#but until then I have to sit with...whatever this is

[shujichii]

he hadn't been the same ever since you made him try a period cramp simulator a month ago.

it all unfolded during one ordinary morning— until it ended up being anything but ordinary— when you presented the device to him like an ancient relic uncovered from the deepest depths of the earth, all while saying something along the lines of, “it's a social experiment. a precious opportunity to strengthen our bond and explore the art of empathy."

him, being the ever-dutiful husband, naturally found himself agreeing to try it.

long story short, it humbled him deeply.

you thought he was already attentive during your cycle. which, to be truthful, he was. but now? you realised that you were wrong. very, very wrong.

and now, you were being greeted by your husband's face in the wee hours of the morning through one cracked eye, the mattress dipping with his weight as he stared at you with concern etched into his features.

then came the first inquiry.

“good morning, sweetheart. are you in pain?”

you blinked, groggily sitting up, an ache beginning to form in the deep depths of your system. “oh… i guess so?”

affirming that you were indeed going through that time of the month—courtesy of him having tracked your period— he gave you a solemn nod before standing up, disappearing into the kitchen and reappearing with a trey in hand.

you squinted. a fully prepared breakfast that looked too beautiful to consume. a heating pad. tea. water. chocolates. painkillers. and… a checklist.

you took a peek.

heating pad prepared. favorite blanket and pillows fluffed up. comfort snacks placed in her favorite bowl within reach. romance dramas queued. sanitary products restocked. chores cleared.

your gaze darted between him and the trey, your mouth closing and opening as your brain scrambled to process the situation.

“here, use this,” he moved forward, fluffing up the pillow you were sleeping on from behind before gently nudging you back, securing the heating pad against your stomach. “there.”

you didn't know which one to do first. shed a few sparkly tears of gratitude or laugh and lung forward and drown him in kisses.

“y-you didn't have to do all that—”

“i wanted to. i must. you can't be saying outrageous things like that.”

he didn't allow you to lift a single finger throughout the day. checked in from time to time to make sure you were okay, brought you whatever you asked for, gave you a message even though you didn't ask for it, dropped everything to cook for you, and came in with tissues, perfectly brewed tea with your exact preferences, vitamins and an even fluffier blanket when you sneezed once. at some point, he asked if you would like him to carry you around the house—even the bathroom, by the way— because “why waste your energy when I'm here?”

by evening, you were lounging like the queen you are, surrounded by all the things needed to make your period session bearable and one prepared-and ready-to pamper-to-the-max husband.

you paused the drama you were watching, yanking him down towards you from where you were curled up on the couch, his warmth immediately wrapping around you.

his hand instinctively found your waist, the other braced beside your hip. “hey— what's up?”

you grinned, lifting yourself just a little to place a featherlight kiss against his jaw. “baby, thank you. i'm fine now. why don't you relax with me?”

he hesitated for a moment, although his hands betrayed him by tightening around your waist just a fraction.

“are you sure? what if—”

“no buts. i demand cuddles. right now.”

he chuckled, the sound coming out breathier than intended as he settled down beside you before pulling you on top of him, securing you against his chest, his fingers already gently combing through your hair. you sighed contently, nuzzling deeper, all while his heart nearly gave out at the gesture.

after a moment, he spoke.

“if you ever need anything, just tell me,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss your temple.

“then stay here. with me.”

you didn't have to repeat that. and you never had to doubt the royalty treatment coming up every month. although he'd still make sure to treat you like a queen outside of that month, too.

♡ nanami kento, geto suguru, fushiguro megumi, gojo satoru, itadori yuuji, zayne, caleb, sylus, ishida uryuu, kuchiki byakuya, ishida ryuken, brant, xiangli yao, jiyan, rengoku kyojuro, tomioka giyuu, himejima gyomei, sung jinwoo, wriothesley, armin arlert, reiner braun, barbatos, simeon, satan, your favorite.

[prettyboykatsuki]

lace | (qin che)

♡ tags ; afab + fem!reader ( gendered language + perfomancne of femininity (hair, makeup and nails)), established relationship, reader is not explictly mc, lingerie, loverboy sylus, unprotected sex, praise kink, squirting, sex toys (a butt plug), a very affectionate kind of objectification, creampies, riding (sylus is doing the work tho), 18+

♡ wc; 3.2k (what da hell)

♡ a/n ; this was supposed to be a birthday fic but its mad late. if you're wondering what readers outfit looks like imagine this but its a darker red and she's wearing a little bow choker and her stockings have bows. ok

be nice abt my sylus characterization writing him is so nervewracking lmao

♡ synopsis ; sylus figured you would give yourself to him as a gift, but finds himself pleasantly surprised by how seriously you take that promise.

Arousal blooms in his chest, petals pulled open by your neatly manicured fingers, gently nudged open.

He'd been expecting the gift. He just didn't think it'd shake him so easily. Not that he isn't always charmed by you, but it's been a long enough time that he can handle you. Mostly.

His desire for you is something he can manage without feeling taken off guard.

It's rare he feels that way. Some of his confidence is feigned, but most of it is sincere. Sylus faithfully believes in both his ability to withstand whatever you decide to throw at him, and your ability to surprise him.

All things accounted for - truthfully, he had been suspecting you'd do something like this. Birthdays are important to you, and you like having a reason to dress-up anyhow.

So he was prepared for it, one way or another. He thought you'd do something like this, seen the money come out of his account a few weeks prior. He was excited then - mostly to tease you.

A fair exchange for how he's wrapped around your finger. He'd have made you done a little spin, tiled his head and quirked his lips as he asked if it was all for him. Smile at you lovingly while you glared at him irritated and bashful.

He was excited more-or-less. Now he's... well, maybe he can still call it that. Not nervous, not quite elated - some in between. Nerves suspended in mid-air, the kind of thrill he gets only now and again.

It's rare for anything to make his heart beat this loudly. It's not the first time you've accomplished it, but it never fails in it's novelty.

Just seeing you in your attire is enough to knock all of he air out of his lungs.

The air around you feels different as you come through the threshold of the bedroom door. Wearing a warm, familiar and playful expression - while you're nothing but provocative from the neck down.

You're dolled up from head-to-toe. Hair, make-up, nails.

A full fit of lingerie.

Everything is in a matching shade of maroon. A lace bow is secure around your neck in the same color.

You look up at Sylus with mirth in your eyes. A satisfaction even as you wait in earnest for his approval. You do a little spin, your robe swishing around you. And then you beam at him, all smiles.

"Don't I look nice?"

He almost scoffs reflexively. "You look like something out of a painting,"

Your heels click on the tile floors as you venture to him closer and closer. Sylus watches on silently until you stop in front of him.

"It's your birthday. We can get straight to business, if you like."

Sylus stares at you, slumped against the leather couch. It creaks under his weight.

"It'd be a shame to rip through such precious wrapping," Sylus murmurs, breath-taken. "Let me see you,"

You smile a little brighter. Pleased that he's interested, as if there was a way he wouldn't be. Your heels click when you take a step back, undoing the loose belt of your floor-length robe and let it fall open.

Sylus feels himself draw in a sharp breath as you show yourself off. The smooth curves of your body are all wrapped tightly in a sheer panels of lace and tulle. A bodysuit hugs your figure, balconette bra making everything sit pretty - thick ribbon straps tied at your shoulders. Your thighs are plush underneath garter straps, keeping up a pair of stockings in the same color. Sylus lets his eyes drift, lets them catch where the lace circles tightest around your thighs before they go lower.

At your feet are a nice pair of heels. A few inches high with something fluffy attached - a cute detail to go with your robe. You've got loose tulle gloves that for some reason knock him silent.

Sylus lets you model it for a while. Leans back into his seat and feels his cock strain tight against his pants at the sight of you. All the effort you put in him for makes him dizzy.

You let your robe drop finally, before turning on your heel.

He puts a hand over his mouth when he sees the back. Tries to be subtle. Feels a little thankful that you don't see him falter over it. You're so gorgeous he really doesn't know what to do.

Unsurprisingly he quite likes the view. It's not entirely revealing - but it's more ribbon then cloth. The small of your back hosts a little ribbon corset that stops just half-way - leaving most of your back exposed. Your ass is visible accentuated with more thin lines of red fabric.

You're wearing backseam leggings. For a reason he can't quite put into words, they're what seems to catch his attention most. From the back of your knee - a single seam all the way to the bottom of your foot. A long red-line, with a ribbon bow at the back of your ankle.

It's such a small detail, really. Maybe that's why Sylus finds himself so utterly enamored by it. It's the attention to such little things that he feels so aroused by.

You look over your shoulder, pleased by his silence. A coy, coquettish smile and mischievous air. A sweet scent surrounds you, freshly bathed - something like vanilla and spice.

Is this what being under a spell feels like? Sylus thinks it's the first time he's ever been so entranced.

"You're awfully quiet," You say, warm. A hand on your hip as you turn again, walking towards him. "Not a fan of the look?"

He laughs under his breath. "More like I'm speechless. I'm afraid there isn't a word good enough for you,"

"Are you flattering me?"

"Not at all. Just telling you how I see it," Sylus replies.

You sit yourself down in his lap again like you own it. "You like what you see?"

"Very much so,"

You smile at him, preening under the attention. You're seducing him successfully - but not for the reasons you might assume. You trail a finger down his jaw - head tilted with shimmering eyes. "It's your birthday, big guy. You can have whatever you want,"

"Are you sure that's a smart offer to make? I'm feeling a little greedy this evening, it seems."

Your laugh is warm, a bubbly sound like giggling that makes Sylus smile.

"Isn't it fine? It's your birthday after all," You lean in slightly, your voice closer to his ear. He can feel your hand on his shoulder, manicured nails slightly sinking into his skin. "Plus, I made preparations you know,"

He looks at you with his brows quirked but you just smile at him. You find his hand and hold it, bringing it between your thighs. Sylus' eyes widen as you pull away at the fabric covering your pussy.

With your hand over his, you guide his hand - his fingers where you want them. You use your finger to push his, middle finger pressing past your folds. A noise of effort escapes your lips as Sylus watches you in awe. His digit slipping into you easily, much easier then he can on a normal day. Almost like you—

"Stretched myself out in the shower," You hum, pleased. There's a sound in your voice like you know this is going to ruin him. It's working. His other hand finds your ass, holds it tight - trying to anchor himself as his fingers sit in the wet warmth of you. It's his own movement now. He tests three and each slide in without resistance and Sylus feels his chest get tight with arousal. Fuck. "Took a while. Had to use a few toys to get it—ngh, stretched completely. You know, for both holes,"

"You—kitten," His voice is thick with lust as he curls his fingers in. Feels you stretch. Feels the plug in the other side of you that makes his breath hitch. "That's not fair,"

"What are you saying? I did it for you, silly. Consider it your last present for today. Indulge a little. You always take good care of me, Sy." You're being sweet to him while you're riding his fingers and Sylus wonders when you learned to be like this and if he was always so weak. He's usually composed, even when you're fighting him tooth and nail to not be.

Maybe it's the fact you're not trying to work him up or break him that's doing it for him. You're being coy and cloying, but sincere in giving him a gift.

He feels strangely lightheaded at the thought of you gifting your body to him. Really gifting it to him. Not as a playful bit between you.

Sincere enough to stretch yourself all the way open in the shower for him, to dress up and dry your hair. To pick out a pretty outfit and wrap yourself in a red bow.

All for him.

"Sweetheart," Sylus groans. Deep from his chest, suddenly on edge. You laugh at him lightly and Sylus feels you tighten around his fingers. He puts his head on your shoulders and closes his eyes.

You're breathing with effort as you speak. "Let me finish, jeez. You always take good care of me when we do it, yknow. And you never let me do anything, which is nice but," You pull back and your lashes flutter. Sylus can't imagine living a thousand more lives and seeing anything half as beautiful as you. "Well sometimes I want to. I love you just the same as you do me. And I swear eventually I'm gonna fit you in my mouth—your dick is just fucking enormous but whatever—I'll do it eventually, anyway, the point is -"

Sylus just laughs. It startles you a little, but he can't help himself. Doesn't know what else to do to express how fucking endearing he finds you then and there. You pause, faltering a little. A pout on pretty lips.

"Don't laugh at me,"

"At you? I could never sweetheart. I'm just," He takes a breath. "Mm, what's the word? Happy, perhaps"

"Perhaps? Sylus you're hurting my feelings,"

"Am I?"

"Well...no, but. Don't say perhaps. I can't read your mind and you're making me kinda nervous,"

How silly for you to be nervous when just looking at you makes him like this. He hums, bemused. "Nervous?"

You give him a look. "Well I was expecting you to be more... I dunno... all 'oh, you dressed up for me sweetheart, how cute' like always but,"

He scoffs lightly. "Is that how I sound to you,"

You ignore him. "But you're being all... nice and stuff."

He laughs again and you flush. "Nice and stuff. Am I not usually nice?"

"You're..! Well you are but I dunno. I can't tell what you're thinking today. I feel a little silly,"

"Should I tell you then? What I'm thinking?" Sylus quips. You nod, almost hopeful.

"I'm thinking I've somehow gotten very lucky," Sylus presses a kiss to your cheek. Another at the corner of your mouth "And that, I must've done something monumental in my past life to have you all to myself,"

Sylus puts his lips where your pulse is, feels your heartbeat underneath thin skin. You pause before speaking. "And?"

He smiles a little. "And it'd be a great shame to waste any more time without enjoying my gift to the fullest. I'm saying I like it. Tell me how I should prove it to you?"

You giggle. It's a sweet sound, a breath of relief as you bury your face into his shoulder. Sylus lets his hands roam, sitting at the small of your back as you settle your weight into his lap. Sylus feels spurred to continue. "How could I tease you when you're trying so hard to please me? Do you think I'm so unaffected?"

"It's not my fault I have a hard time believing the big bad boss of Onychinus could get all worked up over little ol' me,"

Sylus hums. His fingers sink into the plush of your hips as he pulls you down - your clothed pussy flush to the outline of his clothed cock. "What a silly thing to think,"

"Oh fuck," You moan soft into his ear, both arms around his shoulders. Sylus likes the way you feel when you cling to him. How you breathe how your hips stutter. "Ngh, you're so hard,"

"All for you. I'm all yours,"

Sylus smiles a little as you grind yourself against him subconsciously. A careless cant of your hips as your body sinks against his chest. Sylus often teases about you being a kitten, but it's because of moments like this. Needy and unthinking like a cat in heat, making it easy on him to pin you down. He can feel you get off on him, feel how your movements stutter when you catch on your clit - shoulders trembling from pleasure.

Sylus presses his nose to your shoulder and lets you get off to your hearts content. Holds your body as tight as his hands can grip when you do.

"Sylus," Your words are long and drawn out.

"What is it, sweetie?"

"Come on," You beg, not all the way there. "Use me already,"

He breathes in sharp, laughing. You really don't play fair.

He doesn't say anything of your request. "You don't have to wait for me. You can take what you want,"

A noise of complaint gets mumbled into his chest as you pull away from him. You lean back where you sit in his lap - face flushed, gloved hands quickly undoing the buckle of his belt and the zipper of his slacks. Sylus watches you through lidded eyes. Hooking your pointer into his boxers, you tug down just far enough to let his cock spring free and pull it out. It stands tall. A hard, heavy weight leaning against his dress shirt. Pre-cum dribbles against the material as it sways back.

The rough material of your tulle gloves makes Sylus hiss. You wrap your fist around the shaft of his cock but it doesn't fit - your fingers not touching.

You lean down as best you can and spit hard onto the head of his cock. Sylus groans as he feels it run down his length. Satisfied, you use your grip to stroke him until his cock is sticky and wet, making a mess of your gloves as they're stained with saliva and cum.

You push his shirt until it's bunched over his abs, feeling them up after you've prepared him.

"You're so big," You mumble. Sylus chuckles.

"Yeah?"

You nod, eyes glazed over. A thousand thoughts run through his mind at once but at the end of each last one is somewhere between adoration and lust.

Without ceremony, Sylus watches you stand on your knees on either side of his thighs and pull the material of your bodysuit away from your pussy. With your free hand, you hold onto his shaft and shimmy yourself down until the tip of Sylus' cock is right at your entrance.

You sink down onto his cock just like that - near effortless.

Sylus moans. It's never easy to get himself inside of you, but you're so soft inside. So perfectly stretched. Warm and sticky and inviting, he groans unabashedly as you sink down on his length slowly. Swallowing him up in a panting breath.

There's barely any resistance, but you're still tight from the plug you wear. You must've been fucking yourself for a long while to get like this and the image is seared into his mind. Sylus can't imagine how long it took you to get yourself like this. Your body never yields to him this easily, at least not until he's had his way with you over and over until you're so pliant you might shatter into pieces.

Sylus feels his body go slack from arousal. A feeling of electricity flickering up his spine as his cock is completely enveloped by your warmth. The head nudges against your cervix as you lose strength in your legs - bottoming out with a gasp.

Sylus growls. It's a low sound, a desperate one. His cock aches, desire welling up in his veins. He lets his head fall back, unusued to the sensation of getting everything in at once. His throat bobs as he hands find your ass. Gripping tight, he catches his breath as he feels you over him wobbling.

"Sylus," Your voice is so whiny like this. So endearingly gone. "Sylus, you're so big. Oh, it's—aah,"

His lashes flutter as he struggles to hold himself back. His dick and usual sense slowly ticking away. He opens his eyes loosely, putting a hand to your stomach before trailing it up - almost near your ribs. His voice is murmur soft. "I'm all the way in here,"

You make a choked noise, falling forward against his chest. "...Nn yeah. Mm. 's full."

He laughs but its incredibly strained. "You're really talented in getting me worked up, you know?"

"I'm not trying to,"

Sylus chuckles. "Oh I know,"

"Sylus," You whine.

He kisses your shoulder. "Yes, dove?"

"Fuck me. Please? Wanna move but I think my legs gave out,"

Sylus laughs again, warmer this time. Fonder. "How could I say no to such a sweet request?"

With you limp in his lap, it's all too easy for Sylus to hold you but your hips and fuck into you. You're almost weightless with your much you've melted into him, stuck to him with gravity.

Sylus is strong. With and without his EVOL. He thinks its a necessary thing to be given all he has to protect.

But it has its other uses.

It feels good being able to move you up and down on his cock like it's nothing. Not really moving his own hips to meet your movements, but holding you with both hands and picking up your full weight before pulling you back down again—while you claw into his shoulders for purchase. It's the first time you've ever been fucked open enough for him to do it without hurting you.

Even though he's fucking you hard enough for it to echo against his bedroom walls. The wet smack of skin to skin, the filthy sound of your pussy being carved into the shape of him, your hips slamming down on him relentlessly. Doing it without worry or concern.

There's something unusually animal about fucking you this way. No restraint, more like you're mating then making love.

It feels good to feel all of you. Feel every single inch of your perfect, pretty cunt - walls trembling on each thrust. Your short breaths and shaky moans, your nipples hardening through the salacious lace of your top and pressing against the swell of his chest.

You just feel so fucking good. You make him feel so good.

"I can't get enough of you, sweetheart," Sylus says, half-way to losing his mind inside of you but trying to keep it together. "You feel so perfect, I don't know if I'll be able to let you rest."

"Sy," Your voice is warped with pleasure, a loud needy cry for him and him only. "Wanna cum, wanna cum on your cock, Sylus please,"

"Touch yourself, sweet girl," Sylus hums. "I'll fuck you until you can't take it, so touch yourself and feel good,"

Sylus feels your shaky hand maneuver between your bodies. Your fingers twitch as you rub tiny circles into your throbbing clit, immediately clamping down his length from pleasure.

Sylus watches you as it all comes down at once. Your body weakened, numb from pleasure as you needily chase your own high. The sound of his name broken on your lips, rocking yourself to match his movements and grind into your fingers.

"I'm cumming. I'm cumming, I'm cumming, 'mcumming,'m—"

Sylus feels it. Your pussy squeezes, grips around the length of his cock like a vice. There's a sudden wetness, a spray of something wetting his abs and slacks. You whimper as he fucks you through the tremors. Fucked entirely stupid, even your thank yous come out slurred.

Sylus follows quickly behind, pumping his cum into you with a deep breath. He can feel it rise up, thick hot white ropes of cum painting your insides. Touching a place he thinks he's only just reached for the first time.

You both pause to catch your breaths as Sylus takes a moment to toy with one of your garters. He kisses your neck, speaking into it.

"Thank you for the birthday gift. I think I'll take my time unwrapping it," Sylus hums.

You laugh tired. "Mm. Glad to know it was a success,"

[oreo-creampies]

𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐬

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: fluff, period cramps, suguru takes a bath with you, they all refuse to let you walk, pouty reader with Kento because I for one am emotional over tiny things during that time and kento being sweet with me would be everything, making s’mores with Satoru, full of kisses adoration and cuddles, for when you need cuddles and a bath, nap and cuddles or chocolate and cuddles

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧: Hi! May I request Suguru with a fem aligned reader (if u do write that but if not, gn is also ok!) who is on their monthly cycle? cramps r hell rn and I need some comfort.

Oreo: Hope this helps 🫶🏽 sorry I couldn't get this out sooner, I wanted to do more characters because I've been in the mood for some comfort too

𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮

Slowly peeling the covers back, gently lifting you off the bed, cradling you to his chest. “Poor Princess, I hate seeing you like this.” You grimace, furrowing your brows. “Sorry my love for moving you.” Covering your cheek in soft kisses.

He doesn't stop until you’re smiling from the sweet attack. “Got our bath ready, the warmth and water should help ease the flow.” Getting lost in his captivating tender warm chocolate eyes.

“Our bath?”

The softness of his voice soothing. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't hold you when you’re cramping? I was thinking I would wash us off afterward, carry you back to bed.” Kissing his hard pec, resting your head against his warm chest, closing your eyes.

You’ve never had someone talk to you with such gentle kindness, look at you with such adoring love or tenderly touch you until Suguru. “You’re better than I deserve.”

“You deserve only the best, and I'm going to give it to you.” Carefully sitting you down on a towel covering the counter protecting you from the cold. Holding your arms up for Suguru to slip the baggy shirt off.

Lifting you off the counter, steadying you on your feet. “You are the best.”

“That’s why I’m your’s.” Pushing your underwear down, for you to step out of. Kissing above your pubic line, gently rubbing in soft circles where you’re cramping the most. After a year of living together he knows your body well.

Using paper tissues to toss your pad in the trash. Lifting you off your feet, cradling you lowering you into the warm, bubble bath. It's the perfect temperature, the water lapping at the back of your neck easing some of your head’s tension.

The bubbles reaching above your head, you have to make a small space otherwise be consumed whole. “You look beautiful and cozy.” Letting out a gentle sigh, the warmth and muscular relaxer soothing your aches.

“This is wonderful, thank you darling.” Suguru slips his sweats down, folding them up to set on the counter. Leaning forward he whips his feet off in the mat, stepping in behind. Carefully sitting down, pulling you into his lap.

Closing your eyes resting your head listening to the music. His chest rumbles when he sings, “Whatever words I say I will always love you, I will always love you, whenever I'm alone with you, you make me feel like I am free again.” Kissing the top of your head.

“Your voice sounds like heaven. I want to record you singing, I can listen to it to fall asleep when you’re working late.” Looking up at Suguru’s face, he smiling down at you.

The soft curve of his lips, the love in his eyes, this is what it’s like to be treasured by someone. “Which songs do you want me to sing for you my love?”

𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨

Resting on his chest, eyes closed listening to Kento’s comforting voice reading. “Traveling down the thin winding path, not yet reclaimed by the forest’s growth. Breaking into a small clearing, displaying a partly dilapidated house. Part of the original brick structure standing tall still.” He pauses to flip the page, looking down at you.

Smiling at how you’d fallen asleep on his chest. Grabbing the long thin bookmark you gotten him. Slipping it between the pages, closing the book, setting it aside.

Checking the heating pad, gently making sure it's in place. Carefully lifting the blanket over you, covering you up to your neck. Slipping his glasses off, laying his head down on the pillow behind him. Closing his eyes and enjoying the peace of the moment.

Your cramps had been persisting all morning, at last you were comfortable enough to fall asleep. He loves your soft warm body resting in top of his. The safety in knowing you’re protected, happy and at peace.

The sun has set by the time Kento wakes up. “My love?” Kissing the top of your head. Massaging your stomach and sides. “Wake up I need to get dinner started, I'll get you cozy in the bed with the heading pad.” He peels the blanket back, grabbing the now cold heading pad setting it aside.

Shifting on top of him, wrapping your arms around his neck. Kento carefully fixes the blanket on yo. Wrapping his arm around you, slowly standing up. “What are you craving?”

Pouting whining in frustration, “I dunno! I'm hungry but I don't know what I want. I don't want you to leave me alone.” Cupping the back of your head, swiping his thumb in small circles. His gentle touch soothing your emotional turmoil.

“Take out it is you can look at what you want and take your time there’s no rush. I'll carrying you to and from the door to get the food.” Nudging the bedroom door open with his foot. He knows the bedroom by memory.

Carrying you with one arm, pulling the covers back, laying you down then flicks on the lamp. “We need to make sure we get you something yummy.” Kento kisses your forehead. “Lemme get your heating pad and my phone.”

Kento isn't gone long coming back into the room. He’s beautiful with his blond hair falling across his thin framed glasses. You like them more than his green and silver ones that hide the beautiful dark coffee brown shade of his warm, gentle, tired eyes.

Slipping into underneath the covers, holding his arms out for you to climb slowly onto his lap. Resting your chest on his chest craving the skin to skin.

Placing the heating pad on your stomach, grabbing the near by covers and covering you both. “Comfortiable beautiful?”

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

You have a wonderful view of Satoru in a tight black shirt splitting open firewood with a wooden axe. You’d insisted a cabin in the woods because you pouted about being around other people was a bit extreme. Now that you’re here with no one else but Satoru for miles around it’s peaceful and necessary.

The view of his arms flexing when bringing the axe through the wood catching your attention. Almost distracting you from the monthly fit your body is throwing from not getting knocked up by Satoru.

Loading the logs into the pit. He points his fingers at it, looks up at the window and smiles. Could he really spark the firepit without destroying the ground around it?

You eyes widen. There’s a flash of light and boom fire errupts from the pit. Arching towards the sky, settling down, gradually getting lower as it consumes the wooden logs.

Blowing off the his finger gun proud of himself. Then vanishing out of site as he comes into the cabin. Slipping back outside covering the bench in several blankets and the throw pillows from the sofa. The bringing out a plate with a roasting stick.

Dipping back into the house Satoru bursts into the bedroom, grinning widely. “It’s s’mores time! Cuddles, a crackling fire underneath the stars your wonderful boyfriend feeding you chocolate you might be cramping but that has to help a little right?

“Can’t think anything sweeter, other than getting some kisses from you ha.” Satoru climbs onto the bed, hovering over you carefully not to let his weight crush you. Softly kissing your nose, cheeks, forehead and lips. You can feel his smile in the gentle curve of his lips.

Wrapping your legs around him, parting your lips for his tongue. You crave Satoru’s slow, sweet romantic kisses more than air. Slipping your fingers through his short undercut into his fluffy hair.

Squeezing your sides lifting you off the bed. Refusing to break away, he’s lost in your soft lips whimpering into the kiss. Carrying you through the door, slowly sliding his hand up and down your back, cupping your ass.

Pulling away you need to breathe, resting your head on his chest. Shivering from the cool fall air, nuzzling your head into Satoru’s neck, kissing him gently.

“Your kisses are sweeter than any treat I could buy.” Satoru sits down with you straddling his lap. Picking up the roasting fork, its tip having been resting on a plate next to some marshmallow, a chocolate bar and some Graham crackers.

“Cheesy!” Leaning back enough to admire Satoru’s handsome face. Kissing his cheek.

He passes the roasting stick to his other hand. Squeezing your between his arms when he sticks a fluffy marshmellow onto it’s tip. “It’s true! The way you kiss me is so sweet and loving, it makes my heart beat faster every time. I can't stop kissing you, it's getting worse. Everytime I see you I want to cover you in kisses, hold you close and never let you go!”

Oreo’s m.list

[starlightswitch]

@flashfictionfridayofficial I've been sitting on this prompt for a while.

Corey’s phone went off and he checked it automatically. It was from Levi. A text. A long text.

If you’re reading this, that means I’m gone. I’m so sorry to have to tell you this way. You’ve been the best friend I could have asked for, the best friend I’ve ever had. Thank you.

It felt so sincere he expected Levi to actually be gone when he looked up.

But someone was still standing next to him, and when he looked up it was still Levi, leaning slightly on the railing, one hand wrapped loosely around the glass sitting on the thin strip of table. “What’s up?” said Levi. Then, reacting to whatever expression was on Corey’s face, “What? You look like you saw a ghost.”

“…are you a ghost?” said Corey.

“What?”

Corey moved closer to show him the phone, their shoulders overlapping as Levi leaned in.

“Shit,” Levi said in a slow whisper.

He did not sound confused. He did not sound surprised. He sounded dismayed.

He knew what this was. He was only sorry Corey had seen it now.

Corey looked at him, kept looking at him even though Levi wouldn’t meet his eyes. “What do you mean, gone?”

Levi’s mouth opened but no words came out.

“Talk to me!” said Corey. “What does this mean?”

Presumably, eventually, realizing Corey was just going to keep staring at him until he said something, Levi said in a tight whisper, “You weren’t supposed to get it yet.”

“Obviously.”

“My dumb ass set it for 3PM instead of 3AM.”

“You were going to text me at 3AM to tell me that you were gone? The fuck?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Levi mumbled.

“I’m the best friend you’ve ever head and you were going to do who knows what in the dead of night and I would never see you again and you don’t even want to talk about it?”

“Ssh!” Levi threw a frightened glance at the patio below.

Corey hadn’t realized his voice had risen so much. He lowered it. “What am I supposed to think?”

“You’re not supposed to know about it,” said Levi.

“Until you…”

“It’s not what you think. At least, what I think you think.”

“Well, are you going to tell me what it is? Or are you not the friend you thought you were?” If he’d thought a second longer he might not have worded that so harshly, but it was out and it was how he felt. He took a long drink and tried to think of what to do if Levi didn’t answer him. Thought about walking away, and tried to decide if he could really do it.

Levi leaned in again, just a little. “You cannot tell anyone, understand? I’m not supposed to tell anyone. No one is supposed to know. If you know, it will be obvious who told you.”

“Tell anyone what?”

“I’m not who you think I am.” Levi winced. “Entirely. I haven’t been acting different and I’ve never lied—just not told you things—but my name is not what you think it is.”

Now that Corey thought about it, he could think of more than a couple times that Levi had dodged away from telling him things. Like where he was from and where he’d worked before here. Why he’d moved here when he didn’t know anybody around here.

“And now I have to go. And I can’t tell you why.”

“Not when you’ve told me this much?”

Levi laughed weakly. “I haven’t told you much.”

Corey looked up, thinking. “Could you tell me if I came with you?”

Levi looked at him so hard that Corey looked him in the eye, and Levi’s eyes held his, deeply serious. “Do you really want to do that? Have no one know where you went? Never say goodbye, or say it and not tell them why?”

There was a spark of something in his eyes. Corey was pretty sure it was hope.

“If you do—and I’m not saying you should.” Levi looked away as he said that. “Then meet me here tonight. Late. Bring some clothes and be ready to go.”

Corey didn’t say he would do it. He couldn’t really imagine just leaving like that.

But then, he couldn’t imagine letting Levi go, never knowing where, never knowing why.

Your best friend has left their last message for you, lamenting that they are no longer in this world should you receive that last message. It would have been emotional and tragic, had said friend not standing next to you, alive and in good health.

[p1astr81]

ahhhh I love your work!! i need THIS https://x.com/yovremine/status/1871164598306677111?s=46 for oscar in order to survive pretty please 😭💗

Lemme tell you I was terrified to open this link but OUUUUU this would fix me I fear

It wasn’t meant to be like this. You didn’t climb into his lap while he was sitting on the couch and straddle his thighs just to sit there for the better half of an hour. You did it so you could fix his unruly hair (it was more unruly than usual).

But then he started talking, and you couldn’t be rude. You couldn’t interrupt him by sliding off his lap. And you definitely wouldn’t think about moving when his hands were roaming all over your sides, thighs, and back. His warm palms making contact with your skin under your shirt, warming your whole body.

“Wait, what’s a v8 again?” You asked, tilting your head. You knew. But he just sounded so good when explaining it to you. He wasn’t condescending, didn’t talk to you like you were an idiot. It was just pure interest.

“It’s a 8 cylinder engine-“

“What’s a cylinder?” He squeezed your hips at the question.

“It creates the power. There’s 8 of them, so it’s more powerful and you can accelerate better, faster compared to an engine with 6 or 4 cylinders.” His hands slid up and down your sides while he paused. “They used them in F1 in 2006, up until 2012. They’ve talked about bringing them back for the 2030 regs which would be amazing actually.”

Your fingers drummed against his chest before your hands settled around his neck. “How come?” They were his favorite engines. You knew that.

“They’re my favorite. And the sounds… uh, you’d just have to hear it. It’s like,” he took his hands off you for a moment, making wild gestures.

Whatever he said next was tuned out as you studied his face. Every micro expression demonstrating his love for the technicalities. Your fingers curled in his hair, leaning in to connect your lips to his neck.

He paused. “What’s up?” He laughed.

“Nothin’. Just keep talking.” You mumbled, your lips brushing against his neck as you spoke.

“About what?”

“Anything. Anything you want to.”

He paused, blowing a shaky breath through his nose. “Okay well… Mercedes think the engine that they’ve made for next year is good, which is good for us. And our car is looking strong for next year, too.” His hands traced the curves of your spine.

“You’re such a stupid nerd.”

“Those are direct contradictions, baby.”

You laughed against his lips.

[tinywand]

winning a fancall as their partner ᵔᴗᵔ

pairing - ot7 x gn!reader

genre - fluff

warnings - minor language (very minor) !

Jungwon

doesn't realize at first

does his rehearsed greeting, then is like, "??????"

"Y/n??"

lets out a sigh of relief and has a big smile

"You won't believe the fan call I just had... Some people.."

Jungwon vents his frustrations with people making him aegyo and meow

"Hey Wonnie?"

"Yes, Y/n?"

"Can you meow for me?"

Jungwon sits in silence for the rest of the call, arms crossed, and giving you a blank look.

When he sees you after, he continues to give the silent treatment until you offer to scratch his back

"Y/n, please don't ever do that again.."

Heeseung

ALSO doesn't realize right away

you both just kinda sit there like "😐"

then Heeseung goes "😮"

"Y/n! I didn't know you won a fan call! Why didn't you tell me?"

pretends to sulk, but is refreshed seeing you between all the other calls

"Don't be mad, I just wanted to surprise you!" You watch Heeseung start to laugh a little

"Well it worked! I love seeing all of ENGENE, but this is refreshing.. And this chair is really uncomfortable.."

"Well it's not like I'm a random ENGENE, stretch your legs while you can, Hee."

Immediately gets up and starts to stretch.

"See, this is why I love you so much Y/n."

You laugh as you see only his legs in view

He sits back down with a grin

"I'll see you later Y/n, thanks for letting me take a little break."

Jay

realizes its you and plans to tease you

"Oh my god." Jay says with a slight smile

"Surprise!" You let out little jazz hands

Pretends to not care, but secretly has butterflies

"Yeah yeah, whatever... How do I skip you?" Jay pretends to signal staff over

"Hey! Don't you dare! I won this fair and square!"

Jay laughs and blows into the mic

"Hey I thi- pshhhhhhhh this call is- psshhhhhhhh breaking up"

"You're so annoying, Jay. Im an ENGENE too you know, where's my dedicated three minutes?"

Jay laughs and settles in his chair, "Fine, I guess you're right, what do you want to talk about?"

"Actually I'm glad you asked, do you remember where I put my-"

"Hate to cut you off sweetheart, but times up." Jay laughs and sends an air kiss.

"That.. Brat!" You scowl, but end up only being able to laugh about it.

You jokingly complain about it when Jay sees you later that night

"Y/n, how about I go get you some snacks? Will that make you feel better?"

You nod, because how can that not help?

Jake

Immediately perks up. "Y/n?!"

You play dumb.. "Uh.. No that's not my name."

Jake looks confused for a second before doubling down. "Y/n, I know it's you. I literally see your posters in the back."

"Crap.." You mutter under your breath, letting out a nervous smile.

"Y/n, I didn't know you won a fan call? Were you trying to prank me? Next time I'll pretend to fall for it!"

Your heart swells, Jakes just too cute.

"Aaaghh, you make it really hard to stay in character you know. I had a whole plan set up."

Jake laughs, "Here, let's pretend like I did fall for it. Go on, do your prank."

You nod and show Jake a crude, not very well drawn photo of him. "I made this for you, cause you're my bias, Jake oppa!" You did a cringey aegyo after

"Never mind, please never do that again Y/n."

you head over to Jakes dorm, having a better prank in mind

You wait on his bed and run into his closet when you hear the boys get home.

"What the hell is this? Y/n?"

You pop out of the closet, seeing Jake staring at the fake body you made with pillows, only for the face to be your drawing

"PRANKED!!"

Sunghoon

pretends like he doesn't realize

"Hel- Oh wow. Usually I'm not supposed to say this, but you're the most attractive person I've ever seen.."

You do a mental facepalm

"Sunghoon, it's me, Y/n."

"Y/n? That's a beautiful name.. Here, let me write down my number and text me after this."

Sunghoon scribbles down his number and puts it up to the camera

"Stop playing dumb, hoonie! I was supposed to surprise you!"

"Ahh, playing hard to get? That's okay Y/n, I'm more than happy to fight for it."

"Hoon, why don't you ever flirt with me like this when we're together?"

"If I knew you, I definitely would Y/n."

Wait for him to finish his fancalls, then call him

"Oh hey babe, I saw the most beautiful ENGENE during the fan calls today..."

"Sunghoon, I swear to god I'm gonna kill you."

Sunoo

Immediately decomposes himself and lays on the table

"Y/n... its brutal out here..."

You let out a little chuckle, "What happened this time, Sun?"

Sunoo peeks up. "I have to pee, it's too hot in this room, my hair isn't cooperating, and we still have a bunch of fan calls left to do... I don't know if I can make it."

"Do it for ENGENE Sun, lots of them are looking forward to this.

Sunoo sits back up and nods.

"You're right Y/n, and they're all so nice! One of them showed me this picture they drew.. It looked exactly like me, just more handsome!"

You smile, letting Sunoo talk about all the ENGENE he met today.

"You feel better, Sun?"

"Yes, just what I needed."

A hour later Sunoo sends you a text.

"Thanks for the pick me up Y/n! I picked up some ice cream and I'm on my way over : )"

Ni-Ki

Notices its you before you even realize the call connected

Ni-Ki lets out a fake sigh. "Oh great.. It's you."

You cross your arms, used to Ni-Ki's teasing by now. "And what is that supposed to mean, Riki?"

He grins and sits back. "All I'm saying is you already take up my free time, you should share some with ENGENE."

You scoff and act hurt. "I'll have you know I won this spot buying albums. Actually- buying ENGENE versions trying to get YOURS Riki."

Ni-Ki shoots his hands up in defense. "I offered to give you one, don't pin this on me!"

You roll your eyes playfully. "If you gave me one it wouldn't count towards Billboard! I was being a supportive partner!"

Ni-Ki laughs, admitting defeat. "Alright you got me, but only because we don't have much time."

"Sounds like an excuse, but I'll take my win."

"Good decision Y/n, you don't win often!" Ni-Ki laughs

"Oh you're so dead when you get home."

You wait in Riki's dorm room, hearing his steps grow closer

You jump on him as he walks in

"Ack- What the- Y/n?"

"I told you earlier! Your dead meat Riki!"

[boldymoldedcheese]

I know its cliché but I belived in santa and the all that as a kid

That isn't the part thats funny though

It was how I found out they werent real

My mom had promised to get my brother some sort of lego set if he did his school work on time, and he did. No lego set. My brother was really upset, because he really wanted the lego set. What my brother didnt know was that my mom had gotten the lego set for him for christmas (which at the time was a little ways away yet), as Santa.

So we went on an outing for something, I dont remember what exactly, but the lego set got brought up. My brother got upset, and it was dampening the mood of everyone. Soo, my mom says "when we get home, I have something to show you guys". And we were all excited and whatnot, asking what it was, and our parents just kept deflecting like "just wait until we're home" etc. etc.

But anyway we get home, my parents sit us all down, and we're sitting there patiently waiting for whatever this thing is they have to show us. So they reach up into one of the taller cabinets and pulled out some pill bottles, slapped them on the counter. At first we were confused, I mean, what the heck, all this buildup for some bottles with some rocks in em?

They were teeth.

The bottles were filled with baby teeth.

Our baby teeth.

Why do they have these, why do they have these, wouldnt the tooth fairy have these- oh, oh they are the tooth fairy oh what the heck what they are santa no way what the heck why did they keep them oh gosh

[artficlly]

Hello lovely! I heard you were taking requests, so maybe bucky barnes x depressed reader hurt comfort. with requests “Let me see. Please, just let me help.” and “You can’t keep doing this to yourself.” maybe just comforting reader or even reader SH (ONLY IF YOU FEEL COMFORTABLE!! )

Have a great day! ☕️🍪

burnout [one-shot]

marvel au bucky x reader when a mission goes wrong, you revert to bad habits, much to bucky’s dismay

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, !SELF HARM!, please do not read if sh triggers you!, angst, death, blood, wound descriptions, hurt/comfort, fluff near the end, protective bucky, established relationship, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: hi lovely, i hope this is okay and that you enjoy. ngl i totally forgot about the depressed!reader part until i had written this and reread your request soooo oops sorry this is a lot more SH heavy than i thought it would be. been in a weird mood recently so maybe that contributed, lol? planning to write a very cute and fluffy request after this one. sorry for any typos - not proof read.

main masterlist

------

You and Bucky had never said the ‘L’ word.

Love.

I love you.

Your relationship had always been strong, a quiet constant in your life. It had started slowly, lingering glances, late-night walks back from missions, casual coffee runs to the place Bucky swore had the best muffins in the city. ‘friend dates’, he’d call them. You couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment things shifted. Maybe it was the night the two of you stayed up watching F.R.I.E.N.D.S. reruns until dawn, only to wake up tangled together on the couch, too comfortable to move. Or maybe it started when you found yourself spending more nights at Bucky’s place than your own, helping him fumble through whatever mysterious recipe he’d picked from the new cookbook you gave him, only to end up dusted in flour, his handprints stamped like soft proof on your hips and waist. Or perhaps it was the moment he went dark on a mission, no comms, no updates, just a sinking feeling in your gut, and when he finally returned, stepping off a bullet-riddled quinjet, you kissed him in front of everyone. You didn’t care about the smug looks from the others. You were just relieved he was alive.

And now, sitting on the floor of your bathroom, knees hugged to your chest, contemplating the mess you’d made of yourself, of your career, of everything in the past twenty-four hours, you wondered if he ever could truly love you. 

You didn’t feel lovable. You felt like a failure, well and truly a fuck up of a human being. 

You knew Tony hadn’t meant the things he’d shouted at you during the debrief, not really, but that didn’t dull the sting. It didn’t quiet the echo of his words still reverberating through your bones. You knew the team was exhausted. Defeated. Grieving in the wake of a catastrophic mission. In your few short years as an Avenger, you’d already learned that for every victory, there were just as many failures, some more devastating than others. And deep down, you knew it wasn’t entirely your fault. You’d all been doomed from the start, ambushed, outnumbered, overwhelmed. It was a miracle any of you made it out alive.

Still, twelve didn’t.

Twelve agents, gone forever.

Twelve sets of eyes you had slowly watched fade, twelve bodies you watched grow blue and cold, twelve families who would never see their loved ones, twelve families who were likely receiving the news now. It hadn’t been enough.

You hadn’t been enough. 

You ran through it in your head endless times on the Quinjet back. You’d done everything you could. Pushed yourself to the brink until your magic sputtered and died, until your limbs trembled and your vision turned to stars. Until all you could do was fall to your knees and watch it happen. Watch them go.

You had tried desperately to explain in the debrief, practically pleading with Tony as the room turned into a warzone of insults and frustration. 

‘I can only be in so many places at once! There were too many. I did what I could, I tried, but my magic has limits. I have limits!’

Tony had stared you down with a look of disgust. He was still in his suit, dirt and blood smeared on his face, dust and grit gathered in his brows and beard. 

‘Yeah, well, if you can’t handle it, if you can’t keep up, maybe you shouldn’t be an Avenger at all.’ 

The air had vanished from the room in an instant. And in that silence, a part of you decided they all agreed with him, that they all hated you. The eight surviving agents sat motionless, watching the argument unfold with haunted thousand-yard stares. Even Natasha and Sam couldn’t quite meet your eye. 

‘Maybe we need another healer.’ Tony had spat, and your face had crumpled. ‘One who can handle what we’re asking of them.’

You barely registered Natasha’s voice, ‘You’re being too harsh, Tony’, as you fled the room, shame burning hotter than the tears you refused to let fall.

Now here you were, still stained with blood and filth, unable to breathe under the weight of it all.

You stared at the bathroom tiles, blinking through tears, chest aching like something was caving in from the inside. Every breath felt like a struggle, like your body didn’t want to keep going if your mind wouldn’t fight for it. You weren’t even sure when the small paring knife from the kitchen ended up in your hand. You’d taken it with you without thinking, without planning, like your body was moving on some quiet, desperate instinct.

You turned it over in your palm, watching how the metal caught the light.

It was a bad habit, you knew that. One you thought you’d buried years ago.

One of the first times you and Bucky had been intimate, he’d noticed the faint scars that lined your thighs and hips. The marks were in places no one was meant to see. You hadn’t expected to be seen. He had asked about them only once. 

‘What are these?’

You had answered honestly. ‘I was in pain. And I didn’t know how else to make it stop. Hurting myself was the only thing that made sense.’

He hadn’t judged you, hadn’t pulled away. His brow had furrowed, and in all his frustrating kindness and understanding, he had simply kissed them.

You wondered where Bucky was now. He hadn’t been on the mission, he was off helping Steve train the agents. You wondered how he’d react when he heard the news. When he learned that so many of the agents he’d personally trained were gone because you hadn’t been enough. Would he hate you for it? Pity you? Look at you with that same flicker of disgust Tony hadn’t bothered to hide?

Your hand shook as you raised the knife, but there was no hesitation. You pressed the blade to your wrist. A sob slipped out, trembling and thin, as the edge bit deeper, pain flared through your nerves, burning like fire. You squeezed your fingers into a fist, muscles twitching beneath the metal as if it were trying to shy away. You dragged the blade up your forearm vertically, watching how the blood welled up and spilt across your skin in a crimson rush.

You stopped only when you reached the crook of your elbow, breath hitching as you watched the blood drip onto the cold white tiles, pooling in the grout like spilt wine. The pain in your chest hadn’t lessened. If anything, it throbbed harder, your breathing ragged and shallow.

Your magic spluttered to life, hesitant and fragile after hours of overuse. You felt it in the searing coil deep in your gut, in the ache threading through your shoulders. You were moments away from collapse. A thin sweat clung to your brow, the salty sting mixing with tears as you pressed your thumb into the fresh wound you’d carved.

A sharp hiss escaped your lips as the flesh began to knit under your touch. Healing had never been painless. The manipulation of blood and bone was something unnatural, meant to be a weapon just as much as it was a remedy. Muscle pulled tight beneath your skin, twitching and resisting, as your magic forced the edges closed. By the time you reached the tender crook of your elbow, you were sobbing again, jaw clenched hard against the searing pain. But after one final pass, it was done. All that remained was a thin, raised scar tracing your forearm and the evidence of your lapse in the form of blood smeared across the tiles.

Your brow furrowed, and you struck again. You needed to feel it. You needed to understand. What was the point of surviving if you couldn’t prove your worth? If you couldn’t push past fear and failure? If you couldn’t protect the people who counted on you?

Your teeth ached from the pressure of your clenching jaw. Your head pounded, vision blurring at the edges. Still, you raised the knife again. Your skin was a patchwork now—angry, raw, blistered red with that fresh, pink scar where your magic had forced healing. You wanted to open it again. Just to feel. Just to remind yourself.

Your hands trembled. Your magic flickered weakly at your fingertips, barely more than a dying spark. Your body screamed for you to stop, muscles sluggish and mind thick with exhaustion, but you couldn’t hear it through the noise in your head.

You pressed the blade’s tip to your wrist.

And that’s when the apartment door slammed open.

“Hey!” Bucky’s voice called out, panicked. “Are you okay? I heard what happened—”

You froze.

Blood still warm, still trailing from your fingertips. The bathroom reeked of iron. You were crouched on the tiles, surrounded by red.

“Where are you?” he called again. “I know you’re home, your shoes are here—”

You scrambled to your feet, reaching blindly for a towel, anything to hide the mess. The knife clattered to the floor, the sound ringing like a gunshot in the stillness.

“Fuck—” you whispered.

Panic flared. Without thinking, you stumbled over your own feet, crashing to your knees as you tried to swing the bathroom door shut and lock it. But you were too late.

Bucky caught the door with ease, too fast for you to react. His eyes found you instantly, pale, shivering, feverish, crouched in a pool of blood. His expression shattered into alarm.

He dropped to his knees in front of you, breath catching in his throat.

“Shit,” he breathed, voice cracking. “Sweetheart.”

You let out a sob and folded forward, clinging to him like he was the last safe thing left in the world. His arms came around you without hesitation, cradling you against his chest.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m—” you gasped. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to do—I didn’t mean—”

“Shhh. I know,” he whispered, fingers threading into your hair, anchoring you. “I’ve got you. You’re okay now. I’ve got you.”

Your face buried into his shirt, the warmth of his body soothing your fraying nerves as sobs tore out of you, raw and helpless. Shame burned beneath your skin like acid. You couldn’t hide, not from him, not like this.

“I’m here,” he whispered again into your hair. “I’ve got you.”

You shook your head. “You don’t want this. I’m a mess, Buck. I’m broken—”

“You’re not broken,” he said fiercely. “You’re hurting. There’s a difference.”

Bucky didn’t move for a moment. Just stared down at you, breath caught somewhere between panic and heartbreak. His hands hovered, unsure of where to touch, not wanting to hurt you more than you already had. But then you looked up at him, shoulders trembling, and his instinct kicked in. 

“Let me see,” he begged, voice rough. “Please, just let me help.”

Shame curled through your stomach as you drew your arm from behind your back, presenting the angry scar like a guilty confession. He didn’t flinch at the sight of the scar, nor the raw magic still flickering faintly beneath your skin like dying embers. His touch was impossibly gentle as he took your wrist in both hands, his thumb brushing the raised edge. You watched his expression twist, not in disgust, but in something quieter. Sadder.

“You healed it yourself?” he asked hoarsely. “Shit, sweetheart… You’re burning yourself out doing this. You already feel like you’ve got a fever, your magic’s drained, you’re shaking—”

“I have to,” you interrupted, voice brittle. “I need to push further. I need to suffer like they did. I need to feel it. Otherwise, how do I understand how I failed? How do I carry their pain if I don't take some of it into myself?”

He froze, as if your words physically struck him.

“You can’t keep doing this to yourself,” his voice cracked. “Driving yourself into the ground just to prove you're useful? That you care? Everyone knows that you do your best, that you care more than any of us.”

You looked away. This was different. This wasn’t just exhaustion from overcasting. You cut this time. You bled. You fused your magic with an act you couldn’t explain, not even to yourself.

And now, even the scar throbbed with shame.

“You’ve always done this,” he went on, softer now. “Pushing your limits. Refusing to rest. Like every ounce of pain you feel somehow makes up for what you think you did wrong. But this…” He looked down at the mark again, his jaw tightening. “This is different. This isn’t just burning yourself out. You hurt yourself.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you choked, the words scraping up your throat. “It just…”

“You think suffering will make you worthy,” he said, quietly but firmly. “But you’re already worthy. And pain isn’t proof. It’s not some punishment you earn for failing.”

Your lip trembled. “It feels like it is.”

He gently reached up and cupped your cheek with a scarred hand, tilting your face toward him.

“I know that feeling,” he said. “Trust me, I know it better than anyone. But this isn’t the way. You don’t have to destroy yourself to prove something we all already know, that deep down you are a kind and caring person who works so incredibly hard to make sure we all return home safe.”

Your tears returned with fresh force, hot and relentless. You leaned into his palm when he cupped your cheek.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” you choked out.

“I needed to,” he whispered. “So I could be here. So I could help.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. You just made a soft, broken sound and let yourself fall into his arms again.

“C’mon,” he murmured, kissing your temple. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”

He helped you up gently, arms steady as your legs threatened to give out. You were still shivering and pale. Feverish from the overuse of magic. He turned on the bath and tested the temperature.

“Let’s get you out of these,” he said gently, voice barely above a whisper.

You let him undress you with careful hands, peeling the soiled clothes from your skin one piece at a time. The fabric clung stubbornly in places, stiff with blood. Your own, and that of the agents you couldn’t save. You tried not to think about that, tried not to see their faces. Bucky said nothing as he kicked the clothes aside, but you saw the way his jaw tightened, the flicker of pain in his eyes. You swallowed hard against the lump rising in your throat.

The bath burned as you sank into it, but beneath the sting was something else, relief. The kind that reached deep into your bones, unravelling the numbness that had wrapped around your limbs like ice. You exhaled shakily, sinking lower into the water as the steam curled around your face.

Bucky knelt behind you on a folded towel, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He reached for your shampoo without asking, your favourite one, the expensive kind you only used on special occasions. You glanced back, surprised.

He caught your eye and offered a soft, crooked smile. “The one you wear to parties,” he murmured. “Smells like heaven. Drives me crazy every time.”

“You remember that?” you asked, blinking at him.

He gave a soft laugh. “I’ve watched you do this a hundred times.”

It was true, you always took longer than him to get ready. He never minded. He’d lean in the doorway, smirking or pretending to sigh dramatically like some love-struck puppy while you did your makeup. You’d catch his gaze through the mirror as you smoothed on your lipstick, always choosing the brightest shade so that it would leave a mark on his cheek when you kissed him. And he would linger too close under the guise of helping, fingertips grazing up your arms as you asked him to zip your dress, his calloused hands pausing a moment too long at the nape of your neck when he swept your hair aside to clasp a necklace. He touched you like he couldn’t quite believe he was allowed to, like every moment near you was something he didn’t want to end.

His fingers worked the shampoo through your hair in slow, soothing circles, like he had all the time in the world. The scent of lavender bloomed in the steamy air, wrapping around your frayed nerves like a balm. He rinsed, then repeated with conditioner, combing gently through each tangle with care.

The rhythmic motion lulled you. Your head dipped forward, eyes fluttering closed as exhaustion tugged at you like a tide. You forced your hand to move, dragging a washcloth over your limbs just to stay conscious, present. Bucky didn’t speak, not really, just soft hums under his breath, the occasional brush of his knuckles down your spine to let you know he was still there.

By the time the water had cooled and your skin was no longer flushed with fever, he helped you stand. Your legs trembled beneath you like a newborn deer, unsteady and aching, and you sagged into the towel he wrapped around your shoulders. 

“I’ll find you something comfortable,” he said as he helped guide you back to your room.

You dressed slowly, your skin prickling with fresh warmth. When you stepped into the kitchen, wearing one of his old sweatshirts that reached mid-thigh and a pair of fluffy socks.

But it was the sight that greeted you in the kitchen that nearly undid you.

Bucky was standing at the counter, flipping through one of your old cookbooks, the one you’d dog-eared and tabbed over the years with sticky notes and scribbles. He was studying every note you'd left in the margins.

The lump returned to your throat.

“I figured we’d eat in bed,” he said casually, glancing up when he sensed you hovering near the island. “Watch something dumb. That sound good?”

You nodded, your throat tight. “Yeah. That sounds… good.”

He turned to look at you, really look at you. Something in his expression shifted, softened. Without a word, he crossed the room and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

You melted into him. Arms wrapped tightly around his waist like he was the only thing tethering you to the world.

“I love you,” you whispered, the words slipping out before you had the sense to stop yourself. You didn’t look up, couldn’t.

For a heartbeat, you braced for the silence. For the stillness he sometimes slipped into when feelings got too loud.

But it never came.

Instead, he held you closer, his lips brushing the crown of your head as he voiced a low murmur against your damp hair.

“I love you more.”

[bosbas]

Chapter 8: if I'm dead to you why are you at the wake

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: anthony bridgerton x fem!daphne's best friend!reader WC: 1.6k

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, idiots in love, the usual pining of courseeee

Summary: At her wit's end after Anthony's multiple attempts to scare away her suitors, Daphne employs her best friend's help to keep her brother distracted while she tries to find a husband. It's a foolproof plan, except it ends up working a little too well. (or, a Bridgerton version of The Taming of the Shrew/10 things I hate about you)

September 24, 1812 - It had been two and a half months since Anthony had found out the truth about your intentions with him, and he considered himself to have largely overcome the summer’s chaotic romance. Fake romance, he reminded himself.

It wasn’t something he thought about excessively. Perhaps he did think about it every day, and it would be safe to assume that he thought about you every passing hour, but he wouldn’t say he thought about you every minute of every day. And that was progress, wasn’t it?

At least he had forgiven Daphne, and the siblings had been able to sort out their differences. Though Anthony truly wanted his sister to find a husband she liked in due time, it certainly didn’t hurt that she had ended the summer just as unattached and hopeless as him.

“I heard Lady Mitchell got engaged last night,” commented Daphne, who happened to be sitting next to Anthony. 

“Did she? To that Roberts fellow?” hummed Violet. “He’s a good man, she’ll certainly be happy she’s got that sorted.”

“A good man who made her wait six weeks until he proposed,” scoffed Daphne, unimpressed by her friend’s lengthy courtship, especially with how smitten she seemed to be. “Practically unheard of to wait that long this late in the season.”

“Have any of your other friends gotten engaged then?” asked Anthony automatically, the words slipping carelessly out of his mouth. 

He cringed slightly, looking up from the morning paper to see his sister shooting him an amused glance. 

“She hasn’t, no” Daphne responded, her voice soft, akin to when she talked to one of their horses after a tough ride. 

Immediately, Anthony felt his shoulders release some tension he didn’t even know was there. 

“Shame,” he said, making sure to keep his voice light in a desperate attempt to convince his family of his nonchalance.

A beat of silence prompted Anthony to look up and catch the tail end of a knowing look between Daphne and Violet. 

“It is!” he insisted, trying to convince himself at the very least. “I hope she’s found someone who cares about her.”

“She had,” cut in his sister. 

Daphne might be Anthony's sister, but was still your best friend, after all. And she was the only one who saw just how miserable both of you were since you had stopped whatever it was you had with Anthony and refused to step foot in the Bridgerton home.

Anthony scoffed, his voice suddenly thick with emotion. “I can’t have this conversation again.”

“Very well, then,” pressed Daphne. “There’s a remarkably easy solution to that problem.”

This earned an irritated groan from Anthony, who was rather tired of his sister trying to convince him to declare his love to you in some grand and extravagant way like you wouldn’t just laugh in his face. 

“I’ve told you, it’s for the best, Daphne. And that’s the end of the discussion. She’s not what I’m looking for in a wife anyway,” Anthony said through gritted teeth. 

“And why not?” asked Violet, scandalized by her son’s apparent disrespect of someone who was almost a daughter to her. “I know things might have ended on less-than-ideal terms between you but Y/N is still someone to be treated with respect and dignity.”

“It’s not that,” replied Anthony, already feeling a headache coming on. 

It’s because I love her, he thought. But of course, he couldn’t say that out loud. Not without having the rest of his day taken up by a long lecture from his mother on how fulfilling and special true love could be. 

He simply didn’t care. 

Not anymore, at least.

He’d had a taste of being completely head over heels for someone he intended on marrying. He'd had a chance to truly know someone, and consequently be completely in love with them. However, he rather preferred not having a flutter in his stomach– out of excitement or anxiety he didn’t care to find out –every time he thought of his future with you. 

Falling in love once had been enough. Anthony had done it. He’d experienced the love his parents had. And he wasn’t itching to experience it again. He could now just focus on finding someone adequate who fit his list of requirements for a Viscountess, which heavens knew you didn’t. 

“Well, whatever the reason is, you’ll have to get over it before Christmas,” sniffed Daphne, not in the mood to argue with her brooding brother. 

“Why Christmas?”

“Because Y/N is coming to spend Christmas with us in Kent, like she does every year,” responded Daphne in an obvious tone. The Are you thick? was left unsaid. 

Now Anthony felt the headache in full force. Of course, he’d forgotten. Well, at least he had a few months to prepare to face you again. 

---

“Are you quite sure there’s nothing we can do?” you said, exasperated.

Your carriage had broken down on your way home from the shops, and your father had taken the spare carriage for the day with no hints as to when he would return. 

“Afraid not, Miss,” said your driver, looking quite apologetic. “I can try to reach the Bridgertons, who don’t live too far from here.”

A sharp inhale. “That won’t be necessary,” you smiled weakly. You’d rather walk home than risk having to ask Anthony Bridgerton for help. 

Instead, you leaned against the lopsided carriage and put your head in your hands. A few hours alone with your thoughts wouldn’t be the worst thing, would it? Was it really too far to walk? Usually, it wouldn’t have been, but the sun was about to set and the chilly November air gave you pause. 

“Y/N? Is that you?” called the unmistakable voice of the oldest Bridgerton brother from atop his riding horse as he slowed down to get a good look. 

Speak of the devil, you cursed.

“Anthony,” you said, slightly taken aback by how handsome he was. 

You hadn’t seen him outside of the privacy of your imagination in a few months, and his hair was slightly longer than it had been over the summer. It suited him. Well, everything suited him. 

“Is something the matter with your carriage?” he asked, already hopping down and inspecting the vehicle, which lay in disrepair. 

“It’s quite alright,” you started, but your driver was too quick. 

“Just hit a hole in the road and had a bit of a hiccup,” he explained. “I’m afraid there’s not much I can do right now, we just have to wait for another carriage to come retrieve Lady Y/N.”

“Nonsense,” waved Anthony. “I can take her home right now if that’s alright.”

“That won’t be necessary,” you said, only to be spoken over once again.

“Thank you very much, Mr. Bridgerton. Especially since the sun is going down, it’d be best to get Lady Y/N inside.”

It seemed like you had no choice in the matter. Annoyed, you huffed and crossed your arms, but made your way over to Anthony anyway. 

“Can you help her on?” Anthony asked your driver, getting back on the horse and shuffling forward so you had enough space. 

Once you were safely atop the horse, Anthony grabbed your arms and put them around his waist. 

“Just don’t let go,” he warned you. “I know it’s not the most comfortable ride, but it’s the best I can do.”

“I- It’s fine,” you said, speaking softly lest your voice betrayed your true feelings. 

You rode the rest of the way in silence. A special kind of hurt bloomed in your chest as you passed the Bridgerton residence, which you once considered your true home over the house you were born in.

You found comfort in holding Anthony, even if only for a moment, and even if only out of necessity. It was surreal to be so close to him again, and you closed your eyes so you could memorize exactly how it felt to feel his heart beating and the rhythm of his chest rising and falling. 

You’d long convinced yourself not to think about what could have been, but it hadn’t made the feelings go away, and it was lovely to be in Anthony’s presence for a little while longer. 

Once you reached your house, Anthony slipped off his horse and held out his hand to help you off as well. 

As soon as you were stood on solid ground he retracted his hand, and you were left with only the ghost of his touch in your memory. 

The two of you stared at each other, and you saw an unreadable expression on Anthony’s face. There was an unmistakable longing, but also something else entirely you weren’t sure you had seen before. 

“Thank you,” you finally whispered, the words barely above a whisper. “You didn’t have to do that.”

And it was true. Anthony had been a true gentleman, even in circumstances like these. Curse him for remaining the picture of grace after everything you'd done to him.

“Don’t mention it,” he said, his eyes flashing with some unknown emotion. 

“Anthony-” you started, not entirely sure where you were going with this but wanting to try anyway. 

But Anthony interrupted gruffly. “I said don’t mention it.”

You cleared your throat awkwardly, not used to him being so short with you. You took in a breath, readying yourself for another attempt at something. Begging for his forgiveness, confessing you still loved him, anything at all, really. 

But before you could open your mouth he had already turned around, not sparing you a second glance as he mounted his horse and headed back, presumably to the Bridgerton house. 

A choked sob escaped your lips as you saw his figure disappear into the dusk. You supposed this was just how it would be from now on. At least until you moved on and found someone else, which seemed more and more unlikely as the weeks went by. 

—

previous part || next part || buy me a ko-fi!

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[27spoons]

CRUSH | NATALIE'S INTERLUDE TWO

pairing: natalie scatorccio/fem!reader

summary: Well... those were a fun few hours, huh?

wc: 1070

warnings: post-nut guilt, i've decided van is nonbinary you have to live with it now

a/n: i'd apologize for the photo but im really not sorry mb

ao3 / masterlist

PREVIOUS - ACT TWO: SMOKE SIGNALS

NEXT - ACT THREE: SAFE FROM HEARTBREAK (IF YOU NEVER FALL IN LOVE)

NATALIE

It's been a few hours since you fell asleep.

She thinks.

You had seemed so… happy when you fell asleep. Your hand resting on her shoulder, thumb rubbing small circles into the skin as you kissed the top of her head every few minutes, as if you were reminding yourself she was still there.

Her original plan was to leave right after you fell asleep, you know? Let you deal with everything on your own. The aftermath and the unfortunate light that morning brings.

She hates that she can't.

You lay there, looking relaxed and calm, and she sits on your windowsill, prepared to jump out into the snowbanks below. But she can't bring herself to leave, not after everything. The least she could do was stay to say good morning, then leave. Just so that you know… you know she didn't just… take your virginity and leave.

Nat's face contorts at that thought. God, she really did that, didn't she? And despite your willingness, she can't help but feel like she coerced you into it. She knows, realistically, that she didn't. You were willing, your skin was willing, your voice was willing. She knows.

It doesn't stop the full-body shiver from raking up her spine at the idea that she might have.

She glances back at you before digging around in her jacket pocket. Her phone—old, cracked, barely functioning at this point—buzzes faintly when she taps the screen.

2:36 AM

She sighs as she plugs her earbuds into the jack, jamming it in and angling the cord just to get sound playing in both ears. It works—barely, even on full volume, but it works nonetheless. She scrolls through whatever music she has downloaded and clicks the song that always hits when her thoughts won't shut the fuck up.

'So What'cha Want' by Beastie Boys blares into her ears with tinny aggression, a welcome reprieve from the silence of your room. Hell, she doesn't even realize she's muttering the lyrics until the cigarette's halfway to her lips. 

The window opens with a reluctant creak. She places the filter of the smoke between her cracked and bruised lips and lights the tip, taking a long drag before blowing it slowly out into the cold night, letting it mix with the frosty air.

In a way, it feels like she's exhaling the ever-present guilt that gnaws at her insides most days. The only time she doesn't feel that guilt is when she's doing something she shouldn't be doing. Whether that thing is drugs, crime, or having sex…

"Fuck," Nat hisses to herself, almost pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration before she remembers that it's busted.

Great. Right. She got beat to shit only a handful of hours ago. How the fuck is she gonna explain this one away to anyone else? To the team? To her mom (who probably won't care)? To Kevyn and Rich? 

'Fuck' indeed.

She opens up her messages—out of post-hookup habit—and taps something stupid out to Van. 

[nat]

ever jus commit a felony then feel sad abt it lol ike hypotheticaly

No response. It's almost three in the morning. And Van is basically technologically illiterate. What the fuck would they even say—

[van]

who did you murder?????? do I need to call tai do we need a shovel I'll help you hide the body

Nat has to fight the twitch in her lips. Leave it to Van's dumbassery to cheer her up right now.

[nat]

no1 murdred yet

[van]

then what crime did you commit arson? cannibalism? identity theft?

[nat]

no dumbass i fuked that chick i was telling u abt

Silence. Complete radio silence on the other end. 

As the song shifts to 'Date With The Night' by Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Nat curses herself internally as she ashes the cigarette on the cracked window pane. God, she's really done it this time, huh? Maybe Lottie was—

[van]

DUDE!!!! ARE YOU THERE?

She scoffs before taking another drag from the Marlboro, rolling her eyes as she debates dignifying that with a response. The obvious answer is yes, but Van knows that. They just want Nat to admit it.

[nat]

yes

[van]

YOU'RE STAYING THE NIGHT, RIGHT? CORRECT?

[nat]

i think 

[van]

WRONG ANSWER!  CORRECT ANSWER IS YES! GO BACK TO BED WITH HER TAI SENDS HER WARMEST REGARDS

As much as Nat hates to admit it, Van has a point. She should stay the night. After all, didn't she tell Lottie you were 'different'?

If Nat were playing this by her own rules, she would have already been halfway across town by now. But instead, she's standing in your room, still half-dressed, nursing a cigarette and her own idiotic sense of guilt. 

She flicks what's left of the smoke into the snow hills two stories down and lets the brisk night air cling to her skin one last time before closing the window with a heavy sigh.

She doesn't crawl back into your bed right away. 

She stares at you for a long time, perched on the windowsill. She watches your chest's slow rise and fall, the furrow in your brow that hasn't gone away even in sleep. She wonders what the hell you're dreaming about, if anything. Wonders if it's her. Wonders if that's a good or bad thing.

Probably bad.

Eventually, Nat runs a hand through her greasy hair, grimacing slightly when her fingers snag on a knot, and then finally gives in to the bone-deep need for sleep, quietly sliding back into bed beside you.

Your body shifts instinctively, curling toward her like it's second nature. Maybe she should have expected it. Maybe this is what she wanted the whole time.

Her arm moves before she can stop it, wrapping loosely around your waist as she tucks her head under your chin once more, and she catches herself before she can purr like a fucking cat.

She tells herself this is just to keep both of you from getting cold.

She doesn't fall asleep for a long while. She's had trouble sleeping since she was a kid, courtesy of her father and his drunken actions, and tonight proves to be no different. She doesn't sleep until your fingers twitch against her stomach, and you mumble something incoherent.

Not until the silence starts to feel less like punishment and more like peace.

Nat wants to get used to this feeling.

She knows she won't.

a/n: if u actually clicked on the song hotlink in the title. yes. take certain lyrics literally.

[seaturtlesayshuh]

First worst drink that comes to my mind would be the time young me (think 8 yearw old?) left an open can of grape soda on a garage floor for a couple hours and ended up eating a bunch of ants with it. I don't remember why I was drinking grape soda in the garage, or why I was called away such that the floor seemed a good spot to leave it for so long.

I used to love grape soda, and in those hours of ground sitting, a stream of ants also loved grape soda. I came back to the soda can, surprised that I left an open can without slamming it back and leaving it empty of sweet elixir hours prior.

I arrived just in time to spot a fresh squad of ants approaching the lip, swiftly brushing them off, and giving myself a good pat on the back, crisis averted. That would've been bad, ants in my drink.

I lift the can, feeling the shifting weight of sweet drink yet undrunk. In victory, I take a sip.

My lips felt something weird. I stop the sipping. "Did the soda go flat? Is this flat soda? Probably, it's been sitting out here for hours." I swallow. And my throat felt weird.

I take another sip. This one goes much easier, and the question leaves my mind. Until I bring my teeth together (as you do mid-drink) and feel a very definitive *crunch*, and a new flavor unlocks.

Worried that I'm about to lose another tooth, young me rushes to a nearby empty drinking glass and spits into it, in an effort to hold onto whatever tooth bits I could.

And rather than anything resembling white enamel appearing in the purple beverage in the cup, little black things were present.

Little black things that appear to be trying to swim.

The memory of possible ants resurfaces from forty seconds ago, and I realize what I have done, as the horror scratches along my throat.

As a final test, I walked over to the kitchen sink, splashed some more out of the can, and more little bodies surfaced. A lot of little bodies.

I pour the remaining grape flavored drink down the drain. What I once held has a holy elixir, as one last pour to elsewhere.

And I never had anything resembling grape soda ever since.

what is THE worst thing you've ever drank. all liquids acceptable. please tell me what it was, bonus points for why

[dreamersparacosm]

i want jealous jungkook too...but do you know who i want him to be jealous of? BAM. I WANT OC AND BAM I WANT THEM

tpod!jungkook would absolutely be jealous of a dog. like he already fought to have you, now he has to fight with his own dog?? what kind of world is this?

the price of desire — epilogue blurb 1!

prompt ; in which jungkook’s biggest competition isn’t a man, but his own doberman.

warnings ; none!

Here’s the thing about Jeon Jungkook: when you’re in Korea, he simply forgets how to function like a normal human being.

Sure, he could go to rehearsals. He could hang out with the boys, lift heavy things at the gym, play with Bam at the dog park until one of them drops dead from exhaustion. He could — and does — have a life outside of you.

But unfortunately, that’s impossible to uphold currently. Because Jungkook, in all his stubbornness, has decided that when you are in Korea, you are his life.

So he waits, with the particular blend of patience and agitation that only the hopelessly devoted can manage.

He waits while you sit through endless meetings in the Seoul office where he assumes you're probably reshaping the course of fashion history. Meanwhile, he — professional idol, household name, literal global phenomenon — spends his entire afternoon fluttering around the house like an overgrown golden retriever preparing for your arrival back.

When you finally do appear, hours later than you promised (”just a quick check-in meeting,” you said, like a liar), he’s orchestrated the perfect welcome. There’s even some of your candles lit that you got from the market the other afternoon.

He made sure to put on that stupid grey hoodie you once said you liked, the one that makes him look especially ‘boyfriend-coded’ which is insane because he is your boyfriend, but whatever, he’s trying to a better man for you.

There he stands in the entryway as your keys jiggle in the lock, heart metaphorically cupped in his hands like an anxious teenager, waiting for the moment your eyes find him after a day at work.

The door swings open with comedic timing.

You enter, still clad in your professional clothes, designer bag hanging from your shoulder. Your gaze performs a quick sweep of the space, a radar searching for something that’s not him.

Somehow, impossibly, you miss the tall international superstar practically vibrating with anticipation directly in your line of sight.

It’s too late; your attention has already locked, with laser-guided precision, onto what is apparently the actual love of your life.

"Bam!" You gasp, the name ripping from your throat with the same intensity usually reserved for reunion scenes in war movies. His dog doesn’t fight it, just wags his tail and pants excitedly when he realizes you’re home.

Just like that, Jungkook experiences the unique displeasure of watching himself become irrelevant.

He stands, a bewildered expression on his face, as you drop your bag, drop your coat, drop your body at Bam’s unsuspecting feet. Within seconds, you've transformed from fashion industry powerhouse to someone talkimg in a baby voice to a dog on his entryway floor. “Oh my god, Look at you, you handsome boy! Did you miss me? I missed you so much, mwah!”

You're now kissing the dog. Not polite little pecks, but full-on, emotionally-invested mouth kisses, as if you've spent your entire day in meetings plotting how to most effectively transfer your affection to this four-legged creature while breaking his owner's heart.

Jungkook watches this betrayal unfold, holding a spatula, like he’s someone who's just realized he's accidentally enrolled in the world's most elaborate third-wheel masterclass.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

He clears his throat once.

Nothing.

He shifts his weight to his other foot.

Still… nothing. No passing glance.

Sprawled on his floor in complete surrender, you’re essentially involved in an impromptu romance with his pet. Jungkook — who has spent the last three hours committing culinary crimes against rice and desperately channeling his mother's cooking spirit — stands frozen.

It’s fine. Completely fine. Absolutely, one hundred percent acceptable.

Except for the tiny detail that he’s mentally drafting adoption papers for Bam.

He clears his throat again, louder this time and pointedly.

Finally, as if emerging from a trance, you glance up. “Hi, baby," You chirp, lips puckering in his direction, clearly expecting him to bridge the gap.

As if he's some lovesick sitcom husband whose entire world revolves around whatever affection you decide to toss his way. (Which…alright. Maybe he is. But acknowledging that would undermine his current position.)

Jungkook stares back at you, arms crossed, mouth pressed into a flat line.

Your eyebrows furrow, lips still suspended mid-pucker. When his statue holds firm, you slowly lower your mouth into a frown.

"...Hello?" You venture from your position on the floor, blinking up at him.

"Hi," He returns.

You narrow your eyes into little slits, hands still rubbing Bam’s head. "Come here."

"No."

"Why?"

"You kissed the dog," He announces petulantly.

You blink again. And then, because you are exactly the kind of woman who built a million-dollar career off smelling blood in the water, you grin.

“Oh my god,” you say, already laughing. “Are you—?”

You dramatically disengage from Bam, remaining on your knees but pressing both hands to your chest in a theatrical gesture. “Are you jealous? Of Bam?"

Jungkook's jaw flexes. He glares at some fascinating invisible point approximately six inches to the left of your head.

“I'm not jealous," He mutters, hands clasped behind his back as he avoids your gaze. (Which is exactly what someone jealous would say.)

"You're jealous of your own dog," You whisper, tone faux sympathy.

You shift your weight back, settling onto your heels, craning your neck to study him like he's a fascinating psychological case study.

Bam, however, is blissfully unaware of his central role in this drama. He wags his tail so hard that his whole butt is moving side to side like a windshield wiper.

"I leave for a couple of hours," you observe with fascination, "and you've already picked a fight with a literal puppy."

"He's not even a puppy anymore," Jungkook snaps back instantly, as if the classification of his ‘competitor’ is somehow the most pressing issue in this standoff.

You gasp, one hand flying to clutch at imaginary pearls. “Oh my god. You're calling him old? You're losing it, Jeon."

"I'm not losing it," He grumbles defensively.

The evidence suggests otherwise.

You rise to your feet slowly and saunter over to him. He stands there, arms still crossed, watching you approach with a suspicious squint.

You stop inches in front of him. Looking up through your lashes with innocence that wouldn't fool a toddler (but still somehow works on global superstars), you deploy your sweetest, most saccharine tone: "Baby," you murmur, "Love of my life."

Your hands slide up his chest, fingers toying with the neckline of his hoodie. The very one he selected for your approval, now weaponized against him.

"Don't tell me you're scared," you whisper with mock concern, eyes wide. "That Bam's gonna steal me away?"

His response surpasses non-verbal communication: silence paired with a scowl.

You grin evilly, and you lean forward until your lips brush against the shell of his ear. “He does have better hair than you," you tease.

Jungkook jerks back like he’s been electrocuted, mouth falling open in outrage.

"I knew it," he declares. "I knew you liked him better!"

Your laughter echoes throughout the whole room. His expression remains fixed in accusation, still treating your interaction with Bam — who has now abandoned you two to roll on his back in blissful oblivion — as a mortal enemy who must be defeated.

You wipe under your eyes dramatically, pulling yourself together with exaggerated effort before tilting your head.

"It's okay, baby," you console with insincerity. "Some men just can't handle the competition."

The scowl on his face deepens.

You nod solemnly, caressing his bicep. "Maybe you should work on your wagging. And your fur. I mean, Bam's coat? Impeccable."

Jungkook's mouth drops open again in shock.

You heave a long-suffering sigh, the sound of someone burdened with the great responsibility of being with a ridiculous man.

“God,” you roll your eyes, stepping into his space and grabbing a fistful of the front of his hoodie. “You’re so dramatic.”

And before he can launch into another argument, you yank him down and press your lips to his. Firm, no-nonsense, entirely fed up, but still soft because, unfortunately, you’re obsessed with him. (But he’s obsessed with you right back.)

He smiles against your lips, the ones that taste like some coconut lip balm you always wear.

Of course, though, he can’t leave it alone. Has to get the last word in, even when his hands are sliding up your sides and his chest is rumbling with happiness.

“You taste like dog,” He mumbles into your mouth and when you pull back to glare at him, he grins wider, looking downright pleased with himself.

masterlist + request

[ruinix]

I’ve hit you over the head with the breeding kink bat today, but I’m coming back around.

Quinn would be such a feral little fuck about it. He’d taunt you with everything he was doing. Wouldn’t be hiding from the fact that he’s trying to baby trap you. Making a big deal about how you’re stuck there. How much cum he’s fucking into you.

He’d tell you exactly where you are in your cycle. How he’s been counting, tracking. How long he’s been wanting to have you restrained under him.

All his to breed-

I might uh, be a bit off my head today

Hello, 911 ☎️ I would like to report a murder. Yes, it's this one. I saw her hit someone with a bat. She also just came back to hit that someone AGAIN. I just saw it. Oh, yes, didn't say that? It is I who got murdered. I am merely a ghost now, I fear. 👻 I must avenge myself. 🫠🤧

Whore thoughts. Smut. Dark. Baby trapping = Breeding kink. Same thing in my whore of a brain ⬇️

Quinn could only chuckle about how easily he got you used to submitting to him and being tied up, how easily he got you used to the stretch of your thighs being spread so widely and raised up until you're almost folded in half, how easily he makes you lose yourself as he fucks into you harder. He would fuck you dumb, propping your hips with two pillows until you are gushing around him. So fucking clueless on what would happen next.

He already played long game of earning every bit of your trust. For every week he fucked you with condoms after you told him you had to get off of your birth control, every week that he had to pretend that he is still sane while he takes notes when your cycle start, when it end, when you're ovulating. Oh, it fucking irked him how much cum he wasted, how much time have passed because you still have the freedom to leave him.

He can't have that.

You're not allowed to fucking leave at any point in the present or future.

While Quinn is harshly fucking your pussy, his fingers digging into the back of your thighs, he would derangely stare at you as your thighs shook, as your body arched from the bed, as his sweat drips over your skin and mixing with yours, as your lips begged him for a break. He would always give you a break, but not now.

However, he would pull away, grinning at how you sag, your eyes showing both relief and betrayal, because he knew exactly how close you were. So fuckinf greedy when you already came exactly six times when he hasn't.

That's when he would slap your pussy with his cock, making you gasp and writhe, making you recoil at the sight of the broken condom.

"Quinn, you need to change--"

He would cut you off with a darker laugh, leaning back and sitting on his ankles as he combed back his hair, staring at you with a manic look in his eyes. He was gone.

"Now, why would I do that?" He asked. "Why would I waste my cum when you're a couple of days away from ovulating? You're so fertile now, so I will fuck you until it takes, my Love."

He tore off the pathetic remains of latex, sinking his tip into your pussy, chuckling at how you were sucking him in. So fucking greedy. All while you still tried to move back, to escape.

Not like you were going anywhere. Not when you're tied to the bedframe that's bolted into the floor. Nowhere to go for you.

He would be absolutely feral with his harsh thrusts, his heart pounding at every plea and every tear, because he feels exactly how much you clench around him like you don't want him to slip out. He won't.

He would slap his palm over your thighs, over your sensitive clit, until you were coming and making a mess then he would slam into you, spurting his hot cum so deeply that you were looking at him with both fear and awe.

He knew it. You wanted his baby as much as he does. You just need to face the inevitability of it happening soon.

Not letting himself get soft, he would languidly thrust into your pussy, gritting at how his cum drips around him. Angry at the waste but he still has more to give you, so whatever. He hissed when your hips pathetically and successfully meeting his thrust.

That set him off to another frenzy, ignoring his own sensitivity. Ignoring your fresh set of tears. Ignoring the dark spots dancing on his vision.

Quinn has plans. He already got a chain that would be long enough for you to get to the rest room, an ankle shackle that is lined with soft cotton and fur that you won't get any friction burns, oils to soothe your aches when he actually needs to rest. It would be just for this week. He would be more vanilla after. He would try, at least.

Right now, he wouldn't stop.

He would fuck you until your pussy's too full that you would be dripping cum for hours or days. Until your pussy is red and raw and so utterly fucked. Until you finally reach the exact day of your ovulation. Until the next fucking day because he will not lose any fucking chance of you getting pregnant.

Because he needs you to stay with him. Forever.

In his mind, his and your baby would seal your fate with him.

Your Honor, I didn't do anything. I swear! I am the one who got killed. Two hits to my head! Oops. Good night.

-> more thoughts? List.

[hhughes]

hiya, i have no idea if you do requests but i have a very brief and simple idea, which you can do your own take on - overly sensitive reader is dating oscar piastri & people are bothering her online but she doesn't tell oscar, instead she hides it and acts like she's fine but one night, she's in bed with him but then moves out to the living room & she's reading people's posts and messages about her not deserving him and she just sobs her eyes out, very quietly, thinking he's asleep - but he's not and he hears her, he walks out to the sight of her crying,,, then you can do whatever you want! just basically a hurt/comfort fic idea :) thank you!

𝒏ote , hi nonnie! thank you so much for requesting this. im convinced he is the sweetest sweetest bf and this thought goes so well with him . . .

fem!reader x oscar piastri. established relationship. hurt -> comfort. fluff. insecure!reader. mean online comments.

you knew better.

you knew better than to look. you knew better than to click on the notifications, the comments, the threads where strangers, bold and faceless, tore you apart like it cost them nothing.

you know it’s not true. these people don’t you. they don’t really know oscar. they don’t know anything about your relationship. and you knew better than to give them so much power over you, but you did it anyway.

it felt like a constant in your night routine at this point. after the steady rise and fall of oscar’s chest tells you he’s surrendered to sleep, you slip quietly from the bed.

you try to convince yourself you’re just stretching your legs, grabbing some water, anything to justify the gnawing pull toward your phone, toward the weight you tuck away during the day but can’t seem to ignore when it’s dark and that inner voice manages to convince you to look.

you curl up on the couch, wrapped in one of his hoodies that still smells faintly like him, like the smell of your safe space can wrap around you and stop the words from piercing as deep as they always do.

“he could have anyone and he settles for that?”

“you can’t convince me she’s there for anything but the money”

“he could do way better”

“why do the best guys always tend to settle for the most basic, gold digging girls”

one after another they appear on the screen. picking apart your body, your intelligence, your motives.

you don’t even realize you’re crying until the drops fall on the screen. little blots of water smearing and obstructing the words that had already twisted like knives in your chest.

you know you should turn it off. climb into bed and let oscar cuddle away all the insecurities gnawing at your chest. but it feels like you’re stuck. like if you just read one more comment, maybe you’ll find one that makes it all make sense, one that explains why you feel like you’ll never be enough for him.

you flinch when a familiar hand gently closes over yours, steady and warm, taking the phone from you. you hadn’t even heard him come in.

you don’t move, don’t blink, don’t breathe as he scrolls through the comments himself, brow furrowing more and more the further he goes.

after a few minutes he locks the phone and discards it on the table, settling next to you and pulling you onto his lap.

“you know none of it is true right?” he mumbles against your head, pressing a kiss to your temple and you sniffle

“osc—” you go to argue but he interrupts

“no” he says, the word so blunt and direct it catches you so off guard for a second that you pull your head away from his chest to look at him

“i’m not gonna sit here and listen to you justify what they’re saying. they don’t know you. they don’t know me. and they sure as shit don’t know anything about our relationship” he says, shaking his head slightly at the utter ridiculousness of what he just read.

“but it’s true. i’m not perfect and you could do so much bet—“ you mumble but he interrupts you again before you get the chance to finish, this time with his lips on yours, kissing you until those thoughts float away and the only thing you can focus on is the way his hand is running through your hair

“you’re perfect with me, to me, and for me. hell perfect doesn’t even begin to describe you baby. you’re everything. you’re all I want. the only way these people have any power over you is if you actually believe there’s some truth to what they’re saying. do you?” oscar asks, holding your jaw so you can’t look away from him.

“are you only with me for the money? the attention?” oscar asks, raising his eyebrows dramatically in a way that makes you wanna laugh and by the slight tilt in his lips, he knows.

“no” you say softly and he gasps in mock surprise

“really? I for sure thought you were” he teases and laughs when you hit him playfully.

“i’m just kidding baby. you hate attention even more than I do and you practically tackle me every time I try to pay for anything. and if you think for even one second that I don’t believe you’re the sexiest woman in the world, you come tell me and I’ll prove you wrong, yeah?” he says, pressing kiss after kiss against your temple, your cheek, your nose, your jaw, your lips. every inch he can reach.

“I love you” you say softly, hoping your gratitude for him shines through in your tone.

“I love you the most,” he murmurs back, no hesitation, no doubt. just the pure, simple truth.

his hands gently frame your face, thumbs brushing away the last of your tears with a tenderness that makes your chest ache all over again, but in a different way this time. a softer way.

“let’s go to bed,” he says, voice thick with exhaustion and affection as he picks you up and carries you to the bedroom, leaving your phone and all the negativity on it right there on the table.

[joshujihan23]

You’re safe with me

☆ pairing: mafia boss!seungcheol x girlfriend!reader

☆ synopsis: the mafia scene was something that isn’t unfamiliar to you since your boyfriend is THE mafia boss, so is it surprising that you got involved as well?

☆ trigger warning: mentions of violence, abuse, torture, blood, degrading terms such as weak, mentions of injuries such as bruises, cuts, scars.

☆ author’s note: my LONGESTT fic yet. not sure how i feel about this.. do let me know how it is!

————————————————————————

you were overwhelmed with fear, your eyes shielded by the numerous tears filling your eyelids, dripping down your cheeks simultaneously.

you were exhausted. frightened. nervous, anything relating to fear.

your hands were tied with thick, rough rope, and trapped behind the chair you were sitting on. your legs scarred, filled with bruises and cuts from the whips given by his enemy’s subjects. their sinister laughs, their amused expressions, were printed in your brain.

and the scene when you got kidnapped, was replaying again and again. apparently seungcheol betrayed his best friend, alex. and his revenge? kidnap his love of his life, torture his beloved, until seungcheol strikes a deal with him.

and best believe, you knew who the enemy was. the person that ‘fought for you’ against seungcheol.

which in the end, seungcheol won.

and he is here today to get his revenge, after he has risen in placings in the mafia scene.

but whatever that got you in this situation didn’t matter to you at that point. the pain, the fear in you, took over your mind, leaving you to dread whatever that was coming up next.

you heard footsteps approaching, slowly but firmly. you sighed with a shaky breath, preparing yourself for the worst.

it has been hours, and seungcheol hasn’t arrive.

and that is killing you slowly but surely.

just then, you felt a hand, rough and callous, grip onto your cheek. you winced, looking up at him weakly.

only to see that it was alex, with an evil smirk plastered across his face.

you gulped, trying to move your face out of his grip.

only for him to return with a harsh slap across your cheek, making you yelp in pain.

“your prince charming isn’t coming, love. just give it up.” he snickered.

“he will, he definitely will..” you mumbled.

his eyes gazed down your figure, his smirk widening as he does so. he took a step forward, his tall figure standing before you, making you gulp. he grabbed onto your cheek harshly, his cold hand come into contact with the small bruise forming on your cheek from all the torture you’ve been facing, making you wince.

that made alex chuckle darkly, giving you another slap across your cheek.

“such a weak woman, are you? need your knight in shining armour to continuously save you. guess what, pretty? he isn’t coming.” he said in a mocking tone, his eyes shifting to the orange glow at the corner of the dark, eerie warehouse.

the sun is setting. is seungcheol not going to come soon?

before you could even turn to face the sun ray creeping into the warehouse, you felt alex harshly gripping onto your chin.

his face inched closer to you, his breath hitting the tip of your nose gently, a stark contrast to his menacing gaze.

“i fought so hard. i fought so hard so that you could be mine. but what did my dear best friend do? steal you from me. if you were mine, we won’t be having this issue here, darling.” he spoke, his voice low and dark.

he let out another dark chuckle, his other hand gripping onto your thigh tightly.

“now, let me enjoy this time with you. the time which i longed for for all these gruelling years..”

his voice lingered at the end of the sentence. before you could even say anything, he smashed his lips onto you, making you yelp. panicked, you started to fumble on the chair, making some efforts to remove the string that tied both of hands behind your back.

but alex didn’t back down. in fact, he grabbed your cheek harshly with his hand, while using the other to hold your body down on the flimsy chair.

before you knew it, you felt his cold hand playing with the hem of your shirt, as it creeped underneath it. feeling the chills going up your body from the sudden contact, you yelped, but was quickly silenced when he bit your lip recklessly, penetrating his tongue into your mouth, exploring every single inch of it.

you tried, you tried everything in your ability to stop him. you wanted to yank your leg forward to kick him, but his grip on your thigh was so, so strong.

and that’s when you heard a rip.

puzzled, you looked down, only to see that your shirt had rip, due to how old the material was.

alex cackled, his eyes widening in disbelief.

“lord and behold, such smooth and milky skin. tempting, are we?” he growled.

his lips returned to attack yours, his fingertips grazing against your chest, making shivers go down your spine.

“don’t be scared, sweetie, let me take care of you.”

and that moment, you hear gun shots fire right outside the warehouse. cursing under his breath, you could almost see the screws in his brain turning, as he continued to make out with you.

“shh, don’t be frightened, princess. let me just feel you a bit more.”

his hands creeped down your body, reaching against your thigh. he squeezed it harshly, making you flinch. he hiked your skirt up swiftly, his fingers brushing against your inner thigh.

no. he can’t do this. he just can’t.

you tried to shake him off, but he just won’t budge. feeling the tears trickling down your cheeks, you heard the large, wooden door burst open.

“get your hands off her.”

startled, you saw that alex turned his head, his smirk widening.

your eyes glanced to the door as well, and you couldn’t be more relieved.

seungcheol, standing right there, with all his other members.

alex got off of you, brushing his hands together, while walking towards seungcheol with a menacing grin.

“well, well, well. look who we have here?” alex announced.

you saw seungcheol whispering to his other members, as they began to scatter.

“let’s end this with a duel, the first to surrender, loses.” seungcheol declared, his right hand playing with his gun skilfully.

“fine, but no weapons, fair and square.” alex rebutted, throwing his gun aside.

“deal.”

and it all began, the fistfighting. the two men began throwing punches at each other, kicking the other with full force. seungcheol swung a fist against alex���s cheek, making alex return with a strong kick against his legs.

invested in the fight, you didn’t realise that your hands were free, and a pair of arms wrapped around you.

you turned around, to see that it was jeonghan, seungcheol’s most trusted member, and certainly your favourite except for seungcheol.

he placed a hand on your head, trying to reassure you as much as he could.

“you’re safe with us. your injuries, does it hurt, how much does it hurt.”

with this many questions, you could guess that he was trying to distract you from the fight. but your eyes remain glued onto the two men, who behaved relatively animalistic.

seungcheol seemed like he was winning, until alex kicked onto his leg harshly, making his knees buckle. he knelt in front of him, before alex pulled out a knife from his pocket, grazing it against seungcheol’s neck.

“it’s over, buddy. just give up and give me your girl, and we’ll be all good.”

your eyes widened, you wanted to go to him, but jeonghan pulled you back, telling you that it was too dangerous. but seungcheol kept his menacing gaze, his eyes fixed onto alex.

“you will never get her, you aren’t good enough for her.”

you heard seungcheol wince, watching closely, the knife dug deeper in his neck, blood dripping onto the knife slowly.

frightened, you did the thing that only seemed right to you, although it might be deemed as rash.

you escaped from jeonghan’s arms, scurrying onto the floor, and

BANG.

the shot fired, silencing the entire room.

the entire room stood still, almost as if time has stopped.

the body fell on the ground, limp and bleeding, but he was still breathing, since his chest was still rising, slowly but surely.

your hands clenched onto the pistol, your hands shaking from the shock you have. your eyes darted around, only to land on seungcheol.

his facial expression was unreadable, the blood on his neck still dripping.

and that made a wave of fear rush over you, as you watch seungcheol walk towards you.

“i-i’m sorry i didn’t know why i did that i-i was just so scared i’m so-”

and that’s when you felt his soft lips on yours, his hands wrapping around your waist gently. his kiss was so soft, so gentle, yet there’s a lingering feeling of possessive, protectiveness.

at the familiar touch, you gave in immediately, returning the kiss.

breaking away, he placed his forehead against yours, taking that moment to calm his breathing.

“you did the right thing, princess. if it weren’t for you, i would have lost you completely. you’re so brave, so so brave.” his hand ran through the strands of your hair, brushing it away from you.

he looked down, seeing the complete mess that you were in. the torn shirt, the crumped skirt, and most importantly, your injured body, his heart broke almost immediately.

he took off his jacket, wrapping it around your body, making you wear it.

“it’s going to be cold, wear this so that you won’t fall sick, alright?” he mumbled, his sweet tone lingering in the air.

“cheollie..” you sighed shakily, your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer to you. you buried your head into his neck, feeling his blood trickling on your neck. you held onto him tightly, your breath becoming more and more shaky from fear.

that absolutely broke seungcheol’s heart. the only times when you actually called him ‘cheollie’, was when you were scared, when you had so much fear in you it hurts his heart. that made him pull you closer to him, as if he was protecting you from the rest of the world.

“you’re safe with me now, princess. i’ll protect you better, i swear.” he mumbled, his breath tickling your ear gently.

“sorry to.. ruin the moment. but what are we doing with this animal?”

the both of you turned around, to see joshua leaning forward, watching alex carefully while kicking his unconscious body.

“leave him here, we’ll teach him a lesson.” seungcheol spoke, in such a simple, yet evil tone.

he turned his attention to you again, his eyes softening at the sight of your tear-filled, doe eyes.

“i have one favour of you. tell me everything he did, and that will determine my punishment for him tomorrow.”

————————————————————————

the soft music of the movie played in the background, the sweet scent of the candle he lit up filled the room.

after the both of you got home, he immediately carried you in bridal style, and towards your bedroom. he sat you down on the mattress, while examining the state that you are in.

the bright, bruising red mark on your cheeks, the ones that he always hold on to seek comfort. your torn shirt, the shirt that you always told him not to throw away because it meant so much to you, but because of today, it got destroyed. your thigh, covered in red marks, with bruises and cuts trailing down your leg, the pair of legs he just loves to touch because it was just so, so soft.

and most importantly, your lips. the pinkish, soft lips that he loves to connect his lips with, was now bruised, swollen, and split.

he cupped your cheeks, gently so that it won’t trigger any pain when he did so. but seeing you wince softly at the touch, his heart immediately broke.

he placed his forehead against yours, letting out a shaky sigh.

“fuck, i didn’t want this job of mine to danger you. what did i do.. i’m so sorry princess. i’m so sorry..” he mumbled gently, his eyes tracing your face.

your gaze was locked onto his, watching his eyes soften as he examined your injuries. seeing the guilt building in him, you quickly placed a finger on his lips, shushing him.

“don’t be, at least i’m safe with you now, right?” you replied, your lips brushing against his.

seungcheol let out another shaky sigh, placing a peck on your lips, giving himself a reminder that you are actually safe with him.

“you’re right, you’re so so right. let me take care of you, please. i need to see you feel better before i can do so myself.” he whispered, his hand grasping onto yours gently.

seungcheol stood up, taking one last look at you, before he walked off to the bathroom. a few moments later, you see him walking back towards you, with a basin filled with water and washcloth in one hand, and the first aid kit in the other.

he sat in front of you, his weight sinking the bed down slightly. he placed the basin on the bedside table, dipping the cloth into it. he wrung it gently, as he brought it closer to your face.

“this is going to sting, be strong for me, okay?” he mumbled gently, waiting for your approval while he continued to stare into your eyes.

when you nodded, he sighed softly, dabbing the wet cloth onto the wounds on your face. feeling the sting, you hissed, your hands clenching onto his arm.

he stopped for a moment, watching how your face clenched up, your eyes closing a little from the pain.

“i know i know, it hurts right? i’ll be quick, i promise.” he said reassuringly.

he seemed to treat your injuries pretty quickly, and before you know it, he was already done. your body was filled with bandages, small plasters, and oilment to treat the bruises. he placed the cloth back in the basin, placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

“you did so well, princess. so good for me.” he praised, a small smile forming on his lips.

you gave him a smile in return, before kneeling forward, while placing a hand on his chest. your eyes was fixated on the scar on his neck, the one he got while he was in the fight with alex.

“relax baby, now it’s my turn to take care of you.” you said softly, holding onto the wet cloth, the same one he used to wipe off the dried blood.

your actions made seungcheol chuckle, his eyes glued to every little detail that you did.

“alright princess, i’ll be good.” he replied, another chuckle escaping from his lips.

————————————————————————

you treated his injuries pretty quickly, while he took the moment to order some food for the both of you to eat.

after all, after a day of fighting and torture, the least the both of you could do was to eat.

and the food came pretty quickly, with the both of you sitting on the couch in the room, with a movie playing in the background, cuddled in each other’s arm, while eating the fried chicken from your favourite restaurant.

taking a piece of chicken, seungcheol placed the meat at your mouth, waiting for you to eat it.

“say ahh~” seungcheol cooed, making you giggle, as you at the chicken.

“i’ll never believe how the most powerful mafia in this country is the softest person when it came to his girlfriend.” you teased, placing your head on his chest.

seungcheol chuckled, his fingers running through your hair, while he admired your facial features.

“well, although you had the mafia boss wrapped around that little finger of yours, you should know that you are in fact, the safest person that anyone can be on this planet, when you’re with me.”

.

.

.

.

.

bonus:

seungcheol walked into the warehouse, seeing that jeonghan and joshua has already tied alex up on the chair, the same chair you sat on yesterday.

“p-please let me go! i’m so sorry for kidnapping y/n let me go please..” alex begged, his eyes desperate and pleading.

seungcheol only let out a mocking laugh, his hand twirling the gun in his hand around.

“y/n shared with me everything that you did, now let’s do the punishment according, shall we?” seungcheol looked at jeonghan and joshua, who gave a knowing, yet menacing smile.

“should’ve known before you kidnapped the girlfriend of the most powerful mafia.” joshua said, while trying to hold back his laughter.

“and trying to win her back? you’re pathetic, even for a normal human being.” jeonghan added, while cracking his knuckles.

seungcheol walked closer to alex, his eyes eyeing down at the man, who seemed smaller, and more afraid, making him laugh once again.

“let’s make it quick and easy. i need to get back to my love. where should we start?”

[marauder-misprint]

Hey! I had a Sirius x reader request where the reader is James sister and in a secret relationship with Sirius and the marauders are trying to guess who Sirius’s secret girlfriend is and Sirius is just like “you know her VERY well” and ofc James flips out when he finds out LOL

Hi! Thank you for this request! ❤︎ I love love love a good fluffy piece. Lowkey oblivious Sirius, but let's be real - when aren't boys oblivious?

Hope y'all enjoy ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

'Acceptable company'

Sirius Black x Potter!reader

3.5k words

cw: fluff, secret relationship, pining if you squint

You didn’t mean to fall for Sirius Black. It’s embarrassing, really. Predictable. Your older brother’s best friend? Of course he’s the one who makes your heart flutter. You tried to ignore it, push the feelings down so far that maybe they’d just vanish.

They did not. 

Sirius also didn’t mean to fall for you. He didn’t realize he was falling for you until he was in too deep. In his defense, when you arrived at Hogwarts and got sorted into Gryffindor, his first thought was ‘Oh, sweet, another Potter!’ 

For the first few years, you’d occasionally enter Sirius’ orbit. James would complain about how annoying you were, but Sirius never saw it. You were alright. You would give him a small smile while waiting for James to get you whatever you had requested. Sometimes you’d ask Remus for help on homework when Lily was busy; Sirius thought it was amusing that you refused to ask James for help. And until he joined the quidditch team himself, you sat with Sirius in the stands during matches and practices. You offered him your snacks and sounded like James when you spouted quidditch facts and critiqued the team’s form. Even when Sirius visited the Potter’s home during the summer months, you didn’t hang around him and James much. 

Sirius didn’t know what to do with himself when he found himself wishing you would hang around them. When he started looking for you in the stands at his quidditch games and practices. When he suddenly offered to help you with an assignment because Lily and Remus had prefect duties. When he got uncharacteristically upset when you got your first boyfriend. When he realized that he was upset because it wasn’t him. 

Luckily for Sirius, it didn’t last. Something about you not giving him enough of your time. You ranted about it in the common room. Loudly. Sirius could recall you saying, “Merlin forbid a girl has friends. And friends that I don’t have any classes with! Sorry I don’t want to eat dinner with him every evening!” James gave you your space despite his muttered threats about this boy.

That night Sirius couldn’t sleep. So he did what everyone does when they can’t sleep: he went to sit by the fire in the common room. And by chance, you were already sitting on the couch, legs tucked underneath you, as you stared into the dancing flames. 

“Am I acceptable company?” Sirius asked, standing off to the side. 

“Why wouldn’t you be?” you responded. You didn’t even look away from the fire. 

He sat down on the other side of the couch before casting a wary glance your way.

“Maybe you have a vendetta against all blokes now. Dunno.”

You gave a dry laugh. “No. Just against gits.”

“Hmm, surprised I don’t qualify for that.” Sirius would be an idiot if he didn’t know that he could use some work on himself. 

“Yeah… well… I have nothing against you.”

With your gaze set on the fire, Sirius took the opportunity to watch you. Because why had he been so happy to know that you broke up with that boy? Why had his heart skipped a beat when he saw you sitting by the fire in the deserted common room? Why did he want to smile when you said you have nothing against him? Coming to terms with how much he liked you was more difficult than he’d ever admit. 

“I can feel you staring, Sirius.”

“‘M not,” Sirius said, immediately looking at the fire.

You sighed and turned your body so you could face Sirius. He looked back at you, his body still facing forward.

“I know I’m not wrong for wanting to be my own person. I’m not a… a… a thing to be flaunted,” you said, sounding and looking frustrated.

Sirius nodded. “Right.”

“And Sam couldn’t accept that. That’s on him. Not me.” You paused and your expression shifted. “Right?”

“Yes. Some blokes are a bit dense.”

You sighed. Then you fell forward, resting your forehead against the side of his shoulder. He gave you a slightly confused look.

“Are you alright?” You mumbled something into his shoulder. “You know I didn’t understand that.”

With a dramatic sigh, you sat up, but only to move closer to Sirius so you could rest your head on his shoulder without blocking your face. 

“Getting there. I’m getting there.”

You sat like that for a while, neither of you saying anything. When you were ready, you thanked Sirius and then went to bed. He sat there for a little bit longer before heading back up to his dorm. He wanted the moment to have lasted longer. Sitting in that easy silence with you was something else. 

For a few days, you regretted that night in the common room. Your brain was telling you that you had been too much, an annoying little sister who put Sirius in an uncomfortable position. You should’ve just let him stare and not said anything. Now that you’ve made him uncomfortable, you can tell that he’s avoiding your gaze whenever you’re near each other. Before, when you’d make eye contact with him across the room, you would exchange polite smiles. There was an acknowledgement. Not anymore. He won’t meet your eyes. 

You needed to apologize for it, tell him not to worry about you. You’d find him after quidditch practice. You would keep it casual. Because you were James’ cool, confident, easy-going little sister. Not an annoying one. 

Like usual, you watched the practice from the stands. You tried to watch all of the players equally, but you kept returning to Sirius. His flying was sloppy and he was missing easy hits. He was obviously distracted and Jame was biting his head off for it. It felt like the practice dragged on forever. But when it was done, you lingered just out of sight of the locker room door. You knew you had to ambush Sirius to get him to talk to you; the only thing that would prevent him from listening to you would be if James walked back with him. Maybe it was good that Sirius was distracted during practice – he wouldn’t want to leave with the guy who yelled at him for like ten minutes straight while on a broom. 

You listened as the door opened and closed. James left with Marlene, both ranting about how the practice wasn’t their best work. Perfect. With James gone, you waited a little closer to the door. The seeker left, followed by the other beater, the keeper and the last chaser. Sirius was the last one. You waited for about five minutes before you started getting nervous. You had to keep your wits about you. 

You opened the locker room door and knocked on it loudly, to announce your presence. 

“Sirius?” you called, looking around. 

“What?” he snapped from around the corner.

“Can we talk?”

He peeked his head around the corner, hair dripping and not wearing a shirt. 

“Potter? Shit, what are you doing in here?” he asked, his voice suddenly much nicer and almost nervous. 

“I was waiting for you,” you said. “Should I go back outside?” 

“Um, no, just give me one minute.”

You sat down on the bench in between the rows of lockers and fidgeted with your fingers. You could hear Sirius muttering to himself but the only things you could make out were swears. When he came around the corner, he was wearing pants and pulling a shirt over his head. 

“What’s up? Everything okay?” he asked, standing in front of you. 

“I, erm, I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable the other night. I’m good. Fine.” You nodded with a small smile on your lips. 

Sirius furrowed his brows in confusion. “What made you think I was uncomfortable?” 

He didn’t think he had shifted at all when you had your head on his shoulder. Maybe you mistook the quiet as awkwardness, rather than the easiness he felt. 

“Oh, um, you haven’t been able to look at me?” Your throat tensed. “Kind of felt like you were avoiding me.”

Sirius nervously rubbed the back of his neck and looked away from you. “I have been avoiding you, but-” He clicked his tongue. “-not because I was uncomfortable.”

“Then why?”

“Because I was comfortable.” You tilted your head in confusion. “Too comfortable.”

“Okay?”

You weren’t getting it. Why was him being comfortable around you a bad thing? Why did it make him avoid you?

“Godric… screw it! Every time I look at you, I want to kiss you. I want to treat you how you deserve to be treated, so much better than how that git treated you. But I can’t ‘cause you’re James’ sister.” 

You stared up at him with wide eyes. Oh. You stood up, making Sirius take a step backwards. He thought you were going to slap him. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your pounding heart. 

“What if… I wanted you to kiss me?” Your heart was trying to escape out your throat. “We could just not tell James.”

“Not tell James…” he repeated. His eyes flicked between your eyes and your lips. 

You took a step toward Sirius and he didn’t take a step back. Instead, he gently took your face in his hands and kissed you. It was soft and gentle and you wasted no time in kissing him back. You were about to thread your fingers through his hair when he pulled back.

“Are you sure?” he asked breathlessly.

“Yes.”

Not telling James ended up becoming not telling anyone. It was too risky. If you told anyone, how could you guarantee that they wouldn’t tell him? 

In public, you were just James’ little sister and his best friend. Polite. Cordial. Sharing smiles and eye rolls from across the room. In the privacy of the common room late at night, when you knew his dorm would be empty, in random broom closets, in unused classrooms and the locker room after quidditch practices, you were more than friends. It was more than snogging too. He would read to you. You would bring snacks and have a makeshift picnic. You would sit next to each other, talking about your day and anything else on your mind. But yes, there was snogging. 

You were doing a good job at keeping it secret. At least, good enough. Your friends caught on pretty quickly that you had a new someone – it was the only explanation of where you were disappearing to so often and how smiley you were when you returned. Sirius was proud of himself for keeping it from James, given that they had the map. He made sure that he had it with him whenever he was meeting up with you. Remus was the only one who seemed suspicious of his keeping the map so close, but he didn’t say anything. 

But then one night after quidditch practice and a heated session with you, Sirius tied his hair up before heading up to his dorm. You had made a good habit of returning to the common room at different times after practice to prevent any rumors. So you weren’t with him to see that you had left a mark. Well, several marks along his neck. 

“Merlin’s balls, Padfoot!” Remus gasped when he walked through the door. 

“What?” Sirius asked, not looking at Remus.

“Did you get attacked by a colony of leeches?” he asked, now attempting to stifle his laughter as Sirius’ hand flew to his neck. 

He forced a laugh. “Something like that.”

“Who is it?” James asked, sitting up a little straighter on his bed. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Sirius answered.

“Hiding his latest conquest… That’s new,” Remus muttered, turning back to homework although he was smirking. 

“Yeah, since when don’t you tell us who you’re snogging?” Peter asked.

Sirius put his stuff away in his trunk and got out his own homework. “Since she asked me not to.” 

James and Peter exchanged a look that Sirius chose to ignore. He wanted them to drop the topic. If they asked him to describe the girl, it would only take so long before they put two and two together. They did drop it. For that night.

The next day, walking to class, Remus asked, “So who is it?”

“Huh?” 

“The girl giving you hickeys.”

“Told you last night. I’m not saying.”

“Ah, come on, Padfoot. It’s just me.”

Sirius shook his head. “Mate, drop it. I’m not telling you.”

“You’ve always told us who you’re with. Never had any shame in it. Why you getting all shy with it now?”

“I said drop it. She asked me not to tell you and… I like her. So I’m not going to tell you anything until she wants to.”

Sirius quickened his pace to get to class, leaving Remus behind. He watched him go with a curious expression on his face. Sirius usually bragged about who he took into broom closets, but he was being protective of this girl and that only made Remus want to know more. 

The boys badgered Sirius about his mystery girlfriend more than your friends did with you. It went on for weeks after that night with the hickeys. Whenever Sirius came back to the dorm alone, various questions were launched at him.

“Same girl?” “Any visible hickeys?” “How far you’d get?” “Where’d you snog? The greenhouses? Quidditch pitch? Back of the library?” “What’s she like?”

Sirius brushed them off every time. He wasn’t going to give them anything, but that seemed to egg them on. They were determined to find out who it was. One evening, they started asking Sirius about the girl in the common room.

“Alright, Sirius, is she a Slytherin? Is that you’re so secretive about it?” Peter asked, shoving his Potions homework away from him.

Sirius didn’t answer. 

“Is she in our year? Older? Younger?” James asked. More silence from Sirius.

“Ah, give us something,” Remus begged. “You’ve been seeing her for weeks and you’ve told us nothing!”

You entered the common room and Peter, James and Remus’ voices reached your ears. They weren’t being quiet with their interrogation of Sirius. So, naturally, you walked over to them.

“You’re being loud,” you said matter-of-factly. 

“We have reason,” James said with an eye roll. 

“And that reason is…”

He sighed. “Sirius here has been seeing this girl for weeks and he won’t tell us who it is. He won’t even describe her.”

You smirked and turned toward Sirius, who was already looking at you with a rehearsed neutral look on his face. 

“Aw, that’s kind of cute. But come on, Sirius. It’s just the boys,” you said, gesturing to them. “Give ‘em something to get them off your back.”

Sirius swallowed thickly. You had just given him permission to say something. He tried to cover his shock with an exaggerated sigh.

“Fine.” He looked around the group, trying to figure out what to say. “Ah, got it. You lot know her very well.”

“Oh, that narrows it down,” you laughed, turning to leave the group, but you didn’t go far. You picked a spot on the couch nearby and took out your Charms book. You wanted to eavesdrop. 

“That’s rubbish!” Peter exclaimed. “We know a lot of people!”

“It’s not rubbish,” Sirius defended with crossed arms. “I just eliminated practically all of the Slytherins.”

“And a fair amount of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs,” Remus added. James and Peter gave him stern looks. “What? He said we know her very well. We know eagles and badgers, but I wouldn’t say we know them all that well.”

“So she’s a Gryffindor?” James asked, turning his attention back to Sirius.

He gave him no answer. Not even a facial expression. 

“I think we can assume that much,” Remus said. “And it’s certainly not Lily. I know that much.”

“How?” James asked. 

“Been studying with her when Padfoot returns from his rendezvous.”

“She can’t be more than a year on either side of us,” Peter said. “Younger they get, the more scared of us they are.”

“Valid,” James said with a solemn nod.

Sirius just rolled his eyes. He didn’t know if he could relax, but he needed to have a relaxed air about him. He stretched his legs out in front of him and leaned backwards, supporting himself with straight arms. 

“Right, so that leaves us with what, twelve girls? We can narrow it down,” James said after mentally counting the girls in their year, the year above and year below. “We’ve already checked off Lily and we can check off my sister and Marlene.”

You hid behind your book so the boys couldn’t see your smile if they looked over at you. James dismissed you as an option right off the bat. They would never get it right at this rate. 

“Cross off anyone he’s already been with. There’d be no point hiding it from us if they’ve done it before,” Remus said, waving a hand at James.

Sirius snuck a worried glance your way. He thought his hint was clever, but his friends were going to run through the girls quickly. And once they did, they’d have to go back over the list. There was no telling if they’d come to the conclusion that it was you. You flexed your eyebrows. He needed to turn back around.

You found it amusing as the boys tossed around names and found each one not feeling right. Sirius looked more or less mortified. He lost his relaxed air when he looked at you and couldn’t get it back. It was only getting worse as they moved on from girl to girl and then started renaming girls.

“We’ve listed everyone,” Peter said, sounding defeated. “Are we sure that he didn’t fall into the lake and is just too proud to tell us?” 

“Why would he be by the lake after quidditch practice?” James sighed. 

Something about what James said made something click in Remus’ head. After quidditch practice. He looked at you, at first with wide eyes of realization and then the wicked smirk of someone about to unleash hell.

“I know who it is,” Remus said firmly, not looking away from you.

All three boys looked at Remus, and then they followed his gaze to you. Sirius went pale. James turned red. And Peter laughed. 

“Oh, that’s rich.”

“We do know her quite well,” Remus said. 

“Padfoot,” James growled. “For the love of Merlin, tell me that Remus is wrong.”

You looked up slowly. You knew they were looking at you. You heard it go down. 

“I can’t,” Sirius said in a small voice. 

“At least he had a good reason for not telling us,” Peter said between fits of laughter.

“Yeah, Wormtail? What’s his reason?” Remus asked, clearly enjoying the building tension between James and Sirius.

“He loves his life. Because Prongs is going to murder him.”

“My bloody sister? You are mental?” James yelled, jumping up.

Sirius immediately mirrored him. “Maybe, yeah.”

James turned on you. “You! What do you have to say about this?” 

You hummed and flipped a page in your book, as if you were disinterested in their conversation, as if it didn’t completely concern you. 

“What the others say is true: he’s good at snogging.” 

Sirius broke into a stupid smile because that answer was so you. A little bit of sass to your brother. It was also a compliment to him. James, however, did not like that answer as he turned a darker shade of red. 

“I… argh! That’s my little sister!” James shouted at Sirius, and then turning back to you, “My goddamn best friend? Could you have chosen anyone else?”

Still feeling unbothered, you leaned forward and looked at Remus. “Remus is kind of cute.”

“Oi!” Sirius said. 

“I said kind of!”

“Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up!” James roared.

He glared at you and then at Sirius before storming off to their dorm. You broke into your fit of laughter when he started up the stairs. 

“I think he took that well.”

“So, you’re really… together?” Remus asked, watching Sirius run a hand down his face as he stared at the stairs James disappeared up.

You nodded. “When you’d figure out Sirius was seeing someone?”

“Few weeks ago. You left a mark.”

You tilted your head in slight confusion. You left marks on Sirius before only a few weeks ago.

“Oh, he put his hair up.”

“Ah,” you said. Then you looked at Sirius. “He’ll get over it. Let him cool down and come to terms with it. You’ll be fine.”

“He’s pretty pissed,” Sirius said, voice low. 

“For now. He’ll get over it.”

“He’s pissed at me.”

“Mate, relax. She’s right. He blows up, but he always cools down,” Remus said.

“Yeah… right…” Sirius muttered before collapsing on the couch next to you. “At least I can kiss you in public now.”

“That’s what you’re excited about? I can’t wait to go on a real date-date with you.”

“Oh, gross… Maybe they should’ve kept it a secret,” Peter said to Remus.

tags: @navs-bhat, @bruxa0007