#but there's this look in his eyes. guilty almost

[luvismenu]

> motive — pt.5 ,, index ! nsfw

. . brother's bestfriend!jungkook au . .

wc: 4.6k+

warnings: banter, teasing, lots of cursing ofc, kissing, some oral (fem recieving), fingering, clit play, he's kinda aggresive, jungkook being a dick in the end, cliffhanger-ish?

jeon jungkook is so fucking stubborn.

once he sets his mind on something, there’s no going back. if he thinks something might hurt someone, he won’t ever risk it. he doesn’t change his mind, doesn’t budge, doesn’t care how annoying it is. he’ll stick to his decision no matter what.

it’s a stupid habit, but he’s always been like this. and honestly, you’re starting to think he always will be.

you’ve known that ever since the bike incident from when you were kids. it was your brother’s bicycle. you really liked it, and you wanted to ride it secretly because you knew jimin wouldn't let you. you begged jungkook to let you, but he refused. your brother had told him, very seriously, that it would break his heart if you fell and got hurt. and, of course, jungkook listened. he took your brother’s words like gospel and never let you touch the bike.

it didn’t matter that you cried about it. even though he looked a little guilty seeing you bawling your eyes out, he still wouldn’t budge. your brother’s feelings came first, even if you were sitting there heartbroken.

and that was when you were four, and they were nine

jungkook never told you why he didn't let you touch your brother's bike either. you only know about this because jimin told you when you grew up. which really pissed you off.

maybe it’s a silly thing to still think about, but it’s just so annoying that he hasn’t changed. he’s always been like this— choosing what’s “right” even if it makes you mad.

sure, he’s not your best friend, but that doesn’t mean you both didn’t grow up together. you were always there, tagging along, watching him and jimin get into all kinds of trouble. and your brother always found ways to keep you quiet, too.

“jungkook, let's carry her on the way home.”

“jungkook, give her your candy so she won’t tell mom and dad.”

and it worked.

every time.

it was fun, you won’t lie. making them beg you not to rat them out, holding it over their heads. oh, it was so fucking fun.

it’s still almost the same, you know all your brother’s secrets, and by extension, jungkook’s. growing up with them, you picked up more than they ever wanted you to. and, well, why wouldn’t you use that information to your advantage? sometimes for fun, sometimes to get what you want.

and what did mufasa say? it’s the mother fucking circle of life.

“saw that you were with taehyung a few days ago,” jimin says casually as he pulls on his jacket.

you’re stretched out on the couch, scrolling through your phone. you’ve been debating whether or not to text jungkook, but you don’t want to look desperate. still, your fingers keep itching to type something.

your brothers words make you pause, but you don’t look up. instead, you respond simply, “yeah.”

“why?” he asks, his voice closer now. you glance up to find him standing right behind you, staring down.

you shrug, keeping your eyes glued to your phone. “just because.”

and then, without warning, he snatches the phone from your hands, holding it high above his head. you gasp, jumping up immediately.

“oh, you son of a—”

“careful,” he interrupts with a smug grin, “we share the same mother.”

you glare, crossing your arms. “give me my phone back.”

“answer me properly,” he counters. “do you like taehyung?”

your face scrunches in immediate disgust. “no! he just wanted to meet up and talk. you know, because he helped me with my projects back in middle school, and we were kinda like friends.” you emphasize the words as you uncross your arms, as if reminding him.

jimin sighs and finally lowers your phone, which you snatch back with lightning speed.

“okay,” he relents, “just don’t get too close to him.”

“why?” you deadpan, raising a brow. “because he’s a model too, and you’ve got some secret rivalry with him?”

“because he hurt my best friend,” jimin snaps, his tone sharp, “and i don’t want to think about it.”

you shut your mouth, his words leaving no room for argument. the silence between you grows thick for a moment.

then, finally, you speak up. “whatever. i’m going to watch a movie. don’t disturb me.”

“i won’t, cuz i’m going out,” jimin says, grabbing his car keys from the table.

“with?” you ask, eyeing him suspiciously.

“your mo— wait, shit, we have the same mom,” he mutters, catching himself, and you scrunch your nose in disgust but can’t help the small smile that slips out.

“your crazy model friends?” you fold your arms again,tilting your head.

“yes, my crazy, stupid, but rich model friends,” he grins smugly, “just like me.”

you roll your eyes and turn around, flopping back onto the couch dramatically.

“oh, and jungkook’s coming over,” he says as he heads for the door.

your ears perk up immediately, and you shoot up, blurting, “why?”

“it’s the weekend. he’s gonna sleep over,” jimin replies casually, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. and to be fair, it kind of is— jungkook crashing at your place is pretty routine. but the thing is, he’s always here for jimin, not you. all you and jungkook do is bicker whenever he’s around.

“but you’re going out,” you frown, watching him open the door.

“bro, this is my house, i’m coming back of course. don’t worry,” he says, rolling his eyes like you’re being ridiculous.

“but i don’t—”

“shush,” he cuts you off, stepping outside. “i am gonna be late because of you. take care of the house and don’t fight with jungkook.”

before you can argue back, he’s out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

you stare at the door for a moment, then slump back onto the couch, muttering to yourself.

“yeah, like that’s fucking possible.”

it doesn’t take long for jungkook to show up. the front door swings open casually, and he walks in like he owns the place, not even sparing you a glance. he heads straight for the kitchen, opening the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water, chugging it down like he just ran a marathon.

must’ve worked out.

you hear his footsteps as he walks into the living room, where you’re sprawled out on the couch, pretending to ignore him. well, pretending to mind your own business, at least.

your eyes flick to him briefly, and yep, there he is— in those stupidly attractive gray sweatpants and a black compression shirt that clings a little too well to his body. if you look at him for too long, you’re pretty sure you’ll do something you’ll regret.

nope. not worth it. you’re supposed to be mad at him.

what is annoying, though, is how quiet he has been ever since that conversation with him a few days ago. jungkook isn’t supposed to be quiet around you. if anyone gets to ignore anyone here, it’s you.

selfish? maybe. but it’s just you and him.

it is what it is.

“get up,” he says, standing right beside the couch where your legs are sprawled out. “i need to sit.”

you glance at him briefly and then smile. “there’s plenty of space,” you say, your voice sickly sweet. “outside. in the garbage bin.” your smile drops as you finish the sentence, and his frown deepens, his brows pulling together in a way that— unfortunately, makes him look even better.

even hotter.

“i wanna watch the movie too,” he says, ignoring your jab.

“too fucking bad,” you retort, keeping your eyes on the tv.

the notebook plays on the screen, and for a second, you think of how much you and jimin love this movie and how you all used to watch this movie when you were younger (but old enough to watch it). jungkook always sat through it with the two of you, even though you know it’s not his thing.

“i just came back from the gym,” he starts, his voice edged with frustration. “i could use some rest.”

“go to the other room, then. use the bed to res— hey!”

you’re cut off mid-sentence as he grabs your legs, effortlessly lifting them up. before you can protest, he flips them off the couch, forcing you to sit up as he plops himself down beside you.

he leans back, completely unfazed, and looks at the screen. “thanks,” he says smugly.

“fuck face,” you mutter under your breath, glaring at him.

your hands itch to smack the smirk off his face, but you just huff and turn back to the movie, crossing your arms in annoyance.

you grab your phone, your fingers moving quickly as you text yumi because you genuinely have no idea what to do or say right now.

you: how can this mfker sit here and act like nothing happened!?

yumi <3: he's at yours!?!?

you: yeah, sleepover

yumi <3: where's ur bro

you: out

yumi <3: so u're alone tg 😈

you: help me bae. he's acting like i didn't literally say that i fucking want him?? what do i do

yumi <3: what u always do babe ,, provoke him.

you glance over at jungkook, still seated on the couch, his eyes glued to the screen. his jaw is clenched slightly, and your gaze trails down his arm, taking in his tattoos, the way his biceps flex subtly as he rests his hand on his thigh. and that’s when an idea hits you.

without a word, you get up and walk to your room. you don’t notice it, but his eyes flick to you as you leave. his gaze lingers for a second, curious, but he quickly forces himself to look back at the screen.

in your room, you swap your pants for a pair of shorts— really short shorts. short enough to reveal your thigh tattoo.

you glance at yourself in the mirror and adjust them slightly, smirking to yourself.

with newfound confidence, you stride back into the living room. jungkook is still on the couch, his attention glued to the movie. he doesn’t even glance your way when you enter— typical.

you catch sight of the clutter on the glass table in front of him: bowls and empty cups.

perfect.

you move around the couch approach the table from the other side so he can see the tattoo and start tidying up, picking up the bowls one by one, moving slowly, purposefully. you stretch your leg just slightly as you reach for the furthest one, your thigh tattoo now fully visible.

jungkook notices. and oh, you can tell by the quick flick of his eyes, the way his jaw tightens for just a second. but he doesn’t say a word, keeping his gaze locked on the screen like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

you hold back a frustrated sigh, heading to the kitchen to put the bowls away. when you return, he’s still pretending not to notice you, still sitting there as if nothing’s changed.

so fucking stubborn. for what, though?

you stop and take a deep breath, deciding to try again. this time, you walk directly in front of the tv, deliberately blocking his view as you pretend to move things around the room.

he frowns almost immediately. “move out of the fucking way,” he says, voice sharp and annoyed.

“can’t,” you say, keeping your tone light and casual. “i’m busy doing something.”

you cross the room again, back and forth, shifting random items like it’s the most important task right now.

“do it later,” he snaps, the irritation growing in his voice. “i’m watching this,, aren’t i?”

you scoff, turning on your heel to face him. “so fucking what? you’ve seen this movie like, a hundred times!”

he stares up at you, still frowning. “what the fuck do you want?” his tone is calm, too calm, but there’s an edge to it that makes your stomach flip.

you cross your arms, glaring at him. “you know what i want.”

he raises an eyebrow, his jaw clenching as he leans back into the couch. “do i?”

“yes,” you snap as you glare down at him. “don't act stupid, jungkook. you know exactly what the fuck i want.”

he exhales sharply through his nose, running a hand through his dark hair. “i don't know what the fuck you're talking about so just fucking say it.”

you scoff, your brows furrowing deeper. “i did say it. you’re the one pretending like it didn’t happen, like i didn’t tell you—”

“because you don’t mean it,” he cuts you off, his voice low but steady.

you take a step back, stunned for a moment. “what?”

he leans forward now, resting his palms on his knees, his gaze boring into yours. “you’re just doing this to fuck with me, to get a reaction. and congrats, you fucking got one. are you happy now?”

your throat tightens, but you refuse to let him see how much his words sting. “you think i didn’t mean it?”

he doesn’t answer immediately, just stares at you, like he’s trying to read your mind.

“if i didn’t mean it,” you say, your voice softer now, “then why would i keep doing this? why the fuck would i care?”

“because you like attention, don't you?” he shoots back, his words sharper than you expected. “taehyung, me, whoever gives it to you.”

your jaw drops, anger and disbelief flooding you. “you’re such a fuckin—”

“don’t,” he cuts you off again, standing up now, towering over you. “don’t act like i’m the bad guy here. you’re the one who started this.”

you stare up at him, your chest rising and falling as frustration bubbles over. but you recover quickly, masking the storm inside you with a smirk. tilting your head slightly, you ask, “started what exactly?” your tone is light, almost mocking, daring him to say it out loud.

jungkook’s jaw tightens, his gaze locked on yours. he doesn’t back down, but he doesn’t answer immediately either, like he’s weighing his next move. you can see it— the slight flare of his nostrils, the clench of his fists at his sides.

“don’t play with me, ___.” he finally says, his voice low and rough.

your smirk widens, pushing him further. “am i really? becuz all i see is you getting worked up over nothing.”

“nothing?” he scoffs, stepping closer, closing the already minimal distance between you. “you’ve been pushing me, fucking testing me? what the fuck is that about?”

you hold your ground, refusing to back away. “and? what are you gonna do about it, jungkook? keep avoiding it like you always do?”

he lets out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. “avoiding it? you’re fucking crazy. you think this is easy for me?”

“what’s not easy?” you press more, losing patience, your voice softening slightly. “tell me, jeon jungkook. what’s so hard for you?”

his eyes darken, his emotions clear on his face. “stop, ___.” he pauses. “stop pushing me before i—” he cuts himself off, shaking his head like he’s trying to regain control.

you feel your breath catch at his words, your heart pounding, but you don’t let it show. instead, you tilt your chin up, whispering, “no.. you need to stop fighting it, jungkook.” you lean in closer, your eyes never leaving his. “it's just you and me right now.”

for a moment, neither of you moves. the tension between you is palpable, electric, like something is about to snap. and this time, you’re not sure if you want to continue pushing him.

“shut the fuck up,” jungkook leans down, his breathe getting heavier

you smirk a little, whispering back, “fucking make me.”

and then suddenly he’s holding your jaw in his big, tattooed palm, his lips sear against yours kissing you with passion that you’ve always wanted to feel.

jungkook's hand tightens around your jaw as he deepens the kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth with a desperate hunger. you moan into his mouth as he pulls you against his body, his other hand wrapping around your waist.

breaking away for a ragged gasp, jungkook lifts you effortlessly into his arms, kissing you again. you wrap your arms around his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair. he puts you down gently on the couch where he'd been sitting moments before. though there's nothing gentle about the way his hands roam over your curves, hiking your shirt up a little.

jungkook pulls back just enough to glare down at you, his breaths ragged, his jaw clenched. his dark eyes bore into yours.

"i hate you," he grits out. his hand grips your thigh, sliding up to press firmly against your skin, sending shivers through your body.

your lips curl into a smirk, your breath hitching as his grip tightens. “do you?” you whisper, your voice teasing, daring him to keep going.

his fingers dig into your thigh, his gaze flickering to your lips before meeting your eyes again. “yeah, cuz you're so fucking annoying. i hate you so fucking much,” he mutters, leaning down to press his lips against your neck, kissing and biting on your sensitive skin.

a soft moan escapes you, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt as you arch into him. “yeah?” you breathe out, your smirk deepening. “i like knowing i get to you.”

his eyes snap to yours, his jaw tightening as he pulls your shorts down in one swift motion, revealing him your bare pussy. “so fucking bratty,” he mutters.

your breath hitches, your chest rising and falling as his fingers trace over the tattoo etched into your thigh, the one he gave you, the one that still turns him on whenever he thinks about how you teased him during the session.

you and your fucking mouth. he thinks.

his lips hover over your skin, his gaze fixed on the inked design before he lowers his head. his soft lips press against your hip, right where the tattoo starts.

his voice is quieter now, softer as he looks up at you. “does it still hurt?”

“so much,” you whisper, your voice shaky, but it’s clear your meaning has nothing to do with pain.

a smirk tugs at his lips, his eyes dark with intent as he begins kissing along the tattoo, lower and lower. each press of his lips sends a shiver through your body.

his hands grip your thighs firmly, holding you in place as his mouth continues its path, exploring every inch of your skin, lingering on the spots that make you squirm, but not touching the place you desparately need him to.

“you’re so quiet now, ___,” he murmurs against your thigh, his lips brushing over your skin. “what happened to that smart mouth of yours?”

you bite your lip, trying to hold back a sound. “fuck off,” you breathe out, your words make his smirk grow wider.

his hands grip your thighs, holding you open as his head moves fully between them. his eyes lock onto your bare pussy, and he curses under his breath.

he leans in, his tongue sliding in a long, slow stride over your folds, making your eyes flutter shut. a soft, needy moan escapes your lips, your body already trembling like you’ve been waiting for this moment forever.

because, well, you have.

his tongue moves through your folds with such a delicious rhythm, licking every inch of you. your breathing grows heavier with each stroke, his mouth exploring you like he’s memorizing every reaction.

when his tongue finds your clit, he flicks it expertly, a few quick strokes before sucking on it. the sensation sends a jolt of pleasure through you, your mind spiraling into a haze.

“fuck,” you whisper, barely able to form words as his mouth works wonders on you.

he doesn’t stop. his tongue continues to explore you, his lips wrapping around your clit again while his hand comes up to join the mix. two fingers slide over your slick folds before finding your clit, rubbing it in perfect rhythm with his tongue. when his mouth moves lower, licking at your entrance, your thighs quiver, and a sharp moan slips past your lips.

“this what you wanted?” he rasps, his voice rough as he glances up at you, his fingers still circling your clit. your back arches instinctively, your body responding to his touch, and you squirm under him, unable to keep still.

when you don’t answer fast enough, his hand lifts slightly before coming down with a sharp slap to your pussy. the sting makes you whimper, your eyes shooting open as he smirks.

“what’s wrong?” he taunts, his fingers rubbing over your folds soothingly. “for someone who bitches about everything, you're so fucking quiet now.”

he presses two fingers against your entrance, teasing you, his movements deliberate as your body tenses.

“wanna cum on my fingers?” he asks, his tone low, his thumb still rubbing lazy circles on your clit.

“y-yes,” you stammer, your voice shaky but desperate. “fuck yes, wanna cum on your fingers,” you moan, your body arching when you feel his fingers slide in.

“shit, look at you,” he groans, his voice rough as his fingers curl inside you, hitting the perfect spot. “dripping so good for me,”

your moan spills out involuntarily, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. your hand reaches out instinctively, gripping his that’s still holding your thigh, your touch shaky but needy.

his fingers pump in and out of you, his thumb pressing against your clit in perfect rhythm. the wet sounds of your pussy, with your breathless moans, echo in the room mixed with the movie still playing in the background; filling his head with even more desire. his eyes flicker down to the visible bulge in his sweatpants, hard and straining against the fabric as he takes in the sight of you.

“fuck,” he mutters under his breath, almost to himself, his movements never faltering. watching you like this; squirming, moaning, completely falling apart— does something to him he can’t ignore. he never thought it would actually come to this.

but he can’t deny it. he’s thought about it. more times than he’d ever admit. even when he tried to push those thoughts away, when he tried to convince himself it was wrong to see you like this, he could never stop. every time you provoked him, every time you pushed his buttons, it only made him think about it more.

and now? now he’s fucking gone. he loves this. he loves having you squirm beneath him.

“f-fuck, j-jungkook, so good!” you cry out, your voice trembling as your back arches off the couch. your brows pinch together, your lips parted, your entire body trembling under his touch. your eyes flutter shut, so close to rolling back, completely lost in the overwhelming sensation he’s giving you.

“yeah?” he breathes, his tone low and wrecked. “you look so fucking pretty like this, so fucking beautiful..” his pace quickens, his fingers pumping deeper, harder, pushing you closer and closer.

“that’s it, just like that,” he coaxes, as his fingers continue working inside you. his thumb presses firmly against your clit, circling it with just the right amount of pressure, driving you even closer to your release.

your breathing turns ragged, your body trembling beneath his touch as the heat coils tighter in your core. “j-jungkook, i’m gonna—”

“do it,” he murmurs, his gaze locked on your face, watching every expression, every twitch. “fucking cum for me,”

your body tenses, back arching. your walls clench around his fingers as your orgasm washes over you, waves of pleasure crashing through every nerve. you grip his wrist tightly, probably marking him, your thighs trembling as you ride out the high.

he slows his movements, letting you catch your breath, but he doesn’t pull away. instead, he watches you, his eyes dark and full of something you can’t quite place. he gently slips his fingers out, glistening with your release, and you watch, dazed, with your half-open eyes, as he brings them to his lips.

“fuck,” he mutters, licking his fingers clean, his tongue swirling around them as if savoring every taste of you. his gaze meets yours, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “you taste fucking divine.”

“jungkook,” you whisper, your voice shaky but soft, not entirely sure what to say.

but.. before you can say anything, your phone starts ringing. both of your heads snap to the table where it’s vibrating.

the contact name reads “hater,” which you both know means jimin.

your eyes flick to jungkook. his expression shifts, and his hands, which were so close to touching you again, retreat. he steps back, leaving you frowning and still catching your breath.

“shit…” he mutters, standing up quickly, like he's guilty. you push yourself up too, sitting on the couch, not caring about the mess or the fact that you're still half-naked.

“are you fucking serious right now?” you snap, your voice dripping with frustration.

he sighs deeply, rubbing a hand over his face. “just fucking pick it up.”

you scoff but grab your phone anyway, answering it and immediately putting it on speaker.

“what the fuck do you want?” you hiss.

“woah, who hurt you dumbass?” jimin’s voice is light, teasing.

you roll your eyes as jungkook silently fixes his clothes, avoiding your gaze.

“what is it?” you ask, your tone sharper than you intended.

“tell jungkook i’ll be late,” jimin says casually. “i texted him, but he wasn’t answering.”

jungkook looks around, realizing he left his phone on the kitchen counter earlier.

“is that all, brother?” you say, your voice dripping with fake sweetness, emphasizing the last word

“yeah, sister,” jimin replies mockingly, playing along. “go to sleep, it’s late, and don’t worry about jungkook.”

“care about your stupid model friends instead,” you mutter and hang up before he can say more.

jungkook exhales heavily, picking up your shorts from the floor. he places them gently on your lap, covering you, though he avoids looking at you entirely.

“what now? you’re just going to do nothing?” you demand, your voice rising with frustration.

“shut up, ___,” he says, his tone low. “we went too far. we need to stop. it’s better that we—”

“don’t tell me to shut it!” you snap, your voice breaking slightly. “you liked it just as much as i did! and—” you point at his pants, your eyes narrowing. “you’re still fucking hard, so don’t act like it didn’t mean anything.”

he groans, pressing his palm to his face. “just fucking get dressed. go to sleep.” he sighs. “we’re done here. don’t ever bring this up again.”

his words feel like a slap to the face.

“you’re just gonna walk away?” you askbut he doesn’t respond.

jungkook grabs his phone from the kitchen, heading for the front door.

“where are you even going?” you demand, anger and hurt swirling in your chest.

“out. need to cool off,” he says without looking back and walks out, the door shutting behind him.

you sit there, staring at the door.

this hurts. so. fucking. much.

what the fuck is his problem?

you want to scream, to fight, to get some kind of answer out of him, but he’s gone.

this was not okay. you can't forgive him. too fucking far.

you fucking hate jungkook.

note: wait ngl lmao i think i had a little too much fun w this ,, even though i was crying & trying to make the smut part even better 🥴

no series taglist !!

💌 permanent taglist: @annyeongbitch7 @internetrando64 @jkvias @lovieku @deluluisdasolulu @ddanasjk @onlyforyoukook @diamondjeon @nnybtitts08 @lil0u0 @butnotmontana @fr0ggieth1nk @minimoninini @whoa-jo @lola75111 @jaytheatiny @iswearimover5feetall @rispwr @genevieveeeee

@134340-kr @mar-lo-pap @fluttershypoo @kyuupii @https-mei @elinaki92 @jungkookmyoneandonlybaby @hoseokteardrop @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @jaykay-world @jmscaffeine @libra04 @beigerin @nikidream24 @svnbangtansworld @mimi1097 @kookoo-kachoo @junecat18 @iheartchanelle @rrosiitas @jjeonjjk7 @remgeolli @ty-moy-ya-tvoy @rpwprpwprpwprw

[d3v1ls4dvocat3]

Doomed

James “Bucky” Barnes x Fem! Reader Smut

Summary: When Bucky notices the new neighbor, he can’t seem to get her out of his head! Whatever will he do?

W.C: 1600

Tags: Smut!, pervert! Bucky, panty thief! bucky, guilty bucky?, mentions of lingerie, AFAB! Reader, age gap but it’s not specified, male masturbation, breast fixation, nipple fixation, p in v? kinda? it doesn’t actually happen, Bucky POV, mentions of steve, mentions of war and Buck being the Winter Solider

MDNI!! Let me know if I missed anything!!

He remembers the exact day you moved into the apartment across the hall.

It was only a few days before the new year. Everyone on the floor had seemingly left to be with family, not that he bothered to keep track of his neighbors whereabouts, but he had noticed the overall lack of people when he made the unfortunate trip out of his apartment to see his therapist every other day.

That made your appearance even more noticeable.

Bucky liked to keep track of everyone he saw day-to-day anyway, it helped calm his nerves (rather he told himself it calmed his nerves) and luckily enough for him, you didn’t want to stop and introduce yourself.

Over the next few weeks, he only saw you a handful of times. You both never said anything, barely even looked at each other. It was nice.

Of course, nothing lasts forever. His therapist was sure to tell him that, much to his distain. Strangely enough, it was on one of his trips coming back from another session with Dr. Raynor that he found you cursing to yourself standing outside your apartment.

A part of him wanted to just walk by, and avoid the headache altogether. But he could hear a quiet voice in his mind that sounded a lot like Steve telling him to man up and help a poor lady in need. He sighed mentally and cleared his throat to grab your attention.

You looked up with slight shock and embarrassment. “Oh.. uhm, I’m not in your way am I?” You asked.

He frowned. “No, sorry. You look like you’re having some trouble there?”

Your eyes seemed to light up. “Is it that obvious?”

Bucky chuckled lightly and stepped closer to you, offering a hand of assistance. You gladly handed him your key.

“This building is old. These keys get stuck all the time. You’ve gotta know how to turn it to get it to unlock,” Bucky said as he fidgeted with your lock.

You watched him with unwavering eyes. Unknowingly to you, he was watching you out of the corner of his eye. This was the first time he’d really gotten a good look at your face. You were young, way younger than anyone he’d talked to recently. Most likely a college student. You held yourself with confidence but not in a way that made you seem cocky. You just had a sense of determination he hadn’t seen in a long time.

It was refreshing. Reminded him of sunlight.

He immediately frowned at that thought and focused his attention on your lock. Within a moment a quiet ‘click’ sounded through the small hallway. Your face lit up with a smile so bright he almost had to look away.

“Oh my god, thank you! I seriously thought I was fucked there,” You exclaimed.

He nodded and stepped back. “No problem. You can come get me if it does it again. I’m pretty much always home.”

You smiled again, gentler this time. “I will. Seriously, thank you. I really appreciate it.”

He watched you escape into the comfort of your home. He smiled, unbeknownst to himself and turned to his own apartment.

Cute.

_____

The next time he saw you was only a few weeks later.

Since the door fiasco, Bucky couldn’t get you out of his head. He wasn’t sure why, but something about you was like a breath of fresh air. He felt almost addicted to it, to how he felt at that moment.

So when he opened the door to the laundry room he was understandably surprised to see you. He was also even more surprised to see you in nothing but pajama pants and a very very small tank top.

And no bra.

He was going to turn around. Laundry could wait. Just as soon as his hand hit the door knob, he heard an intake of breath.

“It’s you!”

He sighed.

Bucky turned back around and smiled. “It’s me.”

You were smiling that same damn smile. He felt weak in his knees.

“I haven’t seen you in forever!” You said happily.

He nodded. “I don’t get out much.”

You hummed in understanding. “I get that. I’m still getting used to the city myself.”

It was quiet for only a moment, before you noticed Bucky’s small basket of laundry. You quietly moved over and motioned to the washing machine.

“I’m almost done with the dryer,” You said. Bucky muttered a quiet ‘thanks’ and began throwing his clothes into the washer. Once he was finished you both sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes.

“I don’t think I ever got your name…?”

Bucky himself was surprised at the question that came from his mouth. You also seemed surprised for a second before grinning.

As you said your name, he watched your lips form the word. Your name fit you, he thought. He whispered it to himself, trying to commit it to memory. Although, he was sure just like everything else about you, he wouldn’t forget it.

“James,” He said in return.

“Nice to officially meet you, James,” You practically purred. He felt his knees go weak again. He feared that might be a common occurrence around you.

As the silence fell over you again, Bucky began to struggle with his most recent thoughts. He questioned why he was acting like a teenager with a crush again?

Bucky had been through more than twenty men combined. He’d done things so horrible he couldn’t even speak about it. He’d seen things that would make anyone want to commit suicide. So why, out of all things, was a girl making him feel so weak?

He quietly looked over at you again. He traced the outline of your figure. Your hair down to your eyelashes. His eyes moved to your lips, plump and wet from where you’d licked them while talking.

He continued trailing down until his eyes stopped on your breasts. He felt guilt wash over him immediately at the practically sinful sight before him. He could perfectly make out your tits. The cold air in the room had made your nipples perk up just enough to poke through the already thin tank top.

Bucky glanced away quickly as the buzzer from the dryer sounded. He turned slightly to hide his tightening pants. You bent over to grab your clothes and he practically called out to god to strike him dead right there before he made a fool of himself.

It felt like years before you were up again and leaving the room. Before you closed the door, you waved bye to him. Bucky had to force every once of what he’d learned as an assassin just to seem normal enough to wave back.

Once the door closed behind you, he groaned and put his face in his hands. He tried to calm his breathing, using some of the techniques Dr. Raynor had taught him in one of their very first sessions. It was probably close to ten minutes before he felt okay enough to remove his hands from his face.

Bucky needed to calm down. You were just a girl. There was absolutely no reason to be feeling like this.

He repeated that to himself as he took his clothes out of the washing machine. As he went to throw them into the dryer, a small bright red thing caught his eye.

He grabbed it before he could even process what it was. He held up the laced piece of clothing he wasn’t sure would cover anything and knew he was doomed.

“Fucking dirty girl…”

_________

He was a pervert.

He knew he was a pervert. He felt guilty and ashamed and terrible.

However,

The thought of you wearing nothing but those red laced panties and a matching bra had been plaguing Buck’s mind. He couldn’t stop. He’d tried. He’d done everything he could think of.

He’d taken a cold shower.

He’d gone for a run.

He even tried to watch some of the movies that Steve had written down in his journal of things he “absolutely needs to watch and listen to” or whatever the blond had said.

Nothing could get that image out of his head.

It was three in the morning when he was fed up and aching and he needed release. He hadn’t meant to grab them. He was simply caught up in the moment. His hand stroking up and down his cock. He moaned and stroked faster.

Once the soft fabric touched his tip, he had to stop himself from instantly cumming.

“Oh fuck…” He moaned. Bucky wrapped the thong tightly around his hand. In his mind, he imagined your hips rubbing up and down his hard on. Teasing him in every way you knew would rile him up.

“Something wrong, Barnes?”

He groaned. He was fucking up into his fist now. He imagined flipping you over, grabbing your hands with his metal one and using his other one to squeeze your breasts.

He imagined kissing down your stomach until he got to those red panties and slowly, sensually kissing down them until you were begging to feel him. Begging him to touch you.

“Say my fucking name, doll,” He moaned.

He imagined your hands wrapped around his back and he mercilessly pounded into you. He imagined your soft lips wrapped around his full length, with your bright eyes filled with tears as you looked up at him.

He cursed.

“Nice to officially meet you, James.”

Suddenly he was cumming into his fist. He continued to stroke his cock until he was spent. As he calmed down, he looked down to see the mess he’d made with your undergarments.

“Fuck.”

He was seriously doomed.

[jesuistrestriste]

Cowgirl reader x art when

𐚁 ✮⋆˙ needy!art donaldson x cowgirl NSFW 18+

—

art doesn’t even know why he agreed to go with patrick down south for an impromptu boys trip.

it’s stickier down there; the humidity so high that the air is practically drinkable.

the heat suffocated him and climbed down his throat the second he got off the plane, and patrick had unsurprisingly laughed at him when he developed sweat stains on his tee shirt after only ten minutes in the uber to their hotel. it wasn’t his fault, he just never handled high temperatures well.

he blamed the desert, or whatever hellish fire-breathing beast was desecrating this part of the country with such unimaginable warmth. he could hardly think straight with the way his clothing clung to his heat-prickled skin.

he regretted going on the trip from the moment they touched down at the airport. he wished he had stayed back home, then at least he could get some time on the courts. but no.

and so he ruminated on the idea that he shouldn’t have come.

that is, until he and pat went out to a bar that first night.

patrick had already gotten drunk in the first twenty-five minutes and was feeling up a stranger, staggering with them off into a booth buried at the back of the establishment to get handsy. art’s eyes had rolled so far back that he was sure the earth had almost tipped with them.

he leaned over the busy bar, sipping his underwhelming tequila soda until he felt someone different slip into the space next to him.

a woman.

a pretty—no, sexy one at that.

glossy lips, a loose tee shirt that hung off of one shoulder (pink bra strap on display), dark flare jeans that hugged her in all the right places, brown leather boots, and a cowboy hat.

she couldn’t look more typically southern. but fuck, she was hot.

she turns her head and smiles up at him, her hat tilting up with her neck’s movement to expose more of her face.

“hey,” she hums, her eyes scanning him up and down before he can even speak, “… you’re not from here, are you?”

her voice is warm and silky, like dark chocolate. it floods his brain and immediately dilutes his thoughts into incoherent ramblings.

god, why hasn’t he said anything?

say something, damnit!

“ha..! no, no.. not from here,” art chuckles out nervously after a brief clearing of his throat.

she just smirks. putting her pearly whites on display for everyone to see. or maybe just for him..?

“yeah, i could tell by the way you’re dressed.”

was.. was that an insult?

is he supposed to laugh?

shit, she smells like the most delicious—

the thoughts in his brain are cut off abruptly when he feels her hand on his chest, dragging down.

oh fuck.

“relax, city boy,” she purrs with an intoxicating drawl, her free hand taking the hat off of her own head and placing it on top of his blonde curls, “i didn’t mean to get y’all worked up.. i’ll buy you a drink, hm?”

“i.. uh, i mean— okay, yeah, uhm, sure. i’ll take a drink..”

—

an hour comes and goes, and then art somehow winds up in the back of the girl’s car; parked on the outskirts of the small gravel lot.

it’s a shiny, cherry-red convertible. fuzzy dice hanging from the rearview mirror. a picture of a well-groomed black horse tucked into the driver seat’s personal mirror (which she flipped up once the two of them were taking off their clothes).

patrick was still somewhere in the bar, preoccupied, so art felt less guilty about letting this woman drag him out the backdoor towards her vehicle. all it had taken was one sloppy kiss, and then he was willingly trailing behind her like a sick dog.

art can hardly process that now they’re completely naked; his flushed back sticking to her leather seats as she sinks down on his cock. a shuddering groan is pulled forcefully from his chest, spilling out in the next instant. he feels his balls draw up once, twice, three times in response to the feeling of her tight cunt gripping around him, and he swears he could almost come right then and there. she’s like a fucking goddess.

“can you handle me?” she smirks down to him, starting to rock her hips rhythmically like she’s riding a mechanical bull, “i wanna hear an answer, darlin’…”

“can’t—“

ugh, he’s choking on his words. shaking hands holding her waist with the desperation of a guy who hasn’t gotten laid in over a year. he’s allowed to be a bit pathetic.

“can’t?” she repeats, bouncing now on his slicked-up shaft, her nails running down his tensing abdomen and leaving red stripes in their wake.

he shakes his head, a loud whimper and gasp following suit. his thighs are starting to tremble. toes already started curling thirty seconds ago.

“can’t— can’t last, not gonna last—“

the woman just laughs lowly and rolls her pelvis in slow circles. art’s body vaults up in response, pushing against her weight on top of him as he feels a blurt of precome erupt from his tip and surround him in the condom— daring him to disappoint her and let it all go before he gets the go-ahead.

“ohh… aah— you really aren’t from around here, are you? poor lil’ thing…”

he doesn’t know why that statement from her makes his gut stir with pre-orgasmic convulsions. he’s trying to meet her movements with his own thrusts, but he’s losing stamina fast. every buck of his body into her pussy sends a sharp bolt of pleasure right up his spine. he’s sweating almost as much now as he was when he first arrived. probably moreso, if he’s honest.

and shit, he can’t be anything but honest at this point.

she’s making him forget everything he ever disliked about this part of the country.

she’s making him feel like her pussy could solve all of his problems.

she’s making him feel like… like… like—

“oh, god—!” he hiccups, squeezing into her torso, head tipped back and biceps curling as he tries to tug her down closer, “i’m sorry, i can’t hold it— i’m gonna come, can’t— can’t stop-!”

she giggles, and then there’s the voice again. warm, smooth, low. dripping right into the crook of his neck.

“alright, city boy,” she whispers, “come then.”

and that’s all it takes.

art’s eyes squeeze shut, his jaw slacks, and he lets out the most desperate strangled cry as he feels the scorching waves of pleasure consume him from all sides. he feels his cock kick against her palpating walls, pulses of his sticky white release webbing on the inside of the latex.

he’s practically vibrating by the time the aftershocks roll around, his baby blues looking up dazedly to the smiling woman still connected to him. her hands cup his flushed cheeks, her thumbs wiping beaded sweat from his temples and his forehead.

“there ya go… thaaat’s it, darlin’… let it all out…”

art sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and whimpers as he feels his dick stir inside of her, threatening to shoot again just from her words.

“haah… ha-aahngh… hnngh,” he quakes, gasping for air and trying to calm himself down, “h-how did… ngh— how did y-you do that t-to me..?”

trying not to sound so utterly wrecked is easier said than done, he’s realizing that now. he really can’t prevent it- he’s nothing more than a limp mess underneath her perfect form.

he winces and hisses softly with sensitivity when she torturously rocks just once more over his spent parts.

“oh, honey,” she laughs, “we just do it different down here.”

… god, he loves the south.

[revelboo]

I’m really want Waspinator smut, I’m waiting for it

I doubt reader is, though 😂 Or for his really confused attempts to court, because he’s in love. Reader… still thinks of him as their dumb, ugly puppy, but they’ll figure it out pretty soon

Worker Bee Pt 15

Waspinator x Reader

• Unfortunately, he’s healed enough to go back to being aggressively clingy. As soon as you’d tried to squirm out from between him and the back of the couch, he’d just wrapped his arms around you and pressed his face against your chest. And whined. Making you feel guilty about carefully pushing his head away to get free, because you can’t just sleep on the couch all day. You have work to do and you’re not looking forward to that at all. Normally working from home is a good thing, but the idea of trying to do Zoom calls with him around? That’s just terrifying.

• Venting as he loses the warmth of you, he follows along behind you waiting on you to stop so he can snare you again. Little touches teasing him like when you’d brushed his antenna with your soft fingers to nudge his head away. Reaching up to run his servos over one, he watches you grab a bag and carry it back to the couch before pointing at him. “Don’t touch,” you say and his wings flick at your strict tone.

• Eyeing him as he keeps running his servos over an antenna, you sigh and head into the kitchen for some cereal. It’s hard to tell if he’s listening, let alone understanding you when he just stares at you like that. Fixing a bowl, you turn and almost run into him, frowning up at him in exasperation and going around him to sit at the table. “Not touching bag,” he says, dragging your chair out to insinuate himself between your thighs. Again. He’s touching everything else, though as he lays his head in your lap and just stares up at you. There’s no brain cells in that ugly bug head. You know there aren’t. He doesn’t know he’s doing anything wrong and he’s just going to aggressively follow you if you move. You’ve already fought this war with him and lost before. So you try to ignore him and eat your cereal.

• Wrapping his arms around you and the chair, he watches you eat. Not rebuking him this time and he buzzes softly at you, mandibles snagging your covering. “Are you eating my shirt?” You ask, looking down at him. Feels you slowly inhale and then you lay a soft hand on his head, fingers brushing his antenna to make him freeze. Not pushing him away. Touching him gently. No one has ever touched him with such kind hands before except you. Never belonged anywhere but here with you. “Why are you whining now? Cause I don’t want you eating my shirt?”

• Exasperated as he just keeps whining, still chewing the bottom hem of your shirt, you give up on trying to figure out what’s going on in his head. He’s obnoxious, but you don’t think he means to be. And no matter how annoying he is, you had been worried when you’d found him out there in the snow unmoving. Because he’s yours. Your problem. “Waspinator’s little friend,” he whines, the words more buzz than intelligible and you hear something in your chair crack under his clawed servos. And you nearly fall backwards when the back of the chair just comes loose, broken. Optics wide, his immediate reaction is to hide and cringe down. With nowhere else to go, he shoves his face between your thighs, antennae flattening against his head as you yelp and both of your hands land on his head.

Previous

[blxxmingrose]

the pancakes turned out perfectly, mirroring hans’ good mood as he placed them carefully on sunny’s plate. hearing the raspy remnants of sleep on june’s voice was too endearing, and hans found himself wanting to keep it in his memories. “it wouldn’t be out of my way, it would be fitting for my h-o-s-t-a-g-e plans,” hans replied back as he sat down, spelling the word out to be delicate about sunny hearing it. “i want to make sure you get here safe.” 

his mind was already working up a list of things he needed to pick up—marshmallows and more snacks to go with their hot chocolates being at the top of the list. he knew sunny would have more to add when they were in the store, and he was willing to allow a few more sweets into the mix. it was that kind of fun day. “okay, we’ll finish up breakfast quickly, then we’ll get going. take your time, we’ll see you soon.” 

sunny leaned forward in her seat and, with a mouth full of pancakes, spoke, “bye mr. june!” hans was in the middle of laughter when he ended the call, giving june plenty of time to prepare while they ate. there was another plate of pancakes in case he wanted them later, and hans couldn’t help but stare at it while he finished his. 

“now, sunny bear,” he spoke in a firm but gentle tone, looking sunny straight in the eyes. “we’re heading out in a bit, but it’s going to be slippery outside, so we both need to be on our best behavior, okay? and then, we’ll drop by june’s house so we can get him for movies. how does that sound?” 

the grin that he got was as good a response as any, and much to hans’ delight, she finished her pancakes without making as much of a mess. it made cleaning up easier for hans, and after a few minutes to get dressed in their warmest clothes, they were out the door with their plan in motion. he quickly typed a message before starting the car, letting june know of their progress, his smile now a permanent fixture on his face. 

hans: we’re heading out now. you better be ready to see us both!  hans: sunny behaved really well this morning. kept all the syrup on her plate! 

he chuckled as he reread what he had typed, and with an almost guilty glance in sunny’s way, he headed out of the driveway and to the store. 

june hadn’t expected a call so early, but hearing hans’ cheerful voice immediately brought a smile to his face. he could picture the scene so clearly — hans making breakfast with that effortless grace of his, and sunny, already wide awake, waving at the phone as though he could see her. “good morning,” june said, his voice still carrying the soft rasp of sleep. he rolled onto his side, nestling the phone closer. he chuckled softly at the thought of sunny waving. “tell sunny i’m waving right back.”

hans’ plan sounded so well thought out, so undeniably hans, that june couldn’t help but smile as he listened. he pictured himself sitting in the passenger seat, sunny chattering away in the back, the easy warmth of their company wrapping around him.

“that sounds like a plan,” june said after a moment. “you don’t have to go out of your way, though. i can just get a ride over later if it’s easier.” his voice softened as he added, letting the thought linger for a moment before adding with a playful tone, “but if you’re really offering to pick me up, i won’t say no.”

june paused, his smile growing softer as he thought about hans calling him first thing in the morning, how natural it felt to talk this early. he shifted in bed, tossing the blankets aside and sitting up. “i’ll get ready so i’m good to go when you swing by. drive safe, alright? and let sunny know i’ll see her soon.” his tone was still playful, but beneath it was a warmth, a gratitude that only deepened his excitement for the day ahead.

[kashverse]

gojo’s sweet tooth is a menace. you learned that early on when he asked for “a bit” of sugar in his coffee and ended up turning it into something closer to a dessert syrup. so, of course, when you bake a pear and berry pie—already sweet enough, mind you—he sneaks in extra sweetener when he thinks you aren’t looking. he’s not very subtle about it. the first time, you almost missed it, but then you saw his telltale smug grin, a bit too pleased with himself as he “innocently” leaned against the counter.

"toru," you deadpan, arms crossed.

"what? i’m just appreciating your hard work," he says, licking a stray bit of filling off his finger like he's in a commercial.

"you’re ruining my pie."

"nah, i’m improving your pie," he corrects, already reaching for another spoonful.

nanami, on the other hand, is far less chaotic. he keeps things simple—apple pie, nothing fancy. no extra fillings, no surprise ingredients, just a good ol’ classic that never lets him down. it’s his go-to for the weekends, whether he makes it himself (precisely measured, no shortcuts) or picks one up from the bakery he trusts more than some of his coworkers. sometimes, you’ll walk into the kitchen and find him in the middle of rolling out dough with the same focus he has when reading financial reports. if you joke about him being a househusband, he’ll sigh, wipe his hands on a towel, and say, "do you want pie or not?"

toji doesn’t bake. he doesn’t have time, patience, or, honestly, the self-control to wait for something to cool down before eating it. but after a long day, when you casually hand him a slice of pumpkin pie, he takes it without a word. he’s not big on admitting things, so he just eats it, nodding once in approval, like that’s the most gratitude you’re going to get. but the real giveaway is how he never turns it down. ever. even if he’s pretending like he doesn’t care.

geto loves pecan pie. no debate. no discussion. no hesitation. the man would probably start a war over it if necessary. you once offered him a slice of something else, and he gave you such a disappointed look that you almost felt guilty.

"you’re really this attached to pecan pie?" you asked, watching as he took slow, deliberate bites like he was savoring each one.

"it’s a masterpiece," he said, as if that explained everything.

choso is all about cherry pie, mostly because he likes the tint it leaves behind. after eating it, he’ll glance in the mirror and smile a little at the way his lips look stained, like a kid who got into something he shouldn’t have. sometimes, he’ll grin at you with his mouth still full just to make you roll your eyes.

"cho, you look like you just drank blood."

"cool, right?"

and then there’s sukuna. you have to physically stop him from turning a normal, innocent chicken pie into something… horrific.

"you can’t put human meat in it."

"why not?"

"it’s a chicken pie."

"so?"

you glare at him. he stares back, unbothered.

"suku, if i turn around and find out you’ve replaced the filling, i swear to god—"

he smirks. "you wouldn’t even know the difference."

"i would. you know why? because i would throw up."

he just laughs, because, really, who needs horror movies when you live with him?

[reidphobic]

🎟️your ticket to spill your dad!spencer thoughts

thank u so much for this opportunity… so i’m sure we all know spencer is a girldad but the two of you have a literal horde of daughters. four, to be exact. your eldest, daphne diana (yes, he cried when you suggested the name) took you completely by surprise, two pink lines a positive blood test confirming you don’t just have a bout of terrible food poisoning.

you’re a little afraid, but there’s nobody you’d rather have at your side. spencer absolutely dotes on you through your pregnancy, at your side every minute he’s not on a case. he won’t even let you reach for anything above eye-level, for god’s sake!

and it’s only magnified when she’s born, and she’s so tiny that spencer’s palm is the size of her little face, and he’s rocking her and cooing softly, and you’re delirious and still in pain and flooded with hormones, and you just burst into tears. everything’s perfect, you say at his concerned look. everything’s the most perfect it’s ever been. i hope she takes after you, you say dreamily.

she won’t, if she knows what’s good for her, he quips. most beautiful girl in the world for a mom, and you want her to take after me?

your next daughter is planned, or at least intended to be. daphne’s about two, and already showing signs of being as smart as her father. don’t you think she’d be a good big sister? you murmur, watching him chatter away enthusiastically to her almost-words. only one way to find out.

and then you get an ultrasound. there’s two of them?! what did you do to me? you demand. spencer looks sheepish, as if it’s actually his fault. daphne seems frankly baffled by the concept, insists on asking where the baby is almost every day of your pregnancy. she’s even more confused when you bring two babies home: adeline alexandra and eloise emily. when they’re born, spencer takes an extended sabbatical, and having him consistently at home with you is like a dream.

by the time daphne is five and addie and eloise are three, you’re itching for that sweet new baby smell again. please? you whine, draping yourself over your husband as your eldest daughter covers his fingertips in pink, sparkly nail polish. just one more? you’re so great with them. and you lean in, murmur so your daughters can’t hear. and i know you love how i look pregnant.

you’re regretting that choice in the delivery room for the third time. stop putting daughters in me! you screech. they bite me and destroy my stuff and my house is covered in pink plastic crap! stop it! spencer looks genuinely guilty. but then she’s born, and you forget all of it.

piper penelope is your forever baby, utterly adored by her parents, her sisters, everyone she meets. she shares her namesake’s bubbly personality, a chatterbox from the minute she can talk. of your daughters, she looks the most like her father, and you can tell from the first time spencer sees her how happy it makes him.

the five of you are crammed into a pillow fort your bossy second-born insisted you build, spencer’s lanky frame hunched over and wearing a smile so wide his cheeks must hurt. can you tell us a story, daddy? says daphne, the big brown eyes she inherited from her father shining up at him. you guys want to hear a story? four tiny, overlapping voices cheer and you pull little piper into your arms. let me ask you this, have you ever heard the one about…

(and, yes, all their namesakes did cry upon finding out you and spencer named your daughters after them)

[asgardianechoes]

Cramps Be Gone

Loki X Reader Fluff

Summary: You’re on your period, you’re frustrated, and Loki’s there to help you.

A/n: I got this idea on day one of my period, so… here we are.

The day could’ve been much more cheerful. You and Loki originally planned to go out today. Instead, you were curled up in your bed, groaning every other minute. Why? Because a very unwanted guest showed up at your door this morning. Guess who? None other than your monthly bleed-out session, aka period.

You were lying in your bed with the unhappy knowledge that this will not end anytime soon. Waves upon waves of stab-like pains shot through your lower abdomen, making you groan and press down on that spot. You were tired. So damn tired of it. You were looking forward to this date, but now it’s ruined. You were originally thinking about taking painkillers, but Loki absolutely disagreed.

‘Painkillers,’ he said strictly, ‘are merely something Midgardians came up with to gain more money. They do not help conquer it; it only allows them to forget about it. If you use such things, y/n, believe me, you will behave carelessly and only worsen it and wish me to get you more. Therefore, no, you will not be using such trashy Midgardian medicine. It isn’t even medicine, in my eyes.’ He added, pulling a face.

Loki was there for you, of course. He was always there to help you with your needs, he even let you have breakfast in bed (something he doesn’t usually allow. ‘You’ll dirty everything,’ he used to say in a tone of finality). But he wasn’t there for the most part. He has work to do, you know this, but you still wished he could give it all up and just stay with you. Flipping over under your blankets, you resumed cursing your life.

I’m lonely, you thought sadly, your head under your blankets. You wished your period showed up just one day later. You and Loki have been dating for nearly a month now, it was clear to you that your time of the month was going to hit anytime. But why on this day? On the one day you don’t want it?

You were, not gonna lie, very frustrated. And angry. In need of something (or someone) to rage to, you started blaming your boyfriend for your pain. What was possibly so important that he had to leave you? Couldn’t he leave it till your bleeding days were over? Why? That word seemed to exist in every single thought you had flowing in your head. Why?

On day three it was going terrifying. It was hurting so much you couldn’t even bring yourself to sit upright in your bed. You prayed it would be over, but apparently your prayers were ignored. Oh, how you’d like this shit to finally just end. Loki had to feed you breakfast, it was so painful. He even teased you. Like, is this guy for real? (‘I mean, I could make it go away for nine months…’ he had said while smirking. You slapped his hand, scrunching up your face.) But after that he just pressed a kiss to your forehead and walked out. Sometimes you regret dating this guy.

It was nearly noon when he came back. Your aches soothed a little, but were almost just the same as before. He sat down at the edge of your bed, brushing a strand of your hair out of your face.

‘Oh, now you decide to show up,’ you groaned, ‘now that I’m literally dying in my bed. How was work?’ you put emphasis on the word ‘work’ as you knew he must feel at least slightly guilty about leaving you hanging. He opened his mouth, took a deep breath, and said: ‘Well, about that…’ He looked at you with a pleading look, as if wishing for you not to get angry for what he was going to say. You narrowed your eyes, staring back with a suspicious look.

‘What?’ you asked, your breathing kind of shallow due to the pain throbbing in your lower abdomen. ‘What wonderful surprise have you prepared for me?’ Loki sighed, as if preparing himself for a scolding, and said: ‘I have not been working. Or at least, I wasn’t doing Avengers’ work.’

You bolted upright, causing a stab of pain to shoot through your body. His hand instinctively rose to hold your back and lead you back down. ‘What?! So you’re telling me that you weren’t even doing important shit while I was mentally and physically dying?! What-‘ he put a finger to your lips to shush you. ‘Let me finish,’ he said gently. You reluctantly laid back down, staring at him with accusatory eyes.

‘I have been working, darling. For the past few days I have been digging through my books to find a safe and healthy painkiller for you. You see, Asgardians value health over money, and we have much safer medicines than those on Midgard.’ He says, brushing his hand over your hurting part over your blanket. Heavens, he looked hot when he looked at you with these loving eyes.

Even after listening to his explanation, you still wanted to blame him. Keeping that annoyed look on your face, you whined at him: ‘Well… that’s very… nice of you. But- you should’ve told me beforehand! I thought you were being careless and didn’t give a shit about me! I was so upset.’ Loki looked at you knowingly before answering: ‘Honey, if I told you, you would’ve distracted me with your rushes and caused me to slow down my pace.’

‘Fuck you.’

‘After you’ve recovered, darling.’ He replied, smirking. You rolled your eyes, your cheeks reddening. This man knows exactly how to get to you, you can give him that.

With a swift move, he slipped your blanket off. You shivered slightly at the sudden chill, but Loki reassured you that it wasn’t going to take long. Softly, he brushed his hand over your abdomen, and you felt a warmth surge through where he touched. Soon, you could feel the pain leaving you, finally giving you peace. You sighed, relieved that it was all finally over. You laid back down, closing your eyes and drinking in the fact that Loki was your lover.

‘Be careful,’ he warned as you beamed at him, ‘you may stain easier, now that you don’t feel it.’ You didn’t even wait for him to finish before half-singing: ‘Yeah, yeah, I know-‘ you were suddenly so happy that your period said bye-bye, you thought Loki might’ve given you a cheer-up spell or something.

Eager, you tried to get out of bed, but only got shoved back in. You pouted up at him, staring into his blue eyes. ‘Just because you don’t feel it does not mean it is no longer there. Stay in bed.’ He said.

You hmphed at him, burrowing back into the sheets to sulk. Loki smiles. What a girl he had found.

HELLO! Hope you enjoyed it :D My posting is still kinda limited, thank you for your patience

Taglist: @simplyholl @mischiefmaker615 @vbecker10 @kathren1sky-blog

Tell me if you want to be in my taglist!!

Feel free to comment lol

[grudgecollector]

Afterglow | Nam-gyu / American!Reader

You're reading part four

Story Summary: Nam-gyu gets a new job and finds himself falling for the girl behind the deli counter.

Words: 1.9k

Tags/Warnings: Nam-gyu and Thanos have PTSD, canon divergence, Thanos lives, heavy angst, fighting, references to past substance abuse, slight suicidal ideation

A/N: Oh boy oh boy, now this is a chapter I cooked up with the devious side of my brain.

This is a particularly heavy chapter, lots of angst, but in the next one I'll make up for it I promise (maybe ;))

Also I'd like to thank you guys again for the continued love on the Afterglow series. I wasn't expecting to do this many chapters, but I love them.......

MASTERLIST | Mini playlist to fit the chapter

October thirty-first, Halloween, one of the most anticipated holidays for kids and adults alike. You couldn’t help but feel a little giddy at the idea of being able to celebrate with Nam-gyu. It made you feel like a kid all over again, happily trying to plan out costume ideas, helping decorate his apartment a little bit. You were trying hard not to go overboard with your excitement. 

Since Halloween wasn’t as popular in South Korea as it was in the United States, you wanted to make sure that you could give both him and Su-bong an authentic experience. Candy, costumes, make-up, scary movies. Even parties, which you were never fully privy to in the past, but willed yourself to make an exception this time around. 

You jiggled your spare key a little in the lock of Nam-gyu and Su-bong's apartment, wiping your feet on the welcome mat outside before removing your shoes. Your umbrella was still dripping on the concrete just outside the door, you silently hoped to yourself that nobody would take it while you were inside. 

Su-bong was sitting on the couch twirling a finger through his fresh hot pink hair, fingertips still stained in the dye. He was watching one of his many guilty pleasure shows at a low volume. His brows were knit together in what seemed to be concentration, and something a little more. 

“Hey, Su-bong.” You greeted with a smile, setting down a few of the things you had brought for tonight. 

His head snapped over to look at you, “Oh hey, didn’t hear you come in.” His own smile faltered a little, it was distant, the usual happy spark in his eyes replaced with something a lot more unrecognizable. 

“I think Nam-gyu’s still asleep.” He answered your unspoken question flatly. His usual teasing and friendly demeanor shut away. 

Strange…

All you could do was nod. Your eyes stayed on him for a beat longer than usual before you made your way down the short hallway to your boyfriend’s room.

You carefully grasped the knob to his door and opened it slowly, not wanting to accidentally wake him up. There was a faint smell of cigarette smoke that lingered in the air. His room was almost pitch black if it wasn’t for the little bit of light let in by the open door. 

Right on the bed was the outline of your boyfriend underneath the covers. His weighted blanket was pulled tight around his shoulder as he laid on his side, breaths coming out in slow quiet snores. 

Worry tugged at your heart, it was four in the afternoon, usually he never slept this long. 

You passed the threshold of his doorway, closing the door quietly behind you. A part of you didn’t want to disturb him, deep in your stomach you know you should just leave him be. But you just couldn’t, not with the thorny feeling of curiosity jabbing itself into your side.

“Nam-gyu.” You whispered softly, a gentle hand settling itself on his covered shoulder. “Honey it’s really late, you should probably wake up.” 

He woke up with a startled gasp, his body going completely rigid underneath his sheets. You could hear his quickened breaths against his pillow, a tell-tale sign you recognized all too quickly. You were quick to press the switch to the lamp on his nightstand, his room being cast in a soft yellow light. 

There in the bed lay your boyfriend, a trembling man under a heap of blankets. He glanced over his shoulder with worried eyes, tears already brimming. Almost a year with him and you had never seen him so utterly terrified. 

Your name fell from his wobbly lips, trapped within a choked sob, he looked like a scared child seeking comfort. 

You wasted no time making your way to your usual spot on the bed, sliding underneath the heavy sheets and bringing him into your chest.

The sobs he released into your shirt were raw with emotion, as if they were being torn from his body unwillingly. You didn’t care that his tears and snot were seeping through the fabric and onto your chest. 

He was shaking like a leaf in your arms, hiccuping sobs forcing his fingers to grip tighter around the back of your shirt. 

~~~

Su-bong clenched his jaw at the sound of Nam-gyu’s sobs. A part of him wanted to storm into his friends room and tell you to leave, that he would handle things himself. But he couldn’t… He wouldn’t do that to either of you. 

You were the closest thing to normalcy Nam-gyu has had in his life since the games. Su-bong knew that more than anyone ever would. 

He watched for two years as his friend dragged his body through life pathetically. Picking at his arms every now and then as the itch, the urge, that unmatchable craving started to eat at him as he was consumed by his ever present thoughts. 

And once you came along, the dust finally seemed to settle. It was like watching his friend be built back into the man he met, while he wasn’t as selfish or as snide as he used to be, he finally found his smile again. His laugh no longer sounded forced.

He was finally happy. 

Su-bong would be lying to himself if he said that you being around was a comfort for him too. After the things both Nam-gyu and him did back in South Korea, they both needed that reminder that innocent minds such as yours were to be cherished. Those genuine smiles and laughs, clueless to the true horrors in the world. 

Nam-gyu was always so distant around the anniversary of the games. Shut off from the world, sleeping away the day just so he didn’t slip back into old habits. He always looked so hollow when he would finally show his face, dark bags under his puffy eyes, hair a mess, wearing the same exact clothes that he had been wearing four days before. 

A sigh fell from Su-bong’s lips as he noticed the cries of his friend finally started to quiet down, occasional choked sobs drifting through the thin walls. 

Su-bong knew that if you were going to continue being in a relationship with Nam-gyu, you had to at least be given a half truth eventually. 

Given a glimpse of the extent of Nam-gyu’s gruesome, tormenting, past. 

~~~

Nam-gyu felt so pathetic. His eyelids clenched so tight he was almost scared his eyes would pop in their sockets. He tried his best to will his tears away, the sobs subsiding into pitiful whimpers and sniffles. 

“I’m sorry… Fuck… I-” He was quick to push himself away from you, albeit a little harsher than he intended. Sitting up quickly and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “I…” 

He couldn’t even form a coherent sentence, his mind twisting and spinning so rapidly. Nam-gyu brought his hands up to his face, dragging his blunt nails along the skin of his raw cheeks.  He hoped that the brief bite of pain would bring him some sort of relief. 

God his fucking hands… If only they could stop shaking for just a second. 

Nam-gyu could feel your eyes boring into his back. He couldn’t bring himself to look over his shoulder at you. Your sweet, caring, beautiful face. It made his gut twist in a sickening way when a sudden gory image flashed in his head, an image of you in the games, dying in front of him. 

“I need to go.” He suddenly breathed out, rushing towards the door before you could even think to reach out for him. 

The world felt like it was spinning around him as he rushed to grab his jacket, slipping on one shoe at a time.

His mind was on one thing and one thing only. 

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going Nam-gyu?” Su-bong hissed, cutting through his friend’s tunnel vision.

It wasn’t an actual question, Su-bong knew exactly what Nam-gyu was planning to do. To search for that glorious hit that could make him forget everything that tormented his fragile mind.

“Dude… You can’t do this shit. Not today.” 

He snatched the keys from his trembling friend’s other hand, throwing them all the way into the kitchen, completely out of reach. 

“Su-bong…” Nam-gyu whispered his friend's name in warning, eyes glued to the wooden floor of their living room. 

“Your fucking girl is here bro… Do not do this shit.” An accusatory finger was jabbed lightly into Nam-gyu’s chest, “You can shut me out all you fucking want, but not her.” 

A tornado of emotions swirled recklessly inside of Nam-gyu. Right now all he wanted to do was forget, to wash all of his guilt away with one simple hit. That’s all he wanted. His heart was racing so fast in his chest, and his ears were ringing so loud he could barely concentrate anymore. 

“Sit down and smoke some weed or some shit, but we both swore that other shit off years ago, together. You can’t go sliding back on me now.” 

Nam-gyu’s hands tightened at his sides, body flushed.

Their eyes, their faces, everything was burned so brightly behind his eyelids. 

“I can’t do this anymore!” He finally shouted, making Su-bong flinch a little, “I’m so fucking tired! I just- I can’t… FUCK!” 

~~~

There was the sound of shattering glass in the hallway, so sharp and loud as you stared at Nam-gyu’s door. Still in shock from his sudden departure, seemingly running away from his deep seated emotions.

You threw back the covers hastily, ripping open his door and finding both boys fighting, yelling at each other in a way you had never seen them before. 

A picture frame was lying broken on the floor next to the front door, glass spread throughout the living room floor. Su-bong’s foot came dangerously close to one of the shards as Nam-gyu continued to jab his finger into his friend’s chest. 

“It has been so fucking easy for you! You don’t even act like it fucks with your head like it does mine!” Nam-gyu screamed at him, angry tears running down his cheeks. 

Su-bong couldn’t help but scoff, pushing against your boyfriend’s shoulder to force him to back up, “You don’t think it’s been hard on me?! Why do you think I go out so often?!” He pushed again, “I can’t stand being here by myself! I can’t get that shit out of my head! So I drown it out by going to clubs and bars!” Another push, “Don’t you think I wanna go out and get so fucked up out of my mind, do something I’ll really fucking regret?!” 

This time it was Nam-gyu who pushed him back, much harder than Su-bong had done to him, “Don’t fucking touch me again.” His voice was cold, bordering emotionless if it wasn’t for the slight tremble in his words. 

It broke your heart to see him like this. There was so much pain built up inside of him, all you wanted to do was grab his hand and usher him back into his bedroom. Hold him until he calmed down again.

But you knew that wouldn't be possible, not with how fired up he was now. You felt hopeless, unsure how you should act under situations like this.

You had been shaken out of your thoughts finally when Nam-gyu's hand grasped the doorknob firmly, "I'm going outside for a smoke. I gotta cool off." His gaze barely flickered past your shoes when he glanced towards the hallway. "I'll be back in a bit."

[therainywriter]

Pitiful Thing (Angst/Slightly Suggestive)

Pairing: Young-il/ In-ho/ Frontman x Reader

Horrific, the scene playing out in front of you was something out of a nightmare. A part of you didn't want to believe it, wanted to convince your panicked being that this was only a dream.

You knew that wasn't the case, as much as you so desperately wished it was.

Your ears rang as shots fired past you, ending the lives of everyone who went running to the doors. Their screams pained you, twisting your heart so violently you couldn't help the hot tears that fell from your eyes.

"You have to keep moving!!" 456 yelled, his eyes met yours in a frantic sort of plea. He was right, the games only served to kill players in a demented fight for money. Money you didn't even want anymore.

Your lungs burned as you forced yourself to follow 456, you'd follow his lead. He was your only chance at getting out of here alive.

"Red light!"

456's voice was muffled against his arm as he tried to help everyone. You could hardly focus on it, heart pumping loudly within your ears as you sucked deep breaths in.

"...It's not able to detect you if you're behind something! So, if you're short line up behind someone who's taller than you!" and with that, green light shortly followed.

Everyone did as he said, progressing ahead in multiple rows. All moving more efficiently towards the finish line. Closer and closer, step by step.

It felt like a blur when you finally made it past that stupid giant doll. You covered your mouth, willing the sobs that tried to escape away. You should have never come here, never agreed to this.

But how were any of you supposed to know?

One last shot pierced the air. You jumped, turning to find the man 456 and 120 saved now lifeless on the ground. Your lip trembled, eyes blurring once again as you looked away.

You were sat curled in your bed when the guards came in and congratulated the remaining players. It was a repulsive circumstance to commend everyone for, as if 96 human beings hadn't died in the process.

There would be a vote, and despite the 9.1 billion won that had accumulated from death, you were certain these people weren't mindless enough to stay.

With each passing vote you fell even more hopeless, how was everyone so divided? Why would anyone want to stay after being in such distress, after seeing so many die?

456 tried talking sense into the others, but his efforts appeared to be futile. They wouldn't listen, they were too focused on a cash price that was likely to take their life.

Your hand fell from your red velcro patch after the last person voted, putting the score to 182-183. You were going to have to play again, you weren't going home.

You struggled to hold it together, breaths coming out sharp. Player 001 caught your eyes just as tear fell down your cheek.

It was as though the world stopped for him when he saw your face, those big, sad eyes silently asking how he could ever do such a thing.

He almost felt guilty, seeing an innocent little thing who shouldn't at all be involved in his games. He frowned ever so slightly and looked away, he couldn't afford to get so easily distracted.

You swore you saw remorse in his dark eyes, face emotionless as he disappeared into the crowd of blue.

They announced the dreadful results and everyone returned to their bunks, now seemingly separated by what side they voted for. You should've known greed would drive these peoples decisions, you felt naive for thinking otherwise.

Dinner was served and you occupied yourself with eating, not noticing how hungry you actually were until you got a mouthful of rice. Your only moment of peace was ruined as there was a ruckus not far from you.

A player was being held back as a guy with purple hair went to swing at him. You didn't think as you jumped up, rushing over to the altercation. They were kicking the poor guy on the floor when you made it to them.

"Hey, stop that!! Quit acting like savages, we should be helping each other!" you pulled the purple haired on back, trying to stand between him and who you could see now to be 333.

"Why don't you mind your business, yeah? Unless you were just trying to get attention from the great Thanos," he said with a smirk, head tilting as he looked a bit crazed.

"What? No, that's- that's not what I was trying to do," you explained, taken aback at his accusation.

Before he could say anything else you felt someone come up behind you, a warm body that encompassed yours. A large hand pushed you behind who you could see now to be 001.

"What makes you think you can act like that? It's bad manners, not to mention two against one." he said so calmly.

Thanos sauntered toward the man, "You're in here just like everyone else, so cut the lecture... grandad."

He was unbelievably full of himself, expression smug, "How about instead of yip-yapping at me, you go back home to your own kids, you yell at them?"

They exchanged only a few more words and 001 had Thanos by the neck, kicking his accomplice to the ground when tried to lunge at him. He let go of the purple haired fool in his grip, only to force him to the ground when he raised his fist.

001 had him by the throat again, his own fist in the air as he stared at the boy, watching his face contort and slowly lose oxygen. Pleas fell from the rappers mouth and only seconds later he was released.

You could only stand and watch, faintly worried that he was going to kill the player. But you couldn't deny the way he handled them stirred something within you.

Something awakened from the way his veiny hand wrapped around the throat of Thanos. You faintly wondered how it would feel around your throat.

The room erupted in an applause, and 001 led you along with him, hand at your back. "Why don't you come sit with us, it'll be safer," you nodded and thanked him, pushing your shameful thoughts to the back of your mind.

You smiled as you were met with his group, the one who'd played the games before offering a sympathetic expression, "Gi-hun," he said, hand reaching out to shake yours.

You exchanged names with everyone, turning to meet the one who very well saved your ass from Thanos.

"Young-il," he said with a slight smile, "You're awfully brave to try and rationalize with them."

You sighed, "It was a sad attempt, thank you again for knocking some sense into them. I think you made the marines a little jealous," voice growing hushed at the last part, having seen their rather amusing military show earlier.

He scoffed with a grin, "I don't know, they seem rather pleased with themselves," They sat a bunk below the two of you, giggling on over a joke you wished you were a part of.

"They look so happy, for the time being," you commented dismally, the playful glint held previously in your eyes dimming. The reality of the situation ever so present.

You felt a hand at your shoulder, reassuring and warm. "You will get out of here," Young-il said with a promising gaze. You looked at him with wide eyes, words catching in your throat as you fought off tears.

"How can you be so sure?" you questioned. "I wont let you die, trust me on that." He said it so certainly, so confidently that you found yourself trusting his words.

"Okay," you whispered after a moment, believing the stranger despite the blue circle stuck to his jacket. He made you feel secure, for reasons you couldn’t quite explain.

You tossed and turned once the lights went out, unable to rest with flashes of the game and Thanos. littering your head. With a huff you sat up, sneaking over to a bed just a few over from your own.

You hesitated, "Young-il?" you asked quietly. His voice was raspy in his response, "What's wrong, is everything okay?" you felt bad waking him, you should've stayed in bed.

"Nevermind.. I'm sorry I-" He grabbed your wrist and pulled you into bed beside him.

"Couldn't sleep?" he questioned, rolling to his back as to not be spooning you.

"No," you admitted, "I know we're strangers- but you make me feel safe... and after all that with Thanos, I'm scared he's going to try and get me." It felt silly to say it aloud, but it was true. you felt protected with him, you could rest your eyes without worry of someone trying to murder you.

He was unsure of how to respond to your sweet confession. You were an angel in a swarm of demons. A pitiful little thing running to the arms of the most dangerous one here.

He isn't going to let you die here, no, he's going to keep you all to himself, protect you. He'd made up his mind ever since he saw those pretty tears leaving your eyes when he voted to stay.

He felt you moving closer, arms wrapping around his as your head rest beside his shoulder. He moved his hand and patted the side your face, "Rest up doll, nobody's going to get you."

The pet name awoke butterflies within your stomach, and suddenly you weren't struggling to go to sleep because of fear, but rather because of the welcoming heat of Young-il next to you.

[lale-txt]

STAR CROSSED ; Oikawa x f!reader

The flutter of her long eyelashes; all the wishes for him not to leave her alone upon them. The unfathomable hurt and the betrayal in her gaze. The love, too.

contains: f!reader, hurt/comfort, ldr goodbyes, messy and complicated feelings, can be read as a sequel to colder, closer (but works as a standalone too), oikawa pov, don't be fooled by the bright header this is one of the fics where the author works through some issues

word count: 1.3k

You’re always leaving, Tōru.

Her words cut like glass because they are true. In all honesty he doesn’t know why she still puts up with him, but his love is selfish enough not to seek answers to that. As long as she still hiccup cries against his chest the night he’s heading to the airport, she still belongs to him, right?

It’s always the same, like a malfunctioning dance they had perfected by now. On his last day they’ll go out for brunch together and she’ll be overly chatty and cheerful, as if she wants him to remember her like that. The bright girl he fell in love with all the years back in high school, with their tables pushed together during lunch break and their feet nudging each other underneath them, the small wonky doodles in his notebook and their pinkies touching over their homework, so quiet and subtle. Even back then he wanted her all for himself. His sun, his girl, his everything.

Oikawa still remembers what the kiss tasted like, the one he stole from her lips during training camp, when she scraped her knee falling down the stairs and he put a band-aid on it for her in an empty classroom. Overly sweet, a little salty from her tears, and so full of longing. Looking back it’s almost ironic how he kneeled before her, sweet talking her nonstop so she’d stop crying, so he could bask in the light of her again. Greedy, but he meant them. All the things he told her that afternoon, he meant them.

You’re so brave. You can hold on to me. There, there, doesn’t hurt so bad when we’re together, right? Is that a smile? You really are the sweetest, aren’t you? Such a heartthrob. What, me? Nah, there’s only one girl I want. Yes, you know her. Who is she? I’ll let you in on a secret.   

How he slowly peeled her fists in her lap apart, his fingers tangling with hers, his thumb rubbing soothingly over her sore wrist. He had tried catching her by it before she fell but it was too late, and in the blink of an eye she slipped right through his grasp. Fleeting, like a dream. 

He used to kiss her pain away once. Now he only causes more of it whenever he tries.

Back at the apartment she’ll busy herself while he packs his bags, and by busying herself he means she’ll cry quietly in the kitchen or on the balcony, somewhere she thinks he can’t see or hear her. Sometimes she’ll let him wrap her in his arms and kiss the top of her head, sometimes she’ll flinch away from him when he tries. 

This home belongs to the two of them. There’s both of their names on the doorbell, his toothbrush next to hers on the bathroom counter, his custom-tailored suit hanging next to her backless gown in the closet. Photo albums with shared memories of them are stacked next to his nightstand, magnets of places they traveled together are pinned to the fridge, next to her desk sit the dried flowers from the bouquet he got her before he set off to Argentina.

His belongings are there, but he isn’t. He’s always leaving.

Iwaizumi got angry with him one night when he told him about the small velvet box he keeps for her, for the right moment, when things are less fragile. She’s a caged bird, Oikawa. Set her free. She’s hurting all the time and you know it. Oikawa is aware his best friend has been there for her at times while he was at the other end of the world, picking up the pieces he willingly shattered with his absence. He probably should feel guilty about it but he can’t; not when her love is the sole thing in the world that keeps him going. Her tears a fickle proof that her feelings for him haven’t changed.

Back then, it was easier. Held hands on their way home from school, kisses that tasted like popsicles and honey melon, confessions written with sunscreen on her bare back. Her head resting against his shoulder during hours of bus rides, shared earphones and his thumb spelling L-O-V-E in the palm of her hand. Her airy laughs fawning over his skin when he kissed her neck, idle fingers tangling in his hair and her entire heart on his tongue. 

For one summer, they were allowed to dream that they were indestructible. 

It’s the dead hours between him shutting his suitcases and putting on his shoes for his departure that he loves the most; when the apartment gets eerily quiet and they find their way back to bed again. With her weight on top of him and her face hidden in the crook of his neck, whispering all these sweet things against his skin. Their legs tangled under the sheets and his fingers dancing up and down her spine, his other hand on the back of her thigh to pull her impossibly closer against him. It’s the moments her love for him feels the most palpable.

She’s waiting–she’s always waiting–and some days Oikawa gets scared that she’ll get tired of it. Tired of him. Tired of pouring love in a broken vessel. Tired, tired, tired.

He loves her. In the solar system of their universe they’re two moons, always facing and orbiting around another, forever drawn to their counterpart. There’s no him without her. When she sinks into his arms, he feels a faint sense of coming home, of belonging. It drowns out everything; the fears and the doubts and his useless pride. A lunar eclipse in his embrace. 

“You’ll love me forever, right?”, he murmurs into the dark, trailing kisses along her jaw, coaxing her to look at him. He has her face memorized from touch alone, the ghost of her underneath his fingertips when he was alone again. She’s still here, her heart still drumming against his ribcage with his arms wrapped around her. 

He’ll never get used to that look in her eyes, he thinks. It’s the same she gave him when he told her about going to Argentina after high school. The flutter of her long eyelashes; all the wishes for him not to leave her alone upon them. The unfathomable hurt and the betrayal in her gaze. The love, too. 

“What about me?” she asks, her voice wavering a little, and it’s like they’re eighteen again and she’s too prideful to ask him to stay and too lonely to walk away. They’re one of a kind. “Will you love me forever?”

Oikawa scoffs, as if the underlying doubt in her words was absurd. In one swift movement he rolls her on her back, pinning her down underneath him. He likes how her legs come apart to make room for him between them, and he likes the way her breath hitches when he grabs her chin to make sure her eyes stay on him in the dim light of the bedroom. Her lovesick gaze mirrors his own. 

“Sweet girl… really now?” he hushes her with a condescending click of his tongue before he leans down, lifting her hips to meet him. His lips find her neck and leave a mark for every day they’ll be apart again soon, and his fingers write all the things he can’t say to her yet against her bare skin till she comes undone underneath him. It’s what he does. Taking her apart, over and over again, making her forget all the ways he shatters her heart with one kiss after another. 

She’s a siren song, he thinks. Impossible to resist and drowning him slowly, but he lets her. As long as it means that he gets to have her, he’ll let her. He loves her more than life, more than the entire sun, more than his own vain beating heart. 

a/n: i need to throttle him

gen taglist: @kentocalls @wyrcan @nekozaki @kittygirl11829 @bakingcuriosity

@bakery-anon @jodercriis @chaotic-neutral-ig @kitsune-kita

gen taglist is open! fill out this form to be added (or removed, no hard feelings) ♡

[weevil-writes]

Am I annoying?

Rottmnt Leo x reader

Today, boys. Today is the day the last of few slivers of dignity I have left are ripped away from me. But hey, we all gotta post a character X reader at some point in our lives, right…? Right?

this is my first post. My first attempt at actually writing. So here goes.

warnings: none. I absolutely hate anything nsfw and will not ever post it. Just some angst, fluff. Unconfessed feelings.

…gosh. 

When was the last time you slept?

Not last night. The night before was fitful and blurry and you weren’t sure you got any sleep then either.

It was noon now. And being awake for 32 straight now hit like a pile of bricks. 

Dull pain echoed around your head and your limbs were sore. Occasional shivers and tremors ran through your body, and your hand would spasm and drop whatever it was you were holding.

Right now, you slowly climbed down the sewer ladder- on your way to your hangout you were invited to by the turtles today. 

Despite having to share your conscience with insomnia, you felt so tired. But you could never fall asleep…

Head going slack for a moment, you momentarily closed your eyes…just a second, just one second………just-

Your sneaker slipped on one of the mossy ladder bars, and you nearly lost your grip. 

Crap, I need sleep, you mumbled to yourself as you gripped onto the ladder, watching each slow and cautious step as you descended. If you had dozed off for a second longer, you would’ve fell down 15 feet.

You imagined the turtles grimacing at the sight of you splattered across the cement, having to scrape you off like a burnt pancake.

Gross. And humiliating, especially if Leo was there. 

Your thoughts wandered as you lowered to the sewer ground, step by step.

Step by step. Step by-

Oh. Right. You’re on the ground now.

You walked the familiar route, crossing over a small bridge over flowing water and into a circular entrance.

You tried ignoring the million little thoughts prodding at your head, teasing you, patronizing you-

The homework due tomorrow, the essay that needed to be turned in on Friday- and it was Thursday, and you hadn’t even touched it!! Gosh, and that horrible grade you got today on the quiz, it would probably affect your grade report…

The familiar sounds of the lair grew louder as you drew nearer.

The volunteer work you promised to pitch in for, that you completely forgot about..dang it, I’m such a jerk! And you can’t just do it tomorrow, they would be done by now without you. Because you had school again.

That annoying cramp in your back, it wouldn’t go away, and it was growing stronger than your migraine… that gross splash of the sticky sewer puddle you stepped in that now clung to your brand new pants. 

It was all itching at your bones, pulling at your nerves—

You finally walked into the lair/subway tunnel like you had a million times before. The familiar lights, posters, comic books and Lou jitsu memorabilia scattered all over the place. But it just made it worse. Everything felt so overstimulating. So, so- so much you can’t even think straight! How long have I slept? How? W Wh- 

Leo, seeing you finally arrived, perked up from his spot on the beanbag and ran over to greet you. Never mind that you looked like you were run over by a subway train, he smiled wider than  he ever had today! His heart did little flutters and he tried to think of a funny, witty thing to open with.

Grinning, he poked at your face and joked,

“Hey, someone’s looking grumpy~!”

You weren’t thinking straight, all you could process was Leo’s annoying quip and tease. It was the little butterfly that landed on the heap of Jenga blocks that sent it all crumbling down. In other words, your final straw had snapped.

“What dark cloud decided to hover ov-“

Before Leo could finish another cheeky tease, you cut him off in a frustrated, loud voice, almost a yell. 

“ Will you shut up, for ONCE?”

Leo’s smile quickly fell. 

He looked small, and confused, and guilty.

It had escaped, without a thought. You were overwhelmed. You covered your eyes and ran your hands over your face in exasperation. 

Leo quickly stuttered out an apology.

“I-I, I’m sorry. S-sorry.”

He quickly walked away, out of sight. He was probably the last person you wanted to see right now.

Once Leo made himself scarce, he let his mind wander. run a mile a minute.

Was that annoying?

‘For ONCE?’

….Was he…always annoying?

He loved teasing and prodding his brothers, sure. It was almost like a sport to him.

But you? No, he wanted you to admire him. He wanted to make you laugh and smile and he wanted to hear your rare obnoxious snort. 

Maybe even try making your heart flutter. He tried so hard to fluster you, and yet you flustered him effortlessly. Just by looking at him and smiling.

And yet he let his false hope fall. He wanted your affection and love so much and yet he made himself look like an annoying jerk around you. 

You never snapped at him like that. 

Leo itched his neck, spacing out as he blankly stared at the wall. His lip wobbled at the thought  of you, hating him. Please don’t hate him. Please please please.

You now stood alone, and the harshness of your own words just now hitting you. 

No, nonono! That was so rude! That made it sound like you wanted him to shut it every time he started talking and joking around you! Which was the last thing you wanted. You could listen to him talk and laugh forever.

Rubbing the sleep and buzzing away from your eyes, you trudged around the lair- looking for Leo so you could apologize. You tried thinking of what to say, how to explain.

Really? You snapped because you were tired? Sounded like an excuse.

You rubbed the static off your arms as you tiredly swayed into the kitchen traincar. No, nobody was there. Dragging yourself into another hallway, you peered into their arcade filled with loud game machines and lights and lasers. It was a good thing you didn’t see Leo among the other three, because that was too much stimulation right now.

You stumbled into the entry of the dining car.

Then Leo’s room. Surprisingly, he wasn’t there.

Then Raph’s room.

Then Mikey’s.

Donnie’s.

The welding lab.

The bathroom.

Other bathroom.

Was he even in the lair? Did he leave…? Did you upset him that much? No, you never wanted to hurt Leo in any way.

Another yawn escaped for the 50th time. Your vision grew dark and blurry around the edges and sometimes little colorful spots would dance in edges of your eyes.

The projector room. Only splinter sat there on his recliner, dozing off.

The entrance again.

Why was being awake…so hard…?

Even though you thought it was a little disrespectful, anxiousness drove you to peer into splinter’s room.

 No Leo.

You tripped on nothing as you wandered around pointlessly, disoriented.

Looking at the rooms you had already peered in through half open eyes, you spotted the tunnel entrance to a room you hadn’t thought of.

Dragging yourself into the car, you recognized the pipes and the washing and dryer machines. Stacks of towels and blankets and clothes. Chemicals and soaps and an ironing rack.

And Leo, with a miserable and contemplative face and wobbly expression, or lack of. He usually wore the flashiest grin, but now he looked null and void.

He sat among soft blankets and towels, but he didn’t hear you enter. 

So you called out to him to grab his attention. Or mumbled.

“….Leo…hey…”

He looked up, flinching at hearing his name. How did you sneak up on him? That was his thing!

His bandana that covered his non-existent brows rose apologetically. Like he was about to say sorry again.

Hold on. Time out- just-

You couldn’t hold up anymore. Your legs buckled uselessly underneath and you crumpled to the ground. Ironically missing the plush piles of blankets and fabrics and instead hitting the cold tiles.

Leo jumped over to you, scrambling in a small panic and pulling you up.

“Hey, h-hey! Are you ok? What’s going on? Wake up!”

He shook you in his arms, hoping for an answer now.

You very slowly opened your eyes halfway and tried sitting up.

“….I-I’m…. So tired, Leo….and I’m sorry, I-I didn’t mean to yell. I didn’t- I-I’m…I’m so, just, stimulated, too, too much is going on. I’m sorry.”

Leo’s expression somehow grew even more miserable. But instead in empathy, watching tears of exhaustion forming at the corners of your eyes. 

“Hey, it’s ok. I understand, ok? Relax…You need to take a nap.”

He gave you a small smile before he grabbed a warm blanket and tenderly wrapped it around you. 

You tried mumbling incoherent objections and “I can do it myself”s, but he only shushed you and picked you up like a bride.

Effortlessly carrying you into his room, he gently placed down on the bed and sat next to you awkwardly.

“…you need a nap, so don’t even try escaping.”

He gave you a quick teasing glare, but it only lasted a moment before his expression softened and he brushed a couple strands away from your face.

his face grew warm and pinkish, which was strange for someone with green skin.

“…do you want anything? I-I’ll just let you sleep in peace-

But before he could stand up, you wrapped your arms around him with what strength you had left and latched on.

“…don’t, don’t go…please…”

You rubbing your face against his shell only served to weaken his knees and prevent him from going anywhere. 

“…I-I- ok…”

He smiled and laid down next to you, leaving a reasonable space between you both.

But still pretty close. Pulling out his phone, he started playing some Jupiter Jim spin-off cartoon. 

You scooted and shuffled closer, as if you couldn’t properly see the phone screen. But it was his warmth by his side you were after, because your eyes skimmed over the animation on his phone without a thought.

He glanced at you, then back at his phone. He couldn’t stop that stupid warmth from leaving his cheeks, but he didn’t exactly hate this, either. In fact, he had dreamed of a moment like this. 

Except he wished you weren’t sleep deprived and on the brink of shutting down.

But it didn’t take long for you to be fast asleep, nestled right into his side. 

He admired your peaceful face. Heck, you didn’t even have to be conscious to fluster him! 

He turned his gaze back to his phone, watching the episode but still thinking about you.

And how tired he was.

When was the last time He slept?

Yawn.

His eyelids grew too heavy and he dropped his phone.

It was 20 minutes until Raph found you both, tucked in like lovey cats.

He cooed and tried not to squeal in adoration. He quickly whipped out his phone, silently taking a picture from every angle. 

And once he was done, he left Leo’s car to tell everyone to quiet down.

 And to entertain them with the cutest pictures ever. 

hope you enjoyed! please PLEASE let me know if there are spelling grammar mistakes!

@likablemuffin hey it’s me! Anon! I made a blog wahoo

[revelboo]

Hi Revel! Not a request or anything but I just wanted to send in an ask telling you how much I appreciate your works! There’s such variety to choose from and I’m constantly impressed with the storylines that you craft and everything you come up with! I love how much you’ve thought about each character and it really shows in your work. For example, you’ve gone into little bits here and there about how each of your Starscreams’ are different and you are just superb at showing it! (Your take on Armada Starscream is my absolute favorite!!) It’s really inspiring honestly and makes me want to get back into fanfiction again. I can’t tell you how much I look forward to checking your blog each day and seeing what you’ve been up to! Also your blog is so accessible! I cannot imagine all the links you have to put in and kept up with but I’m so grateful for it! Ah, sorry for the rambling but I hope life treats you well. :^] <3

Here’s a silly little photo for you! He is so little <3

Thank you! I’m glad you like my nonsense and go out there and write the things you love! 💕

Bee’s just a tiny bab.

Even If It Kills Me Pt 14

Armada Starscream x Reader

• Head lifting from where you’re idly drawing on his datapad, you go still at the smell of food. Actual, hot food not chips or cookies. And Runway chirps holding up a brown paper bag. Watching the other two try to seize it from him before Starscream huffs through his vents and picks you up to set down on the floor with the mini-cons. “How did you get fast food?” You ask as Runway pushes the bag in your hands and then drapes himself against your back when you sit crosslegged on the floor and open it, the other two creeping closer and openly curious.

• Wings lifting and falling as he retrieves an energon cube for himself and smaller ones for the mini-cons and joins you on the floor, he watches you remove little wrapped packages from the bag. “The mini-cons found it,” he says and you shoot him a look. “A human set it on an outdoor table in the park and Runway snatched it,” he admits with a grimace. You don’t look angry, though as you grab a fistful of little yellow sticks and shove them in your mouth, eyes closing. Watches Sonar and Jetstorm lean over to vent curiously, recoiling when you offer them a bit. “They can’t eat that. Unless you want them purging on you later.”

• “Thank you for taking care of me,” you whisper to the mini-cons and Runway affectionately butts his helm against you before seizing one of the mini energon cubes Starscream is holding out for them. Because you’ve been wanting real food rather than the junk food Star keeps bringing you. Know he’s trying his best, keeps stealing things for you and he’s been working on something lately in a corner of his habsuite, the paneling of the wall and floor pulled up over there. Not sure what he’s up to since he gets flustered when you ask, making you think it has to do with you.

• “I’ve told you that you don’t need to thank me or them for that,” he mutters before taking a deep drink. Aware of you grinning up at him before you turn your attention back on the food, eating much quicker than you normally do to make him feel guilty. Because he’s almost certain he’s doing a terrible job caring for you and you’re just too nice to say anything to him. You seem happier at least with him. When you have your nightmares and he remembers the bruises on your face when he’d found you, the resignation, he thinks about returning to that home he’d found you at. Wanting to find whoever scared you so bad you still can’t shake the fear. Knows he’ll likely never be able to get revenge on his tormentor, but he could remove yours from the face of this world. But if he does and you ever find out, you may not look at him the same way anymore and he can’t risk that. Wants you to keep smiling for him. To be worthy of your trust.

• “I know,” you say, looking up to find him frowning at nothing like he sometimes does. That little show and tell of scars was the most he’s let his guard down and had been enough to understand that he understands you, because he’s suffered at someone else’s hands, too. That he’s been through not exactly the same thing, but something similar enough and he’d not been completely broken by it helps you keep smiling for him. He’s gruff and awkward, but he’s kind. And you want to protect him and that kindness, because it means everything to you.

Previous

[getaandlucius]

A brief taste of Honey (Geta x Lucius) 18+

Summary: Before Geta gets on a ship to Sardinia to visit his uncle, he and Lucius spend time together and have some deep talks and intimate bonding time.

Previous parts: part 1, part 2, part 3, Part 4, Part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9

Authers note: For all the anxious souls sending me messages about Dondus and Caracalla: I did not forget about them but I must ask you to have patience please :) All will be clear in the end!

Warnings (contains spoilers): 18+ MDNI, childhoodtrauma, mentioning of inc*st in the past, loads of fluff and heavy smutt, you are warned.

"I... I have to tell you something." Geta propped himself up on his elbows, the book now resting face-down on his chest. He yawned, clearly not thinking much of it. "What is it?"

Lucius swallowed, contemplating if he could retreat and offer a half-truth instead. But there was no use. "There is a growing opposition to my rule... in your name. People in the northern provinces are dissatisfied with the new ways, clinging to how it was before." Lucius searched Geta's face, but it remained blank. He cleared his throat. "It's most likely led by someone in the old senate, dissatisfied with his current position and lack of influence—and wealth."

Geta frowned. "Do you know who?"

"No. No names yet."

"Mmm. Interesting."

"What do you mean?" Geta looked at him with a pensive expression. "I... I don't know what you want me to say." Geta's voice sounded drained, completely disinterested in the conversation. Annoyed, almost. Lucius shook his head in confusion. "I guess I thought... we thought it was best you heard it from me." He sat up, all passion and warmth draining from the room like the tide receding from the shore. "I suppose I am... curious how you feel about it." Lucius looked at his hands, feeling awkward. So much had changed. When they first talked in his study months ago, he couldn't have cared less about Geta's thoughts. Geta sighed and sank back into the cushions. "I don't know, Lucius." He looked up at the ceiling. "I don't know." Lucius lay down next to him on his side, head propped up on his elbow. He glanced at Geta's hand spread out over the cover of the book, hiding the painted sea creatures from view.

"I'm too tired to put my thoughts into words properly right now, but..." Geta put the book next to him and turned on his side. "If you're worried that I want to join those troops and turn my back on you, the answer is no." Lucius looked at him, searching his eyes. “Okay.” He nodded and turned on his back. “We can talk about it tomorrow. It’s late.”

Geta didn’t reply for a long time, then started speaking again.

"When my brother and I ruled, we rarely slept a full night," he explained. He seemed sleepy, and Lucius felt a little guilty for having brought it up at 2 in the morning.

"There was always the danger of being murdered in our sleep. We knew the stories, how our uncles, cousins, and nieces suddenly disappeared or turned up dead. We kept watch, taking turns to sleep—well, I more often than Caracalla..." He smiled faintly, as if recalling a specific memory. "For me, being in that position was never about power because we never truly had any. We were manipulated, forced into symbolic roles from birth. Ruling, for me, was simply waiting for death and who would betray us first." "But you're not safe here either." Lucius placed his hand over the scar on Geta’s midriff. "You were attacked here too." Geta nodded slowly, an intense gaze in his beautiful brown eyes. "But not by my own people," he said. His eyes swept over Lucius' face, softening. "It's a big difference." He added, placing a hand on Lucius's cheek, thumb sliding over his bottom lip. "Remember how you wanted to put me on trial a few months back?" he asked. "I do." His eyes left Lucius's mouth. "I don't mind being beneath you in rank," he said. "But I do want you to treat me as an equal. Don't force me to stay or do things I don't want to do. Freedom is most important to me." Lucius nodded. "I know." "Good." Geta let his hand drop down on the sheets. "Did I answer your question?" "Yes, you did. Thank you." Geta yawned. "Can we sleep now?" Lucius turned on his back. "Yes." Geta came closer and lay down on his chest. Lucius took the sheet and pulled it over both their bodies, then slid his fingers into the soft curls on the back of his scalp, scratching gently until Geta fell asleep.

Lucius stirred awake as sunlight streamed through the window, casting a warm glow across the room. It had been a strange night—Geta had been restless, mumbling in his sleep and tossing about, keeping Lucius awake. As he waited for him to wake, Lucius decided it was time to ask him the question he'd been meaning to for a while. "What happened with you and your mother?" Lucius asked when Geta was awake for long enough to stretch and open his eyes fully. "What do you mean?" "You talk to her, in your sleep. Often." Lucius explained. "Oh." Geta rubbed his eyes. "She, uh..." He stretched his arms over his head, groaning softly, then turned on his side to look Lucius in the eyes. "She was hard to be around, I suppose." "What do you mean?" "She was kind of all over the place." Geta waved with his hand. "She was either cruel... calling us names, pushing us away, ignoring us..." He frowned, clearly uneasy delving into those memories. "Or she would be too... sweet." "Too sweet?" "Yes." Geta didn’t say anything for a long while, just stared into the distance, brow furrowed and jaw tense. "She could turn into the complete opposite in a matter of minutes," he continued, "often after she would have hurt us badly." Geta looked away. "She would say sweet things and be very... touchy." Lucius felt nauseous, already sensing where this was headed. "You mean..." "Yes. All over," Geta replied curtly. "Even if you said no?" It was more a statement than a question. Geta nodded, tears pooling in his eyes now. "I am so sorry." Lucius swallowed, immediately regretting that he had asked. "You don't have to talk about it." Geta sniffled softly and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. Lucius didn’t know what to do, thought that maybe the last thing Geta wanted now was to be held. So he just stayed silent. After a while of watching him cry into the pillow, he couldn’t take it anymore and pulled him into his arms. "Shh," he whispered, holding him close. "That’s all in the past. I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again." He kept stroking Geta’s back and shoulders, wishing he had been there to protect him and his brother Caracalla from the terrible people around them, giving them a better childhood. When Geta calmed down, he lifted his head from the crook of Lucius’s neck. "You know... I often wished your mother was mine." He looked up at Lucius. "That she would adopt us." Lucius raised his eyebrows. Geta shook his head, resting his cheek against Lucius’s shoulder again. "It’s weird. I’ve known her longer than you." Lucius frowned, staring ahead. "It is." "She was kind. And warm." Lucius nodded, thinking of his mother and how strange it was that, for part of their childhoods, they had shared the same one. "Do you miss her?" Geta inquired softly. "Terribly so." "I'm sorry. I miss her too." Lucius nodded. They stayed like that, their breaths in sync, keeping each other company in their sadness. After a while, Lucius suggested, "We should have something to eat and then head to the beach. What do you think? I feel like going for a swim." "That sounds like a splendid idea," Geta agreed, pushing himself up.

After getting dressed, they had breakfast together and headed to the beach to spend the afternoon and evening there. It was a warm day, and when they arrived, covered in a thin layer of sweat, the sea offered a welcome plunge of freshness. They dove underwater, the clear water surrounding them, and Lucius felt content. He looked at Geta’s skin, which was beginning to turn slightly sun-kissed. No matter what he had been through, Geta somehow maintained that elegant, prince-like essence and radiant air. Lucius reached out and grabbed his ankle, giving it a gentle tug. Geta, accustomed to Lucius’s ways, let him do it, calmly allowing him to press his lips against the soft ball of his foot and toes. There was no tension, only simple surrender and trust. They surfaced for air, clinging to each other as if they could never get enough—which, truthfully, they couldn’t.

The next day, they resumed their fighting lessons, and the day after that as well. Two weeks passed, and Geta began to develop new muscles in his arms and back. They had started sleeping in separate rooms again to avoid drawing attention to their bond, but it seemed futile. Everyone already knew that if one of them were taken, the other would be broken beyond repair.

Some mornings, one of them would sneak into the other’s room to spend time wrapped in each other’s arms.

"I hate that I can't sleep here anymore," Geta said one morning when Lucius had to leave for battle. "I hate it too," Lucius confessed. Geta buried his head in the crook of Lucius’s armpit. "What on earth are you doing?" Lucius asked with a chuckle. "I like it here. You smell nice." He wrapped his arms around Lucius’s waist. "When will you return?" "In a week or so. Just some small raids and checking the repaired forts." "Okay."

A week later, Lucius returned bearing new scars and the good news of victory. Geta waited for him by the gate, his eyes bright with excitement but keeping his distance. He had grown used to the unspoken rules of how they now interacted in public.

As they walked inside, a young man with blond hair and dark blue eyes, whom Lucius did not recognize, approached them. "Geta?" the young man called out. Lucius took him in. He wore a finely made tunic of deep blue material, matching his eyes, decorated with silver fish. It was clear he was of higher rank, though his accent was hard to place. Geta raised an eyebrow. "Yes?" The man cleared his throat. "I have a message for you. From your uncle." He handed him a letter sealed with beeswax. Geta accepted it. "Thank you." Lucius observed as Geta broke the seal and opened the letter. The tension in his shoulders, the way he clenched his jaw—it was clear he wanted nothing to do with it. The message was short, and seconds later, Geta folded the paper and handed it over. "Alright," he replied in a serious tone. "I'll make sure I'm ready in the morning." Lucius frowned. Ready in the morning? He was leaving so soon? "Perfect, my highness. I will wait at the shore." Highness? Lucius thought to himself. That's how he still referred to him? Geta gave a short nod, and the young man disappeared as quickly as he had come.

Lucius and Geta went their separate ways in the halls and prepared for the festivities held in the garden. Lucius felt a slight unease at the thought of Geta leaving the following morning but couldn't place what exactly made him nervous. They found each other outside as the light faded, torches illuminating the pillars and olive trees stretching throughout the garden. Geta was dressed in white and buttercup yellow, one bare shoulder showing his scar. It pleased Lucius that he was starting to accept them, but it also worried him as it was a display of vulnerability. They stared at each other for a bit, not saying anything. Lucius wanted to speak to him before his departure but decided to save it for later and went to look for Laurentius and Marcus to discuss the events of the past week as Geta went looking for Marcella.

Almost an hour later, they reunited near the fountain. "How are you feeling?" Lucius asked, taking Geta's hand and giving it a soft squeeze. "You alright?" "Yes, I'm alright." Geta erplied, "Dreading it, but alright." "You'll be fine. You’ll have some nice, fancy dinners... eat some Sardinian fish, talk to your uncle a bit, and then you'll return home. To me," Lucius reassured him. Geta smiled. "Sounds good." Lucius desperately wanted to ask what precisely was in the message to make Geta agree so fast, but didn’t want to pry, so he let it be. "I should get some sleep," Geta decided, looking around the garden at the guests drinking wine and dancing. Nobody was paying attention to them. "You can stay of course." Lucius rubbed the inside of Geta's wrist with his thumb, wanting to understand what was going on in his mind. "Alright." He pressed a swift kiss on top of his head. "I'll walk you to the harbor tomorrow." Geta breathed in. "I'd like that."

That night, Lucius lay down on his bed, unclothed. It was too hot for even the thinnest of night garments. He was deep in thought, feeling pathetic over how sad he was about Geta's impending departure, reminding himself that it was only for a week or two. Then suddenly, he heard soft voices on the other side of the door. He got dressed quickly, walked over, and pressed his ear against the wood. His guards were talking to someone. Lucius strained his ears, then shook his head.

It was Geta.

He opened the door and took him in. He was standing there in his blue nightrobe, hair disheveled and a look in his eyes Lucius could not place. Lucius gestured with his head for him to come inside, and Geta immediately walked forward and pressed his lips to his. Lucius kicked the door closed.

"It's dangerous, what you're doing, Geta," he murmured. "I don't care," Geta insisted and kept kissing him all over. "What is with you?" Lucius grinned. "I don't know." Geta bit down on Lucius’s bottom lip, making him wince. "I feel weird." "Nervous?" "Something like it." "Want me to distract you?" Lucius requested between kisses, already feeling heat pooling low in his stomach. "Yes, please." Lucius groaned softly. "Okay." He pulled back and sat down on the edge of his bed, gesturing to the middle of the room. "Undress," he ordered.

Geta's eyes widened slightly, then the corner of his mouth tipped up slightly.

Lucius stretched his legs out in front of him, crossing his ankles. "I want to look at you." Geta walked over to the spot Lucius pointed at and started untying his robe, pushing it down his shoulders, down his chest, his waist, his hips...

Lucius swallowed, leaning back on his hands. He could never get enought of the sight of Geta's naked form, the way he moved— unselfconscious, confident and utterly captivating. Geta stepped out of the fabric and straightened, a hint of shyness suddenly returning, cheeks flushing pink.

“You’re staring,” he said softly, though the smile tugging at his lips betrayed that he didn’t mind.

“I can’t help it,” Lucius admitted, standing and closing the space between them. "I can never help it." He reached out, placing a hand on the side of his hip.

"Turn around." Lucius ordered gently and then tapped the inside of Geta's foot. 'Spread sligtly.' Geta stepped wider. Lucius walked around him and went to his knees, put a hand on his lower back to push him forward a little.

'Let me take care of you." His voice was soft. He reached out to take Geta's hands and put them on either side of his butt. "Spread please."

Geta whined at the sound of that and did as his was told, opening himself up.

Lucius moved closer and stuck out his tongue, licking inbetween the valley of his cheeks from the bottem to the top.

Geta let out a gutteral moan, wanting to collapse forward.

'Nuh-uh, stay upright darling." Lucius demanded and wrapped his hand around Geta's thighs to steady him. He licked him again, closer and closer to where he wanted him most, then pressed in slightly.

"Relax." He mumbled, pushing deeper. Geta's breathing turned laboured. He kept wriggling and shifting his weight from one leg to the other.

Lucius squeezed his inner thigh, massaging upward. Geta's breath hitched, making Lucius chuckle.

Geta whimpered. "Please."

"Mmm." Lucius kept licking, reveling in the way he felt, tasted, the sounds he made. Geta's hand came to lay on top of Lucius, a plea for more.

Lucius pulled back a litlle. "Okay lay down on the bed."

Geta got up, using Lucius shoulder to steady himself and walked over, then lay down stretched out on his back.

Lucius shook his head. "No on your tummy."

Geta did as he was told and Lucius lowered himself inbetween his legs. "I am going to put a finger inside of you. Is that okay?"

"Yes." Geta breathed.

Lucius bent over the slope of his ass and spit, wachting the saliva disappear in the crease. He licked his ringfinger, slipped it inbetween, and started rubbing small circles. Then he pushed it in slightly, fully tuned in to Geta's reactions.

"Is this okay?" He asked.

Geta nodded.

"I need your consent in words, sweetheart."

"Yes." Geta groaned in the pillow.

"Good." Lucius pushed in deeper, waiting for Geta to adjust before he pushed it in in it's entirety. He stayed there for a moment, pushed to the hilt, before slowly moving it in and out while gaging Geta's reactions. Geta started grinding his hips against the sheet slowly, face still burried in the pillow.

"I need more." he ground out, teeth clenched, desperate.

Lucius tried adding his middlefinger. "You're too tight honey." He rubbed his hand over his lower back. "You need time to adjust. No use in rushing."

"You dont know what my uncle will do to me." Geta whined. "He might kill me."

"No he wont." Lucius said. "You will come back and we will do much more of this." Lucius kissed the left cheek of his ass, then bit into him, soothing the sting after with tongue. "Now think of other things and close your eyes." Lucius replaced his ringfinger with his middle one, which made Geta gasp for air like a fish on dry land.

He kept grinding against the sheets, desperate for fricture. Lucius loved seeing him this desperate. When he felt Geta was reaching his limit he pulled his finger out, flipped him over. Geta was breathless, eyes closed, somewhere else completely.

"You don't have to hold on Geta." Lucius said, then stroked the length of him. Even the slightest touches made his face contort like he was in pain almost. "You can let go, I am right here. I will hold you thought it." He pressed his lips against his lower belly, then licked his finger and pushed it in again. "You are safe." He ghosted his lips over his skin. "With me, you’ll always be safe."

These words pushed Geta over the edge and he came making a desperate sound, spilling all over his belly. Lucius took him in, the way his hands clenched around the linen, the way his hips came off the mattress, then down again. He wished he could stay in this moment forever. He moved his lips down the inner part of Geta's legs listening how Geta's breathing slowly came back to normal and his eyes fluttered open.

Lucius, still clothed, took him in his arms and held him untill he was fully aware of his surroundings again. He brushed a stray lock of hair from Geta’s forehead.

"Are you ready to sleep?" He asked. "You have a long journey ahead of you tomorrow. Geta looked at him, cheeks still flushed and shook his head.

"No." He took in a sharp breath. "I want to see you touch youself." His voice was low and sensual, full of longing. "I have thought about it for so long. I want to see you now."

Lucius swallowed. He looked around the room, feeling uncertain. No one had ever watched him do that. Not even Arishat. He looked at Geta who looked at him with eyes full of expextation. Lucius gave a quick nod and got up from the bed. He took a few steps, turned around and slowly started to undress himself. When he was fully naked he sat down on his knees again and took himself in his right hand. At first he kept his eyes closed, but then he opened them. Geta was lying on the bed, propped up on his elbows, lips wet and slightly parted. His legs were stretched out in front of him, feet dangling over the edge. Geta looked at him intently, following every move.

"You have no idea how beautiful you are." Geta said, eyes almost sad.

Lucius kept his eyes on him as he started moving his hand up and down, skin warming. Geta's chest was rising and falling quicker and quicker until suddenly he got up and walked over to him. He lowered himself in front of Lucius. His hand went to his jaw and he stroked the seem of Lucius lips, just as he had done before.

'Can I spit in your mouth?' he asked then, as if it was the most natural thing.

Lucius swallowed and nodded.

"Don't stop touching yourself please.' Geta whispered as he got closer and smoothed the hair from Lucius' face.

'Now open your mouth.'

Lucius did as he was told and parted his lips.

Instead of spitting, Geta opened his mouth and waited as his saliva dribbled in. Lucius groaned and swallowed, reaching up to lick the rest off his bottomlip and tongue, drinking him in. He wanted more more more.

Geta shook his head and pushed him down.

'No." He shook his head again, a grin playing on his lips. "Keep touching yourself. I want to see you come."

Lucius did not know why he listened. He was way stronger than Geta, he could do anything he wanted to him. Yet he reveled in Geta's power and prince-like arrogance. He was royalty at heart after all.

Lucius quickened his movements, jerking his hips slightly upward into his hand.

He was getting close now, and Geta could sense it. He walked behind him and sat down, chest pressed up against his warm back. He dropped his chin on Lucius shoulder.

'Here. Let me finish.' He gently pulled Lucius' hand away and replaced it with his. Lucius whimpered and let his head drop backwards. Geta started moving his hand in the same rhythm and pressed his lips against his ear.

''Let go.' Geta whispered. "Let me take care of you now."

Lucius groaned softly and tried to hold back, but he was defensless against Geta's soft but firm grip, his low whispers and his hips pressing up against his backside.

"Come for me, Lucius. It's okay."

And he did. His awareness slipped for a moment and all he felt was warmth, light and bliss. He felt both extatic, and completely held. Geta kissed his neck, hands rubbing over his chest and lower abdomen.

"Feels nice hmm?" Geta breathed into the skin of his neck.

Lucius was unable to reply, everything felt warm and fuzzy. He had never in his life let himself go like that. He wondered if he should feel emberrassed.

Geta traced the outer shell of his ear with his tongue. "Thank you." He murmured. "Thank you for letting me look at you and touch you."

Lucius felt a little lost in everything he felt and could not place. He turned around and took Geta into his arms. I love you. He thought. But he did not say it. I love you felt like a goodbye. Like it was the last time he'd be able to say it. And that couldn't be. So instead he said: "Let's try to get some sleep."

Geta nodded against his shoulder. "Yes."

----

The next morning, Lucius walked Geta to the harbor.

The water was emerald green and shimmered under the summer sun. It was a beautiful day, but neither of them cared.

A small ship waited close to shore, with a smaller boat ready to take Geta to it. The blonde man stood by the water’s edge, waves almost touching his boots. Lucius wanted to kiss Geta goodbye, but he knew better. He didn’t trust the young man, nor the fishermen milling around nearby.

Geta pulled Lucius into a tight hug, burying his face in his shoulder.

“We have to say goodbye far too often,” Geta said, his voice low. “I’m starting to hate it more than anything.”

Lucius pressed him closer, his chest aching. “I know.”

Geta pulled away first, his eyes dropping to the ground. He rubbed the back of his neck, then glanced at the boat waiting for him.

“I guess it’s time,” he said with a sigh.

Lucius Squeezed his shoulder. “It’ll be okay. You’ll be back before you know it.”

Geta managed a weak smile. “I’ll look forward to it.”

He hesitated, then met Lucius’s eyes. “Last night was special to me Lucius." His eyes searched Lucius's, looking for confirmation perhaps that he felt the same.

Lucius swallowed, feeling overwhelmed all of a sudden. “As it was to me.”

They stood there in silence, caught in the weight of the moment. Lucius noticed the blonde man watching them from the corner of his eye and sighed. “You better go.”

Geta nodded, his steps reluctant as he walked toward the boat. “See you soon.”

Lucius dipped his chin in agreement. “See you soon,”

Please let me hear your thought in the comments :) <3

Taglist: @potato1d-blog1 , @joan2914, @maryan028

[liesonmytongues]

Virgin!Steve Harrison x GN!Reader

Synopsis- Steve's been pretending to be a top notch player for years, but the truth is, he's still a virgin. You change that.

Warnings/CWs- this is very wholesome smut, lovey dovey sex, virginity loss, dub-con if you absolutely *squint*, love sick/pussy drunk men, Steve being embarrassed and guilty about jorking it to you, descriptions of masturbation

Word count- 4,000

When he was back in Hawkins, Steve had a reputation. Full of himself. A player. Always a girl on his hip– whether or not she was his girlfriend– always bragging about his game, about his sex life.

He would tell his friends about every escapade involving a new hot chick– basing his stories off of people he saw outside. A hot blonde at the mall would turn into a ‘Filthy slut who couldn't stop begging for it’, an innocent looking brunette outside the church into ‘a crazy bitch who wanted it rough’.

Steve would try not to get too serious with girls at the school for obvious reasons– couldn’t have anyone exposing him as a liar, now could he? But every so often someone would catch his eye. It was shameful– dangerous really –the way he would get these girls head over heels for him, manipulate them in one way or another so they wouldn’t ask about what Steve really didn’t want to think about.

It was a little different with Nancy– he really did like her, much more than those other girls who were just to keep up appearances. He didn’t want to manipulate her, didn’t want to treat her like she was just another chick in the crowd– so Steve came up with a different solution. One that still didn’t include actually having sex with her. He couldn't talk the talk without the chance of someone telling her, so his stories turned more into something like ‘I can't say, Nancy’s too shy– it was a crazy night though’, and the couple of times anyone questioned him, he would intimidate them into dropping it– easy enough.

But it didn't change the fact that Steve Harrington is a virgin.

For one reason or another, he never actually got around to getting his dick wet– and, in juxtaposition to his personality, it was usually because he just…kept chickening out. He would fantasize about it– stroking himself raw with some cheap toy while he tried to imagine the feeling of a real hole– but that was where it ended for him. Sad nights alone while he got off to his next story– and for a while that was fine! For a while Steve didn't need anything other than the life he had– sports and drinking and pretty girls, that satisfied him enough without hitting third base.

Then when Eleven and the monsters showed up, he didn't have time for sex– no time for fantasizing, or jealousy, or nervousness –just surviving. And babysitting a group of kids.

Everything he’d been saying– doing –the inadequacy he felt, was completely pushed to the back of his mind for the better part of 2 years. The first time it quieted down, after they saved that poor kid and things almost seemed like they were gonna go back to normal, Steve considered trying to…regress. He wanted to feel like nothing had even happened– he wanted that control back –didn’t want to admit that everything had changed for good. It hurt to know that even if things were ok now, it would never, ever be the same. Nothing would ever be the same. That’s what consumed him until the next time the demogorgons showed up– and that, plus the constant wondering of what the fuck else was in the world made it a little hard to get it up.

Steve tried once– kissing her, rubbing her clit through her panties, fingering her while he tried, tried so hard, to just make his stupid dick cooperate– and then he realized how stupid that was. He had this beautiful, half naked, moaning girl under him– this girl he was sure he loved –and he still couldn’t push himself past his nerves for long enough to fuck her.

Nancy tried 3 more times– all ending in Steve shakily, nervously, using his hands or mouth to make her cum while he was stuck in his own head. They broke up a few weeks after the last try, and he didn’t get any more chances before that…thing took them both.

Steve's first thought was that it was another creature made by the lab– that's where he found it, that's what it had to be, right? Some other failed, murderous experiment or alternate dimensional nightmare that he had to take the brunt of, just because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

At first, that theory seemed right– the place they were taken looked just like the upside down’s version of Hawkins lab, with the same distant screaming from a demogorgon –but being shucked right off to ‘The camp’ was a good way to change his mind. There were other people there– too many for any type of hell Steve’s ever been to –and it seemed like they were ready to see him and Nance, a tall, scrawny guy greeting them with too much energy and too much understanding.

And the rest is history, right? For one reason or another, the thing known as the ‘entity’ wanted them there, along with a bunch of other ‘survivors’ and the things that have been torturing them for god knows how long.

You…make it a little more bearable. A little.

You welcomed Steve and Nancy better than a lot of the other survivors– and part of it was definitely to learn how to survive the demogorgon, you’d be stupid to pass up that opportunity –making sure they knew what was going to happen with much less frantic, frightened energy than Dwight. You were a godsend really, and Steve feels like he owes you his life– no matter how many times he’s died here.

You were just friends– that's all. Forget about the way his heart and stomach feel like they’re sinking in on themselves every time he sees you, or the way he looks forward to the end of trials because that means more time to spend together, or how everything you say seems to be funny, or smart, or mind melting– all of that is just because you're a really good friend, and this place is messing with Steve's ability to see that.

Plus, spending every day around the ex who was your first love is a surefire way to confuse your brain. That's the rational Steve gave on the nights spent trying not to jerk himself off to something you did that day; the nights where he failed miserably, stuffing his hand on his mouth to muffle the pathetic sounds he made every time he came, and one was never enough; the nights Steve felt disgusting for what he considered violating you, sticky with his own cum and still not able to get you out of his head.

No, you’re just friends. And sometimes, when friends are in bad situations, it gets a little confusing. What you don’t know can’t hurt you, can’t make you look at him at a gross freak, can’t ruin your relationship– but it can make you suspicious.

Suspicious because Steve was acting weird, and he hadn’t even realized it– hadn’t realized that he hadn’t made eye contact with you in weeks. Honestly, he was pretty confident that his sneaking–away skills were honed to perfection– it’d worked on the demogorgons, who would have thought that it wouldn’t work on a person? Nevermind the fact that demogorgons don’t actually have eyes to see him with.

Your breaking point came around the same time every single trial with Steve started ending in a sacrifice.

You’d tried talking to him about it, and when that didn’t work, you tried talking to Nancy. From what you’d gathered, she’d been pretty good at mystery solving in Hawkins, and since she knew Steve so well, it seemed like your best bet…but you got nothing. No hint at anything that could have happened, nothing shared when you weren’t around about why he was so awkward all of a sudden, not so much as a complaint– leaving you to do everything yourself.

No way in hell were you going to confront him with all the other survivors around, that would just lead to even more awkwardness, and you couldn’t handle that– not with everything else –but you did need to confront him. You couldn’t work together, your entire relationship was strained, and if you couldn’t find some sort of way to resolve this…tension, you were going to explode and make this whole issue even worse.

But maybe in hindsight, sneaking up on him in his cabin wasn't the best idea either. In your defense, you had no idea about his hopeless pining, and with your annoyance clouding your better judgment, it seemed like the only way to finally get him talking. And really, that had been your plan! The whole walk there you’d been thinking of just the right words to get across exactly what you wanted to say– stay calm, tell him how you feel, tell him what needed to change. It was your plan, until the moment you knocked on the door – and heard Steve moan your name at the same time.

It took a second to process what you heard, to be pulled –punched, really– out of the concentration and anger that had fueled this whole trip and really hear it for what it was, but by then there was a whole other reason you were distracted. Steve slammed open the door, flushed and sweaty, panting like a whore and looking at you with the widest puppy dog eyes you’ve ever seen.

“You– It’s not–! It’s not what it looks like!” Steve stumbled over his words in an attempt to get them out as fast as possible, to convince you somehow that you hadn’t heard what you just heard– convince you not to turn around and leave and never speak to him again.

“Please, please, I’m so sorry– I promise I can explain! I–”

“Inside.”

“What–”

“Inside.”

If someone asked you, it would be hard to tell them why you did what you did– shoving Steve Harrington inside his cabin was a split second decision, kissing him was another, dropping everything you’d wanted to say was a third. Maybe it was because you were so tense– it’s not easy to live like this, god knows there’s not much time for sex of all things –the rush of emotions, the shock, maybe it was because he just looked so debauched with his face red and his lips parted the way they were. Fuck, maybe it’s just because he finally looked at you again.

It didn’t really matter what it was though, did it? Not when he moaned like that, like he was starving for you, as soon as your hands were on him.

He hadn’t gotten to finish, that much was clear from how his cock was pressed twitching to your thigh– leaking a sticky patch of precum where he’d haphazardly shoved himself back into his jeans before opening the door.

“Wait– wait!” Steve pushed you back by the hips, squeezing his eyes shut and sucking in deep, sharp breaths. Even if he hadn’t said anything, it was obvious how hesitant it was.

“What–” You mirrored his confusion from earlier,

“I’ve never…done this before.” He gestured vaguely downwards, and when you followed the movements to his groin, his cock visibly throbbed.

“You’ve…never had sex? You’re a virgin?” And with that he’s right back to not looking at you– flushed even brighter than before and staring down the floorboards like they did this, like they made him hard, made you find him moaning your name, made you come inside and made him admit what he didn’t even admit to Nancy. But he feels…better. His erection has flagged a little just from the shame of the situation, but it’s not like before– when the second someone tried to have sex with him, he stopped being able to get it up at all.

“Yeah.” He breathed, loosening the grip on your waist– as if being a virgin of all things would mean you wouldn’t want him.

“Is that…all?”

“Doesn’t that bother you? I’ve only ever used my mouth, I don’t know if I’m gonna be any good…” The skin of his neck was shiny with perspiration, a droplet of sweat dripping down his jaw and fucking christ you want to lick it off–

“No? I don't care how much experience you have Steve–fuck, don't you know what you do to me?” His eyes flicked down to your groin and you could feel the shudder that passed through him–hear it too, if that quivering, breathy sigh was anything to go off. You were caught off guard when Steve suddenly yanked you forward, wrapping his arms around your waist and shoving his face into the crook of your neck–taking deep breaths, inhaling your scent while he tried to ground himself.

Less caught off guard when he pulled you in for another kiss, mashing your lips and noses together in a type of desperation that can only come from a man who's been hard for the last hour– tongue worming it's way between your lips, only pulling away long enough to breathe hot puffs of air against your face.

You didn’t protest when he pulled you back towards his bed, or when you felt him turn you around, your calves hitting the mattress only a few moment before the rest of you, falling into the old raggedy blankets and grunting when Steve climbs on top of you–because he just refuses to let go of your body for even a second, grinding his cock to your thigh in slow strokes while he tries his hardest to devour you.

“Fuck– you mean it?” He shifts to kissing your jaw–just as rough as your lips–so you can respond, murmuring variations of your name and ‘please’ and ‘say it’.

“Yeah, I mean it.” It comes out breathy and desperate, but god, there’s not a single world where you could bring yourself to care with such a pretty man looking equally as debauched above you. He gets a panicked look on his face barely a second before his hands shoot down to his jeans, ripping them open with enough force to audibly pop a thread, pulling his boxers down and gripping his cock painfully. You have half a mind to ask him what he’s doing–what was that look for? Is something wrong? Is he already done with the foreplay?–but only get about as far as parting your lips before Steve makes a pained noise, halfway between a moan and a sob, and is cumming over the front of your shirt. Thick strands accompanied by choked groans as he tries to make it stop, frantically muttering ‘no!’ under his breath again and again.

You shouldn’t be surprised–you aren’t surprised, not really–but it’s still sudden enough to make your eyes bulge a little more with every spurt. Which, of course, Steve notices immediately– flushing with shame instead of arousal and covering his eyes with the back of his free hand.

“Jesus– fuck! I’m so sorry– I didn’t mean to, I don’t know what happened–” He’s spiraling is what you distantly realize, but you’re too caught up with the fact that he just came from being told you were into him. So caught up, in fact, that the only way you can think to really calm him down is smashing his face back into yours. You have his hair between your fingers before he can utter another distraught apology, and he’s right back to melting into you.

You don’t stop him when Steve’s hands move to your pants, taking them off with much less frenzy than his own. His cock had barely softened, and when your underwear was down far enough that he finally caught a glimpse of your body, it gave a hard twitch–already raring to go a second time. God knows if it’s because it’s you or just the situation, but you can hope.

Steve looks back and forth between your hole and your stained shirt for a moment, before with two fingers, he scoops his own cum off your shirt, pressing them inside your hole achingly slowly–like he’s scared that giving them to you how you want will break you. He seems mesmerized by the way each knuckle sinks deeper, spreading you open on his fingers while his spend pushes back–oozing out before he shoves it back in again.

“Fuck– you’re so tight, so warm…” The way he's looking at you is near–reverent, huffing out a breath every time you squeeze and practically moaning when he can’t go any deeper.

“Don’t you wanna feel that–hah–around your cock? Give your body what it wants?” You were panting as much as Steve at this point, sighing and moaning softly every time he found just the right spot to focus on.

“Don't say that kind of thing!” He whined, breaking eye contact for a second so he could lean over and open his mouth, letting some spit dribble onto your hole to aid the way while his fingers sped up–trying to spread you open faster so his poor, angry looking cock could get some relief. Real relief–not just cumming in his pants like a…y'know, like a virgin.

Still bent over, Steve used his free arm to cage you underneath him–forcing your legs up and around his waist at the same time so he could keep up the rhythm. You could feel your body starting to ease open, just barely loose enough for him to put in a third finger and spread them inside you. It felt fantastic, but you could almost be fooled into thinking that he was the one feeling it–almost as noisy from just the sensation of your walls around his thick, rough fingers.

It wasn’t quite enough to make you cum, not without any other stimulation, but his enthusiasm turned you on like nothing else. He gave a few more thrusts, fingers spread out as much as possible in a last ditch attempt to prep you before he lost it.

“I’m sorry- I need it, you have no idea-”

“It’s fine, I’m fine, just put it in, please.” A mix of Steve’s pre and cum and spit eased the way as he gripped his cock at the base and finally started pushing it forward–squeezing tight to try and keep himself from coming any faster than he already would. He only managed to get the tip inside before he had to pause, shutting his eyes with a desperate, shuddering moan–nuzzling his face into your chest while his free hand glided away from its death-grip on the sheets, opting instead for holding your head, threading your hair over his palm until he had enough to tug.

You could feel his fat, leaky cockhead throb–the vibration of another moan spreading through your chest before his hips jerked enough to force another couple of inches inside you. And it hurt, it did, that same string and stretch that always came with having something new inside you, but he was just so perfect that you couldn’t focus on it. You’d noticed before how pretty he was below the belt–and it really showed now.

God, maybe you really have just gone that long without getting laid, but Steve’s dick filled you better than you can ever remember being filled. Better than your fingers, better than any toy for the sheer amount of emotion and connection, better than the vague snippets of your last fucks from years ago now.

Steve pulled himself off of your chest after a minute, taking deep breaths and scrunching up his face in concentration–then another minute before he manages to let go of his shaft and push the rest of the way inside. The moan he gives you is borderline pornographic when he bottoms out, hot enough to–along with the feeling of his stomach pressing against your groin–have you moaning with him.

His thrusts have no real rhythm, no actual skill, just the sloppiness that shows exactly how inexperienced he really is–and equally how desperate he is for you. There’s no rhyme or reason to how he chases the feeling, but somehow he still manages to tease your orgasm–to rut his sensitive cock in all the right places to make it feel good instead of annoying.

“I’m not gonna- hah, oh god- not gonna last. Christ you feel so good- you’re so perfect, you’re perfect- I love you.” Your attention was immediately snapped away from his hips up to his face, where he was staring at you with those big brown eyes–again the puppy analogy comes to mind–and the most of an emotion besides fear you’ve seen in a long time.

“Can I- ngh -cum on your stomach? Please?” It's hard to tell if he even realizes that he just said he loves you, and he's not giving you any time to process it with the way his thrusts are speeding up–just barely able to keep his cock from slipping out through his frantic movements. And it was so lewd, so wet and slick and loud–blocking out everything else except the moaning right in front of your face.

Steve was putting everything into making you feel good–fighting back his orgasm while whispering harsh ‘please, please, please’ under his breath, along with a slurred approximation of your name and those frankly beautiful, desperate hitches of breath. Your body fought to accommodate the way he sped up, battering your walls in a way that juxtaposed his confession a minute ago.

“Yes, yes cum on me, cum on me baby- fuck-” You barely managed to finish your sentence before Steve was pulling out, curling his body over you and trembling while his cock throbbed against your stomach–followed by another moan that could only be described as burning, aching, and the first shot of hot, sticky fluid on your skin, cumming so hard it managed to reach your collar, sticking to his own chest in the process and dripping down onto the sheets. His noises didn’t stop for nearly a full minute, whimpering and whining while you murmured sweet words, trying to ease him down from his high.

That’s all you expected from him–as sweet as he could be, he’s still a man from the 80’s–which is why you were surprised when he didn’t just slump over and leave you to deal with the painful way your arousal licked at your stomach, begging for relief.

You weren’t sure what to think of the way Steve climbed down the bed–until he latched his mouth to your groin, sucking and licking and taking you into his mouth, as much as he could fit at once. It took him a second, but he turned his eyes up to you, lidded and high from endorphins, giving him a lovesick, fucked out look that only served to turn you on more. And the way he kept moaning, groaning and scrunching his face up like he was the one feeling it–like you were the one fucking him with your mouth, desperate to make him cum.

And it was desperate–not a thought inside his head, only driven by the feral need to make you feel as good as he did. How could you ever not comply?

It barely took another minute of the sloppy, needy working of his tongue before you were cumming too, and Steve lapped up everything, like everything you were giving him was a gift that he needed to take, refusing to let even a drop go to waste. Distantly, in the middle of feeling like your vision was going to white out, you could feel another few drops leak out of his twitching cock, milking himself dry just from the taste of you.

He wrapped his arms around your thigh when you pried his head away, resting his face on your hip so he could keep pressing soft kisses to your skin. It was pretty obvious he wasn’t in his right mind–tired and euphoric and fucked stupid–but you let him stay, wiping his messy hair away from his forehead and petting at his nape.

“Was it…good?” He murmured, glancing up at you again.

“Christ, do you really have to ask?” He kept looking at you, blinking slowly–waiting. “Yeah. It was really good.” And he nods, sighing against your skin–then a choking sound when you followed it up with ‘I love you too’.

[kgmilgramau]

voice drama(interrogate)

011 - Ozzy

(We will be very happy if you read and talk about it)

(The investigation helps to increase your voting decisions so you can consider the investigation, so if you want to know more, reading the debt investigation chapter might help)

011-Ozzy

.

.

.

.

[sound footsteps]

.

.

[door opens and closes]

.

.

.

.

Ozzy : It's so dark...

[The sound of lights turning on and revealing Nugget sitting and waiting]

Nugget : Hello..

Ozzy : AwEweee??!!!

Ozzy : What the ***?!! I almost had a heart attack!!

Nugget : Wow?

Nugget : Okay, sit down

[Ozzy walks over nervously and slowly sits down]

Nugget : Let's get started.

Ozzy : I know..I heard it from Monty, you going to ask a question, right?

Nugget : Umm..yeah..But when did you and Monty get so close?

Ozzy : He said there's no way I could do anything to get in while I'm this weak.

Ozzy : See? Even he knows it's true.

Ozzy : Someone like me, a weakling like me, can't do anything bad..

Ozzy : Killing someone is impossible, right?

Ozzy : Right?!?

[A loud slap hits Ozzy's cheek]

Ozzy : Ugh! Ahh?!

Ozzy : You... What are you doing.. Why did you hit me?! It... It hurts!

[Ozzy's eyes slowly start to tear up]

Nugget : I didn't ask, don't answer what I didn't ask..

Nugget : And see? Even though I hit you this hard, you still look okay

Ozzy : what?!! It's hurt!! [Sob]

[Ozzy starts to tear up]

Nugget : [Sighs] Stop..

Ozzy : You cruel!

Nugget: I won't apologize.

Ozzy: You're the worst!!

Nugget: Don't be a crybaby..

[Both of them kept arguing until they were tired]

Ozzy: Rude..

Nugget: You too..

Nugget: Enough! Let's start!

Ozzy: I told you I didn't do it! it's impossible!!

Nugget: How could it be impossible? Everyone here is a murderer. You too.

Ozzy: I.. but..

[He panted softly]

Ozzy: I don't want to die because of this stupid mistake... Please.. Please..

[His panting became louder.]

Nugget: Hey..

Ozzy: I don't want to die yet..

[Nugget saw his condition and quickly put the inhaler into his mouth]

Ozzy: Ugh-?!

[.....]

Ozzy: ..u-um..

Nugget: Feeling so guilty that you forget your allergy symptoms?

Ozzy: No... I don't have to feel guilty about something I didn't do.

[Bell rings]

Nugget: If you keep talking like that, I guess I'll have to wait.

Nugget: I'll still see you as a murderer. THAT pleading look won't work.

Ozzy: ..What..

Nugget: Prisoner number 11, Ozzy

Sing out your sins!

⚡