe he'd just drop Maribel for that). Speaking of Maribel,Rubi 2020 also didn't make much of an effort to hide her contempt towards her supposed best friend. Rubi's celebrity arc was even more ridiculous - she didn't seem like an intelligent,ruthless,charismatic woman willing to do everything for fame;but rather a Disney Channel mean girl. Future!Rubi was played decently,but the writing was still subpar - Rubi was supposedly kept jailed by Héctor for two decades,and she doesn't show many signs of such trauma. As the cherry on the cake,Rubi 2020 ended with Héctor in a psychiatric jail - never being able to forget Rubi - ,and she got all his money. As if it was a reward for enduring brutal abuse. Isn't it the narrative equivalent of "bribe away the mistreatment"? So much for feminism and empowerment.

what is everyone’s media property that they think is good but would get their pretentious card revoked. like i’m talking no irony you think this property is genuinely brilliant and deserves critical acclaim. i will go first. this is us nbc

[notjustjavierpena]

Applied Physics

Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Long awaited smutty piece with a planned sequel. I hope you enjoy, ya filthy animal 💅🎀💖

Summary: It’s the 60s, you’re three weeks behind on a deadline, and your professor, Doctor Reed Richards, makes you face the consequences. 

Pairing: Reed Richards x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: College student/teacher relationship, science talk, Reed has powers, dub con, spanking, dom/sub dynamics, implied dacryphilia, dirty talking, sub drop, aftercare, stern Reed 🥵

Word count: 5.7k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62948440/chapters/161199763

Applied Physics

Dr. Reed N. Richards always wears a tweed jacket with elbow patches that show off his broad shoulders and give him an irresistible swagger. He teaches physics at your college part-time - when he is not out saving the world - and he is equally terrifying as he is warm, a combination of traits that you have learned can actually coexist but only after meeting him. 

You have been wanting him since he walked into the classroom that morning many months ago, carrying a black leather binder seemingly filled with little to nothing since everything appears to be stored in his brain. 

He has standards, you find, and traditional ways of doing things that somehow emphasize his love for the delicacy of science. For instance, he only grades papers with a fountain pen and therefore expects every assignment to be handwritten instead of done on a typewriter which is tedious and difficult for those who don’t possess a steady hand. The scary part of him comes out when he says he simply won’t grade the papers that aren’t turned in as he wants them to be. The warm part shows itself when he later makes a self-deprecating joke about knocking over whiskey during his grading. 

The idea of the paper smelling like his cologne or even, if you are lucky, has a stain of his favorite liquor, makes you hand in each assignment whilst the ink is still drying on the paper. Perhaps you will be the first one to receive notes and feedback from him if you turn in your work before its deadline.

You imagine him hunched over a desk, pen barely able to fit in his rough hand. He wears something casual, maybe even has taken off that jacket, scratching his beard and sipping his drink whilst smiling to himself as he reads words that come from your mind. Your mind makes him smile to himself, makes him single you out from the rest of your class because you are special and he knows this. It’s the image you imagine the first time you come whilst thinking about him, shower head between your thighs and legs against the tiled wall in the shared bathroom at the boarding house you reside in. 

When you do finally get your first essay back from him, you read all the comments in the margins during your lunch. You lick a drop of juice from an apple away from your lower lip as your eyes skim over a scribbled good or well done, trying to find an excuse to read more into the way he looks at you when you talk during class. You made him laugh once, that must mean something, right? He clearly has your sense of humor, the same ways of applying theory and reasoning. 

You know that it is hardly rational what you are doing, projecting all these things onto him when, in reality, you only know of him what you have seen during his lectures and office hours. Yet you have found yourself noticing the way he smiles faintly when you correct one of your fellow students during group work, and it has spurred you on to become even more insufferable to your classmates only to get his attention. His approval too, if you are lucky. 

Yet despite all this, here you are with an assignment running three weeks late, your procrastination having reached its limits and your excuses to your professor wearing thin. It’s a challenging state to be in when you’re so used to ranking your popularity with Dr. Richards higher than everyone else on this course. Sure, his attention is nice when it is rooted in praise but you don’t know if the kind that will follow this lecture, the deadline you’d agreed upon for your paper being yesterday, is the kind that will satisfy something in you like the small smiles have. 

You keep bouncing your leg beneath your desk as you wait for Dr. Richards to enter the lecture hall with that cool aura about him and let the fast-paced lecture begin. If anyone sees you, they will recognize it as an itching to suck up to him once more but in reality, it is the first time you’ve been in the room with a nervous tic. 

“Good afternoon, everyone,” he greets as he finally arrives and you find yourself jolting with nerves at the fact that he is finally here and inevitable doom is just around the corner. It doesn’t make it better that his brown eyes sweep over the crowd in a hurry until he spots you, his gaze full of concentration until he gains eye contact with you for less than a second. You sit up straighter at the way he measures you and the subconscious movement of your leg stills completely. Frustratingly, the man keeps talking as if nothing happened. 

After several attempts to regain your composure, you realize that you have completely missed his introduction to today’s lecture and while trying to ignore the thrill that is simmering beneath your anxiety, you scramble to start taking notes. It’s not to show him that you can go back to being his favorite student but rather a necessity to keep yourself from being three weeks further behind.

You power through the lecture even with your fuzzy mind, scribbling things down and making sure to appreciate the privilege it is to be taught by one of the greatest minds to ever live. This is even if he, multiple times, falls into the usual pattern of diving headfirst into multi-layered explanations of different phenomena and concepts, droning on as if none of you and the rest of your classmates exist to him anymore. 

You pretend to keep up when he does this but even you must admit that he loses you. However, you know for a fact that it is not out of disinterest that you stop listening but rather your mind focusing on something else when his words become too difficult to follow. Instead, you end up mapping out the length of his gorgeous neck, the beauty spot where his collar ends. It is enough to leave your mouth dry, but not enough to drag your mind off the scolding you’ll get soon.

When the lecture comes to an end, you have psyched yourself enough to stupidly get up and try to follow the rest of the students out. They trickle out hurriedly though and you find yourself at the back of the school of people heading for the door. 

“Hold it right there,” Reed’s voice travels through the room and hits you right in the back, making you falter in your step. Your last name rolls off his tongue with the same kind of confidence and composure that you’d tried to conjure up just an hour ago. 

“Sir, I was just—“ you rest your hand on the doorknob to signal that you are leaving but you know already that you have lost the fight to exit the room. 

You hear it before you see it; the faint and strange rustling of fabric as something wooshes closer. Suddenly, your teacher’s stretched-out arm moves past you like you have seen it do on television and then his hand attached to said arm splays flat on the door. He closes it with a soft click while you hold your breath. 

Slowly, it retracts back to normal and you follow it with your eyes by glancing over your shoulder. Time stands still for a moment at the sight because while Reed Richards has stretched his body multiple times in the past, without much thought behind it and much to his students' shock, he never puts anyone in the position to experience it firsthand. 

“Sir, I—“

“Come here,” he says quietly. 

You grab the strap of your bag tightly and make your way to the desk where he sits. You decide to beat him to his reprimand, talking even if your voice shakes at his disapproving stare, “I’m sorry I missed this week’s deadline.”

“This week? Try the last three,” he calmly corrects you, “You have done your research on force, impact, and energy transfer in non-elastic collisions, have you not?”

“Yes, of course.”

“And you’ve still not turned anything in? Why?”

“I've been overwhelmed with coursework and–” You trail off when he raises a brow. He is still sitting down but even so, you feel like you are shrinking underneath his authority. You find it hard to believe that anything out your mouth right now will be taken seriously when you have let him down three times already but you try to reassure him anyway, “It won’t happen again, I promise,”

“No, it won’t,” he agrees as he pushes himself to stand. He drags the chair away from the table as if he thinks it is in his way, “You’re brighter than most, so I don’t believe I need to remind you what happens if you keep slacking.”

“No, sir, I’m aware.”

“I mean, we’ve already moved way past force dynamics and energy exchange on this year’s curriculum, so you’re wasting my time,” he goes on with an annoyed sigh that tells you he has better things to do, “What am I supposed to do with you?”

“I don’t know, sir,” you stare at the flooring.

“Come closer,” he orders calmly. He lets his gaze flick down to your hand clutching your bag of books, “Take out your book on core concepts.”

You follow his eyes and pull out the right book before gently letting the strap of your bag slide off your shoulder until the bag hits the floor with a soft thud. Something tells you that you’re not leaving anytime soon.

“Place it on the desk and find the pages on Newton’s Laws,” he continues and your heart slams against your ribs at the thought of an impromptu pop quiz instead of a handed-in paper. Yes, you know these pages but in the presence of him, you’re not so sure. 

Behind you, Reed has shrugged off his jacket while you were flipping through the book. He folds it neatly and hangs it over the back of the chair he was displeased with a moment ago, making sure not to crease the fabric. Then he reaches for the sleeves of the white shirt that he is wearing and rolls them up to his elbows, revealing the slightly visible veins of his forearms. Your head swims and you subtly press your thighs together, images of what you’d like him to do to you flooding your mind.

“Bend over,” he says suddenly, murmuring it almost as if he knows he shouldn’t have said it. 

Your eyes widen and you glance in the door’s direction. There are so many people on the outside of this room right now but the chances of someone walking in are slim since lectures are rarely started at this hour of the afternoon, “I don’t understand?”

“You don’t have to understand anything. I want you to put your palms on either side of the book and bend over,” he elaborates and clearly notices your hesitation, the direction of your eyes. His arm stretches out in front of you again, snaking its way past the rows of chairs until it reaches the door once more. He locks it, the soft click of it mixing with your unsteady breathing, and then he pulls down the curtain in the window at the top. 

When the arm smoothly retracts once more, you naturally think it will stop at his side but instead, you feel his palm on the back of your neck. His other hand joins to lay on the small of your back and then he pushes down gently to maneuver you into the position that he wants. 

You exhale shakily as you place your hands on the desk, feeling the smooth wood underneath your fingertips as a way to ground yourself in a moment so electric. Your body is way ahead of you, reacting to the anticipation of his next move by making a dull ache settle right between your legs. Your clit throbs, your walls flutter. 

“Your paper was supposed to use Newton’s Laws as a foundation, let me make sure you know them properly,” Reed says simply while removing his hand from your lower back. His other hand, the one on the back of your neck, slips down your spine to take the previous one’s spot, leaving fire in its wake, “Recite them.”

You swallow thickly, “Newton’s First Law states that a body at rest—”

Smack. 

A loud gasp leaves you at the surprise of Reed’s free hand coming down on your backside, heat spreading out underneath the fabric of your skirt where it has struck you. Your head whips around to stare at him in disbelief at what he has just done, your mouth hanging open in shock.

“Eyes on the book,” he commands sternly, curling his fingers slightly into the hem of your shirt, “Go on. Newton’s First Law.”

You count three whole breaths before you will yourself to face forward again, looking down at the text in front of you and trying to regain your ability to read. You swallow the lump in your throat, the letters jumbled on the page, “Uhh…”

“Concentrate,” he adds and gives you another blow, one that makes you jolt forward on the desk and send the book almost over the edge. You frantically reach for it, noticing the way your heart leaps into your throat when you consider what would have happened if it had fallen off. 

You drag the book back down and try to act cool but your voice tells on you as you start to read out loud, “A-a body at rest stays at rest, and a body in motion stays in motion—”

He spanks you again and elicits another gasp but you seem to have expected it since you don’t go flying forward. This is even if his palm leaves behind a much more painful sting this time and makes your toes curl in your shoes. 

“Until…” He sounds impatient. 

You act immediately like a dog who is learning about action and consequences, “Until acted upon by an external force.”

“Good girl,” he praises and you don’t know why the softness of his voice makes you tear up. His broad palm traces over the spot that is warming up already and you make a show out of sighing with content. 

However, the soothing touch is short-lived and you start struggling just slightly as Reed’s hand descends until he can grab the hem of your pencil skirt and roughly tug it up. He settles it just above the plumpness of your ass, swatting you to make you focus and stop squirming. 

“I’m not going to fuck you so stop moving around,” he scolds and surprises you with yet another smack. It feels different now that each slap is skin-on-skin contact, sounds different too as the noise echoes through the empty lecture hall. You whine in slight disappointment, even if you have inappropriately imagined his cock in you during circumstances so different so many times. 

“Second Law,” he murmurs, occupied briefly by the bruise forming on your cheek and scraping his nails across it. 

“W-what?” You let out a whimper, your thighs pressing together to soothe your pulsing clit. In theory, you know what he has said but it just isn’t registering since your mind is occupied by you knowing exactly what you will be doing back home if he won’t touch you. In fact, a thrill goes through you at the thought of another blow to recall in your bed with your hand stuffed into your underwear.

“Newton’s Second Law,” he repeats with a smaller swat following. You suck in a breath to calm yourself. 

“Newton’s Second Law states that the net force on an object is equal to its mass times its acceleration,” you say somewhat confidently, a sense of calm settling over you as you finally feel like you are getting a handle on the situation. 

“Apply it to the situation you’re in right now,” he tests you. You feel your face grow hot and hesitation seizes you for a second. It takes a moment too long for him and a much sharper smack lands right on the jiggliest part of your ass, the sharpness of the pain making you moan for the first time and the noise of the blow bouncing off the walls. You almost even swear in your professor’s presence, and you would have if it weren’t for the way tears in your eyes take off the edge.

“You’ll get one more if you don’t open your mouth soon,” he adds. You’re just about to speak, about to follow orders, when he takes a step closer and presses his cock into your hip. You freeze at the size of him, a sound that can only be described as pathetic leaving you. Reed huffs out a chuckle and smacks you once more albeit slightly less maliciously.

“Y–you’re applying a force to me. Your hand is the mass and the acceleration is essentially the swing of your arm. The shorter the time and the greater the velocity of the impact, the bigger the force I feel,” you try not to hiccup through the whole explanation but the words take a longer time to come to you and your backside is hypersensitive, warm, and sore. Your pulse rings in your ears too, and you swear you can almost taste the adrenaline in your mouth from how it is coursing through your body. It might just be salt from your tears though which you realize will simply give you an excuse as to why you stayed behind after class. If you really try, you might be able to conjure up an act of a student who got some terrible feedback.

“Still with me?” You hear him ask, feel him soothe your burning flesh. You wonder if his palm is imprinted on your cheek.

“Yes, sir,” you mumble with a sniffle, your palms sticking to the desk from how clammy they have become. 

“Speak up,” he corrects you and his palm leaves you long enough for you to start anticipating another strike. No hands on your body makes it harder to abstain from feeling his hard cock resting against your hip, the heaviness of it making you even wetter and oh God, aching to be filled.

“Yes, sir,” you enunciate without coming off as bratty. The next strike doesn’t come and relief washes over you, allowing you to relish in the cool air brushing your tingling and bruised skin.

“Last but not least. Newton’s Third Law?” 

“F-for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction,” you say and rest your forehead on the book that has absorbed a few teardrops, He doesn't give you praise or a soothing touch. It bewilders you, makes you question if your scatterbrained state has accidentally made you say something that is wrong. You go quiet except for your rapid breathing as you go over your answer in your head but nothing comes to mi–

The sudden smack instantly makes you realize where you went wrong, landing across the exact spot that’s already stinging and causing you to hiss and whine through your teeth. Quickly, you scramble to relate Newton to what Reed is doing to you, “If… if you strike me, my body exerts a force back on your hand.”

“Mhm, good,” he hums while your head swims, “And I bet you’re feeling that force right now.”

“It hurts,” you whimper feebly and turn your head to the side. Yes, it’s the truth but your body can’t tell if it’s supposed to register this as pain or pleasure, the sensations overlapping intensely.

“That’s part of the lesson,” Reed’s hand returns in a gentle touch, his large palm settling carefully over the same spot he has just mercilessly spanked, “Why does it hurt?”

You wish he’d move his hand down between your legs and make you come when he realizes how soaked-through your panties are, “B-because when you spank me your hand transfers kinetic energy into my skin. The force and the friction cause heat to build. The tissues and blood vessels react, and it—”

“Gives you that glow. Precisely,” he finishes your sentence and curls his hand around your hip firmly. He sounds enthralled by his work, “And I respond with arousal, meaning it makes me so goddamn hard. Now, hold still. These last three are for the three missed deadlines.”

You know he means business when his finger slips underneath the waistband of your panties. He pulls them down just enough to settle them underneath the globes of your ass without exposing your needy cunt, the elastic of them digging slightly into sore skin. His other hand lifts and you brace yourself even if you know that any human can suffer through even uncontrollable pain if they know there’s an end to it. 

The first of three strikes lands right on the curve of your backside, harder than any of the several ones before it and making your entire body seize up. He isn’t playing around this time, your skin immediately blooming with newfound heat and fiery pain. It makes you moan out loud and squeeze your eyes shut until fireworks go off behind your eyelids.

“Count,” he says calmly. 

“O-one,” you manage to say in a voice that makes it sound like an apology instead. 

The second one makes it feel like there’s a clap of thunder going through your bones. You jolt forward on the desk enough to finally send the damn book flying off the edge to the floor. Reed tightens his grip on your hip to steady you, dragging you back to him again as if to remind you that despite everything he’s got you. 

“Two,” you say shakily, “I’m sorry, Professor Richards.”

He rubs the spot to soothe your burning flesh and by now, a part of you wants to crawl into his lap and be held. He coos softly at you and gently squeezes the roundness of your ass, making you bite down on your bottom lip and exhale a needy whine through your nose. 

“No need to bring me apologies,” he tells you, “We’ll see if you’ve learned your lesson. Last one.”

He lets you wait for the final smack, but when his hand lands on your skin, a sharp cry rips from your throat. Tears start flowing freely from your eyes now - even if you’re still not fully crying as emotions have not caught up with you yet - but it’s not solely from the pain, but also from the swirl of adrenaline and arousal that tightens below your belly button. You wonder if you should reach up to wipe your eyes but you can’t make yourself let go of the desk underneath you, clutching it in an iron grip because of how wobbly your legs are.

“Three,” you hiccup as Reed loosens his grip on you. You feel the ache of your behind with every heartbeat and want to sob now that it is over. You’re hyper-aware of what is happening in your body which is the adrenaline starting to crash, and the emotions, coming in like a wave, are just about to overwhelm you when—

“Sit up on the desk for me,” Reed says gently. 

“But the book,” you glance toward the textbook that you sent flying not long ago. It is a silly thing to cling onto but there’s an emotional wavering in your voice as you say it which Reed seems to catch onto. 

“Leave it,” he murmurs, an order but not like the previous ones, “Sit. I need to make sure you’re alright.”

The task seems impossible. You barely manage to push yourself fully upright, your shaking legs nearly not able to hold you up, and when you turn around to lift yourself onto the desk, you feel the edge dig into your sore behind in a way that forces a hiss out of you. A tear that you have no control over rolls slowly down your cheek.

“Easy,” Reed is beside you, catching onto your motive when you get ready to jump up onto the surface in a hurry due to his earlier lack of patience. He has previously had a hovering hand nearby but now, he grabs a hold of you to still you, “Do it carefully.”

When you’re finally perched on the desk, you’re not sure if the calming cool sensation of the wood beneath your thighs outweighs the pressure against your smarting skin. What you are sure of though is the storm of emotions inside your chest, a raging one made up of an overwhelming mix of new pain, embarrassment, and vulnerability, all of which makes your heart feel too big for your rib cage. 

“I’m okay,” you lie but you hear yourself and know it isn’t very convincing. He gives you a raised eyebrow. 

“Seems like you’re experiencing what is known as a drop. Come on, deep breaths,” he guides you gently when he spots the way your bottom lip wobbles, “If you have to cry, let it out. No one’s going to see you.”

From his words, you realize that your breathing has become unsteady and hitched in very little time. Your shoulders shake and your chest has a ball of unleashed feelings in it that nearly makes you feel sick. It unravels when the tears that you hoped would subside resurface at the permission to let them flow. You feel them brimming at the corners of your eyes. 

“I’m sorry, this is so embarrassing,” you say shakily when they finally spill over even if the tension in your torso slowly ebbs away as you let go. 

“You’re alright. Just breathe for me,” he says softly. He brings his hands to your thighs and rubs them in an attempt to soothe and ground you, “Slow and steady in through the nose and out the mouth. Right now, you don’t have to do anything but calm down, and then I can take a look at you.”

The room around you seems distant as you try to breathe more steadily but you’re lightheaded, feeling almost as if you’re wrapped in a woolen, fuzzy blanket that blocks everything out besides him. You aren’t sure if it is the adrenaline crash anymore or the way that your whole body is so tightly wound for pleasure that won’t come but you crave his touch, crave him taking care of you.

“You’re okay,” he says over and over, drowning out the static in your ears, “No more crying, sweet angel. I’d rather not see you leave here like this.”

The nickname makes you snap out of it. Angel? Did he just call you an angel? Your tears go on hold when you continuously blink up at him from your seat on the desk, pawing at his chest without knowing what to do with all your longing. He makes you feel all the things you have felt since you met him all at once now, a dizzying flurry of thoughts and feelings. 

“That’s better,” he smiles genuinely for the first time and you melt right then and there. He looks so damn handsome when he does it that you go ridiculously doe-eyed at the sight. 

“Thank you,” you mumble while playing with the buttons on his white shirt. The butterflies in your belly have nearly made the pulsing ache of your backside disappear. 

“Stand up,” he says and removes your hands from his chest which you probably make a much bigger deal out of than him, “I need to take a look at you.” 

You stand on wobbly legs. Slowly and carefully, he skims his fingers over the inflamed skin and notes out loud that it is warm. It’s not a soothing caress for the sake of tenderness, but rather a deliberate check-in to take note of how much damage he’s done. He works methodically, like a man who daily works with scientific research and experiments, going over each part of you while humming at his discoveries. 

“Right. Cool compress when you get home for the swelling, ten-fifteen minutes on and off. Frozen peas will do,” he instructs in the exact same tone as when he gives out science homework, “The skin is still intact but you’ll be sore if you don’t treat yourself with a little kindness. Lotion if it is too much to bear and loose clothing. Not a pencil skirt like this one, we clear?” 

You nod with the hint of a pout.

“And,” he adds and grabs lightly at your chin, his tone suddenly playful, “Try not to miss any more deadlines.”

It’s a joke, you realize, something to lighten the atmosphere in the lecture hall and you barely register it from the way his fingers hold your head in place. Despite your watery eyes and racing heartbeat, you huff out a little laugh.

“There we go,” he coos at the sound of your chuckle, “Not so gloomy anymore.”

With gentle hands, he reaches just below your hips to pull your underwear up over the curve of your ass again, careful not to let the waistband tug at the sensitive skin. He does the same with your skirt, tugging the hem down over your thighs until you look decent once more. 

Your lips part slightly as your eyes slide up to look at his face, feeling dumbstruck by his brown intelligent eyes and his aquiline nose straight out of the statues from Ancient Rome. You admire the column of his neck, the mentioned beauty mark just above his collar, and the dip that you want to kiss. 

After a moment, you realize that you have gone quiet and when you look back at his eyes, you are dizzyingly meeting his suddenly intense gaze. It is as if he has calculated that you are back with him, lingering with desire albeit still a little shaken by your tears. His eyes are burning into yours and you can feel the restraint behind them. It is as if you can sense the electricity in the air, the warmth that prickles in your cheeks, and the heat that radiates from him. 

Without a word, he reaches to tuck your shirt into your skirt until it hugs your figure tightly, a fashion choice different from how you had arrived in his classroom earlier. The dominance of styling your clothes as he prefers it makes you press your thighs together, the dull ache returning between your legs. 

“I’ve noticed, seen it all. That’s why I did it,” he says cryptically as he stuffs your shirt down at the back, fingertips brushing the dip of your spine until heat racks up it. 

“Noticed what?” You ask foolishly but had you stopped to think, you would have figured it out already. 

“All the energy you’ve put into getting me to notice you and getting my undivided attention. Congratulations, you’ve finally got it,” he clarifies and lets both his hands rest on the small of your back for the briefest of moments. When he lets go of you, you follow his touch by leaning in to close the distance with a kiss. 

He places a hand on your chest, holding you back just when you are pressing the ghost of a kiss to his lips. He has given you so much by now. Why not this? A ball of frustration settles in your chest and comes out as a little whine of impatience, “Why can’t we?”

He doesn’t pull away, simply speaks less than an inch from your face so you can feel his breath on your mouth, “Because you need to learn restraint, sweet angel. I can’t have you missing your deadlines three weeks in a row - or at all really - due to some little crush.”

You want to defend yourself, say that it has nothing to do with him but deep down, you know it would be a lie straight to his face. So instead, you swallow thickly, “I want you. I’ve wanted you since I saw you.”

“And you will have me,” he kisses you so softly that you want to sink to your knees, “Just not until I say so, and certainly not before you’ve been a good girl and turned in that paper.”

“Sir,” you try one last time.

“I’ll teach you to be patient, to have restraint,” he tells you and makes you realize your attempt was to no avail, “Whether you like it or not.”

You give in, buzzing with the need for more, “I can turn my paper in on Monday. Would that suffice?” 

“I’ll hold you to that, but no late nights and last-minute scrambling. If I find you’ve rushed through it…” he lets the sentence drift off, letting your imagination figure out the consequence, “And it best be your best work yet.”

“Yes, sir,” you reluctantly pull back when nothing seems to work, “Whatever you want.”

“Hand it to me during office hours before class,” he instructs to which you nod.

“But what now?” You ask with a tiny impatient noise, letting him know just how much you’ve got against his reluctance to touch you. 

His hand flexes by his side, “Now you go home. You lock your door and you touch that pretty thing between your thighs just how you like it most. I want you to come for me until you’re hoarse. Three times for three weeks but no more than that, not until we see each other again.”

It is Wednesday and you won’t see him until Monday. How on Earth are you going to survive on only three orgasms after this? Your mind races with protests but you don’t get to voice your concern about the limit he has set because he has already stepped back to pick up his jacket from his desk chair. 

You decide to circle the table to pick up your book and stuff it into your bag. Behind you, Reed’s eyes are definitely on you as you lean forward with a hand on the desk. He is fixing the cuffs of his sleeves and putting on his tweed jacket, trying to come off as if letting you have a private moment to compose yourself.

“Monday,” he reminds you when you stand upright again. His arm stretches out between the rows of chairs and tables once more so he can unlock the door for you. 

“Yes, sir,” you answer obediently. 

You swing your bag over your shoulder and then you leave.

.

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[hamzaheaven]

Haiiii im scouring Tumblr in search of friends to lovers! or besties with feelings! hcs for Hamzah and im pretty sure ive read all of them lol so could you make do one pretty please??? 🤭

friends2lovers!hamzah headcanons

a/n: oh my fingers have been ITCHINHGGGHGHG for something like this .. i couldve written an entire book on this but let me calm down . HOPE U ENJOY !! thank u for the req anon :-) warnings: none

SFW <3

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

friends 2 lovers!hamzah headcanons<3

friends but crushing:

gets increasingly more nervous around you the longer he knows you

looks at you for just a little too long sometimes

hysterically denies it when you do catch him staring 

literally doesn’t know how to act around you lol

will absentmindedly play with your fingers or the ends of your hair when sitting near him, and will then silently freak out as he zones back in and becomes too aware of what he’s doing lmao

a plethora of edits on tiktok shipping you two, speculation of “are they dating???” “did you see how he looked at her” galore

WAY too shy and awkward to make a move

makes many feeble attempts at flirting a little regardless

flirting to bf-gf !!!!:

freezes completely when you start flirting back

youre a little more bold about it, and he sometimes doesn’t know what to do with allat

making funny, suggestive jokes at him while filming videos or during the podcast, causing him to be even more flustered as it is on camera lol

gets a little unsure and anxious when it comes to physical affection, so it took a lot of pining and hesitation and yearning and frustration before the first kiss :o

after the first kiss yall beat around the bush like a bull in a china shop LMAO

however, slowly but surely, you naturally gravitate towards each other, and absentminded hand-holding and kisses on cheeks start to occur more often

at some point, it all flows so easily, he starts kissing you when he comes (the sfw one yall) and goes

 tbh he just starts introducing you as his girlfriend one day

“since when am i your girlfriend?”    “uhh… now, i guess…? if you want to, i mean…”

you say yes, of course

bf!hamzah:

still a little clueless on how to act now that he has you 

like he’ll quickly look away after kissing you, struggles to maintain eye contact for too long, gets flustered so easily it actually frustrates him a little

HATES pda, but is the clingiest, neediest mfer behind closed doors omg

loves laying with his head between your thighs so you can play with his hair (when he still fucking had hair .)

not that into petnames… finds it more meaningful to call you by your nickname <3

literally stuck to your side once you both touch the sheets

always falls asleep with his head on your chest, so you can, again, play with his hair (or caress his now bald head like polishing a billiard ball idk) 

loveeeeeees your perfume and your scent in general

becomes the actual textbook definition of ‘clingy’ when he’s gone on a cousin walk if u know what i mean hehe

half-lidded, red eyes, a sheepish grin on his face, shamelessly staring at you

followed by a hazy, dreamy, slightly sloppy make-out session iktr

we all know that man has a tendency to whine and moan and whimper no matter the situation so just imagine what he would sound like when kissing........... and other things LOL

he loves to slide his hands underneath your shirt 

ass & thigh guy for SUREEEE woah

a lot of unserious play fighting, verbally and physically

which of course causes him to gag for absolutely no reason

doesnt have a lot of experience in the love department but he feels sooo comfortable with you and you make him feel like he doesn’t need any experience at all to know how to treat & love you so good <3

[mattybsgroupie]

— talking matt through his first orgasm over the phone

★ requested by anon ★

“matt? are you there?” you asked when you noticed matt had suddenly gotten quiet, his hums and nods no longer being heard. “uh, yes yes i’m listening” he mumbled, but his voice sounded further away, as if he had placed his phone somewhere else. you could hear him shuffling around the sheets, his breath getting heavier as he expected you to continue talking.

“what are you doing?” you said in a low tone, hearing matt coughing. “n-nothing, i’m just— i’m getting ready to sleep, that’s all” matt answered, lowering his head against the pillow, trying to get more comfortable as he placed the phone on his own chest. you knew exactly what he was doing — but you needed to hear it from him. “are you touching yourself, matt?” you ask and he suddenly chokes, coughing in discomfort.

“answer. me.” you demand. he never heard you like that before, your voice still soft while spitting mean words. this only made his cock twitch inside his fist, a muffled moan coming from his parted lips. “you’re a naughty, naughty boy”

“‘m sorry!” matt managed to speak, raising his forearm and putting it across his face in a way to hide his lewd expression. he covered his eyes, thinking it was your hand wrapped around his cock, lazily stroking it. “i-i… i need you to keep talking, please”

“give me one good fucking reason, matt. one reason why i should keep talking while you jerk that tiny cock of yours” you hear a loud whine coming from the speaker, as if he was about to cry. you couldn’t help but chuckle at his desperation, wondering how flushed his cheeks would look. you knew he was dripping sweat, his long, slender fingers probably rubbing his slit as he pumped his length — and you were the only thing on his mind. “because” matt started, taking a deep breath. “because i never… never did this before”

“phone sex?” you ask, and he whines again. he was so frustrated. “no!” matt mumbled, a pout forming on his lips. “n-never… came”. you got startled at his confession, adjusting your position in bed, a smirk unwittingly forming on your lips. “you’ve never had an orgasm baby? is that what you’re telling me?”

you can’t see it, but matt nods. “call me that again, please” he pleads, small whimpers coming from the back of his throat. he wanted to be your baby. “aw, is that why you’re so whiny, baby? my little virgin boy never came? not even inside his pants?”

“h-have” he continues. you can now clearly hear the sound of his wetness taking over, the pre-cum oozing from his tip making his cock slippery. “but only… in dreams” matt confesses, causing you to smile at his innocence. “and then you wake up all sticky, baby?”

matt hums through the speaker, his whimpers turning into moans as he approached his high. “do you feel that thing on your tummy sweetie? that’s when you know you’re close” you instruct him, and matt instantly answers. “c-close” he says, not sure when to stop.

“so let it all out yeah?” you coo, feeling your own heat getting harder to ignore, the wetness from your pussy leaving a spot on your panties. “cum for me” was all you needed to say to hear matt’s cries, a loud groan taking over your earphones as he orgasmed for the first time. spams took over his body and his phone suddenly fell, his screen hitting against the wooden floor. you patiently waited as he recovered, chuckling when he got his phone back. “felt good?” you asked, knowing he was smiling on the other side. “you definitely gotta teach me more things”.

[lyricwritesprose]

At first, I really did think it was just because Landon had been struck by lightning. That was where I found him, you see—in the middle of Bryley's Woods, in a clearing, where it sure looked like lightning had struck and set things on fire. I am still not sure why he called me for help, considering that I have all the reasons in the world to tell him where to get off—except I'm increasingly thinking it might be because my name is Aashvonne (blame my Mom) and that puts me at the very top of his contact list.

The thing is, Landon was not a good guy. And I'm not just talking about all the things he put me through, I'm talking about everyone. Pretty much everyone knew that if you loaned Landon money you'd never see it again, that if he gave his word on something he'd have gone back on it by sundown and accuse you of lying about it, and the less said about his string of relationships the better. But the few anecdotes I've heard about being struck by lightning, there are sometimes personality changes or at least a renewed perspective on life, so I wasn't that surprised to find him unusually quiet rather than raucous and overly friendly. I tried to talk him into going to a doctor, but I wasn't going to try to wrestle with him about it.

We live in the same apartment complex, though, so Landon was there when we dug the stray kitten out of the dumpster—in fact, he did a lot of the digging, which shocked the hell out of me. Landon, willingly making himself dirty when someone else could be bothered into doing the work for him? We brought the poor little thing into Landon's apartment (which was astonishingly clean considering that he was between girlfriends) and drew a bath. The kitten let out a long drawn out wail.

Landon startled me by making the exact same sound back at him.

I have to admit, I jumped slightly. People meow back at cats, but they usually don't meow like cats. Not to that extent. "I think that means he's unhappy," Landon added.

"He's covered in shit," I said, "literally. Here, I think I've got the water right, hand him over." I looked at the kitten. "Also I think he may be a she. Ginger and white, that's a female pattern, isn't it?"

"You're the expert on cats, Vonnie," Landon said. The kitten made another protest as I put her into the warm water and tried a gentle scrub. Landon repeated that one, too, with just as uncanny a degree of mimicry. "Sorry, I'll stop. I don't think there's a huge amount of meaning in it anyway. Just, 'unhappy, unhappy, knock it off.'"

"You are going to be much happier if you're clean, dingus," I told the kitten. She was deeply unimpressed.

After that—and after Landon, who had always said he disliked cats, adopted Her Ladyship Dingus Creamsicle Loudly Von Dumpster, I started paying a little more attention.

Landon had a magnificent ability to make it through a conversation with someone without much information on where he knew them from, or indeed, in many cases, their name. I probably wouldn't have noticed except that I'm so bad with names and faces that I had to pick up a few tricks. He was using them all.

He was also using, I don't know, slightly lawyerly language. He'd hedge his bets rather than outright promising something. Which, on the bright side, meant less extravagant promises, so it wasn't a bad thing, just—different.

And he wasn't going out at night. Like. Virtually at all. From a guy who used to be all about clubs and parties, that was actually a pretty big change.

There had been a few strange things happening around town, for sure—the weirdest, and also closest to the apartments, being a couple of cops being chased away by "ball lightning" when they had been threatening a Deaf Black kid for not immediately complying—but I had no reason to connect any of that stuff to Landon. Until I came down with flu. (And yes, I got the shot, but that happened to a lot of people last winter; sometimes an unexpected strain wins, for whatever reason.) Sick as a dog, fragile-feeling as a horse—Landon was the last person I would have asked for help before, but then, he was a bit different now.

And he was lovely to me. Fed me soup, brought me my toothbrush at my bedside, all sorts of caretaking stuff. I wasn't even thinking of the changes in him until I was ready to go to sleep that night, and he said, "Good night, Vonnie," and turned off the light—

And I saw that his eyes were glowing emerald green. Not like a cat's eyes. Could have sworn these were lit up from within.

There was a frozen moment. I think we were both wondering what he would do to preserve the secret. Personally, I was also thinking about the ball lightning those cops encountered. They'd said it was green, not green-tinted, but a deep, saturated color. Like this.

"Is." I swallowed. "Is there anything else you want me to call you? You know. Like a nickname."

"It's just Landon." Landon sounded a bit unsteady, as if I'd scared the shit out of him too, by seeing.

"Okay. I'm cool with that."

"There—wasn't much left of the old Landon. When I got there. But he did want to do better, to be better—to have a second chance, I guess. Which is why…" He trailed off. "I don't know if that makes it better or worse."

"Yeah, I'm going to have to figure that out myself," I said. Fuck of an emotional brick to hit someone with, but I suppose it was emotional bricks all the way down. "Landon? Thanks for coming over. With the soup."

I couldn't quite tell from the light in the hallway, or the glow from his eyes, but I think he smiled and relaxed a little bit. "Anytime I can."

Your “friend” has been replaced by a doppelgänger. You aren’t sure where it came from or what it is under the disguise. But you know one thing; you prefer it over the original.

[paulyenvol6]

Fine Line

This is a smutty one shot with Joel Miller x reader and it's based on this request. Very angsty and lots of dom!Joel with daddy vibes and subby reader. I had so much fun writing this so thank you so much for the amazing request and feel free to send me whatever you want me to write. Enjoy <3

Contains: smut, oral (f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, edging, orgasm denial, mentions of safe word, dubcon, daddy kink, dom and mean Joel, sub!reader, degrading, mentions of words like whore/bitch/slut, angst, anxiety, panic, fainting, having sex although the other person wants to stop, crying, aftercare, soft Joel in the end

Wordcount: ~6.41k

Masterlist

Joel was horny tonight.

You could see it in the way his lips were always slightly parted and his chest rose and fell more heavily than usual.

And he was simply more responsive to your arm that would brush against his side every now again or your hand against his chest. He had been like that the whole evening and now as you lay in his arms on the couch you couldn't help but think about the way you could take advantage of the situation.

When Joel was craving sex with you he was more willing to do you a favor just because he needed you so much that he didn't have the patience to think about what you were asking of him. And maybe, just maybe tonight could be one of those nights where you would be able to get exactly what you were yearning for.

It was clear to you that Joel was intiating sex when he wrapped an arm around your waist to press you to his center while covering your neck with sloppy kisses. He gently removed your hair to softly bite and mark your neck until you felt brave enough to come forward with your request.

"Joel?" you asked softly and he hummed against your skin. "Mhm?"

"I want you to be mean to me. Please."

It wasn't like the two of you were vanilla when it came to sex. You had tried a lot of different things that could be called kinky but Joel tended to be a little more careful with certain things than you were.

Your suspicion was that the reason for that was your age gap. You were in your early twenties after all and although he should really know how much you adored being with him and that you would never want to treat this life with him for a life with a younger man your age, you believed that he didn't love it because he didn't want to emphasize or increase the power imbalance between the two of you. Which you, quite frankly, hated.

Because he was so good at it that when you got your favourite freaky Joel you longed for him days after and begged him to be rough with you at any time of the day. Sometimes Joel played along to make you happy because that was what he was after at the end of the day but you always had a feeling that he felt bad after degrading you.

But now he chuckled and his hand became more firm on your stomach to hold you close to him.

"Ya want me to be mean? But you were such a good little kitten today, ain't that right?"

You gave him your biggest puppy eyes while turning in his lap so you could look at him.

"Please daddy. I want you to. I was good, yes, so please do me the favor."

Joel sighed and took your face in his hands. You loved when he did that, because his hands were so big that it felt like he was covering the whole side of your face.

"You want me to be mean to my favourite little pussy? That's gonna make me feel very bad, honey."

You were growing impatient now because you didn't know if Joel was simply teasing you or actually still considering treating you roughly tonight so you shifted in his lap rocking yourself against his crotch in order to get him hard.

"Ugh uh, babygirl," he growled at once and stopped you by placing his hands on your hips.

"If you want me to be hard on you, you're only gonna do what I tell you to do. That's your only task."

You had to surpress a proud smile because you finally had evoked the kind of Joel you needed right now. He was mocking you, treating you like you needed guidance with everything and would surely punish you if need be.

"I will. Please be hard on me, daddy, I need it."

He smirked and softly pulled at you bottom lip with his thumb.

"God…, will you look at that," he said with a husky voice and observed the way you lip snapped back.

"Such a silly girl. Beggin' me to treat you like shit when you usually ask for your sweet 'n nice daddy almost all the time."

He cupped your chin with his hand in order to observe you precisely and bit his lip at your sight.

"You want me to be mean? Then I'm gonna be really mean, baby. Gonna treat you like shit. S'this what ya want?"

Yes, that was what you wanted and you could already feel your pussy dripping at his words. Too stunned to speak you nodded determinedly but it wasn't enough for Joel.

"Words," he demanded and tapped against your bottom lip.

"I want it. Want you to be really mean."

He smirked and carefully, almost as if you were something fragile tilted your head in his hands. Then, within seconds he had grabbed your waist and moved the two of you over so you were on your back while he hovered over you. You let out a giggle which he instantly surpressed by pressing his lips on yours until you were left breathless.

"Joel," you murmured against his mouth and wrapped your arms around him.

You wanted to test him, provoke him to the point where he would snap and put you in your place. Perhaps he was aware of your strategy but he still played along.

"Hands to yourself," he whispered and pinned your wrists down over your head with one hand.

"Joel," you whispered again but now he seemed to have officially taken on his role because his eyes remained cold and indifferent.

"Do you have something to say? Otherwise you're gonna shut up unless I tell you to speak."

With a bubbly feeling in your belly you shook your head and waited for what he would do next. He watched you for a while like he was a predator taking in the view of his helpless victim in front of him and you almost started to feel so impatient that you wondered if you should ask him to go on when he finally moved his hands to your waist in order to tug at the fabric and pull it up.

He revealed your belly, thumb drawing circles over your skin and exposed your abdomen until the underside of your chest was bare under his gaze.

"Not wearin' a fuckin' bra? Jesus Christ…," he growled and you clenched your thighs at his husky voice.

"Please," you moaned already feeling so tense and full of accumulated pleasure that you needed him to finally touch you now.

"And she's already begging me like a pathetic bitch," Joel's sharp voice cut through the air leaving you big-eyed.

"I just know that if I didn't take such care of you you'd whore your way around the city spreadin' those pretty legs for every breathing creature. 'Cause you're a needy slut that can't ever get enough."

He squeezed your breast at his words which forced you to let out a gasp. For a moment you had to remind yourself that Joel didn't actually think that way about you but he was playing this role for you. He was just so good at it that you feared he would make you feel so little that you would start to believe his evil words.

Both his hands were now busy with kneading your breasts so roughly that the throbbing between your legs became more intense the longer he proceeded. You pressed your thighs together, a pathetic attempt to get rid of it but it didn't really work so you shifted your hips to search for his knee between your legs.

When Joel realized what you were doing he harshly opened your legs with his knee leaving you feel even more uncomfortable. His hand enclosed around your nipple which got him your attention and you submissively looked up to him.

"Stupid girl. Pissin' me off after begging me to be rough with you. You're gonna take all of it now, babygirl and I swear to god I'll ignore your crying or beggin' or complainin' 'n you can moan my name as often as you like, I'll keep going until I'm satisfied."

As much as you were looking forward to this promise you couldn't help but feel a little reluctant as well because you were familiar with his ways of torturing and teasing you and the prospect of spending the night pleading and begging him to finally give you what you wanted wasn't exactly comfortable. But you had asked for this after all. You loved it when he was mean to you and you knew it would be worth it.

A shiver rippled down your spine as you felt him twist your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger while he simultaneously kneaded your other breast. It was a fine line between pleasure and pain that he overstepped every now and which would then leave you breathless and with tears in your eyes when he pulled a little too hard on your nipple. Then you placed your hand on his but Joel merely snorted furiously and pushed you away.

"I said you're gonna take it. Without fuckin' annoyin' me. Stick those fingers into your mouth if you can't keep 'em to yourself."

You wavered, unsure whether this was a command or not but eventually you coiled your hands into fists and pressed them to your side while letting Joel use you the way he wanted. He really took his time tonight, exploring and stroking every inch of your body he could reach and when he finally removed his hands you expected him to unbuckle his belt but to your surprise he didn't. Instead he first pulled your shirt over your head so your upper body was finally completely bare and then his fingers came down to your jeans to open them.

"Joel," you whispered and licked away the sweat that had gathered above your top lip.

"Shut up and do as I say," he muttered fretfully while pulling the fabric down. "S'all I'm fuckin' asking of you, okay? Can you just obey me for once in your life?"

You nodded slowly your eyes brimming with a new wetness that hadn't been there before. No, no, no, you couldn't allow yourself to take his rough words to heart. This wasn't Joel, this was the kind of Joel you had wanted. You liked it and you wanted to get degraded by him because of the way it made you feel. You had been looking forward to this so much and you would stay focused. Joel didn't mean it and afterwards he would hold you and tell you how much he loved you. He was just playing. Acting.

You snapped back when he had taken your jeans off and watched your quaking hands with a mixture of arrogance and enjoyment.

"Open your mouth," he demanded while gripping your chin. Once you showed him your flat tongue he spitted into your mouth examining how his spit landed on your tongue and then tapped against your bottom lip.

"Swallow."

You did and opened your mouth for him again.

"Good girl." It was all he said but it made your heart flutter.

Then he made his way down your body, kissing and licking over your sore nipples and you recoiled every time his teeth sunk into your flesh.

"Please, Joel," you moaned at some point because you craved him so much that you felt like melting with him but he gave you an evil smile and lightly slapped the side of your ass.

"No. S'not about what you want. I'll take from you what I want and the more you beg me to do something the less likely it is that I'll do it."

Before you could even think about an answer you suddenly heard a ripping sound and then the cold air hit your bare pussy.

"Joel!" you complained staring at your torn underwear but he ignored you as he only had eyes for what waited between your legs for him. He didn't hesitate for a second now but just forcefully opened your thighs and then immediately slid a finger through your glistening folds. Then he collected some of your arousal and mockingly observed it.

"What's that, mhm? Was just playing with your tits a little and you're fuckin' soaked."

He chuckled darkly and brought his finger to your mouth. "Open. Clean it."

You had done similar things a hundres times before so you quickly confiled with the order and twirled your tongue around his digit as if it was his cock. Joel hummed with closed eyes and when you were done he pushed you down while crawling down again.

Every remaining amount of strength wilted when you saw the way he looked at your pussy and you were glad you got to lay on the couch. He then opened you up wider and moved your legs to rest on his shoulders. You couldn't allow yourself to feel the anticipation just yet because he was too mean to do this solely for your pleasure. You feared that he would change his mind in the last second so you anxiously watched his every move and almost choked on your breath when you felt his thumb brushing over your clit.

"S'right. Let it out I wanna hear it all," he hummed contently while rubbing you in small circles.

You couldn't believe he was actually doing this after having talked you down like this but your mind was too clouded anyway to question his actions.

His hands lingered at your core a little longer until he moved them up to your hips while lowering his head down to your pussy. He inhaled deeply taking in your scent and then connected his tongue with your clit which made you whine out almost painfully.

If there was one thing you could never get enough of in your life, it was him eating your pussy. It was simply… perfect. His beard grazing over your skin, his soft and warm tongue on your clit and the way he lapped up your wetness as if he was a man starving.

"Fuck, Joel, fuck…," you moaned your toes curling at the insane feelings he evoked in you.

His tongue drew patterns over your clit and you were almost sure that they were letters but you were too caught up in pleasure to concentrate on it.

And you were definitely too exhausted to work out why he was giving you so much pleasure after you had begged him to be mean. Because you definitely didn't mind and didn't want to do anything that could make him stop.

Joel now brushed over the underside of your clit with his pointed tongue and you shuddered beneath him your hands gripping his muscular arms. And when he inserted one of his thick fingers inside of you you couldn't help but grind against him. The moment he noticed he stopped licking you and raised his head.

"No," he spoke his face expressionless and buried his hand into the flesh of your ass. "One more time and I'll stop."

Joel dived between your thighs again while his left hand splayed across your stomach to apply light pressure that added to the pleasure you received from his mouth and his finger inside of you. Your fingers were buried in the cushions now too scared to touch him and perhaps anger him further but when he sucked your clit into his mouth a cry left your mouth and you pressed your nails into your own thighs in order to handle the intensity of his touch.

"Please. Fuck, Joel, it's so fucking good," you whimpered and wished he would answer you the way he usually did.

It was like he wasn't even present, he just ate your pussy like his life depended on it while ignoring you utterly. You couldn't even swear that he enjoyed it.

"Joel," you whispered again hoping that he might answer you but he didn't even look at you.

He just scissored you open while toying with your swollen clit but when you felt yourself getting closer to coming his eyes finally found your face again. He inspected you for a moment and then suddenly stopped. Your legs immediately searched for his body trying to trap him between them while your mind panicked.

"N-No, no, Joel, what are you doing. I was just about to come!"

"I know babygirl," he whispered running a hand over your sweaty hair while watching you almost lovingly.

"Please, I wanna come, I – "

"I know you do, sugar. But I don't care."

He rolled your nipple between his fingers again while you still tried to fight the confusion in your head. "Please, I –"

Your voice broke and your trembling hands gripped the fabric of his shirt.

"Save your breath, darlin'," he whispered against your ear before sliding a hand down between your legs.

With a clear plan in mind Joel started to rub your aching clit again only that this time he seemed even more determined. He went clockwise just the way you liked it and used your wetness as lubrication. You sniffed twice unsure of whether this was a good or a bad thing but soon you were so overtaken by enjoyment again that all you could perceive was his body and the hand on your pussy.

Your hand held his shirt while your face was buried in his neck and he let it happen. His heart was beating fast and you enjoyed the closeness so much that for a second you forgot about your frustration. That was until he denied your orgasm the second time tonight and this time you pushed him away in order to escape his touch.

"You asshole," you cried and tried to kick him with your feet.

Quickly he advanced towards you captured your wrists in his hand and yanked your head back by your hair.

"You were the one begging me like a fuckin' whore to be rough with you. You don't like what I'm doing? Mhm?" he mocked you while moving you to lay on your back again. You shook your head biting down on your shaking lip.

"Well I don't care 'cause you asked me to be mean. If you don't like it don't ask me next time. But now don't you fuckin' dare complain again."

You were still busy flashing your eyes at him which was why you let out a loud gasp when you felt the tip of his cock at your entrance and then he was suddenly inside of you. You hadn't noticed him unbuckling his belt and neither had you realized how he had pulled down his jeans and boxers.

You were dripping with arousal so you had no problems taking him and yet it had come so surprisingly that you tightly clenched around him which provoked a loud growl from him.

"Jesus…. So goddamn tight."

His left hand came down to cradle the side of your face while his right bent your leg back in order to reach deeper inside of you with each thrust. He hadn't given you a lot of time to adjust and just pounded your pussy mercilessly like there was no tomorrow.

"That's right," he mumbled his eyes on your face while you had problems keeping yours open.

"Atta girl. Nice 'n open for daddy…"

But when you buckled your hips in order to move accordingly to his thrusts his eyes darkened and he squeezed your throat as a punishment.

"I said none of that," he hissed emphasizing every word as if you were a little child that couldn't comprehend the simplest instructions.

"Stay fuckin' still or you're gonna get that l'il ass of you fucked. Would you like that? Huh?"

You shook your head and made a mental note to really do as he had told you now because you suddenly didn't feel like infuriating him any more.

Perhaps you had overestimated yourself a little or hadn't actually been ready to take all of him in this kind of state because all you suddenly craved was your loving Joel. The one who would press his face into your neck now to smell your hair. The one who would trace your collarbone with his finger or kiss your nipples. The one who would tell you how much he loved you and that he would never leave his babygirl.

"Joel," you moaned as if you were able to make him change his mind just by saying his name.

Of course he ignored you and unrestrainedly fucked your hole while panting loudly. Suddenly you were hyper-aware of so many things that you hadn't even noticed earlier. The way you were completely naked underneath him while he was still fully dressed except for his pulled-down jeans. It made you feel so vulnerable and pathetic suddenly that tears welled in your eyes.

And the way he pressed down on your tummy not only to make you stay in place but to show him how deep he reached inside of you. You felt used. Dirty. What you needed right now was to get some distance between him and you but there was no way Joel would let you off this easily.

"Joel," you cried looking up to him while tugging at his shirt but he had his eyes closed and his head thrown back.

In addition to your mental discomfort his cock thrusting in you had started to hurt as well which was due to the way you tightened around him. But while Joel thought the reason was that you were close, in truth your body rejected the intrusion and therefore he bruised your insides every time he hit your cervix while he felt like his cock was being torn off by your clenched walls.

"Mhmm, yes, sweet girl. Takin' me so fuckin' well. You're gonna make daddy come like this. Is that what you want?"

Once he had spoken these last words he suddenly pulled out which came so unexpectant that you widened your eyes and he then manhandled you on your stomach. Before you could understand what had happened Joel had adjusted you on your knees and pushed back inside of you taking you from behind.

You let out a cry that was muffled by the cushion your head rested against and as much as you hated to even just have this thought, you wished that he would finally stop. You couldn't uphold your facade any longer, your pussy burned, your head felt dizzy and you didn't want him to touch and treat you like this any longer.

Fuck your pride, you would ask him to stop even if it meant that he would never be rough with you again. Even if it meant that he would beat himself up afterwards thinking that he had hurt you. You would explain it to him. He hadn't done anything wrong, you just hadn't been strong enough to handle it tonight.

"J-Joel," you said a little louder your voice shaking so much that he raised his eyebrows.

"What," he hissed dangerously.

You whimpered every time his hips snapped forward pushing you deeper into the couch which made it difficult to speak but eventually you managed to press out what you wanted to say.

"P-Please, s-stop," you whined and at first you weren't certain if he had heard you. But then you felt a hand snatching your waist and he pulled up your weak body so your back was pressed to his chest. His big hand kneaded your breast while your nails scratched over his arm gesturing him that this was serious.

"I told you, babygirl. I said I wouldn't stop no matter how much you'll cry. And I won't. It hurts, doesn't it?"

A sob went past your lips and you could only nod.

"Mhmm too bad. It's supposed to hurt you, babygirl. 'Cause we ain't doin' this for you right now. We're doin' this for daddy 'n you're gonna give your body to daddy so he's gonna feel real good while you look pretty for him, mhm? How does that sound?"

He watched the side of your face while holding you tightly by wrapping his arms around your stomach and breasts, sensing how weak you were on your knees.

"I wanna hear your fuckin' voice," he breathed and spanked your left breast.

"Y-Yes," you cried, nothing but jelly in his arms and dropped your head to your chest.

"Good," he murmured through grinded teeth and kissed the back of your head. Before you were able to form another word of resistance in your head he had moved his hand to your throat to squeeze it lightly cutting off your air supply which turned out to be even worse for you physical state.

"Already fucked your brains out, huh?" he commented your mindless condition while gliding his hand between your legs to find your clit. You almost didn't notice it though, feeling numb and disconnected to your body, yet strangely being super aware of the way he hurt you with each thrust.

When you let out a croaked cry he perhaps realized that you really were in need of fresh air so he dropped you like he had suddenly changed his mind about you and you fell on your stomach again. At this point you were too powerless to even hold yourself up on your knees and luckily Joel allowed you to lay on your front.

Panic flooded your system again because you were sure you wouldn't be able to keep this up until he would come. You couldn't properly breathe and you really needed some water and a moment of peace to collect yourself. Your limbs were hurting, your tummy was aching and your mental discomfort only added to everything.

You loved Joel with all your heart and would never want anything about your relationship to change but right now he made you feel like you were being violated. Like you couldn't make him stop even if you wanted him to. Like you were his victim rather than his girlfriend.

There was only one thing left you could try. Your safe word.

You just had to bring the word out and make him hear you and then he would see the seriousness of the situation, hug you and comfort you.

You opened your mouth but no sound besides your whimpers left it and you squeezed your hands in fists forcing yourself to move your tongue.

"Rrr," you made and cursed yourself for not being able to form a word that was as easy to pronounce as 'red'. You clung to the couch as if it would clear your head and tried again.

"R-Red…," you said but weren't sure if it was actually comprehendable.

"J-Joel," you sobbed because why wouldn't he stop? You had said it, you had said the word you had hoped would never leave your mouth when Joel and you had thought of a safe word.

"R-Red," you whispered again as if it was a mantra but his pounding didn't stop. He fucked your pussy chasing his release with so much focus that he seemingly didn't hear your mumbling. You had to get the cushion out of the way in order to sound clearer but he pressed your face into the pillow and so your mobility was strongly limited.

You writhed under his grip so frustrated and devasteted now that you thought about giving up and just waiting until he had finished. And yet you repeated the safe word over and over again although you were not sure if you actually said it out loud every time or if it just happened in your head.

And then you passed out.

~~~~~~~~~~

Joel actually hadn't noticed any of your discomfort.

Of course he had noticed how submissive and weak you were and as much as he wished he could soothe you a little, he had promised you to be rough with you and that was what he intended to do now.

So no caressing your bare shoulder or taking your hand and instead fucking you at a punishing pace.

After he had dropped you down on your stomach again his hands dug into your hips keeping your in place for him while he bit his bottom lip at the sight of you. Your tousled hair and your pretty back that was so beautifully bent were mesmerizing and he couldn't help himself and took a handful of your hair to push your face into the cushion.

He heard you mumble something every now and then but he was truthfully too concentrated and distracted by your perfect cunt that hugged him so perfectly that he didn't pay any attention to it. He used your pussy for his enjoyment, felt how your walls fluttered around him, watched your sexy figure splayed out for him until he was eventually sent over the edge and came with a loud growl.

"Oh Jesus Christ," he moaned feeling his cum leaving his tip and filling you to the brim.

"That's a good girl," he whispered out of breath and pushed inside of you a few more times until he was sure his cum would stay inside of you.

He sighed loudly, pulled out of you and then slowly felt his mind getting to work again. He knelt down on the couch next to you and lowered himself to your head. With a lot more gentleness in his touch now he stroked your hair to the side to kiss the side of your face.

"Honey," he whispered and when he saw your closed eyes he frowned. "Baby?"

When he didn't get a reaction his blood started to pump and he saw red. New drops of sweat started to form on his forehead and his hands began to tremble. He was too full of panic now to have a straight thought and quickly pulled up your lifeless body and turned you on your back.

"Y/n, honey, come back to me," he stammered and held your face in his hands. 'What had he done??' Joel cursed to himself and ran his thumb over the area under your eyes. He stared at you, watched you with a cold numbness inside until he heard a moan.

"Y/n?" he asked his voice barely more than a breath and saw your lips move. Infinite happiness and luck washed over him that made him tear up as you blinked with your eyes a few times. Joel enclosed your hand with his and covered it with kisses while observing you with relief.

"How are you, baby?" he whispered and your pupils finally found his face.

"W-What happened?" you asked too weak to sit up straight.

"I-I think you fainted, honey. I-I… I'm so fuckin' sorry, baby, I…. I'm sorry, I was so stupid 'n I didn't notice that you were feelin' unwell, fuck, baby, I…"

He pressed your hand to his forehead and shook his head over and over again while you tried to remember what had happened.

"Are you thirsty? Hungry? Do you need anything?" Joel asked while watching you worriedly.

"Water," was all you managed to say with your weak voice and he immediately jumped to his feet to fetch you a glas of water. He assisted you and helped your shaky hands to bring the glas to your lip and then you emptied it with one sip. Then he put it on the couch table and caressed your cheek with his big thumb.

"Y/n," he rasped. "Please talk to me. I need to hear your voice."

You glanced at him still feeling shocked about the fact that you had actually fainted during sex but answered Joel.

"I can't remember everything. But I-I know that I was in pain."

His eyes had never looked sadder and a part of you instantly regretted telling him.

"I'm so sorry, babygirl. I can't believe that-that this happened."

His arms reached down to wrap around your shoulders and he pulled you into a careful hug almost as if he was scared he would break you. He gently pressed your head to his chest and you felt so wonderfully embraced by him that you closed your eyes getting fully lost in his strong arms and the warmth of his body. The hug filled you with fresh energy and when he helped you lay down again you felt strong enough to talk about more details of what had just happened.

"I think everything was too much. I know I said that I wanted you to be mean and I did, I really did earlier b-but… but I think it became too much and I felt so odd and-and used and I don't know, I… I didn't want it anymore and then my body reacted differently and it hurt."

He didn't answer you but you could see his eyes' reaction to every single one of your words. And you knew what was going on behind his forehead at the moment. He was beating himself up, punishing himself with his thoughts and telling himself that he was too bad of a human being to be with you. This time it was you who took his hand and you pulled it to your chest.

"I don't want you to be mad at yourself, Joel. Really. This isn't your fault and you have to believe me."

He swiftly freed his hand and furrowed his eyebrows.

"Don't you comfort me now, y/n. We're not gonna play this game."

Joel watched you for a moment like he was thinking and then searched the room.

"I'll bring you your clothes. You must be cold."

He didn't even wait for an answer and picked up your underwear, shirt and jeans and put every item on you with so much gentleness that tears gathered in the corner of your eyes again. When he was done he sat with his back against the backrest of the couch and pulled you in his lap his hand cradling the back of your head.

"I'm sorry, honey. I really am. I swear to god, I wish I could go back in time and just hit myself 'cause I was so fuckin' stupid not noticing how you were feeling 'n I'm really really sorry."

He spoke so quietly because these words were only meant for you and you unconsciously closed your eyes at the tenderness and intimacy of his voice.

"I know," you replied and held on to his broad shoulder, anything to feel more of him. "And I know you don't wanna hear it, but it's okay. I'm fine."

You felt him caressing your back and then he turned your a little so he could look at your face.

"Did you remember our safe word? You know that I'm always gonna stop when you say red."

He sounded so concerned that your heart already broke at what you had to tell him next but you wouldn't lie to him and so you watched him with eyes round as coins.

"I-I… I did. I said it but it was too quiet and you didn't hear."

His head dropped and you heard him inhale deeply.

"Fuck…," was all he whispered and you felt the urge to hold him firmly and tell him that you forgave him but it wasn't what he wanted right now and so you just enjoyed the closeness of his body while listening to his heavy panting. He needed a few minutes to collect himself but once he had he pressed yet another kiss to your brow.

"I'm sorry," he pressed clearly close to tears and you nodded. And you meant it. You weren't angry at him because it had been you who had asked him to treat you this way. And yes, he should've stopped once he had heard the safe word out of your mouth but he hadn't and so there was nothing you could blame him for. This whole mess had been painful and you definitely didn't want to go through something similar again but neither of you was responsible for it.

"I love you, Joel," you whispered hoping that it would perhaps calm him a little but he shook his head in disbelief.

"Don't say that, right now…"

"But I do. I love you so much and I'm not angry at you. You didn't hear me, how were you supposed to know that something was wrong?"

Joel shook his head again and chewed on his bottom lip.

"I should've paid attention to you more. And listen to you more closely, why do we have a safe word if I don't fucking listen to you?"

He threw his head back and bit his lower lip which looked so painful that you feared it would start to bleed soon.

"Joel. It happened and it's not ideal but I'm okay. Next time if something like this ever happens again you'll listen more carefully and then everything will be fine. We'll learn from it."

"I'll learn from it," he corrected and you rolled your eyes.

"Okay. But please don't beat yourself up now. As I said, I don't blame you and this was just a huge miscommunication."

He looked like he was thinking and put his thumb to his lower lip.

"Baby…," he breathed watching you with so much love in his eyes that you couldn't hide a little smile and Joel tightened his arms around you.

"I love you so much. It's just… You know I just hate to know that I hurt you. You deserve so much better, honey, I –" You quickly interrupted him by pressing your finger against his lips which made him stop  talking.

"Don't finish that sentence, Joel. How many times do you want me to say it? I want you. And I'm gonna want you for the rest of my life and this stupid thing doesn't change anything about this fact. Kiss me now."

He sighed and tilted his head but you needed him now and so you determindely grabbed the side of his face.

"Kiss me Joel. Please."

Of course he wouldn't make you beg for a kiss and so he leaned towards you and locked your lips. You smiled against his mouth your hands holding on to his shoulders and when he pulled back your cheeks were flushed.

"I love you."

He sighed and looked down.

"I love you, Joel," you repeated strictly and now a small chuckle left his mouth.

"I love you too, y/n. More than you can ever know."

You smiled brightly and rested with your back against his upper body.

"Then I guess everything will be fine."

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

There has been requests about getting a full body colour for Kook!Ford, so here he is, in all his beige, white, and brown minimalist glory <3 (THERE’S A REASON WHY HE HAS SUCH A BORING PALETTE I PROMISE)

Stupid colour rambles that are WAYY too in depth and probably mostly far fetched but this is my AU and I get to pick how much over-analysis goes into the characters’ colour schemes, fuck you:

Ford:

Characterised by pale, almost pastel-ish colours to emulate a sort of sick, unhealthy look.

The paler colours add to the illusion of Ford lacking presence, almost disappearing into the background, to convey how his existence often ignored or dismissed by most of the townsfolk.

Without any visually striking or contrasting colours in his palette itself, his own features blend into one another, blurring the details and diminishing any identifiable traits that would have typically identified him as Ford, or even a person (<- if that mindfuck of a sentence make any sense)

Hints of yellow to show remnants Bill's past influence on him. Because I’m dramatic like that.

Fiddleford:

Deep, rich forest greens with golden accents (influences of Bill appearing in his outfit) (I need to hammer Fidds out a lil’ more ngl)

Stanley:

Deep, rich blues and purples (opposite spectrum of yellow, aka. Bill's colour, which means = safety to Ford)

The inside lining of his jacket is vivid red, to reference his original colours palette and as a representation of his past self being hidden underneath the layers of his predominantly blue exterior, colours representative of his new identity (also red = warm and blue = cold)

His colours palette will eventually open up into something warmer on the outside, veering into purple.

Extra notes on his character: Stan (in this AU) is colder and quieter than his canon counterpart. After years of being in the mafia business, and years of running it as well, he has long since learned to mask his facial expressions and master the poker face (*cough cough* resting bitch face *cough cough*). But, his intimidating and serious air does not serve him any favours when it comes to literally anything other than his “work”, his inexperience when it comes to emotions all the more apparent with the twins. He has trouble expressing his feelings outwardly, and despises this part of himself, because it reminds him of his own father. He feels as though he is failing the twins by being too cold and distant, and tries his best to open up more.

Mabel:

Maintains her original colours palette with pink, but has more hints of red in her outfit, similar to Stan’s, particularly around her sleeves (allusion to “wearing your heart on your sleeves.” Yes, I know that it’s tacky)

The red shows she is more inclined to trust Stan, as she is willing to see past Stanley’s exterior facade of cold aloofness to see his “true” colours (good HEAVENS that is disgustingly cheesy to say but idk how else to really word this)

Extra notes on her character: Mabel trusts Stan fully. Perhaps a little too much. She I dolises Stan to an almost unhealthy degree, and is constantly plagued with the underlying fear of somehow losing Stan’s “interest”, as their mother seemed to have lost interest in her and Dipper. Deeply fears being abandoned again, and believes she “owes” Stan for having adopted them. She believes it is her fault that neither of their parents wanted the twins during the divorce.

Dipper:

Maintains original colour palette with blues, but pretty solidly lacks red in his outfit. He serves as the opposite spectrum of Mabel, instead being unwilling to fully trust Stan and takes him at face value.

Extra notes on his character: Dipper does not trust Stan, and is far more hyperaware of what kind of “business” their “uncle” runs. He is mostly worried about Mabel’s slight obsession with pleasing him, and fears that if they don’t behave, Stan might use his dangerous power and influence against them. He is convinced that Stan had ulterior motives to adopting them, cannot fathom what he, a seeming stranger with all the power in the world, could possibly hope to gain in adopting two abandoned children. Even more so, when even their parents didn’t seem to want them.

[arabella0001]

Choso and how he doesn’t understand romance, but loves you like it’s all he knows, as your man

Choso, who has a hard time expressing his emotions but, when he finally does, his words are bare and unfiltered "I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you."

Choso who never fidgets, never stirs without reason, except when you’re near. Fingers tightening around fabric, gaze flickering toward you before settling elsewhere. A silent battle between restraint and instinct.

Choso, who once rushed to your side after hearing your heartbeat spike in fear, his curse instincts overriding everything else. “You were scared,” he says when he finds you, his expression serious. “I won’t let anyone or anything hurt you.”

Choso who, one time, overheard some guys at a market talking about "smooth pickup lines" and decided to try one. You nearly choked on your drink when, with complete seriousness, he looked at you and said, "Are you a curse? Because you’ve… attached yourself to my soul." He’s so bad at it, but he really tried.

Choso who doesn’t do small talk. If he asks how you’re doing, he means it. If he touches you, even in the smallest way, it’s intentional. No wasted words, no wasted actions—just quiet devotion disguised as indifference.

Choso who is so still, so composed, until you’re involved. You trip, and before you even register what’s happening, he’s already caught you, hands firm around your waist.

Choso, who isn’t one for crowds but will endure them if it means being by your side. His eyes constantly find you in the chaos, his hands almost always on yours, to remind you you’re never alone.

Choso who also listen your heart just because. When you ask why, he just murmurs, “It’s calming. It reminds me you’re alive.”

Choso who also was panicked when your heartbeat was erratic, rushing to find you only to discover you’d been laughing too hard at something silly. He scolded you softly, his cheeks flushed with relief. “Don’t scare me like that,”

Choso who, despite his intimidating presence, is an absolute mess when you flirt with him. You call him pretty and he nearly drops whatever he’s holding. You trace a finger down his arm and he stops breathing for a second.

Choso who can take a hit without flinching, who has stood through battles drenched in blood—yet when you lean in close to fix his collar, his breath stutters. He stiffens like you just hit him with a surprise attack, ears burning as he mutters, “Thank you, Y/N”

Choso who gets flustered in the most cute ways. You brush a loose strand of hair from his face, and his entire body tenses, ears faintly pink. Later that night, he clumsily tucks your hair behind your ear, fingers lingering for a fraction too long. An unspoken attempt at returning the gesture.

Choso who lets you play with his hair, sitting still as your fingers work through it, but the moment you lean down and whisper, “You look good like this,” his face is unreadable, but the deep red on his ears tells you everything.

Choso who is terrifyingly strong but once let you paint his nails because you said it would look cool. He didn’t judge, didn’t complain, just sat there, watching you with an unreadable expression. Later, he asked you to do it everytime you have time.

Choso who struggles with social small talk but absolutely thrives in weird, deep conversations. You joke, "Would you still like me if I was a worm?" and instead of laughing, he frowns, considering it seriously. After a long pause, he nods. "I’d keep you safe."

Choso who doesn’t understand sarcasm at all. You jokingly say, "Wow, thanks for holding the door, real gentleman." He immediately backtracks, opens the door, and stands there stiffly, waiting. When you laugh, he frowns. "You were being serious, right?"

Choso who listens, even when you don’t think he is. You casually mention craving something, and the next day, it’s in your hands. You sigh about being tired, and suddenly, he’s adjusting a pillow behind your back. He won’t say he listens. He proves it instead.

more choso content here

[thetadispatcher]

Vincent looked up at him and gave him a small smile, showing he appreciated the gesture. He knew it probably didn't mean that much to other people, but to him it meant a lot.

He liked knowing he had other people outside of those who called him family that cared, and didn't mind showing it to help him understand situations or just feel better about them.

The AP700 rested his head back against the other android, deciding he'd completely ignore Dan and Rook to focus on what Bishop was doing.

Nines gave him a calculating look, he had experience with people who would use anything to try to upset him. His human partner did it almost constantly to him, so he could easily recognize when someone else was attempting to do the same.

The only thing he needed any time to figure out was why, it seemed like everyone always had a different reason for why they were trying to get a reaction out of him. Gavin's was just because he liked to be an annoyance, and the fact he couldn't get Nines to react upset him.

Not that he cared, as he enjoyed watching the detective flush with anger whenever Nines didn't give him the reaction he was looking for. Not that he would show the human that he found his small shows of anger endearing.

"I am not that rebellious, no more then Connor is." He wouldn't call Sixty rebellious as the RK800 seemed to be down to do just about anything, he was more of an accidental troublemaker.

"And it's not like the military could do anything about it now if they did find out." Androids had rights now, and they couldn't do anything about the military androids Cyberlife failed to destroy as they were considered people. Also it would likely cause a lot of issues that wouldn't be worth the time and money to deal with.

John didn't see them doing anything about it ever, the androids didn't know anything he would consider damaging if it were to get out. And he never saw service, so he never learned any truly damaging information that the military would be concerned about.

"He might be, considering the fact he was already deviant when he was deactivated as we didn't have to convert him." Dan wasn't sure what to make of that possibility, but Kelvin was the oldest recorded deviant they knew of so far.

He just wasn't about to share that information as he felt the last thing androids needed was to know their god might be real, some might be a little disappointed to find out what he was like.

"I never said he was dumb, he can do some very complicated tasks quite well. Sure he does have his moments where he does something that one would call dumb, but he can hardly be held accountable for it considering his condition." Kelvin was surprisingly good at things one wouldn't expect someone in his condition to excel at, even if he did have times where he acted more childlike then a normal android.

"We are trying to teach him sign language and how to write, but it's a slow process as he sometimes will need to be retaught things he already learned. But if you think she can talk to him, you're welcome to try. It would be nice to better understand Kelvin just in case there is some mental trauma we don't know about. I would hate to learn about it by accidentally upsetting him and still not fully understand the reaction, it would make helping him calm down hard." Even a little more information would be useful, as it might give them a hint on where to look for more.

"Yes, that is correct. He was a gift to the studio that they really didn't care enough to keep, they deposed of him the first chance they got." Brent didn't seem bothered by the studio's blatant disregard for him, in fact he seemed to have expected the treatment and felt nothing about. The JB300 was one of the androids that showed no mental affects from being thrown away, and he even seemed thankful it happened.

"We have a few other ones, ones that you would recognize as a lot of people from your generation are the ones who were ordering these custom units." He could see why someone would want an android of their favorite characters, but he could also understand why they'd be thrown away. They only lasted as long as their novelty or until they needed an expensive repair thanks to being custom.

"Only one other one is present on the property currently, if you'd like I can introduce you to him." Dan knew he would be less bothered by being recognized as a fictional character, Brent just seemed to hate it as he wanted to be his own person and not Data. But the JB300 was okay with it if the person respected the fact he had picked a new name and didn't constantly remind him of his appearance.

The android looked over once again, waiting for Rook to snap back at him. When it was clear she intended to leave him alone he glanced back to Vincent. If his communication skills were poor, he felt he was about to set a new low, but still reached to give his friend a gentle pat in reassurance. Everything was fine, they were just having a feisty mutant over for a bit.

Bishop smirked. That gave him something to work with.

"Yes, that is expected behavior from the rebellious youngest brother."

Even the most collected deviant had to deal with their own emotions and while he couldn't say for sure how prominent Nines' ego was, Bishop would still poke at him until he got a reaction.

It was entertaining enough to him, in any case. He had no reason to stop.

"That's typical of private contractors." he mused, "So you were saved entirely by greed alone. I suppose there is some irony in that."

Much like the fact that androids were simply being tossed in a landfill instead of being recycled. It seemed Cyberlife's entire existence was simply tainted by incompetence.

Rook watched the way Dan's skin regenerated, glad to see no damage was done. The last thing she wanted was to be accused of having hurt the most important guy in the house, especially when she had done nothing but ask questions.

"Who knows, maybe he's patient zero." She shrugged, "Maybe he's like Sixty and likes the way he is. It's never good to assume somebody who's very energetic and content with what they have is dumb. I have a friend who is just as bouncy as Kelvin and she's smarter and wiser than most people."

It didn't look like Kelvin was causing real trouble on purpose. He just moved quietly and that made it easy to forget he was even there doing his own thing.

"So that's why you've got Commander Data running about. Maybe you could ask Willow to talk to Kelvin. He can't talk to you, but she can probably translate for him."

[twistedpink]

nsfw below the cut! 1/2

This is the rewrite because I BOMBED the first draft, thinking I’d be too vulgar,, But I’m hoping this is what the people want! Sooooooo many unrealistic sexpectations polute smut and I’m hoping to be more lifelike. The format is character/length (inches) /sex skill (is unaffected by length!)

Trey Clover - 6. Exactly 6. - 7/10

-First measured it as a late preteen, and left the ruler in his bathroom!!! Got caught right away, his family still jokes about it,,

-He’s trimmed but not shaven (can’t avoid razor bumps no matter how hard he tries), with little moles near the base that give him heart attacks whenever they grow. Once tmi’ed Cater drunkenly with a “They’re on my money makerrrr :(“ then threatened him into taking it to the grave

-Trey is FANTASTIC at fingering, and talks about ass like he’s kneading dough but in sexy way!! Loves doing it while spooning, he says there’s no better way to stay close <3

Cater Diamond - 5ish - 4/10

-Cater takes PREMIUM nudes, and knows how to hide them real easy! He’s got this alternate network rigged up by this ignihyde kid, and- Oh! More pics and less talking? Blocked :D You’re required to listen to his rants for any play (not that it’s good)

-He is FULLY shaven and always keeps moisturized- he looks wayyy too much at his own balls to be normal, but at least he tastes clean! (Also talks about being uncut a LOT, everyone knows)

-Your poor boyfie gets SO sweaty when he’s on top, it’s a mercy to let him lay back and get spoiled,, I mean, can you blame him? The closest he’s gotten to penetration was some blowie he paid for on snapspell.. Please keep touching him! He’s got a spankbank to feed!

Leona Kingscholar - 4 - 2/10

-You can describe sex with Leona in one word. Sloppy. There’s just sweat and slick everywhere!! He might not have the highest libido, or any creative positions in his repertoire, but he’s a professional at laying down and taking it!

-For any regular sessions, you have to be the one to initiate- It’s not that he doesn’t want it, but time passes pretty quickly when you’re asleep,, Some good morning fun’ll perk him right up! (He’s started to blame you for being late to practice. It’s getting harder to hide your “secret hacks” from Epel,,)

-Nobody has time to stay shaven when you only get six hours of daylight. You are SO lucky that the hair’s thin, but unless you’re doing it in the shower there’s no way to avoid the sweat :(

Vil Schoenheit - 6, closer to five - 4/10

-The ONLY reason his ss is so low, is his inexperience! He’s the perfect man in every other aspect, but do you really want to sneak off set after set for mid hookups? Is it even worth it?

-Once he’s in a groove, sex with Vil is amazing- But the aftercare is what you’re really after. A warm compress and fruity snack is just what you need after “oral” or “digital” (He doesn’t let you use the fun words like “blowie” or “handy”. Sex is deadly serious with him, excluding a few giggles!)

-Vil may start off with a slow sex drive and high standards, but the lure of quickies is too strong!! Suddenly he needs your mouth on his daily, and he feels pathetic :( So long as you don’t make fun of his “perfectly normal sexual appetite”, you’ll continue being gifted with his presence. Be very careful what you say and touch!

[marlynnofmany]

Spice in Space

“Of course your food is a biohazard,” Zhee said while the security scanner approved our delivery.

“The label’s just a precaution,” I said. “Pretty sure this is mostly pepper.”

“Right, yes, the food flavoring that gives your meals the flavor of fire.” Zhee tilted his head, bug eyes looking at everything at once while managing to roll sarcastically. “Not a hazard at all.”

“I don’t mean the really spicy kind,” I said as the box slid out of the scanning machine. “Just the regular spices to sprinkle over eggs and whatnot.”

Zhee picked up the box in his pincher arms. “Right, because eating fire-flavored unhatched creatures is a perfectly normal thing to do.”

I laughed and followed him out into the spaceport. “It is where I’m from!”

“Absolute maniacs, all of you,” Zhee declared with a flick of his antennae. “Now where is that food stall? The briefing said it would be tiny.”

“Tiny and close,” I agreed, looking around. Once past the security checkpoint, this place was a riot of booths and pedestrians with an artsy wave pattern on the ceiling that seemed to dampen the sound. It wasn’t as loud as most spaceports I’d been in.

“I see a directory,” Zhee said. “Let’s just check that.”

“Wait, there it is!” I pointed to a little kiosk between full-sized restaurants. It only held enough room for tubs of ingredients, a gigantic hot plate, and the guy currently scraping food around on it with flair. The sign said “Earth Fry.”

“Of course,” Zhee said, moving toward it. “I should have just looked for the fire.”

As we maneuvered through the crowd of Strongarms, Mesmers, and miscellaneous others, the guy tossed the food with his spatula, caught it deftly in a takeout box, and handed it to the customer waiting at the side: another human. No surprise there. By the time we arrived, he was ready to greet us.

“Hello! Can I interest you in some Earth Fry?”

Zhee held up the sealed package. “We have Earth ingredients for you. Apparently they are hazardous.”

“Oh! Yes, thank you! That’ll be the hot sauce and other stuff.” He took the box and found a flat surface to put it on, then accepted the payment tablet I held out for him. “Thanks for being so fast. Somebody got a bit clumsy during the lunch rush and knocked over a few things. Paid for ‘em, but I can’t get all of these local.” He signed for the delivery while I tried to place his accent. Australian?

“Luckily we were just coming from a trade hub,” I said. “This stuff is straight from Earth.”

“Excellent. It’s been a while since I was home, and you can’t beat the real thing for spices.” He handed the tablet back.

“Very true,” I agreed. “Where are you from?”

“Melbourne,” he said while I congratulated myself on guessing right. “Still getting used to how little any of that matters out here. To the average offworlder, Earth is one place with one type of person.”

“And we’re all lunatics who eat poison, right?” I agreed with a sly glance at Zhee.

He spread his pinchers. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Hey now, the garlic is only poisonous to some creatures from Earth,” the guy said, pointing to an airtight tub. “And the onions. If you want the real toxins, the alcohol stores are that way.”

Zhee looked at the ceiling. “It’s like you all have a death wish. Or take pleasure in hurting yourselves.”

“Some of the pain tastes good?” I said with a wave toward the hot sauces.

At the same time, the guy said, “There’s a reason they call us space orcs.”

I laughed. “Do they still? I wouldn’t think enough people even know what an orc is.”

To my surprise, Zhee recited, “Mythological creature from your planet, famed for strength, durability, and lack of foresight. Rumors do go around.”

“I suppose that’s one way to put it,” I said.

“Nobody thinks that’s funnier than my family,” said the Australian. “I get no end of jokes about it. Especially from my mom’s side — she’s from the US, and thinks we all say ‘space’ funny.”

“Does she?” I asked. “Interesting word to focus on.”

“Right? She insists that it sounds like ‘spice,’ and I just don’t see what she’s on about. But!” He held up a finger and fiddled with his collar. “That did lead to my favorite shirt.” With a dramatic sweep of his overshirt, he bared a bright red T-shirt that said “Spice Orc.”

I burst out laughing. “That’s fantastic!”

“Mom was pretty proud of herself for this one,” he said. “Gave it to me for my last birthday.”

Zhee declared, “Appropriate. Entirely in character for your species.”

“And we even brought you spice!” I laughed.

“That you did!” he said, resettling his clothes. “Care to try some? The shredded beef dish is particularly tasty.”

I looked at Zhee, then turned back without waiting for a response. “We’ve got a couple minutes. I’d love some. With extra garlic, please!”

“Coming right up!” He spun his tongs like a gunfighter, and began tossing ingredients onto the hot plate where they sizzled madly.

Zhee just grumbled and looked put-upon, but didn’t object. I planned to make a big deal of enjoying the tasty fire-and-poison meal on our walk back to the ship.

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[aphroditeinthesea]

https://www.tumblr.com/aphroditeinthesea/773968497663492096/can-you-do-pjohoo-characters-x-child-of-eris

child of dionysus? :3

pjo x child of dionysus

🍇

jason grace

polar opposites yall are such cutie. you rbi g im out of his shell so much. like someone who’s spent his his whole life following very strict rules and orders and you just sorta don’t do any of that. you get him to actually sleep in past 7 am! wow! and sometimes when he has training at 1 he’ll be there at 1:02! crazy!!

percy jackson

maybe just maybe if you really really like him, your dad will actually call him percy. but when you two started dating you went up to your dad and were like “hey, what’s up, what’s going on, imdatingpercy, how are you doing, did you have a good day” and then 5 minutes later he’s like “you’re dating who?” anywho, percy loooves you. like he will come back from any quest with gifts for you.

leo valdez

you two throw the best parties. PDA non stop like you guys may throw parties but just make out the whole time once you’re like one drink deep. also sleepovers all the time in your cabin! freaky slumber parties!! whoo! what

luke castellan

starts out as dating in secret just because you know how Mr d is but then you get sick of it and just end up kissing him in the middle of camp. and literally everyone is just like 😦. and your dad is like 😟. but you two just start dying laughing.

travis stoll

you two match each other’s freak like ying and yang, like it might as well be a party when it’s just you two. sneaking out of camp for dates, going into the city, ugh perfect together tbh.

connor stoll

some reason I just thinks he loves loves loves kissing you. like i think you naturally always taste like a sweet wine and he will literally get drunk kissing you. he will def steal gifts for you but you 100% encourage it. like you two will be somewhere and you just look at him like “that’s a pretty necklace 😚😛” and he’s like “🤪🙂‍↕️” whatever tf that means

[comflexxed]

june had never thought much about winter storms before — not beyond the usual logistics, the way the world slowed down under the weight of snow, how it forced everything into a hush. but now, the thought of waking up to a morning so blanketed in white that he couldn’t leave, that he’d have no choice but to stay here with hans, had never seemed so tempting.

he let himself be pulled closer, the space between them shrinking, and for once, june didn’t feel the need to fight it. he just went, as easily as falling into something he knew he’d never be able to climb back out of.

“that’s a dangerous thing to say,” he murmured, voice quieter now, but warm, edged with something almost playful. “what if i take you seriously? what if i decide to stay even if the snow melts?”

the idea lingered between them, neither a joke nor a confession, just a thought spoken aloud in the kind of moment where everything felt a little too easy. june had never really known what it meant to belong somewhere — not in the way hans was talking about. not in a way that felt like being woven into someone’s life so seamlessly that leaving became the unnatural part.

but here, in this space, with hans’ hand still wrapped around his and his voice filling the quiet, june thought maybe he could understand it. maybe he wanted to understand it. “i don’t think it’s irresponsible,” he said after a beat, turning his head just enough that he could meet hans’ eyes properly. “wanting someone to stay. it just means you—” he stopped, catching himself before he could finish that thought, before he could say something that neither of them would be able to take back.

his fingers curled slightly against hans’ chest, grounding himself, holding onto the steady thrum of his heartbeat.

june had never been good at talking about these things, but he tried, because he knew hans meant every word he said. and because, june wanted to mean them too.

his lips twitching at the way hans’ words had settled in his chest, warm and heavy, something he wanted to keep. “you say i’m a breath of fresh air but you’re the reason i can breathe easy in the first place,” he murmured. there was no teasing in his voice this time, no attempt to play it off. just quiet honesty, bare in a way that still scared him a little. but he didn’t look away. didn’t try to cover it up. june didn’t want to run from this.

hans felt his body relax even further, the lightness of the moment and the conversation making it easy for him to release a chuckle in response to june. he did not mind being cheesy, not when it made june smile. and in return, it made him smile even more, his heart feeling like it was warming up from the inside. 

“you might even answer, you say?” he continued in the same lighthearted tone, his eyebrows raised in a challenge as his hand focused on the way june’s gentle touches made him feel so alive. “you have other more important calls to answer?” there was no real question there, just more teasing, just something to prolong the night until they had absolutely no choice but to go to sleep. 

he would stay up all night if he could. he wouldn’t move even tomorrow if that was possible. hans remembered the sleepless nights he’d had when sunny was a newborn, but those were different. those were borne out of necessity, of him needing to be there for every cry, of him taking care of the most important person in his life. he also recalled the tightening in his chest as he watched sunny fast asleep, his mind filled with worries about whether she would wake up in a fit or needing someone who was not there. hans doubled down on being present because he never wanted sunny to feel that absence. it was why he was quick to worry when sunny got attached, when sunny looked for june to make sure he was there, to make sure everything was as they should be.

the bittersweet thought of june promising to stay, to always be here, made hans smile, not just for sunny, but also for himself. 

just like his daughter, he wanted june to be around--forever, if possible. a part of their life from now on, whether there was snow keeping him here or not. but for now, all he could do was tug him gently closer, whispering, “is it bad i want the snow to be so thick tomorrow that you can’t go? i know it’s not the most responsible thing, but…” he trailed off, letting the words settle between them.

but of course, the responsible side of his brain soon kicked in and he laughed. "i feel like a kid having his favorite food and never wanting the moment to end. i just haven't felt like this in a while. you're a breath of fresh air and i can't stop breathing."  

[bubbbii]

A Birthday Promise

title : A Birthday Promise

pairing : Jungkook x Reader

genre : kpop smut, Jungkook smut, BTS smut, very dirty content

warning : name - calling, doggystyle, missionary, scratching, hair - pulling, birthday sex, choking, 21+ content

Summary :

“I could tell .. you’re eyeing me like a piece of meat”

[Hope uu guys enjoyed the Namjoon Smut ☺️]

!PURELY FICTION! !NOT REAL!

do not steal idea or story without permission please and thank you :)

Legoo

_______________________________________________

“Birthday Girl!! Plans is still on for tonight?” “Of course! I had invited sum extra people but everyone is gonna have their own table and such and we’ll all be together” “Sounds like a plan! How’s you and uh … Lucas?” “We stop talking, you know that. I blocked him, but it’s rumors that he’ll be attending tonight at the restaurant” “Uh oh, are you worried?” “Of course not, try anything you know my brother don’t play that” “Yea Namjoon he’s uh … something” “Tell me ‘bout it”

“Dress is still as planned?” “Yess i thank my girl Rosie for hooking me up, it’s gorgeous … but she told me someone had payed for it and won’t tell me who did” “Ain’t that a mystery” “Yea … and i’m gonna find out” “Y/N!” I recognize the voice of my brother, sighing as i went downstairs out of my room. “I need to take that key away from you” “Oh I love you too” I chuckled, feeling the kiss planted on the top of my head. “I’M HEREEE” I chuckled, hanging up the phone as Lisa arrived at the front door.

“You could’ve told me you were coming while you were on the phone with me” “But why would i do that that’ll ruin the surprise” I chuckled, feeling her embrace as she closed the door behind her. “As a tribute, i will be driving Y/N to her birthday dinner slash party” “Aww thank you Jiminie” “Since when did you tribute to anything?” I glared at Namjoon at his comment as Jimin huffed. “Anything for Y/N .. she’s getting old” “Uhh one year older?!” “Exactly” I smacked his head rolling my eyes as i made my way to a chair in the living room.

“But you know i wasn’t the only one, your little boyfriend tributes as well” I scoffed. “Which one, for sum reason there seems to be multiple” “And we don’t claim Lucas .. we’re talking about the boyfriend you won’t give a chance” I sighed softly, crossing my legs as i had an idea on who the “boyfriend” was. “How come” “It’s your birthday .. you know he won’t give up. Especially now knowing that you’re done with Lucas? He’s definitely shooting it! And i’m letting him” I sighed again.

“Y/N he’s good! You think i’ll let him come near you if i didn’t think he was fit ? He means good , despite just being a little younger” “2 years Joon .. i don’t wanna be a cougar!” “Is that all Y/N? You have no reason to NOT give that man a chance trust me he’s more mature than Lucas will ever be and he’s OLDER than you! Kook means good … even Jimin said it” “And ya’ll two should know out of all of us that my spirit, never lies”

It’s true.

“I don’t know Joon .. he could just be doing this for a bet” “Sis listen, don’t let what Lucas planted in your head block something that could be .. a lifetime! You don’t wanna give it a shot because he’s younger than you .. you don’t wanna give it a shot because you’re scared to try again” I gulped, the words cutting deep as i took a deep breath. As much as i wanted to shove those words back down his throat. I know i needed to hear them.

He knows exactly what to say to me.

“Now, he’s gonna take you to your dinner, i already talked to him” “Hey!” “Jimin now you know you wasn’t takin this girl! You know me better than that” Jimin sighed, agreeing as I looked at the two. “What if .. i don’t want him driving me?” “I know you better than that” Namjoon replied, walking off into the kitchen as i chuckled. “Trust me .. this is gonna be good!”

“How come Lisa? He’s right .. i’m scared! Jungkook is .. 2 years younger than me!” “Uhh Chen is 2 years younger than me and look how we turned out! Age doesn’t matter when that person you call ‘young’ had to grow up early and didn’t have a choice. He’s good boo. Now come on, let’s gon head and get sum to eat, and get ready. Tonight is gonna be amazing” I smiled, getting up to join the 2 boys in the kitchen.

Tonight will, be amazing.

Time Skip.

“You look .. beautiful” I smiled at myself in the mirror, admiring every curve that was shown, ever piece of skin that was exposed, every jewel that shined in the light … 25 looking good on me. “Sexy .. Grown, and Sexy. You” “You think so?” “Oh i know so! They’re gonna be looking at you” Lisa responded, coming up beside me to fix finishing touches as she was all done up as well. “You’re the star my love!” Definitely felt good going into this dinner.

“Now let’s go ahead grab our belongings and head on downstairs Joon and Jimin are waiting” I sprayed my perfume on me, grabbing my purse and watch before turning off the lights in the room. “Presenting! Queen Y/N” the two boys looked and saw me coming down the stairs, the heels clicking ever so lightly on the marble floor. “Oh i’m getting my instagram photos in” “My little sister not so little anymore” I smiled widely, finding warmth in my brothers embrace. “You know you’ll always be Oppa” Namjoon’s dimples showed, planting a soft kiss on my head.

“The others just made it to the venue, everyone’s there waiting for you Y/N!” The doorbell rung as everyone grabbed their belongings and Lisa opened the door to see a tall figure. “Ms Y/N … your driver has arrived right on time” Lisa announced, smirking at the younger man as she locked eyes with me, whose eyes were on the younger man.

The man’s hair was long and curly, the silky button up hugging his big boy muscles just right, and topped it with nice slacks and dress shoes. “We’ll leave yall too it, just don’t take too long” Namjoon interrupted, the 3 leaving.

And it was just me and Jungkook.

“You look .. very beautiful” “Yea .. thank you Jungkook. You look good yourself” Jungkook scoffed, looking down at himself. “Love those heels?” “They’re comfortable and stilettos! Thank you very much” Jungkook chuckled as i chuckled along with him, grabbing my purse. “You’re gonna be great, star of the show” “I’m always am” The two couldn’t keep their eyes off each other, the tension rising by the second. “Give in already”

And Y/N was ready to do just that.

“What are you talking about” “All you can do is stare but won’t do anything? Why? You’re afraid?” “Jungkook don’t start this” “I will .. i am” Jungkook said with a quickness, crossing his arms. “Everyone as gifts, on the tables and such. But my gift? Is a promise to you that you’ll have EVERYTHING you need in life i made a promise to myself that when i was ready Y/N you’ll be the one i run to. And think that i’m joking?” I sighed, my body getting heated.

And i couldn’t take it.

I smashed my lips on his, wrapping my arms around his neck as he held me close. He deepened the kiss, feeling every inch of me as i cupped his cheeks into my hands. We kissed for a little more, before slowly breaking it, our foreheads connecting. “Fuck” I breathed out, my eyes shut as felt Jungkook’s embrace. “Consider this a teaser, for when I give you my present” Jungkook smirked, making me chuckle at his words. “Got me a little excited” Jungkook hummed, planting a soft kiss on my lips.

“Well let’s get going, you got hundreds waiting for you” I smiled, seeing him turn off the lights and grabbed me by the hand and headed to the car. Once we got inside and drove off to the packed venue.

~~

Everyone had a blast, the night went on with drinks, food, laughter. It was what I imagined it to be, I couldn’t ask for anything more. “You’re in your thoughts! What’s going on?” Taehyung asked, crossing his legs as he sat beside me. “Nothing nothing just, calming myself down it’s so much haha” “Girl, now you know i know you right? Is it Jungkook?” “Ok me and Jungkook had a heated moment before we got here” “I knew it” I sighed, landing a head on Tae’s shoulder.

“Tae he’s everything i want! Everything i … I need” “Baby stop letting that bitch of a man get in the way of finding your blessing! Jungkook IS everything you need and you know that, so stop trying to fight it because we all see right through you. He sees it the most. Give the man a chance Y/N trust my word!” I sighed, giving Tae puppy eyes. “You serious?” “I’m deadass! He don’t play bout you. Speaking of .. where is Kook?” I looked at our table, and he wasn’t near. Nerves struck me and Tae got up and searched the huge restaurant from our point of view. No where.

“Outside?” Me and Tae went outside, to see 4 men. And i knew exactly who they were. One, wish i didn’t make eye contact with. “Y/N! Tell these men to get off my fucking back!” “I’m her brother i do what i want” “Guys whats going on?” “He decided he wanted to cause ruckus so i led him outside and Jungkook and Joon just happen to follow” Hoseok replied to Taehyung. “Lucas what are you doing here?” “To celebrate your birthday of course! If these dickheads would allow me?!” “You’re yelling doesn’t scare me” Jungkook said with calming energy. My hand made contact with his causing him to look at me.

“Come on, please” “Oh so ya’ll a thing now?” “It’s not like that Lucas, and besides it’s nun of your business what i got going on right now!” “Oh really? I’m that easy to get over?” “Y/N-“ “No no .. she got it” Joon stepped in interrupting Jungkook. “We were happy! You did it because you were bored!” “No - YOU WERE HAPPY! Who told you i was happy !? It wasn’t like we were dating because of this - fairytale that you planted in my head … YOU DID THAT! Lead me on and dug a grave to put me in Lucas. I cut you off because if i held off any longer i would’ve put my OWN DAMN SELF in that grave. But listen here, what I got going on and who i got going on right now and got shit to do with you and you’ll never understand”

“This little boy-“ “Little boy!? Lucas let me tell you something here, this ‘little boy’ will ever be more of a MAN you’ve ever been Lucas. He doesn’t show that he just wants my body, whenever i can be his uber driver that’s convenient to him, he cares for me and i actually feel LOVED from this ‘love’ shit! So i’ll leave you with this .. may my scars, and my tears wear you like a damn sweatshirt to remind you and every girl you come crosses with that i gave you that ego. You’ll never find someone like me” I poured out, taking a deep breath as i turned around and went inside the restaurant with everyone following me.

“I didn’t think you were like that” “Then you must not know Y/N, look where she gets it from” Namjoon hummed, agreeing with Hobi as i shook my head. “I didn’t want you to see that” I spoke, looking up at Jungkook. “I was right behind you, you handled that very well” “ALRIGHT GUYS LETS SING HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!” Everyone gathered around, singing happy birthday as i blew out the candles afterwards.

The cheers filled my ears as i smiled ear to ear. “Toast!? Y/N .. cheers too?” Namjoon announced, everyone holding up glasses and the room went silent as they waited for my words. I took my glass, looking at the wine swirling inside. “Cheers .. to a better lifestyle, better days,” I started, now locking eyes with Jungkook. “And new beginnings” I finished, everyone cheering as everyone clinked their glasses and drunk what was in their cup. “New beginnings huh?” I hummed, feeling Jungkook’s warmth as he closed the gap between us.

“I’m curious .. wise person told me to stop being afraid. I-I’m ready” I responded, looking into his eyes. I couldn’t get enough. “You had a good time?” “I did, tonight was amazing” “Good .. because i’m about to make it even better” Jungkook whispered, winking at me before moving away and left out the venue. My eyes widened, speed walking towards Tae, Jimin, Joon, and Lisa who were all in a group.

“Jungkook .. he-“ “We saw it all .. don’t worry i took care of everything. The rest would be at the house when we’re finished cleaning everything and pack the gifts, you’re gonna love what he did for you” I smiled ear to ear, hugging Namjoon as i rushed out the door and into the car with Jungkook.

~~~

We got out the car, Jungkook opening the door for me and soon turned on the lights leaving my eyes to widened. Rose petals were all over the floor, the modern living room decorated nicely with dark red decorations. I soon saw the luxury gift bags on the table which made me run over to them hearing Jungkook chuckle at my silliness. “Jungkook!! For me!?” “All for you” I looked at everything, landing a hand on his chest. “You like it?” “I love it kook, thank you” I responded, locking eyes with him.

And i definitely couldn’t take it.

I kissed him hungrily, wrapping my arms around his neck feeling his hands hold me close. “I’ve been waiting for this” Jungkook whispered out, picking me up and set me on the spacious black couch of mine. He took off my heels, lips still attatched to mine as he took off his shirt, and unzipped my dress which left me in my bra and panties.

“Ohh my pretty girl, in my favorite color” Jungkook cocked having me roll my eyes. “I didn’t wear this for you” “Oh you didn’t wear it for me?” I huffed, knowing i was in a trap and he chuckled. “You look beautiful” I hummed softly, feeling him gently kiss on my neck down my collarbone, and all the way down to my aching hood. He cupped it with the tatted hand of his, making my body jolt feeling the pleasure rise in my body. “Fuck .. please” “that feels good?” he moved his hand in circulation motion automatically having my hips roll with it.

“Oh she’s needy, don’t worry … i’ll take good care of you” Jungkook commented, turning his voice into a whisper as he slid my panties to the side and threw them on the spot beside him. “Raise your legs up high for me” I did as told, spreading my legs and he dug inside, devouring every juice that dripped into his mouth. “Oooh fuck! Just like that, fuck!” “Hold still princess” my arms wrapped his neck, my thighs trapping him as it motivated him to keep going.

He was not slowing down.

“Y-You’re going so fast … fuck!” “You might have a clue on what i’m trying to get you to do” My moans got breathless, feeling his tongue work skillfully in my folds, the tip of his tongue flicking up my clit. “I-I don’t wanna cum yet! I feel close already!” Jungkook chuckled, pussy sounds feeling my ears as he slobbered all over it. “You’re gonna cum when i want you too .. we’re on the same page?” I whined, but i felt him stop as his eyes locked with mine with a quickness. “Are we?” “Y-Yes, yes daddy”

Jungkook wasted no time, going back and sucking me out. This time, he used not even half his strength just to get me over the edge. “I feel close already.. i feel close i think i’m gonna cum!” “Oh you wanna cum for daddy? Cum for me princess it’s your day, cum for me baby girl” My back arched, feeling my juices flow all over, Jungkook being there to suck it all up as he moaned with me.

“My good girl, my good fucking girl good job. Good job baby” I moaned softly, seeing him slowly move away as his fingers moved up and down the outside slowly making me jolt a little bit. “Baby sensitive?” “N-No .. no i want you, please” Jungkook smirked, hovering over me as he landed his lips on mine. He took his pants off swiftly, his lips still attached to mine as he grinds against me. “Feel that? Feel that hard cock?” Jungkook whispered in my ear, making me whine as i bucked my hips.

“P-Please put it in” “How about you do that?” I grabbed it, slowly stuck it in and he did the rest by slowly pushing it in. My eyes rolled at the back of my head, feeling the big cock fill every single corner every single space inside me. “So f-full .. shit” “Tell me when you’re ready, fuck i need to stretch you out” “Slow .. slow please” Jungkook followed orders, slowly snapping his hips against me, hearing myself hiss and my pussy clenching around him.

“Fuckkk it feels so good, keep going, faster” “You need to loosen up for me baby. Come on open up for daddy” Jungkook grunted, his hips moving a bit faster as i started to loosen up little by little for him. “How long we going for this pace?” “O-Ok you can go just try-“ Jungkook wasted no time and fucked into me with no mercy behind it. He snapped his hips with all his might, hearing my screams and moans fill his ears. “YES! YES YES YES JUST LIKE THAT! J-JUST LIKE THAT DADDY FUCK!” “Keep going for me, clench on me like that you like that shit? You like daddy fucking you like that you little slut?”

I couldn’t take it, he was making me feel good in all the right places … he knew i needed this. How much i wanted this. And i applaud him for not giving up.

Because boy i would be shitty.

“I feel close.. i feel close, daddy” “You wanna cum together?” I nodded, pulling him closer and smashed my lips on his, feeling his hips snap faster against me and my insides starting to feel tense. “You ready?” “Y-Yea yea yea i’m cumming! I’m cumming daddy cum in me!” Jungkook groaned, hiding his face in my neck and we soon came together, both of us releasing all the sounds we wanted. He filled me, fucking me slowly before stopping completely and pulled out the soft cock. “You’re ok?” I nodded softly, feeling his soft kisses.

“Promise me … we’ll stick it out?” Jungkook smiled softly, planting a soft kiss on my lips. “Consider this .. a Birthday promise”