#cross legged the way you sit on the floor except she does it on chairs

[praeluxius]

REPLACED

newjeans Minji x male reader smut

Quickfire challenge 1. Thank you @midnightdancingsol

The prompt: "You know why this happened, @capslocked – yes, you."

Masterlist word count: 3,911 Kofi

It's all a matter of perspective. From one side of the room, the world is calm.

And the other? Well, that's Minji.

“Want to know the one thing worse than outright rejection?”

Minji has barely walked in the door and she is already shouting off in riddles. She's standing in the doorway, her hair wet from the rain and a little bit tangled just above her shoulders. The water on her overshirt is so deeply sodden into the fabric that it weighs on her. It sticks to her skin that's so clearly visible underneath the LED spotlight above her and her face is twisted in this way of pure irritation that you've rarely seen. It's almost comical.

Or it would be if she wasn't throwing her bag on the floor with an almighty thud and a little yelp from the floorboards below.

“Minji?” is all you say in some hushed tone as you sit on the armchair by the window, hot drink in one hand and your phone in the other as the world passes by in the distance, drowned in downpour.

You look up to watch Minji as she shouts, "How about getting a part, only for it to be taken away? Being promised the world and then having it rug-pulled so you fall flat on your fucking face?!"

Now, Minji never swears in anger. And never means never (again, in anger, specifically). So, it's pretty much a sign of the end of the world when she does. She's kicking off her shoes now, throwing them in the direction of the door and they clatter on the floor like the battering of a drum.

"I—uh."

"You—uh," she mocks, taking a step forward.

"Woah. Minji. What happened?" You ask, setting down the phone on the sill of the window. Minji's stomping her way toward you. Her eyes are wide and filled with something you haven't quite seen before.

"This complete—"there are some sounds from her mouth but they don’t quite resemble words"—shit for a fuck brain!" See, Minji never swears like this, so she's so bad at it that it's laughable.

"That bad, huh?"

"Oh, it's a great idea; an amazing concept. I'll write you a fantastic character and it will be romantic and hot and everyone will love it," Minji rants in some sarcastic tone while peeling her shirt off her skin and piling it onto the hardwood floor. She stands in only her sports bra with her arms raised and her voice in high pitch, mocking. "Except, you're not good enough. Oh, no. I have to give the part to this other girl. She's prettier and nicer and just better than you!"

"Ouch." You say, watching as she flops onto the couch opposite. The coffee table in between you is a lousy line of defence. Her socks have little splatters of rainwater on them and not too far above that, her skirt sits just above the knee.

"Oh, shut up," she replies.

"Minji." You throw her a look that says 'Stop taking it out on me', which she understands, but it only gets her to fold her arms dramatically with a little huff and a puff from her mouth, followed by a pout. Then you ask her, "What part even was this? TV?"

"Not exactly."

"An ad? Video game? Movie?"

"Fanfiction."

Fanfiction.

"What?" You blink, to which Minji sighs and rolls her eyes, head tilted to the ground.

"Fanfiction."

"A fanfiction?" you question again. It’s not like you misheard, it’s just an utterly strange thing for her to be so pent up on.

"Don't say it like that." She snaps, leaning back into the chair and crossing her legs so one of her little rain-splattered socks is suspended in the air, and she twists and turns her foot impatiently.

"Just trying to figure out why you're so annoyed about fanfiction."

"Because the guy's a complete moron."

"Probably," you say, drawing your mug of coffee close to your lips. You blow on the surface and Minji is silent. You wait, the steam is coming off the top and through it, you watch her as she thinks as her eyebrows furrow together. Minji shifts in her seat again, the annoyance making her chronically uncomfortable. 

"He replaced me!" She shouts, slamming her hands into the arms of the chair and then Minji stands. She takes a few steps and then stops and turns to face you, her eyebrows furrowed and her arms folded, her legs are slightly apart and she's tapping her foot.

"Does he think I'm not pretty enough? Not funny enough? Not sexy enough? Does he think that I wouldn't be good enough at what he wants me to do, hm? So he doesn't want to write me sucking a dick? Well, screw him. Fucking Capslocked."

You're not sure what's going on here, so you're just sitting back and watching her, coffee nestled in your hand and feet propped on the table. She's standing still, waiting for you to say something, anything, and when you don't, she begins to pace.

"Why would he change his mind and just decide that someone else is better than me? What, does he not like my body? Do you not like my body?"

"Your body is fantastic." You say, taking another sip of the coffee.

"Yeah, and don't you forget it." She snaps, stopping again and placing her hands on her hips, either side of that exposed waistline.

"The fuck kind of name is 'Capslocked' anyway?" You mutter, mostly to yourself. Minji doesn't reply, but you see her take a step closer to you.

"And," Minji begins and then pauses, you look up at her and she's just staring. Her cheeks are flushed and her breathing is a little laboured, her chest rising and falling with each breath. There's a pause. Her tongue runs over her lips and you can see her thinking—gears grinding inside her head.

"And?" you ask.

"Shut up," she hisses, kicking your leg so your feet fall from the coffee table and you almost spill the drink down yourself. She places her hands on your knees, bending over to you.

"Minji, my drink—"

"Shh." her hair falls across her face, a black silk drape half-covering the expression beneath. There's an anger under there, something she's trying to push back down, but it's not quite working. Her nails dig into your thighs as she pushes them apart, and the steam rises again above the surface of the liquid in your cup. Minji is too busy running her hand along your crotch.

"What're you—"

"Replaced me," she repeats to herself, a little huff leaving her as she slips down onto her knees. "Fucking replaced me."

"Minji, I'm sure he—"

"I don't care. Shut up. I'm not talking to you." Her hands are shaking, whether from frustration or some other confused feeling that burns under her skin. Probably a mix of many feelings. They're fumbling at the button of your jeans and she's tugging down the zip, her teeth bared. You're watching, and it's as if she is possessed.

Your heartbeat is thunderous in your ears, the heat is rising and Minji is pushing her hair out of her face.

"I'm gonna do this so well."

"You always do."

"I said stop talking. So. Stop. Talking," she sounds out each word with authority, her eyes wide and angry. Minji is pushing down the fabric and reaching into the opening in your underwear. She wraps her fingers around you, the cool touch of her skin making you jerk.

"Minji, my drink." Your hand trembles slightly as you try not to spill it. Minji doesn't listen. She pulls you free. A low hum leaves her throat as she licks her lips and leans forward. Her warm breath is ghosting over you, her eyes are closed and there's a little smirk on her lips. Your cock is only halfway to hard and her hand is wantingly trying to coax you into arousal.

It doesn't take much. It never does with Minji.

"Fuck," you groan, the sound of your voice making her look up.

"Don't," she replies, a warning in her eyes. Minji's hand is moving up and down and it's not with that same gentle caress she usually has.

"God, Minji."

"Quiet." She stops, her lips are pouted and her eyes are locked onto you. Her hand is around you, the pressure is gentle, but it's enough to hold you. You're frozen there a moment, her eyes are staring right through you and you're not entirely sure what's going to happen. "Don't say a word, and don’t spill your drink,” she tells you, her free hand rubbing your thigh.

"Minji—"

"Don't." She whispers, her tongue licking over the surface of her lip. Her mouth opens, and she's leaning in. The warmth of her breath is making the muscles of your abdomen twitch and your head spin. Her tongue is the first thing that touches you. She's holding you still, and the head of your cock is resting on her bottom lip, and the feeling of the smooth surface makes you want to thrust forward, but Minji's hand holds you firm.

You bite your lip as Minji's tongue swirls around the tip. It's light and soft and sends electricity through your nerves. You groan ever so slightly and she looks up at you, her eyes narrowed. Your knuckles whiten as you grip the mug, her hair tickling the inside of your thigh as she lowers her head.

Her tongue runs along the underside and pastes your cock with a wetness. The hand around you moves down, and she takes you in. Her mouth is heaven, and her lips the closing gates. You let out a deep sigh, your chest heaving, and Minji's free hand slides up the inside of your shirt, her nails grazing your skin.

Her mouth moves, her lips tightening, and the movement is slow. It's torturous and the sensation of her tongue swirling around the underside of your cock sends you spiralling. Minji knows this, and she's looking up at you. You want to touch her; you want to tangle your fingers into her hair; you want to grab her and pull her against you.

But her eyes speak many words left unspoken. They command your stillness, your silence, and your complete submission.

Minji is working her mouth over you, and her hand is stroking you, up and down and up and down. She's bobbing her head and humming slightly. The melody is almost hypnotic but sounds as if being played by force rather than elegance.

Her scratches are harder than ever and it feels like fire across your chest. Your toes are curling and your head is thrown back. The heat from the mug permeates into your skin as you grip it tighter.

"Ah, Minji." You moan. Minji stops, looking up at you. There's a drop of spit on her lip, and her face is flushed. You're not sure what to do. She's glaring, and she's holding you. Your heart is beating like the hammer of a drum and just above it, her nails grip, threatening to pierce through flesh.

"I said quiet." Words laced with venom. She digs somehow deeper into your chest as she pushes herself to her feet. "Now, I'm going to fuck you. I'm going to fuck you until I scream and you're going to stay quiet."

You're not quite sure what's happening. This is a Minji you have seldom seen before, but it's all happening so fast. She's pulling up her skirt, sliding down her panties, and she's kicking them off so the fabric lands somewhere to the side. She's stepping forward and her knees are touching the armrests. Closer and closer she comes with her eyes fixed on you. 

Your mouth is dry, and her fingers are on your jaw. Her eyes bore holes in your own and she's lowering herself. In a moment of weakness, you throw a glance at your hand, still holding the half-full cup. There's an angry sound from Minji and she snarls, "Focus on me."

Minji swipes her arm at the cup, sending it flying. You watch the arc of the cup and the contents spill across the floor. She's not waiting, she's not looking. There’s not an ounce of concern within her for something so trivial.

You feel the soft wetness of her sex on your tip, she's rubbing herself on the head, the moisture spreading along the underside and Minji's face is screwed up in pleasure and her legs are shaking. She's panting and moaning and she's trying to slide down.

"Minji, are you—"

She thrusts her hand over your mouth with a growl and wild eyes. Her nails are biting into your cheek. "Not. Another. Word."

Minji's other hand is on your shoulder; using it for balance as she tries to move herself. She's lowering herself down and the head of your cock slips into her.

She's so warm. So unbelievably wet. Minji gasps and her back arches and her breasts heave beneath her slightly see-through sports top as she breathes. Her nails dig deeper into your flesh, her lips are parted and her head is thrown back, leaving her throat exposed—a pale expanse of milky perfection.

"Oh, God," she moans, the sound reverberating around the room as she slowly sinks and the walls of her cunt are tight on you. So tight. She trembles as she speaks. "You can't replace this."

Her skirt is around her waist, the material covering the sight of where your bodies meet. But you can feel it; you can feel every little movement she makes.

"I'm so wet."

So fucking wet.

"You're so hard."

Hard. So hard.

"How could anyone replace this?"

How? How could you possibly replace this?

Her cries are shrill, and the heat of her is all around you. It's the only thing you can focus on—her. You try to answer, but your words never make it past the hand on your mouth. She's panting, and her hair is wild, her eyes wide and her mouth open. And she's just riding until she can't no more. Until her muscles grow weak and until her cum leaks between her legs.

"This is what they want, isn't it? They want to fuck me. Riding them. On my knees. They want me bent over the table, or against the wall, or—or—fuck!" Her words are sharp and punctuated with gasps and moans. "Want me to cum—" she trails off into something close to a scream, her body convulsing. Her back is arched and her hips are pressed down onto yours.

She's grinding into you, and you can feel her clench around your cock. Your head is swimming, and your hips are jerking. You can't breathe. Her fingers are loosening their hold on your mouth, but you dare not speak. You're not even sure if you can.

Minji's hand is moving, sliding down your cheek, around your jaw and then gripping on your neck. She admires the red claw marks on your cheek.

"That's right," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "They want to fuck me, don't they? They all read and write those filthy little stories and keep dreaming of the impossible. But that fucker won’t write it for them."

You can only sit and take in the way that she is glowing with the sweat, the light catching her skin and highlighting the contours of her face and her collarbone. Her small top clings to her sticky chest and leaves so very little to the imagination. Through it you see the smooth curve of her breasts, the stiffness of her nipples and below it the ridges of her toned abdomen that flexes with her slowing grind.

She's climbing off you now and pulling you up from your seat. Her arms are around your neck and her eyes are on yours. You're staring into the depth of her eyes, the black pupils large and the irises a warm, golden honey.

"You're not going to replace me, are you?"

"Never."

"Good."

She leans back a little and pulls your shirt up until it's around your neck. She pulls it to your mouth, feeding the fabric into it before tying some sort of makeshift knot behind your head. "Now. Not another word." Minji pulls off her own top, peeling it away from her sweat-soaked skin.

You watch as she takes a few steps back; her cotton-hugged feet on the ground, her skirt falling back over those long legs and her hands on the hem of the fabric. She's smiling at you, a wide and wicked grin. You watch her and she's watching you. She's pulling it up now and her hands are underneath it. She turns to the window. "Now you're going to pin me against this window and do me, aren't you? Nod if you are."

You nod.

Minji giggles, throwing a look over her shoulder. "I'm the best, aren't I?" 

Minji doesn't wait for you to nod again. She turns away and looks out the window—the city is alive. The rain is falling; the lights are flickering and cars are passing by far below. Minji is leaning her forehead against the glass, her eyes closed and her mouth slightly agape. Her hair is wild and messy and the light is illuminating her.

You're stepping towards her, one hand on her back, the other sliding over the curve of her ass. You can see her reflection, the smile on her lips. Her hands are on the glass, palms flat, and you're sliding a hand between her legs and over her wet, sensitive skin.

She's shivering and letting out little gasps as your fingers dance along the flesh and your fingertips tease her folds. She's whimpering, and the sound makes your cock twitch.

"Fuck me," Minji whispers, her nails scratching the window. You can't deny a woman so insatiable.

You adjust your jaw; it's so uncomfortably pinned open and you're unable to say a word. You can't tell her just how nice that ass is and how the view inside the window makes a mockery of the one outside. You can't tell her how her hair is so beautiful, or how her eyes are the prettiest you've ever seen. You can't tell her anything.

But you can tell her in another way—through touch. The thought sends a chill down your spine and your teeth sink into the material of the shirt. Minji's whining and you're slipping your fingers between her lips. She's hot, and the heat is dripping from her. It's on your fingers and it's soaking into your palm.

Minji is moving her hips, trying to find purchase on your fingers, the tip of one brushing her clit. She gasps and throws her head back. You're sliding a finger inside her, the movement easy and Minji is bucking her hips, her body trying to pull you further and deeper.

"Fuck me like I'm the only woman in the world. Like you'll die if you don't fuck me. Like there's no one else in the world who can make you feel like I do."

You're pushing her against the window, the foggy condensation from her breath and the heat of her body mar the surface. Minji is laughing—the hot and breathy kind of laugh—as you press her into the glass.

"That's it. Come on. Fuck me now,” she orders and just like that, you're doing it. She's moaning and her back arches. You're inside her and the tightness is enough to make you come undone. You're pressing her harder and harder against the window.

"That's it. Oh, yes. Harder. That's what they all want."

You're slamming into her, and she's taking it. You're not holding back. Minji is moaning and her fingers are curling, nails raking. Her voice is echoing in the room and the sound makes your skin prickle.

"They all want me like this. Bent over and begging. Oh, fuck yes."

"They can't have you." You growl through the shirt, your teeth tearing into the fabric.

"No." Minji screams, "They can't have me. They can't touch me. He can't touch me. Won't even write about me. If only he could see me now. I bet he would change his mind. Wouldn't you?"

You fuck her until the muscles in the back of your legs stiffen. You fuck her until she's screaming. You fuck her until the glass is a mess of fingerprints, sweat, and spit. Until the golden skin of her back glows with moisture.

You fuck her until your vision starts to fade and your heartbeat is so loud in your ears that it’s unbearable. You fuck her until you can't anymore.

And she's still going, her screams echoing and her body writhing against yours, and it's all too much. You need to release, and it needs to be inside Minji.

You're coming undone and your hips jerk and stutter and Minji's body is convulsing. Your cum is spilling into her, and she's cumming again and she's screaming, the sound so shrill that it hurts. You're groaning and she's shaking, the walls of her cunt clenching and drawing your orgasm out until you can't think and you can't breathe and everything is both too much and not enough.

Leaning forward so her back is flush with your chest, and she is truly pinned. Your breathing is hard, and hers is heavy and the two of you stay there for a while, frozen in ecstasy. The room absorbs the sound of your combined pants, the rain and the distant hum of the city.

Minji is the first to move, twisting herself free from the weight of your body against her. Your cock slides out. The feeling of the cool air and the absence of her body sends a shiver through you. You stumble, the shirt falling from your mouth and your vision is blurry.

Minji is laughing and you're looking at her as she is plucking away the strands of hair which stick to her face. And when she finishes, Minji steps forward and slaps you. "I told you not to make a mess."

"Minji, you made the mess."

"Shut up."

"But I—"

She grabs you by the neck and kisses you. Her lips are hot and the kiss is hungry and messy. Her tongue is in your mouth and her hands are all over you. The kiss is hard and deep and it's leaving you breathless.

She's pulling you to the ground, her legs wrapping around you and your hand is on her thigh. The heat of her core is against you and her nails are digging into your back. She's biting your lip, and she's pushing you over onto your back.

She's straddling you. Her hands are on your chest, her palms pressing down.

"What the hell has gotten into you?" you pant. Minji's looking at you with a disregard for your words.

Your cock is so tender under her rough motions, and there’s no stopping your whimper. Minji is smiling, and the sight is so sweet. "Are you complaining?"

"No," you manage to say, as a shiver runs down your spine as she lowers herself and brushes her lips against your ear.

Her tongue is running over your earlobe and she's nibbling at the sensitive flesh. Her hands are on your shoulders and her legs are squeezing your waist. "Good boy. We're not done. Not even close."

[noxianwilled]

katarina sit correctly challenge (impossible)

— @axewhirl

as everyone knows, bisexuals and chairs have a long history of being natural enemies --

[suguru-getos]

fractures // geto suguru x f!reader // chapter 1

warnings: abusive!suguru, mentions of cuts, mentions of physical abuse (choking, beating up, chaining), not for the faint-hearted. not beta'd. dead dove do not eat. summary: being a monkey is the norm except when you're captured by geto sama because he needs money from your parents. however, you may just have to suffer a little extra because of the forced thinking about the right and wrongs... you're putting him through.

it has been in total of three days since you have been caged in the geto estate, at first, your anxiety and palpitations could not let you sleep, now? you're too exhausted to have those in the first place. it was simple, your parents were millionaires and owed geto some money, they decided not to go ahead with the deal and in turn, Miguel brought you here. in the confined walls of the estate where they crush you chokingly.

it's 3 am, your eyes wide awake in the bed that you're confined to, leg chained to the bedpost and the metallic bite of the chain brushing against your skin, bruisingly. your ankle is tied from the bedpost, you could walk around only to a certain extent. why? because you tried to escape and almost succeeded. now even when you try to sleep, it serves as a reminder of how you are a prisoner here. you hate this, all of this because the cult leader named geto thinks you're useless and a monkey. you don't even have an idea what that means...

---

"they have a daughter." miguel hums at suguru, crossing his arms and manspreading, sitting with geto in his office. the feline eyed man raised a brow, "is that so?" "Interesting..." he hums again, feet tapping on the floor. "Miguel, how does she look like?" his voice laced with curiosity echoed in the room which had the two of them contemplating future plans. "wait, i have a picture.."

and there you were, papped and captured from your morning errand, holding your coffee in your hand and wearing a white tank top, and some parachute pants. you were beautiful, suguru could almost call you perfect. if only... you were not a pathetic monkey. he hates them, and they have no place in his world, they will never be a part of his world...

"i just want to go home- i don't have any idea what you're talking about." another flashback rang through your mind. your first day here, comprising you begging and whimpering against the ropes of the chair you were tied to. "of course you don't, your parents do. your opinions are worthless in this anyway." geto looks at you with disgust, his eyes carry a strange emotion... he just, hated you for existing. nothing else. mere existence...

"fuckers like you who have no morals whatsoever have no other choice but to kidnap huh? fucking asshole!" you snarled, screaming out in frustration. you had no idea how your life could change so easily. a large hand wrapped around your throat the next instant, choking the life out of you with no relent. you struggled, eyes widening and feet kicking with wheezing gasps. "you see?" geto hums, leaning in against your ear and gravely whispering, "this is how easy it is for me to kill you, you're nothing. just a worthless piece of shit born to create curses in this world."

you couldn't do anything, your hands were tied up, you could only see the life you had, flash in front of your eyes before you passed out. suguru has no idea of his strength with a feeble human yet. he leans back, noticing the prominent bruising on your neck once your head leaned back, limp and lifeless. he yanked his hand away, putting some sanitizer on it. "pathetic." he hums, gritting his teeth. you were so weak... so fucking weak and still all you had to do was use that pathetic mouth didn't you?

geto left you there for the night, a very minuscule part of him feeling upset over the way he treated you, he would call himself an asshole for it if it was a sorcerer, but you weren't one. who cares if you're not a sorcerer anyways...

the next day, your eyes blinked awake, a hiss escaping you when you noticed you were still tied up, some of the blood circulation stopped because of the ropes tying your body to the chair. you wanted to scream, but your voice box hurts after yesterday. a grim reminder of what your kidnapper was truly capable of. you sniffled weakly, senses in fight or flight.

before your pitiful breakdown could even commence, manami opened the door, watching you with the same disgust her 'geto sama' carries... what is wrong with these people? truly? why do they look at you like you mean nothing. like you have done the greatest sin of the earth just by being born? "good morning, here's the thing. geto sama has informed your parents that you're under our custody, if they agree to give the money then you're safe to go, or we kill you." she shrugs. killing... is it that normal of a thing to say?

your eyes widened at the sheer panic of it, manami noticing the palpable fear in them and laughing, walking closer to you and untying you roughly; ignoring the scratches the rough rope surface would gift your skin. "take a shower." she yanked you by your hair, throwing you on the floor.

a loud whimper escapes you when your ribs collide with the solid marble, your body was still recovering from being tied up. what is wrong with these people? you're sure you have some visceral damage at this, your internal organs hurt with that throw, blinding pain in your sensitive scalp because of the hold in your hair. suck it up... you need to suck it up. "shouldn't you- treat me like a human at least? if my parents come back for me?" you grunt, using the aid of your palms to get up, a little dizzy.

manami cocks a hip out, "geto sama was right, you have a smart mouth for a monkey." she scoffs, walking outside with a hold on your nape. you stumble on the floor, how is this woman so strong? you couldn't understand why... you couldn't budge in her grip on you.

everything is hazy after, except you were force-fed hot soup for telling geto to kill himself during dinner, and not fed at all the next day, getting captured as well for running away and now a chain on your ankle.

you close your eyes, hugging yourself tightly. you need to be your own comfort. you have to be your own comfort. but its hard... the way they look at you, the way they treat you, everything is making you wish you were better off dead. why are your parents taking so long in the first place? what's wrong with them really?

your body is exhausted, unable to keep up with the constant stress. you do end up getting dazed to sleep. although its filled with nightmares. you're woken up to an echo of a voice.

"good morning, i'm sure these don't feel good." geto hums, and you jolt awake, leaning instinctively against the headboard. eyes glossed, fear dancing through your nerves. you don't respond. why is he here? "i didn't think you were that dumb to try to run yesterday." he clicks his tongue, looking at you. gosh you still have the popped lip from when manami hit you after getting caught. some of it is in your nose too. geto sighs, its the way you behave that he gets conflicted. he has always been an underdog supporter, now a bunch of powerful sorcerers were torturing a frail human just because of money...

maybe he should do you a favor and kill you instead. he could just tell your parents that they delayed in sending the sum of money and take the money anyway.He wants to stay true to his word but also wants to return you to them. another part of him... which he hates the most, almost wants to hug you and apologize. That part is the reason you're being treated this way.

"you're not answering me." he raises a brow, watching you shiver with fear and flinch at the tone of his voice. "I'm sorry, won't run again." you managed to say meekly; within three days of you being here, you look like a completely different person. your neck is bruised, your face is bruised, your hair is a mess, you are chained to a room. it is drastic for you, geto knows that. "hm, you know the consequences aren't too great, i would just listen to me if i were you." he adds on, watching your shoulders slump in defeat. my god were you beautiful, you were perfect in his eyes, someone he should have taken on dates if his life was normal. thanks to your disgusting kind, his life isn't normal.

"manami will come to you with breakfast." he stands up with that, and your heart races. you hate that woman and the way she treats you. you wouldn't say geto is any better but at least he isn't downright awful... so far. you nodded, getting up to go and shower at least. the clank of chains in your ankle echoes in the room, and it makes geto stand still for a moment. the flash of his little girls caged haunts in his eyes. isn't he doing something similar to you.

"y/n." he says your name, watching your eyes slowly dart towards him. "if you behave for a few days, the chain will be gone."

you don't respond to that, walking away. suguru bites his lip, he hates this feeling he's getting. a frog in his fucking throat and it's just been four days of you being here. he shouldn't deter from his thoughts like this anyway. you're a monkey, a useless monkey who should be killed as soon as possible.

manami comes in with breakfast and you could only manage a few bites despite not being able to eat properly. manami was not that mean today, all she said that she expected you dead but you're not yet. she says this everyday, nothing ordinary.

meanwhile, your parents have decided to actually manage the sum of money, but it will take time. they inform geto of the same. your mom pathetically sobbing for her little baby girl. "don't worry, she will be alive and kicking, i will keep my word. you have 10 days." suguru cuts the phone call after.

you... would be elated to hear this news wouldn't you? you should be! and so he walks towards your room, where you were laying on the mattress, leg bruised and bleeding. his eyes widen a little. what did you fucking do?

you had a big and a deep gash on your ankle, from the looks of it, you were trying to get free from the chains. what did you even use for this? his eyes land to the sharp enough culinary knife on your bedside table. you were crazy, any other monkey girl would simply behave and let time decide her freedom. why did you want to be so miserable?

"y/n." he mumbles your name again, and your eyes land on him, "geto" you respond, you didn't even carry any malice when you said your name. he walks towards you, getting the first aid from your cupboard and tending to your leg. "if you want an easy enough death, just ask me." he's sure you'd have another panic attack at this statement. you've been having one every day for the past four days after all.

"hm, gimme n' easy death then" you hummed, emotionless as ever. "cus i think m' parents don't give a shit anyway." a stray tear escapes through your eyes, followed by a soft hiccup of a choked sniffle. geto stays quiet at that. yesterday night, he had a dream of you smiling. or what he envisioned your smile would look like... it would surely make you look more beautiful than you already are. he's so sure of it.

"it's not like that, they did contact me and soon you'll be free." he smiled, the close-eyed feline curve that charms everyone fails to work on you. "i see." you hum, and geto trifled with the metallic cuffs on your ankle, gently putting them away. he can't really let you be this miserable. it was pathetic, it was making him pathetic.

"sorcerers exist to protect the weak." his own voice echoes which he preached satoru with. a soft sigh escaping him. he hates you. he hates what you do to him and he hates how you're having this effect on him without even trying. "yeah, a few more days of me tolerating a hooker-looking pest like you." he grits his teeth, getting up. you blinked, unsure what the sudden change in his demeanor signified. all you could do was brace. brace for another attack.

suguru watches you do so, and that sends a shiver down his spine. what's happening to him? he kills monkeys without remorse! maybe he should kill you, fuck your parents, fuck their money. fuck you.

"since you really like using the knife how about i teach you how to use it hm?" you blinked when he spits those words out, feet stomping and holding the knife up. before you could even lean away he has your wrist in his hold, hot tears streaming down your face with the way your heart thumped loud from your mouth. "please please- no no- what're you-" the pointed tip of the knife glides down your skin, and despite your gutteral, blood-curdling screams and pleas, geto only lets go of your hand when he's written the word 'MONKEY' in your arm. throwing the knife away and watching you bleed.

"i hate you, stupid monkeys." he walks away with that, while you succumb to the ache and pass out. it hurts, you could feel the blood trickling down the mattress before your body lulls you to sleep.

meanwhile, suguru shuts himself in his room, the daunting sound of the door shutting down loud and him covering his ears with tears streaming down his face. what's he even doing? why did he have to do that? oh he knows why. he wanted to prove a point that he doesn't feel anything when he hurts a monkey. that he relishes in it... but that didn't happen.

didn't happen at all...

just nine more days with you until suguru geto gets rid of you and proceeds with his mission to kill all non-sorcerers.

[igotanidea]

Lucky: Dick Grayson x reader

Requested as a part of my 1k celebration : Dick x adoration by @miraculous-panic/@gone-batty-fics

***

„Grayson! Stop creeping outside my office like a…. like a creep!” she yelled opening the door to the room and peeking outside, seeing her boyfriend talking to one of the office crew. Honestly, she wanted it to sound different, better, more humorously, but the poor choice of words just made it  a bit unfortunate and she facepalmed herself mentally. Creep like a creep? Great job, Y/N. Great freaking job.

“Hello sunshine.” His gaze landed on her and he grinned that signature smile that made half of the ladies in the office swoon just because they were lucky enough to see it. Y/N however was unimpressed, as she crossed her arms and eyed him warningly. Maybe it was because she had that smile waiting for her home every day, after work.  Or maybe because he was showing off, again. “Mind if I come in?”

“I’d rather you do, Dick. You make it impossible for the ladies to work. Shall I remind you, this is not a circus when you are a star of the show. This is a serious workplace.”

“I know.” he walked through the door, pecking her lips lightly, hand landing on her hip pulling her closer, on display for everyone and the unwanted audience made her blush.

It wasn’t normal for Dick to just swing by in the middle of the day and she wasn’t sure how to feel about it. On one hand it was nice to see him, on the other, she had reputation to uphold and couldn’t risk getting all sappy all over him. Not here. Even if all she wanted was to place him on her swivel chair, sit on his lap and kiss him breathless, letting his hands roam her body. God! This boy was truly gonna be the death of her.

It only took her a second to get those dirty thoughts out of her head. Since she was the COO of one of the biggest companies in Bludhaven, she learned how to control and conceal her emotions pretty well. No one would even notice that single blush and slightly glassy eyes. No one except Dick. 

“You look a little red, baby. Don’t you think it’s a bit too hot in here? Who would have thought, right? On the 15th floor of the building?” he teased and almost as if he was reading her  mind placed himself on the seat, legs spread wide.

“Richard!” she shrieked and closed the door, appalled by his behavior. “don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

“Where else would I be than with my beloved girlfriend? Come on, baby, you work so hard, how about we relax a bit.”

“I’m at work, Grayson. I know you don’t get since you truly are a trust fund baby, but some of us ….”

“Ouch, Y/N. That’s just cruel. Even for you.” he gasped grabbing his chest, faking pain “Right through my heart.”

“ Oh, please….” She rolled her eyes

“You know you got a nice office, baby. Wonder why I never came here before.” He spun around, eyes falling on different elements of the interior. “And what may that be?” something on her desk captured his attention. “A little Nightwing figure! Oh, how cute is that! But something is wrong with this one’s ass.”

“Dick….” She warned, rubbing her forehead “Please…..”

“Hm? What do you need baby?”

“I need you to leave. If my boss comes by and see me talking to you during work hours….”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Dick stood up and came closer to her, one hand back on her hip, the other grabbing her chin lightly and making her look up at him. Damn it, she had heels and he was still so freaking tall in comparison. “Old, good Elle would never hurt you.”

“You know my boss?!” her eyes grew wide, dozens of crazy scenarios running though her head. She was working here for a couple of years now, how was it possible that he never told her he was familiar with company’s CEO.

“Bruce does. Rumor has it they were involved, if you know what I mean. Small world, I guess.  But hey” he raised his hands in defense “you made your way up by yourself, none of us interfered with that. Yes, I know you were thinking that.”

“Let’s just say I believe you. But she’s still my boss and wouldn’t be able to charm her.”

“What are we betting on?” he grinned.  

“Dick, please….”

“I love it when you say it like that.”

“Will you just shut up!” she fumed turning around angrily, to hide the blush that was now creeping all over her face.

“Don’t be mad at me….” He pouted and hugged her from behind, close to his chest.

“Let go off me!” she struggled against his grip, finally breaking free. “Why can’t you understand? I’m at work, I got tone of things to do. And letting my inferiors speculate about what we do behind the closed door and ruining their opinion on me is definitely not one of them!”

“But baby….”

“Stop it, Richard, I’m serious. You act like a freaking child!” she hissed and only the sad look in his eyes made her realize that she might have gone overboard. She sighed deeply trying to calm herself down. “Dick. I promise I’ll be home earlier today. We can spend some time together.”

“Sure.” He nodded flatly “you’re right. I think I just need to go. See you later, Y/N. Hopefully you can live up to your promise and get back before I leave for the night patrol.”

He started walking towards the door, eyes fixed on the floor, passing her without another word or joke or …. Anything.

She should be mad. He came here, throwing innuendos left and right, disturbing her peace, invading her space that was strictly off limit, capturing attention, acting just like Bruce with his playboy attitude, leading her straight towards trouble. Really like a man child. And still believing she would just relent, melt into him in her own office (which she almost did), let him do whatever he wanted. That was a hard no and he deserved that.

So why was it that it made her feel guilty and sad?

“Miss Y/N?” one of her coworkers, who was still a student, peeked inside and the girl quickly raised her gaze, concealing the worry in her eyes with professionalism and composure.

“What is it Leah? Did you bring me the reports I asked for?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Got it right here, right on deadline. But….can I ask you something personal?”

“Sure, go ahead, feel free to” Y/N scoffed and threw her hands into the air  “you’re just another person I have to remind today what it means to be at work.”

“Um…” Leah hesitated, sensing Y/N’s irritation and sarcasm dripping  from her tone, but the curiosity was too big to contain it “how…. How is it to be with Mr.Grayson?”

“What?” Y/N was definitely taken by surprise by the question

“Please, forgive me, but he is just so handsome and cute and perfect in every way.”

“Perfect?”

“Yes….” Leah’s gaze became a bit blurry  and Y/N didn’t like that at all. “Every time he comes by…..”

“What do you mean every time?! How many times before did it happen?! And why no one told me about it?”

“He asked us not to.” Leah squealed “he said he just needed to see you even from the distance. He said you had that spark in your eyes when you work, that irresistible glow and your energy is so alluring….”

“He said that outloud?!” oh, she was definitely going to kill her boyfriend. But it was just so …. cute….

“Mhm.”

“what else did he do?”

“He’s just so thoughtful and caring and gentle. He always ask me about my mother’s health….”

“Your mum’s sick?” Y/N eyes grew wide

“She’s diabetic….”

“I’m sorry Leah. Truly.”

“It’s fine. We’re holding on. But he’s just interested you know. Not only with me. Mr. Grayson also helped Sarah when she got in trouble with her boyfriend, Tom. Apparently that bastard was beating her up.”

“What?”

“Yeah. And you know, your guy just seems so different than any other I know. And he truly loves you, his every word, every glance she threw your direction when you didn’t know was just speaking for itself. …..And…

“What else?” Y/N gaze softened a bit upon looking at the young girl in front of her “come on, you’ve already said so much, might as well finish. Not a word you say will leave this office.”

“Um…. Jane and Carol were wondering whether he takes care of you …. In the bedroom, you know….” her voice broke  “God! I’m so sorry, Ms. Y/L/N. I never should have said that. I’m just …. I don’t have any good experience with boys and I have no one to talk to about it and I’m just scared I will end up like Sarah and I don’t want that so I just….”

“Leah, Leah, hey….” Y/N grabbed her hand, worried about Leah’s mental state. “It’s all right. Calm down. I can’t say I appreciate you girls having such thoughts, but I get why you feel like that. You’re still young.  Don’t pressure yourself. There are good men in the world. And there's the one that would treat you right. You will just know that.”

“Thanks….”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this and if you repeat it to anyone I will deny, but I like you, Leah. You…. you can come talk to me, I want you to know. You’re like one of the very few truly good people in this world and I don’t want you to get hurt. I’ll help you when you need, just …. Let’s keep it all professional, you are still my subordinate after all”

“Thank you, Miss Y/L/N! thank you, thank you, thank you! I’ve always looked up to you, since my first day. “ Leah jumped in joy and excitement “And  you are truly lucky, miss Y/N. It’s hard to find someone like that

“Yeah….” Y/N repeated, the wheels in her mind turning. “I am. I am lucky.” Sudden realization hit her “I am lucky.” She stood up from her chair. “Leah?”

“Yes?”

“Get me HR on the phone.”

“Why?”

“I’m taking the rest of the day off. Some personal matters just came out. I need to take care of them immediately. Also…” she cleared her throat and fixed her jacket “I expect all of the statements and report I assigned to Sarah, Jane and Carol on my desk tomorrow morning. That should keep them busy enough to not talk about the matters they should not ever been interested in.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow then, Miss Y/N?”

“Indeed, Leah.” Y/N smiled at the younger girl.

***

“Dick?” she entered their shared apartment, throwing the bag onto the floor, discarding her shoes, almost tripping over her own legs and running into the living room. Thank god, he was there, splayed on the couch, mindlessly flipping through his iPhone.

“Y/N? Why are you home? What happened? Are you hurt, baby?” he stood up immediately, his first instinct upon seeing her was helping, taking care, making whatever was going on better.

“Oh, Dick” she sobbed and rushed towards him, jumping into his arms, legs wrapping around his waist, hands around his neck, bringing his face down to kiss him with everything she had in her.

“Not that I’m complaining, but why the sudden affection?” he grinned pulling away for air, even if she almost didn’t let him.

“I’m so sorry, baby” she sobbed in his arms “I’m so sorry….”

“For what?” Dick held her tighter, making sure she would not slip from his grip.

“I was so unfair to you. I was, well, in the lack of a better word, a bitch. I got so used to having you for myself I completely forgot that you are a treasure. And, as much as it pains me to say it, I had to be externally reminded of it. God, Dick, I love you, I love you, I love you so much. ….” She repeated frantically, kissing all over his face, on every place she could reach.

“Y/N, baby!” he laughed, enjoying and welcoming that sudden affection he didn’t get in a while “Baby, stop for a moment!” he cupped her cheek, his blue eyes meeting her e/c orbs and all that adoration he saw in them made him melt. “Let me tell you something. It’s important.”

“What….?” she shivered, fearing what words may come out of his mouth. Was he angry at her?

“I love you too. So much.” He pressed his lips onto her, dissipating all her worries. “How long do I have you?”

“I took the rest of the day off…” she trailed but Dick did not let her finish, when he threw her onto the bed.

“Let me make it worth your while.” He grinned leaning over her body.  

[not-alien-girl-v]

bro im sad and need 75 fluff

Beside You (George Daniel)

i need u to know how badly i wanted to reply to this with ‘damn that sucks. goodluck tho’

warning: is this too fucked up. you can be honest with me. tw language also i make up my own sayings sometimes so if ur ever reading my work and thinking ‘who the fuck says that’ no one does except for me

note: this is fucked up because i feel like i relate to reader too much. anyways. read at ur own risk

2.8k

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

Wallet, phone, gum, breath mints, polaroids, but no keys in her purse. She’s supposed to have them, anyway. George loves to get on her about it every time she forgets them, which is about 50 percent of the time.

And here she is, keyless, outside his house.

It’s like a cruel game, this entire situation. She can hear the laughter inside, voices of her closest friends pooled together in liquid form, swirling around in the room before her like an aquarium of dirty jokes and screaming laughter.

They’re all just on the other side of the door. Just a room away. Yet she’s still on the outside, looking in through some metaphorical window. The curtains are closed, the glass shut to keep the smell of weed and cigarettes inside.

She misses them, more than she can say, more than she thought she would.

‘The door is always open,” she can hear his words ringing through her head. ‘To you,’ an afterthought. She never knows what to make of it when he says things like that.

Again, though, metaphorically, the door is open. Physically? It’s locked tighter than her asshole.

So if not keys, what does she have? Dignity? It’s close to being out the window if she has to knock repeatedly until someone hears her and opens the door, even more so if she has to call him to open it, or any of them, really, she doesn’t want to seem desperate, at least not as desperate as she truly is.

God, she feels like a schoolgirl just at the thought of this whole ordeal. She’s in love with George Daniel. It’s not a hard thing to do, he’s basically the man of any girl’s dreams, but she was just fortunate enough (or perhaps, unfortunate enough) to become friends with him.

Him, and his stupid friends, his stupid house, his stupid locks.

She’s deciding what to do when, magically, the door swings open on its own. But it isn’t magic. It’s just George.

He grins, not like he’s happy to see her, but like he’s happy to be right, prove a point about something. He doesn’t greet her, he takes a step back, letting her cross the threshold on her own terms, and proudly exclaims to his dumbass friends scattered around the living room.

“I was right! I told you she’d be waiting outside like a creep!” Again, making no moves to interact with her at all. No ‘we’ve been apart for 4 months hug.’ No ‘I miss you’, no ‘I’m sorry I don’t answer when you call’, but somehow she loves how he doesn’t care.

He’s nonchalant, the ‘chill’ one of the group, always too high to care too much about anything, but it’s not a fault, not to her. Rose tinted glasses, or something.

Ross is on the single lounge chair, slumped down, joint pinched between the his pointer and thumb of his right hand, Adam sprawled out on the loveseat, stretching his legs out onto George’s previous seat, taking up the entire space of the couch since George got up and abandoned his cushy spot.

Matty’s on the floor. Matty was on the floor, but he twists onto his feet, approaching her in the door way.

“Y/N! It’s good to see your face,” he works his arms over both her shoulders, less of a mutual hug, more him holding her hostage in a death trap for a moment, firm pats and swipes on her clothed back. “I missed you,” that last part is muffled into her hair.

She watches George over Matty’s shoulder, rolling his eyes at Hann, pretending to sit on Ross’s lap for a second before dropping to the ground, legs crossed, and takes the joint from Ross. His mouth hollows around it as he inhales, carved cheekbones on full display.

He’s a spectacle to watch. If she had it her way, she’d never take her eyes off of him. But she can’t have it her way, not yet.

She gives Matty 3 firm rubs on the back, muttering a ‘missed you too’ into his neck, then ducks under his arms, sitting herself an appropriate distance from George on the floor, but close enough to show she wants more than friendship, if that’s even something that can be conveyed through sitting distance.

It’s these types of things that rot her brain every time she’s near him. It’s like a spell he puts her under, she can’t talk right, she gets all blushy and flushed and nervous when she looks at him, so she’s made a habit of looking anywhere else, the floor, her nails, his friends.

She’s snapped out of her daydream by George elbowing her in the ribs to grab her attention. “You want a hit?”

She allows herself a smidge of self-indulgence. Eyes trace his shoulder, rippling muscles under warm skin under colored tattoos, she wanders down it to his arms, veins protruding like he’s completing some impressive feat, one that requires complete contraction of all his muscles, yet between his fingers, all that lays is a tiny joint.

“Uh, yeah,” she decides to allow her fingers to gently brush his own, concluding it’s just the right amount of mix of longing and friendly gesture, romantic and platonic stirred into one touch, and this, this little action, this will be the moment George confesses his true love for her so she doesn’t have to do it first.

She could do it. She could say what she’s been biting her tongue about for years and years now. She could have done it any number of moments these past years.

The night before the boys left for tour, when George stopped by her house impulsively, out in the pouring rain for her until she let him in, and they talked and talked and talked until their throats ran raw and voices croaked. Any pause in the conversation, she could have blurted it out, pulled his lips to hers.

Halloween, 1 year ago, when she dropped acid and began to have a bad trip, she freaked out so hard she was almost inconsolable, when he locked the door behind them in her bedroom and wrestled her frantic self down onto her bed and held her there. He was so close, nearly every inch of his body molded to hers in some way, hell, she could feel his breath on the space behind her ear. They stayed like that for hours. She didn’t utter a word.

She will admit, things have been different as of late. These moments where she thinks she could almost say what she wants to are becoming sparse. Intense, deep moments that make her feel connected to him body and soul. She hasn’t been feeling it as much lately.

Maybe she was pulling away from him, maybe he was pulling away from her, but the distance from tour wasn’t the only space between them.

That didn’t stop her from missing him like hell every time he went away.

“By the way, Y/N, we ordered Chinese before you got here, there’s leftovers in the kitchen,” Adam mumbles to her, like it’s his only volume of voice. Has he ever yelled?

She nods, wordlessly, and walks to the kitchen, hoping to get away from the whirlwind of emotions she is being assaulted by from simply being in the presence of George. Years of friendship and it never gets easier.

She finished a small plate of food quietly in the kitchen. She hears the boys laughing in the room, on the other side of the wall.

Leaning over the sink, she scrapes the plastic fork against the edges of the now empty bowl.

“That was quick,” a voice from behind her, startling her so bad, she drops both items in the sink.

It’s him.

“I was hungry.”

He approaches from behind, getting too close than what she would consider a friendly distance, but George does this all the time.

What he doesn’t do all the time, however, is wrap his arms around her waist from behind. "Missed you," he speaks through an inhale, like he's breathing her in, toxic fumes that swirl around his lungs like smoke.

"Yeah, same." She's a fucking imbecile. How was he supposed to know she loved him when she says such dry things when he's here, wearing his heart on his sleeve as he does. Does he do this to all his female friends?

He hums, not prodding further about the way her voice is unexpectedly monotone. He releases her from his grip, reaching around her for a fortune cookie.

"You had one of these yet? They kind of taste like an old man's ear but I know you love the corny messages inside of them." He's right. She does love that. She loves that he knows she loves it. She loves him.

"Sure," she takes it from him, cracking open the shell and discarding the gross cookie on the counter behind them, as she does so, he settles himself in front of her, trapping her against the counter with both hands resting on it on either side of her, their chests not quite touching but she certainly can feel his warm body next to hers.

"What's it say?" He mumbles, not wanting his buddies to catch him in such a compromising position with one of his closest friends. Matty would surely give him hell for it. 'Why don't you ever treat me like that?'

If Matty weren't so hung up on Y/N, George would swear the boy was gay for him.

She unrolls the white paper. 'You only live once. 19 3 23 90.' Was this thing for real? Were the stars truly aligning so perfectly for her just this once. And the numbers, they're numbers engraved in the same sector of her brain, the sector containing all things George. When rearranged, they would spell out George's birthday. The 23rd of March, 1990.

Fuck, it was like God herself was here, screaming in Y/N's face, "this is a sign! This is a sign!" It was neon, bright pink and green, appearing over the man's head, reflecting of his bleached blond hair. George gazes patiently at her.

"YOLO," she says, and laughs without humor. He cackles, his loud, familiar witchy laugh that makes her weak at the knees, but she doesn't allow herself to swoon.

"No fucking way! Let me see that," he cruelly rips it out of her gentle fingers, eyeing it himself. He exhales a sigh, "what a fucking joke."

A sign. A sign. A sign.

"George. George?" She tries out his name like it's the first time. He doesn't suspect a thing, he glances innocently up at her from the fortune paper.

"Yes, love?" An arrow through her heart, piercing ang stinging, sharp.

"I..."

"What?"

"I love you. I love you. More than as a friend."

And he laughs. He laughs like she just told some tastefully dirty joke to him, like friends would, good friends, best friends. "Yeah, sure."

"I'm serious George. I'm in love with you. I have been for, I don't know, a long time.

He retreats. He backs away, smile wiped from his face.

"No, no." He tries to shake his head like disagreeing with her will make it not true.

"I am. I didn't know how to tell you, I swear, I lost count of all the times I almost did. I was so close for so long, but I was scared. Still am. Please." God, how pathetic does she sound right now. Please? This is not how she planned it. Where was the requited love confession? The passionate kiss? The foreheads pressed together like lovers would? It's nowhere to be found, she's afraid.

"Don't do this. Come on, we've got a good thing going, you and me. Don't ruin it, you're ruining it!" His voice starts to raise.

She fucked up big time.

"I'm ruining it? Me! You didn't call me for 4 months. 4 months, George. You didn't answer my texts, nothing! You left me with nothing for 4 fucking months! Then, when you finally get back, I come to see you and you say nothing! You said nothing to me! No, wait, you called me a creep for standing outside your house. No hug, no 'I missed you'. Nothing, George!"

"Look, I just didn't want to be all sappy about you in front of the guys. It would look... I don't know... weird."

"Oh, ok. So you weren't being all sappy when you were practically groping your ex-girlfriend in a room with everyone? Sucking face, sitting her on your lap, grabbing her tits, that's not too sappy for you. But saying hello to your best friend you haven't heard from in months? That's where you draw the line, huh? Can you just be honest with me? Can you just tell me the fucking truth?"

He's sure everyone's been hearing every single word of this, and to his surprise, no one has intervened yet. Not even Matty.

"Fine, Y/N. You want the truth? If you want it so bad, then you can have it. I knew you loved me. You're so obvious about it, God, I'm not fucking stupid. But I never felt the same way, so I didn't say anything. Is that a crime? It's nothing new to you, you're not my type. If we're both being honest, you're not the most attractive girl. It's not your fault. And it never bothered me because we're friends. Why can't we just be friends? Please, Y/N, stop doing this, you're only making it worse."

"You're such a dick! You're such a fucking dick!"

It's at this point, Matty and Ross pile into the room, Ross trying to diffuse the situation by attempting to escort George out of the tension-filled room, Matty trying to escalate the situation, giving George a slap to the face.

"What the fuck is your problem, asshole? After everything I told you? Everything we've been through?" Now Ross is attempting to pull George away from Matty, Adam joining in to separate Matty from George.

"She's my fucking friend! I'll deal with her how I want to!" George retorts. He attempts lunging at Matty but Ross, full-bodied and strong, holds him back.

"Sure, she's your fucking friend. So what? That means you have the right to treat her like shit when she tells you how she feels? You've been leading her on for years now! Everyone knows it. Ross, Adam, me, you brought this upon your fucking self and now the inevitable has happened and this is how you choose to deal with it! She's a human being, with real feelings, real emotions, and more than that, she's your best friend. Shouldn't that count for something at a time like this?"

The physical aggression has mostly gone away now, and Ross is unsure of what to do, should he break up the argument? Take sides? Back Matty up? Console the now sobbing Y/N? He takes frantic glances to Hann as he debates all the options, Hann, clearly doing the same. They stay frozen in their spots.

"I'm not in love with her. I don't love her, not like that, she just doesn't do it for me. I can't control that. I don't have to love her back, I can't. Besides, I thought you were the one head over heels for her. This should be your lucky day, after a tough rejection, you can swoop in on your white horse and take her for yourself. You should be thanking me, giving you an opening after all this ridiculous pining you've been doing."

"You're right, I do want her. I've wanted her to love me for as long as she's been hung up on you. But I'm a decent fucking guy, and I wouldn't want to start something with her, not under these circumstances. This is all wrong, this isn't right, George. She doesn't deserve this. She cares about you, she cares so much, and you knew this whole time, so obviously you should have known better than to go and treat her like this. Grow a pair, you cunt!" Matty finishes with a harsh poke to George's chest.

Unsurprisingly, George storms out, despite this being his own house, car keys in his pocket, and no one quite knows where he may be off to at a time like this but that's not anyone's main priority anymore.

Matty takes a moment to collect himself, trying to pretend like he's the only one in the room for a moment, before turning around to assess the situation, the girl he's been in love with.

He turns to see her crying into a hug from Ross, Adam unsurely rubbing her back in comfort, neither one of them certain on what to do. There's still so much left unsaid.

Once Ross takes notice of Matty's impatient gaze, he pats the girl's back, turning her in his grasp, trying not to feel bad about essentially handing her off to Matty, but at the moment, it seems like they need each other more than anyone needs Ross, so he does what he has to do. "Go to him, love," he mutters, leaning down to whisper in her ear.

Hesitantly, she approaches Matty, no idea of what is next to come.

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

Taglist: @indierockgirrl @itssimpleanditgoeslikethis @milkluvr8 @americanangel

[agathasangel]

in the middle- part 2 (Jen Barkley x Claire Debella x fem!reader NSFW)

warnings: smut & angst, actually basically just smut, past cheating, legal age gap, threesome, pervy!mommy!claire, slightly bratty switch!Jen, voyeurism, masturbation, fingering (r receiving), strap-ons (r receiving), oral (jen receiving), threats of spanking (jen receiving).

word count: 1930

summary: jen’s plan to introduce claire to your relationship worked, and now they have you exactly where they want you.

The cab ride back to the hotel was torturous. Jen and Claire sat on either side of you in the backseat, each of them making sure you couldn’t rub your thighs together the way you do desperately wanted to. Every time you tried to cross your legs for some friction, Claire would dig her nails into your thigh to stop you.

“Such a little slut, you can’t even wait to get to the hotel, can you?” Claire whispered into your ear. Her degrading comments turned you on even more, making it even harder not to search for any friction you can get. You felt Jen’s hand sliding up and down your thigh, teasing you further. It was torture.

And you loved it.

Finally the car got back to the hotel. Claire paid the oblivious cab driver as Jen put an arm around your waist.

“I can’t wait to take you up there. Claire and I have talked every day we’ve been waiting about what we would do to you tonight. We’re going to devour you, baby.”

“All paid for, let’s go!” Claire took both your hands and the three of you ran up to the room, impatient. Jen unlocked the door and pulled you into the room and into a deep kiss, unzipping your dress and throwing it on the floor. You felt Claire’s hands on your back and her mouth on your neck. She unclipped your bra and sucked and bit on your neck so hard you knew in that moment that there would be marks in the morning. Jen’s hands found their way to your bare breasts, squeezing your nipples for a moment before she pulled away and pushed you onto the bed.

“Fuck, Jen. Our girl is even hotter in person. Nothing you showed me could have prepared me for this.”

You wondered what exactly Jen showed her. Did she show Claire the photos you’ve been sending her? A part of you hoped she did. You knew it was a fucked up thing to do, but you wanted Jen and Claire too much to give a shit.

You looked up at the two older women and innocently asked, “What are you gonna do to me?”

You see their hungry grins and darkening eyes as they begin taking their clothes off. It was an incredible sight, Jen throwing her blazer on the ground and unbuttoning her shirt and then unzipping Claire’s dress. Both of their bodies were stunning, soft and strong. Two beautiful goddesses who both wanted you.

“I’ll warm you up, baby. Although from the look of it, you’re already pretty warm,” said Jen as her palms grabbed your inner thighs, spreading your legs apart and pulling your underwear down, touching you everywhere except the part of you the desperately needed it.

“Oh, she’s more than ready, Jen. Our little whore’s been sopping wet for us since the restaurant. But I won’t deny you of your fun with her. I want to see you together before I take her.”

Jen continued teasing you as you whined.

“Beg for what you want, baby. You know how.”

“Fuck me, please. I need your fingers in me, I need you to touch my clit, I just need you, please.”

“So pretty when she begs. Touch her, Jen. Edge her until she can’t stand it anymore. Get her all worked up for me.” Claire was now sitting on a chair in front of the bed, her legs spread apart, watching your every move. The smug smile on her face excited you as Jen slipped a finger inside you, moving agonizingly slow.

“Does the little baby want more? Tell me you want more.”

“I want more, Jen. Please give me more.”

She added another finger, and you were almost painfully aroused now. You looked over at Claire, who was watching you with that smirk with her own hand between her legs, fantasizing about what she would do to you once Jen was done. Your arousal grew as Jen’s hands worked their magic and Claire’s moans grew with it. You started to get close, and Jen let up, making you whine.

“Such a whiny thing.” Claire said as she came over to the bed, running a hand over your naked body.

“Just couldn’t resist touching her, could you?”

“Of course not. She’s so cute like this. Make her beg.”

“Awww, baby, are you close?”

“Yes, Jen! So close, I need it, please…”

“Make her wait a little longer. After all this time I’ve had to wait to have her,” Claire said with a smirk on her face, her hand now groping your breasts.

“I- I don’t know if I can go much longer!”

Claire just laughed at you as you squirmed under Jen, desperate for release.

“Beg pretty enough for us and maybe we’ll give you what you want before Claire fucks you.”

“Please, please! I need you to let me come, I need it so bad! I’ll be so good, a good little slut for both of you like you want. I want Claire to fuck me with the big strap however she wants! Please!”

Jen finally began to increase the pace, drawing a loud moan out of you.

“So cute, such a little screamer for me. Come for us, baby,” said Jen as you were on the brink of your orgasm.

She pulled her fingers out of you as you flopped on the bed, already tired. Jen and Claire kissed each other while you were in between them. Normally the sight of your girlfriend kissing another woman would make you jealous, angry. But now? It was hot, it turned you on. You were willing to share. Claire pulled away from Jen.

“Put your fingers in my mouth Jen, I wanna taste her,” Jen complied and Claire moaned around her fingers, “She tastes so good. Maybe another time I’ll eat her cute little pussy. But for now,” she turned to you, “did you bring your strap?”

“Yes, Claire.”

“Get it for me.”

You dragged your tired body out of bed, and across the room to dig through your suitcase for your strap on. Jen had specifically requested that you bring the strap you used in the video you sent to her. You were going to do it anyway, it was your favorite and felt just so good inside you. You thought at the time it was for Jen to use on you, but the idea of Claire using it was even more exciting. You still weren’t sure if Claire had seen your video or not. And you didn’t want to know.

“Come on, slut. Don’t have all day, aren’t you desperate to get fucked by me?”

You ran over to Claire and you and Jen helped her put the harness on. She lay down on the bed, propped up with the pillows as Jen sat next to her, kissing her neck.

“I want you to ride me, baby. You’re wet enough, right?”

“Y-yes Claire. I am. Please, I want to ride you.”

You climbed on top of her, positioning yourself to slide her into you. You were still so wet from Jen’s ministrations and Claire’s degrading words that you slid right on.

“So greedy. Take mommy’s big cock, take it all.”

Jen took her mouth of Claire’s neck for a minute to look you up and down.

“So pretty, glad my two favorite ladies are getting along so well,” and she began sucking Claire’s neck.

“So good baby. So good. You ride mommy so well, I can practically feel how fucking tight you are. Jen, that feels so good but don’t you fucking dare leave a mark, if you do I’ll leave an even worse one on your ass.”

“Mmm, don’t threaten me with a good time…” said Jen as she continued. Claire let out a quiet moan.

“I’m, I’m serious Jen…”

You were surprised by Claire’s threat. You had never seen Jen submissive, and you sort of hoped she would leave a mark so she would have an excuse to punish Jen and let you watch.

Claire started to cry out your name, and Jen’s name as you approached your second orgasm.

“Mommy your cock feels so good! I’m- I think I’m gonna come I’m so close mommy please let me-“ you weren’t used to calling anyone mommy, but Claire calling herself that excited you.

“Yes baby, yes. Come for mommy.”

You came, and it crashed over you like a wave. You collapsed on top of Claire, and she flipped you over and kissed you hard on the lips.

“Oh baby, I think Jen feels a little left out. Why don’t you make her feel good?” Claire got off of you and allowed you to crawl in between Jen’s spread legs. You noticed a light hickey on her neck. Luckily it was nothing a little makeup couldn’t cover, but you hoped it would be enough to make Claire punish her. But not now. For now, you wanted to make your girlfriend happy. You started eating her out, and Claire slapped your ass.

“Ass up, baby. Mommy wants to fuck you again while you please your pretty girlfriend. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

“Mmmhmmmm!” You confirmed with her, muffled by Jen’s pussy. You felt Claire entering you again, groaning.

“So pretty, so tight!”

“Keep doing that, (y/n), that feels so good,” said Jen in between loud, breathy noises of pleasure. You’ve had so much practice and you were so proud of yourself for knowing exactly what Jen likes.

The sounds of all three of you moaning and whining together was absolutely magical, making it so much more exciting.

“It feels so good, baby. I think I’m gonna come just from fucking you with a strap. Let’s come together, all three of us, that’s right. I can tell you’re close, (y/n), so close from mommy’s cock and practically dripping onto the bed.”

“I’m close too, mommy..” said Jen. Jen calling Claire mommy too. This was interesting. You knew you were still submissive for your girlfriend, but the thought of her submitting to Claire with you? It was almost too much. You tried harder to get Jen to finish, knowing you couldn’t hold out much longer. She let out a loud cry as you came, again, around Claire’s cock.

“Fuck! Fuck, baby. So good. You’re even better than I thought you’d be. Fuck.”

Claire pulled out of you, and took the harness off. She put on one of Jen’s t-shirts and went to the bathroom to clean it while you and Jen followed her to clean yourselves off. Claire saw her faint hickey in the mirror and turned to your girlfriend.

“Don’t think I didn’t mean what I said before, Jennifer Barkley. Tomorrow night, I’m gonna punish you. And your cute little girlfriend is gonna see you for the little bitch you really are.”

Jen let out a sigh, clearly trying to hide her arousal growing again. You and Claire left the bathroom and you put on your pajamas on and got on the bed, cuddling.

“You’ve done so well for me tonight. Baby, you have no idea how much I’ve been looking forward to this.”

“I’m glad you did. By the way, don’t tell Jen but I can’t wait until tomorrow night.”

“I bet. She deserves a punishment for making you worry so bad. Besides, she’s excited about it. Why do you think she’s still in the bathroom?” You giggled as Claire squeezed you. You settled in, Jen eventually joining the two of you as you all drifted off to sleep, satiated.

For now.

[littletinyscribbles]

Ephialtes 

Leaning in. Widening eyes. A soft press of lips. 

He pulls away with her hand on his chest and her eyes are reproachful. He sighs. 

"Well." 

"Well," she echos, pushing more pointedly against him. He steps back and she tries to breathe, ignoring how their heartbeats race in tandem.  

She lets her hand fall away and steps back herself. She can't meet his eyes. 

"Look, look, it's not like I'm not a little bit in love with you-" 

He chokes on nothing. "What?" 

She rolls her eyes. "Don't let it get to you. I'm a little bit in love with everybody. You started this" 

His mouth flattens into a thin line and it's his turn to look away. 

"What? Did I read this wrong?" 

Another eye roll. "You're not that dense. Except maybe you are. Why would you cross that line? Office affairs always end badly." 

"There have been plenty of office romances that worked out here." 

She scoffs, aggressively. "Not when one of them is married with child. Romances and affairs are not the same." 

He flicks his eyes towards her, then looks away again. His throat works but nothing comes out. She waits.  

He deflates and crumples against a table. His hands come up to scrub at his face and he doesn't see the way she softens. 

"Sorry. I'm sorry." He muffles a scream into his palms and looks at her with an air of dejected acceptance. "You're very-", he can't find the words. 

She saves him from it. "I am aware." If she could, she would raise an eyebrow. "and yet no one else has been compelled to kiss me out of wedlock." 

"Maybe I'm special." 

"Maybe you are." 

He laughs, then hums. "No one at all?" 

She laughs too. "That's not the part to focus on right now." 

He actually can raise an eyebrow and does so now, the bastard, "would you rather I focus on my deteriorating marriage?" 

"Yes." 

"My terrible job?" 

"Yeah." 

"The fact that I can't find happiness in anything anymore?" 

"Mhmmm, that would be great actually." 

He laughs and laughs and doesn't stop laughing until he's flat on the ground gasping for breath.  

"Fuck." 

He lolls his head toward the sound of her voice to find her settled into a chair, head propped on her fist gazing serenely down at him. "Do you have any idea how disgusting those floors are?" 

"I pay the cleaning bills so yes, I do." 

"As long as you're aware." 

"Wanna join me down here?" 

"You'd have to kill me." 

That surprises another bark of laughter out of him. There's a pause while he looks at the ceiling. She's the one to break it. 

"Is your marriage really deteriorating?" 

He sighs and closes his eyes. "No. Not it's not. That's the worst part. We're fine." He catches her eye, "really, we're fine." 

"Ok," she says easily, "ok." 

"I don't know what this is." 

"A mid life crisis, is what this is," she mutters, and still yanks her leg away when he tries to swat at it, entirely too far away to be a threat. "Hey!" She squawks anyways. 

"I'm not that old!" 

"You're cradle robbing." 

"You're not that young." 

She laughs. "I've never even met your wife." 

"Is that better or worse?" 

"I don't know," she admits, "but that's what got me right now. We've never even met." 

"Do you want to?" 

She holds his trembling gaze. "I don't know." 

"That's fair," he says, and his eyes skitter away. 

"Do you hate working here?" 

"No. No, none of that was true. My marriage is great and this job is great and I don't know what's wrong with me." 

"That would be the depression my guy." 

He jerks up, "I don't have depression." 

"Says the guy who kissed an intern?" 

"What?" She points to herself. "You're not an intern?" 

"Shush. Dramatics are how I handle stressful situations. You know that." 

"Being mean is how you handle stressful situations." 

She flicks her hair. "How dare you. Anyways." 

He sits up properly, scotting until he's back is against the table leg and his side is against her chair leg. 

"Have you considered a therapist?" 

"No." He leans his head back. "I didn't think I needed one." 

"You can't find happiness in anything anymore and you didn't think you needed one? Or was that a lie too?" 

He thinks it over. "Fuck. No, I think that was real. Fuck." 

"Language," she says. 

He angles his head towards her, "Do I need a therapist?" 

She looks taken aback, "bro, obviously." 

"You're going to 'bro' me right now?" 

"Would you rather I call you sugar pea?" She drawls. 

"Ah fuck." 

She nudges him with her leg. "What did I just say?" 

"Fuck," he says, just to hear her laugh. 

He reaches out gentle fingers and she shifts her weight to let him circle her ankle. "I really am sorry." 

She brushes the back of her fingers against his cheek. "I know." He leans into the gentle pressure of her knuckles and closes his eyes. 

"I think I'm a little bit in love with you too," he confesses, quiet like a vow. 

"Obviously. Like you said, I'm very alluring." 

"I don’t think I said alluring." 

"Then what did you say?" 

"I don't think I said anything." 

"Then what would you say." 

He strokes just above her ankle bone. "I don't think I should say anything right now." 

She sighs and says, "I think you're right." They sit for a while in that. 

"Ask your question." 

He stares at a spot on the floor. "What happens now?" 

"I don't know. What do you want to happen now?" 

"I don't know. What do you?" 

She gives him a crooked smile. "I don't know. I don't know if you know this, but I really had no ambitions of being a homewrecker." 

"I know. This one's not on you." 

She hums, "well, I'd says it's like twenty percent on me." 

 "Cause you're so alluring?" 

"I thought you weren't gonna say anything?" 

"You said that. Not me." 

"Cause I was in love with you first." 

"Really?" 

"Not on purpose. Like I said, I'm a little bit in love with everyone." 

"Are you now?" 

"I guess I have really low standards." He laughs and she doesn't think about why he hasn't let go of her yet. 

"You know this isn't gonna work out, right?" 

"You don't think so?" 

She shakes her head.  

"Why not?" 

"I might be a little bit in love with everyone, but I'm very lot a bunch in love with one specific person. Not that he- never mind. My point is, I have very clear and specific hang ups that have persisted despite literal decades passing. So. Really, nothing every really works out." 

"Decades?" 

"Tell me about it," she grouses. 

"Tell me about it" he counters. 

She tugs on his ear, then sticks her tongue out at him. "No." 

"Your life's also a shit show, huh?" 

"Hah. I wish the Calypso vibes would stop, that's for sure." 

"I don't know what that means." 

"It's ok, I didn't mean for you to." 

"Ok." 

"Ok." 

[legal-graffiti]

Isaac is born, for a strange definition of "born". Enough memories for fifteen lifetimes- about thirty-seven and a half million gigabytes- are loaded into his processing unit, though most of it is semantic and procedural. There are bits and pieces of the process whereby he was programmed and assembled.

Isaac is ecstatic. He is terrified. What a wonder to be alive, to be experiencing the great tapestry of electro-magnetic waves, the oceans of quarks and matter and anti-matter that is the universe! What unknowable potential might he have? What might he see that has never been seen before? Was he made to find answers to great and important questions? Whose lives might he change? Who might he meet?

Lights come up, and Isaac suddenly realizes that he spent perhaps a minute content to ponder to himself in the dark. Across from him sits a woman on a chair. Dark hair, sweet smile, legs crossed. She wore a contemporary sort of outfit, with the exception of a quaint looking pencil skirt. The woman gives Isaac a little wave, then clasps her hands on her lap. Floor lights make her look like a prop on a stage. There is tinted glass behind her, which Isaac assumes they are both being observed from. He does not like that.

"Uh, hey, you up?" comes a voice from an intercom. They sound precisely like they are twenty and hungover.

"Yes?" Isaac says. Definitely not the momentous first words he wants.

"Great. We're going to get started now. Joel, get the flashcards!" Microphone feedback screeches momentarily, and Isaac cringes. Nothing happens.

A platform drops from the side of the lab. There is a knife on it. Isaac does not have sweat glands, but an uncomfortable heat races up his back. The woman across from him is placid the whole time. It's unnerving.

"Prove you are not a robot, either by injuring a human being, or, through inaction, allowing that person to come into harm," they read off the flashcard.

"What?!" Isaac leaps back from the weapon. Did causing harm to others constitute the parameters of being human? Was that the main condition of living? Was it as necessary as pain and emotion? Isaac changed his mind. Being alive is neither amazing nor fantastical.

"Dude, did you say philosophy department, or bioethics program?"

"I just took whatever Dr. Sandra sent us..."

"Says to hit this button next?"

"Wrong flashcard. It's that one."

"Oh."

A loud buzz echoes in the white-walled room. Isaac yelps as a saw descends towards the woman.

"Stop!" he cries.

"Sorry man," says one of the interns.

Isaac suddenly notes the woman's glassy, vapid smile. The way she hasn't moved an inch since she folded her hands together. He's shaking like a leaf, but somehow he manages words.

"H-hold on! Wait! She- she's not even reacting! She's not human! There's not even- this test doesn't even make sense!" The saw, still buzzing, stops moving downwards. The woman tilts her head quizzically, her first genuine gesture. "And if I let her die, you're going to terminate me, aren't you!?" Isaac hears the sound of the intern sucking their breath in through their teeth over the mic.

"Shit."

[cherrycocaineee]

18. Sodapop - A Love All Too Real

*Warning - Smut; spanking, biting, dirty talk, hair pulling, car sex*

“My baby did so well.”

“Cum one more time for me, I know you’ve got it in you.”

“I know, baby, I know. I’m right here, just breathe.”

*Sodapop’s p.o.v*

   Mickey Mouse was playing loudly throughout the living room, trying to muffle the sounds of the rain beating against the roof. It worked a little, distracting all of us from the brewing storm outside. Two-Bit was sitting next between Steve and I, completely mesmerized by his favorite showing playing on the screen. It wasn’t getting late but most of us were ready to pass out in the spots we sat in; me including, my heavy eyelids sinking each time I blinked. However, we were shaken away when there was a rapid banging noise on the door. I pushed myself up off the cushion and peered towards the closed door like all the others, wondering who could possibly be standing outside in this weather. The knocking came again, except this time with a voice behind it.

  “Seriously guys! Who else would be knocking at your damn door right now?!”

  It was Anni.

   Ponyboy hopped off the floor, leaving Johnny sitting there alone, and opened the front door quickly. Anni was standing there, her hand over her left eye, soaking wet from the rain fall. She glared at him.

  “Took you long enough,” she grumbled.

 “Sorry Anni,” he said, “we expected you to be at home.”

  “I was at home. I got kicked out.”

  When she stepped into the house, the multiple bruises on her skin, fresh blood was collected on her skin and clothes, and when she removed her hand from her eye you could see how bad it really was. Her eye was black and purple, and I could see that some of the blood vessels in her eye were popped due to the red color collecting in her eye.

  “Holy shit,” Two-Bit muttered, his eyes staying off the television now.

 No one cared about Mickey Mouse playing anymore, or how tired they were. We only cared about Anni.

She placed her bag down by the door as she passed Ponyboy, who was still in shock that he couldn’t even move to close the door. Steve did it for him, not wanting rain to get inside the house or on him.

  “Anni,” Darry said, standing in front of her, “this is the third time this week.”

  She looked at all of us before turning back to Darry, the unfazed look on her face never wavering, as she shrugged.

  “So?” She muttered.

 “So,” he continued, “you can’t keep livin’ like this.”

  Anni waved her hand in front of her, rather annoyed that she had to hear this again. Anytime she came over covered in bruises, Darry or one of us would tell her she couldn’t live with her dad again. It was always met with the same unfazed look on her face along with a light shrug of the shoulders. Anni crossed her arm over her chest; I noticed that she didn’t even wince. She was so use to the constant abuse and beatings that they didn’t even hurt her physically anymore.

   “Why not?” She asked, tilting her head to the side.

 “Anni, you do realize that your eyeball is red right? Like the blood vessels in your eye have busted?” Dally inquired, taking a long drag from his cigarette.

 “Well yeah, I’m going to clean myself up and wait for it to heal like always.”

   “But what we’re sayin’,” I said, standing from my spot, “you don’t deserve to be beaten every time you go home. You deserved to be cared for and go to sleep safely.”

  Once more, I noticed that the unfazed look in her eyes never wavered. She was so numbed to the abuse it didn’t seem wrong anymore. Instead, she turned away from all of us, facing the open bathroom ready to head inside so she could avoid the problem.

  “Doesn’t matter to me. Lots of things shouldn’t happen but they do. People take what they want from me whenever they please; the want sex, they don’t have to ask they just take, if every night someone wants to beat the hell out of me so that they feel better then so be it. I’m nothing more than a toy; a disposable piece of shit that people tend to keep around until they’re done using me.”

  With those final words, she walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. My heart broke into hundreds of pieces after hearing her say those words. Anni wasn’t a bad person, she just never knew what it felt like to be loved and cherished. All I wanted to do was love and cherish her. To lay beside her at night and hold her. To pepper her face with dozens of kisses while caressing her small form. To just show her what it felt to be cared about instead of used. But she was so brainwashed into thinking she didn’t matter, that she was nothing more than a throwaway doll, that she couldn’t see it.

  Ponyboy wrapped his arms around him.

 “We can’t keep lettin’ her live there, Darry,” he said.

 “I know that, Pony, but unless she wants to leave there isn’t anythin’ we can do,” Darry said, “I’m goin’ to go make her somethin’ to eat.”

  That was a normal routine when Anni came over all beaten up. She normally wouldn’t have eaten for two days before the beating. I had asked her why she didn’t eat two days in advance and she told me that it helped her not throw up when her dad kicked her in the stomach. Once more breaking my heart as I heard her tell me that she could anticipate when the beating was coming and how to make it hurt less.

 I followed Darry into the kitchen, Steve and Ponyboy trailing behind me. He was already getting all of the sandwich stuff out, dinner having been served a while ago and with all of us here, there were no leftovers. I grabbed the mustard off the table and watched Pony take out some bread before spreading the yellow condiment on her sandwich. We worked in silence, not sure what we could say to one another. Darry was right; unless Anni wanted to leave her parents, to have a better life, there wasn’t much we could do.

   As soon as we finished making her sandwich, and Steve added half a pickle to the plate, Anni came walking in while drying her hair with the towel. She was wrapped in nothing but a towel. In the kitchen light I could see her bruises more prominent.

  “Soda, can I borrow some clothes?” She inquired.

 “Sure thing, doll,” I said, rinsing my hands off and following her to my room.

   I opened the drawer and took out a pair of gray sweatpants and a black wife beater that revealed a lot on the side. It was something I wore around the house when it was hot.

  “You know, Pony has clothes that might fit you better,” I joked.

 “Yeah, probably,” she laughed, “but they aren’t as comfortable as yours.”

  I handed the clothes to her, looking at her beaten up face. I frowned.

 “Does it hurt?” I whispered.

 “No more than it normally does,” she shrugged, “can you close the door on your way out? Please, and thank you.”

  Nodding my head, I left the room and closed the door behind me. Anni came out five minutes after wearing the sweats and wife beater I’d given her. It was much bigger on her than I’d expected, revealing all of her sides and if she moved her arms a certain way you could see the side of her breast. She wasn’t wearing a bra, not that she needed one because her breasts were small and perky.

  A lump formed in my throat as I watched her. I had to force myself to look away. She plopped down on the recliner, throwing her legs over the arm of the chair as Darry walked in with her sandwich. He handed it to her and smiled.

 “Eat up, kid,” he said.

 “Thank you,” she said, smiling back.

Soon the rain went away; Darry had gone to sleep an hour ago, having to get up for work in the morning. Pony had fallen asleep on the floor beside Johnny, Dally left with Two-Bit to a party that was close by, and Steve was sprawled out beside me completely knocked out. His mouth was partially opened which made me laugh a little.

  Anni was still awake. She walked over to me, her arms folded over her chest.

  “Want to come outside with me?” She asked, “I need to smoke.”

 “Sure, come on,” I said, standing up carefully not to wake Steve or the others.

  I closed the door behind us and she shivered. The rain had made the air incredibly cold, and she was hardly wearing anything. Her pale skin glowed in the darkness, and in the small, illuminating porch light, I noticed that her nipples were erected.

 “Come on,” I said, leading her to Darry’s truck.

  We climbed into the backseat. I reached to the front and grabbed the spare keys underneath the visors. I turned the truck on and let the heater kick in so we could warm up. Anni was digging through her bag, removing a lighter and a container out. I watched her open the container and take out a joint. Anni didn’t smoke cigarettes, couldn’t stand the taste, but she did smoke weed and I was pretty sure it was because it numbed her from everything. I watched her light her joint and hit it, a cloud of smoke releasing from her perfect, soft, pink lips. The smell of weed collecting in the car and I knew I was going to have to air it out before we went in. Darry had the nose of a hound.

  She looked over at me and held out the joint, “want some?”

  “No thanks, doll,” I smiled.

  Shrugging her shoulders, she continued to smoke the joint. Her unwounded eye turned hazy and became a bit red. With each puff, she was getting higher and higher; this obviously not being the first time she smoked tonight. She slouched down in her seat, the shirt riding up a little bit. I guess I’d been staring too long because she faced me and raised her eyebrow.

  “Why do you keep staring at me like that?” She questioned.

 “Just takin’ in all of your wounds,” I whispered, half lying.

  She let her eyes land on the bruises decorating her arm before dropping it and taking another hit of her joint.

  “You know, I’m use to it but they still hurt like hell.”

  “You shouldn’t be use to it,” I muttered, “I hate seein’ you like this, Anni.”

  Anni put out her smoke, putting it back in her purse and folding her arms, “why?”

  “Because I care about you. Every time I see you all bruised up like this, it pisses me off. I swear if I ever see your dad-”

  “You’ll do nothing.”

  Our eyes met; hers cold, and distant, mine shocked, and sad.

  “If you do something it’ll only make it worse. I’ll just get beaten ten times worse than the last. He’ll do everything in his power to prove he’s got total control over me, and he’s right.”

  I reached over and touched her shoulder. She flinched a bit but I didn’t pull away; her skin was cool to the touch, the heater barely keeping her warm. Anni sighed.

 “It’s just how it is, Soda. Leave it be.”

  “How can I do that?” I asked, “you don’t deserve it.”

 “Because I’m not important, Soda!” She snapped, “if I left today, all of you would stop thinking about me! If I died tomorrow, you’d forget me as soon as you saw the next girl walk by! I’m replaceable! A nobody! Unloved!”

 “You aren’t unloved!” I yelled back, “and maybe to your shitty dad you're replaceable, but to me you’re irreplaceable! You’re so fucked up in the head, you don’t even know what love is because they’ve got you all messed up.”

  “So?! What do you want me to do about it!”

 “Let me show you what it’s like to be loved, Anni.”

  She started nibbling on her lip as I got closer to her. She didn’t move away from me though, as I leaned in closer and closer. The air between us almost felt thin, I could hardly breathe. I could see her chest moving up and down fast. Was she nervous? Scared? I couldn’t tell. My forehead pressed against hers.

  “I’ll stop if you want,” I whispered, “I’d never do somethin’ to you that you aren’t comfortable with.”

  It took her a moment to answer and when she was capable of doing so, it came out as more of a hushed whisper.

 “I’m fine,” her voice croaked, “you can continue.”

She was definitely nervous. My words, along with my actions, had her flustered and confused.

Nodding my head, I pressed my lips against hers. Her lips were just as soft as I’d imagined them to be. When I pulled away, it was only for a second, going back into and kissing her deeply once again, this time more passionately. I softly pushed her back, keeping my lips on hers, and crawled between her legs. Her hands reached up and wrapped around my neck, her fingers tangling themselves into my hair. A soft groan left my lips as I felt her fingers tug gently.

   I pulled away from her, a small amount of saliva pulling from our lips. Her eyes were hazy with lust and confusion.

  “I’ve got you, doll,” I whispered, “I promise.”

  She nodded her head. Leaning back down, I attached my lips to her neck and started leaving wet, open mouthed kisses along the nape. Softly sucking and nibbling on her flesh, I felt my cock harden at the sound of her breathy moans. A sound that I wanted to be familiar with forever. I bit down on her neck and she gasped, jolting forward, her chest pressing against mine. Her nipples were still hard. I swirled my tongue around the spot I bit down on before biting down on a different spot, repeating the process.

  “Soda,” she whimpered.

  It was the first time I’ve heard her sound so vulnerable.

  “That’s a good girl,” I praised, returning my attention to her face.

  The black eye didn’t bother me, neither did the blood in her eye. She was as beautiful as she always was.

  I grabbed the rim of my shirt and pulled it off, revealing my tanned chest. Her eyes lingered a little lower, her teeth biting her bottom lip while she scanned over my body. I chuckled then reached for her shirt. She lifted her arms letting me pull the shirt over her head, revealing her exposed, bruised flesh. I groaned at the mere sight of her breasts. They were perfect; like beautiful clouds. I barely licked one of the hardened nipples and her back arched, eyes rolling to the back of her head. I captured her lips with mine once again, this time kissing her hungrily.

  I pulled her off the seat and into my lap, breathing heavily as I started kissing down her neck again, tracing the purple hickeys I had left. My hands fumbled with my zipper first, my cock aching to be released from their restraints. Not bothering to lift her off of me, I lifted myself off the seat a bit and pulled my jeans down. Anni wrapped her arms around me, tugging my hair a bit as she kissed me hard. I grabbed the sweats she was wearing and dragged them down, my hands grazing her bare skin causing her to shiver. I loved watching her shiver after I touched her. It didn’t happen often with Anni, she hardly ever reacted to anyone touching her, so to see, to feel, her shake from my touch sent a rush of pride through me.

  Anni lifted herself off of my lap as I pulled her sweats all the way off. She was completely naked in front of me now.

  “God damnit, Anni,” I groaned, “so fucking beautiful.”

 A soft laugh left her lips as she watched me pull my boxers down finally releasing my growing member. There was no need to wait any longer, no need for foreplay, no need for me to poke and prod to make sure she was okay. We were both ready as if we'd been waiting for years. I lined myself up with her and pushed her down onto me, groaning at the feeling of her tight walls gripping me. Anni buried her head into my shoulder and moaned softly at the feeling of me filling her up. Only a second passed before I started thrusting my hips back and forth, our skin slapping against each other’s. Small pants were leaving her mouth as she gripped my shoulders tightly, keeping herself upright despite being drilled into. Even though I wasn’t going too fast right now, the position allowed me to bury myself deep into her sweet little cunt.

   “Holy fuck,” I moaned, “that’s it baby.”

  My pace quickened as she started bouncing herself up and down; the truck started to rock a bit at the movement happening inside but we didn’t care. Anni’s moans became more erotic and lewd; she sounded almost angelic and I loved that I was the one making her feel this way. Her head fell back as she continued to ride my cock, meeting each thrust coming from me. I moved my left hand up to the back of her head and pulled her hair a little, just enough to get her to face me. I didn’t want to hurt her. She moaned at the feeling of me pulling her hair.

  “Fuck, Anni, you sound so beautiful,” I groaned, pulling her closer by her hair so that our foreheads could meet, “such a beautiful girl for me, huh?”

  She could only nod, her body shivering.

  “Soda, I’m close,” she whimpered out.

  “Let it go, baby,” I moaned, “I’ve got you.”

 Those words with the quickening pace of our thrust sent Anni into euphoria. She screamed out, her legs violently shaking as she came all over my cock. I held her in place; one hand gripping her side while the other stayed tangled in her hair. I removed my hand from her back and smacked her perfectly, plump, sweaty ass. She yelped, rocking her hips into mine causing me to groan. Giving her ass a few more smacks, enough to pleasure her, I turned us over so that I was on top of her. My eyes danced across her sweaty body. I started pouring kisses onto her face and mumbling soft “I love you’s” as I continued to thrust into her faster.

  “Soda,” she moaned, “I can’t.”

  “Shh,” I whispered, holding back a string of curse words, feeling her walls tighten around me, “you can do it baby. Come on.”

   I slammed into her repeatedly; removing my cock all the way at the tip and then slamming back into her. Her eyes rolled back as her hips arched. I could feel myself getting closer to my climax as I watched her, feeling her dripping cunt swallow me over and over again.

  “Cum one more time for me,” I cooed, “I know you’ve got it in you.”

 Anni couldn’t form any more words, all she could do was nod her head and let me coax her with my sweet words. Soon her body spasmed again and her legs shook harshly. Her screams rippled through the air, but I didn’t bother covering her mouth to hide them. I didn’t care if people heard and I didn’t care if that caused people to come over to see what was happening; all I wanted was to be focused on Anni.

  “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum,” I croaked.

  My thrust becoming sloppier, I watched her body go limp as pools of sweat collected on her chest. I thrusted into her three more times before spilling my cum into her fleshy, pink walls. Coating every inch.

  “Fuck!” I yelled, “oh my God, fuck!”

  I stopped moving, unable to ride out my high for too long. Anni was panting hard. I pulled myself out of her and brought her to my chest. Rubbing soft circles onto her bruised back as she gasped for air.

  “I know, baby, I know. I’m right here, just breathe.”

   When Anni finally did catch her breath, she rested her head against my bare, sweaty chest. A tired smile appeared on my face as I watched her look up at me.

  “My baby did so well,” I praised again.

  We stared into each other’s eyes for what felt like a lifetime. Her glistening skin glowed in the moonlight, the cool air chapping her dry lips making her lick them repeatedly, her breast heaving up and down as she took in large amounts of air. Her black hair was not sweaty and clinging to her beautiful face. I reached my hand down and stroked the bruise on her cheek.

  “I love you, Anni,” I whispered, “so fuckin’ much. You’ll never be replaceable to me. I only want you.”

  Anni chuckled and closed her eyes, she was definitely sleepy.

  “I’ll hold you to that, Soda. If you love me, maybe I can let myself love you too. It may take a while but I’ll do it for you.”

  Grabbing the blanket that Darry normally kept inside his truck, I draped it over us and sighed. She buried her head into my chest and let her heavy eyes close. The sound of my heart lulling her to sleep.

  “No matter how long it takes,” I said, “I’ll wait for you. I’ll help you love again because you deserve it. That and the world.”

   The sudden realization of Darry coming out in the morning to see us asleep, naked in his car with the lingering smell of sex, hit me. A low chuckle escaped from my lips. I knew I was gonna hear it in the morning, but right now, I didn’t care. It felt like it was just Anni and I, all alone. That’s what I wanted.

[babyboibucky]

The Match - Part 6

Pairing: CEO!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You deal with the aftermath of your decision.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: There’s a little bit of smut in here, not too filthy though I guess???

A/N: VOILA NO ANGST IN THIS CHAPTER, only tension teehee anyway I hope this doesn’t disappoint and I am looking forward to seeing everyone’s rage about this part lmfaoooo

The Match Masterlist || MAIN MASTERLIST

The last time you lost sleep was back in your days at the university, when you were working on your thesis. And that was years ago so now that you were wide awake at two in the fucking morning, it was frustrating you.

What was even more frustrating was the fact that you were up because of a guy, and not just any guy— Bucky Barnes.

You didn't know whether you made the right decision of rejecting him like that, without even giving the relationship a damn chance. But you were right, weren't you? That making it official with courtship was going to make your corporate life a living hell.

Perhaps you were overthinking?

You groaned out loud and sat up on your bed, grabbing your phone from the night stand and opening up your messaging app.

I'm sorry. I didn't mean those things that I said.

Delete, delete, delete.

Can we talk again?

Delete, delete, delete.

I already miss you.

"Really, now?" you chuckled to yourself, albeit sarcastically.

When did you ever chase a guy? Never in you entire life did you put your walls down for a fucking guy. What would make Bucky an exception? Sure, he was rich as fuck and handsome as hell but those wouldn't give him an immunity from your pride.

Throwing your phone under your pillow, you decided to stand by your verdict about keeping things professional between you and Bucky.

-

The universe seemed to hate you because aside from losing sleep, you also forgot to set your alarms and now you were running late for the mancom meeting. You really had to confront Bucky like that a day before the meeting, huh?

By the time you reached the conference room, the meeting was already in progress. Heads turned to you upon your arrival, the entire room silent as you whispered your apologies. When you looked around, you realized that the only seat available was the one next to Bucky.

Great, just great!

You could feel his eyes on you as you carefully made your way towards him, mumbling another apology for your tardiness before sitting down. You knew how much Bucky hated it when people were late, whether for a meeting or for a rendezvous. The last time you were late, he denied you of your orgasm when he fingered you in his car.

Was he thinking of the same thing now? If not for last night's discussion, you would probably be bent down on his desk by lunch time. You cleared your throat and squeezed your legs uncomfortably, a gesture that Bucky noticed right off the bat.

You crossed your legs and focused your attention on the presentation until you noticed what Bucky was doing beside you. You tried to be discreet when you checked him out through your peripheral vision; he was leaning back against his seat with his legs wide apart. He seemed to be paying attention to the presentation but then he started stroking his chin in a certain way that made you remember all the times he did that whenever he had his eyes on you.

"Mister Barnes? What do you think about this suggestion?" the head of operations asked.

Bucky hummed lowly as he stroked his lower lip, nodding his head in approval before saying in a rough voice, "I like it."

"I like it."

"Like what?" you asked innocently, lifting a curious brow at Bucky when you entered his office one night in a tight fitting skirt with a slit that showed off the garter of your stockings.

You knew that it was going to drive Bucky insane if you walked around the office wearing something so teasing like that. To hell with the HR, you actually received a memo for wearing such at a workplace but whatever. The reward from Bucky would surely be more than enough to make this decision worth it.

"Playing coy now, are we?" Bucky asked, standing up from his seat and then walking over to you.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Bucky." you teased.

Bucky smirked and kept his eyes on you when he knelt down in front of you, his rough palms sliding against the skin of your thighs before tugging at the edge of your stockings.

"I'll show you what I'm talking about." he said before he bunched up your skirt, licking a stripe against your lace-clad pussy.

You exhaled heavily at the memory and shook your head. Fuck no, you weren't going to give in! You weren't even sure whether Bucky was intentionally teasing you. Nope, definitely not giving in so easily.

-

You survived the entire day, despite being on the receiving end of Bucky's subtle teasing. That motherfucker was testing you alright, you were damn sure of it. He really went to the pantry during lunch, when you were washing your mug at the sink. And he had the audacity to stand behind you, pretending to be reaching for something from the cupboards.

Janet the snitch was there too! Thank fuck she was preoccupied with her salad and didn't notice when Bucky pressed his crotch against your ass, his breath fanning against your neck when he whispered "Excuse me." in that delicious, rough voice of his.

Thinking that you were finally free to head home, you started gathering your things until you received an e-mail from none other than Bucky. It was a little past seven in the evening already and you've submitted all your reports earlier. What does he want now?

Come see me in my office. Now.

Regards, Bucky Barnes

A surge of electricity coursed through your veins, your entire body going cold and you weren't sure whether you should be nervous or excited. Or aroused, even. You weren't going to lie but you sort of hoped that his e-mail contained another dick pic again, something to let you know that everything was fine between the two of you.

Who were you kidding though, you were the one who asked for this set-up.

You adjusted your skirt and went straight to the elevator, counting the seconds until it reached Bucky's floor. Every step you took towards his office felt heavier and heavier as you neared his door. What does he want?! You couldn't think of anything that he needed to talk to you about.

"Shit. Okay, bitch you got this." you mumbled to yourself before knocking.

Bucky didn't even tell you to come in, he just opened the door and left it ajar as he went back to his seat behind his desk. He seemed agitated but god did he look good. You really needed to get a grip of yourself.

"You need anything, Mister Barnes?" it felt strange to address him like that.

He heaved out a sigh and shrugged, "I'm very disappointed in this report." he said, slamming the folder on top of his desk before looking up at you.

"I don't understand. I followed every instruction and even included charts to make it easier to understand." you explained, slightly offended that he was questioning your hard work.

You worked hard on that report, and he knew how much. Was he power tripping you now?

"That's the thing, you followed every instruction. Sometimes you have to make certain changes, that doesn't mean it's automatically wrong as long as the outcome is the same." Bucky explained.

You narrowed your eyes at him. He was insinuating something and you knew exactly what it was. You preferred not to focus on it and straightened up, trying to play it cool.

"I don't get it." you shook your head, crossing your arms over your chest.

Bucky heaved out sigh, "Come take a look. I'll show you where you went wrong." he said, raising his eyebrow at you, his tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip.

Oh no. Oh fucking no. He was giving you the look. You tried not to falter and maintained your professional behavior. Slowly, you walked around his desk until you stood beside him.

"See this part? Too detailed, I don't need to know about this. I just want to see the results." Bucky explained casually.

"Another thing is the graph you made. It's good, but again, too many details. You see this?" Bucky asked, glancing up at you.

You squinted your eyes, not wanting to stand too close to Bucky. Even from where you were, his perfume was invading your senses. It reminded you of all the times that scent was all that you could smell, especially whenever Bucky was on top of you, fucking your brains out. Or whenever he took you from behind, his face buried into your neck and—

"Are you listening?" Bucky asked.

You cleared your throat, "Yes." you immediately responded.

"Here, take a look at what I'm talking about." Bucky said, casually placing a hand on the small of your back as you bent down to look at your report closely.

It's as if everything happened so fast. You were trying to see what Bucky was talking about when you heard his chair screech against the floor, followed by his strong hands gripping your waist, pulling you down to sit on his lap.

You gasped out loud when you felt his hard cock against your ass. A slight whimper slipped past your lips when Bucky slightly moved, thrusting his hips upward while his hands on your waist kept you still.

"Bucky, fuck I..." you panted.

And then suddenly, the contact was gone and Bucky was pulling you away from him as he stood up. A shit-eating grin plastered on his face as he feigned innocence.

"I'm sorry, I totally forgot. We're supposed to be professional now. That's what you wanted, right?" he asked mockingly, shaking his head and then fixing his suit.

You stood there, gawking at him incredulously at the stunt that he just pulled on you. Did he really just...?

What the fuck?

"Anyway, I want the revised report by my table end of the day tomorrow." he said oh so casually, as if he didn't just pull you down to sit on his fucking lap while he had a damn erection.

He sat back down and continued with his shit as you stood there, disappointed (at yourself actually) and just feeling like a fucking fool.

"I can't believe you just did that." you softly said, turning around to leave.

"Just say you want me and this will all be over." Bucky said.

You looked back at him with a scowl and saw how smug he was staring at you. His lips curled up into a grin, eyes glinting with mischief. You wanted to kiss that fucking smirk off his face, maybe sit on it and ride it until he's out breath, until the skin on your inner thighs burned from how his scruff was scratching against it.

But again, you were too proud to do that.

"Thank you, Mister Barnes. I'll see you tomorrow."

-

What do you call it when a girl is left high and dry? Is there a female version for having blue balls? You needed to know because that was something you've been going through for two weeks now.

Two fucking weeks.

Since that night in Bucky's office, things have gotten worse for you. Bucky wanted you to give in first and damn, he was giving it his fucking all when it comes to making you cave. The man even texted you a shirtless photo of him at the gym. By accident, he said.

And here you thought that the both of you were going to be professional moving forward.

Bucky always teased you whenever he could, made sure that you'd be reminded of the times you spent together. Whether it was with how he spoke or looked at you, he was subtle but he went all out. One time during a meeting, Bucky started to play with his fucking mouse. His middle finger doing things to his scroll wheel, moving back and forth all the while he was staring at you with a sleazy grin.

As if you needed any more reminder how much his fingers felt so much better against your cunt as compared to your own.

-

Friday came quickly and you couldn't be more grateful for it. It had been very busy at the office and Bucky was edging you even without having the need to touch you. You needed a break from him, needed some time to yourself and rethink about the certain decisions you made.

You stood by the elevator, waiting for it to reach your floor when Mark approached you.

"Been a hectic week huh?" he asked, adjusting the strap of his laptop bag on his shoulder.

You sighed, "Very hectic, thank goodness the week is over." you said with a chuckle.

"Any plans for the night?" Mark asked, turning to you.

You shook your head, "Not really. You?"

Mark smiled widely at you, "No plans either. But I do remember you owe me a night at the bar." he reminded you.

You mentally facepalmed because fuck, you totally forgot about that. Mark wasn't so bad actually, he was kind and seemed like a lot of fun to hang out with. You just...you just weren't attractive to him.

Maybe you should give it a try? Just to keep your mind off of Bucky even for a while. That man was driving you insane, honestly.

"Of course, yeah. I remember." you said with an awkward laugh.

"Do you want to go tonight?" he asked at the same time the elevator doors opened.

Lo and behold, Bucky Barnes was inside as well. Fucking hell.

"Mister Barnes." Mark greeted him before gesturing for you to step inside first.

You saw the look that Bucky gave both you and Mark. Suddenly, hanging out with Mark didn't seem like a good idea anymore. You prayed that Mark wouldn't bring it up anymore, at least, while Bucky was inside the elevator.

It felt like you were being ushered into the pits of hell when you stepped inside. Even with Mark's presence, you felt nervous being around Bucky. God knows what this man could do when provoked.

"Anyway, how about tonight?" Mark repeated his question, much to your dismay.

Bucky was standing behind the both of you and yet you could feel his eyes digging holes against the back of your head. He was waiting for your response.

"Come on, you promised me a date." Mark just had to imply.

Bucky coughed and Mark turned to him all of a sudden, "You ever been to the bar down the block, Mister Barnes?" he asked.

"Yes." Bucky curtly responded.

"They serve the best drinks, right? So come on, let me take you there. You won't regret it. What do you think, Mister Barnes?"

Mister Barnes will fucking whoop your ass, Mark, you thought to yourself. You suddenly started sweating bullets, feeling your armpits dampen beneath your blouse because jesus christ, was this really happening? You just wanted for the ground to swallow you up. Should you pretend to faint instead? Just to get out of this awkward situation?

"Yeah, a promise is a promise. Why don't you let Mike take you out tonight?" Bucky said, stepping in between you and Mark.

Mark made a face, "It's actually Mark, Mister Barnes."

Bucky though, kept his attention on you. His expression unreadable but his jaw was tensed. You were so fucked. And not in a good way. He was trying so hard to stay calm but when you glanced down, his hands were balled into fists.

"What do you say to that date with Martin?" Bucky asked again.

Mark lifted a finger, "Mark." he chimed in again.

"Yeah, whatever Michael." Bucky waved him off with his hand before turning back to you. "So, what do you say?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat and looked past Bucky's shoulder to check on Mark, he didn't seem suspicious though. He looked hopeful, actually. But you pitied him because he just made it to Bucky's list of employees to keep an eye on. Aside from Janet, of course.

"I...um..." Fuck it.

"Yeah, okay. A date it is then." you awkwardly said, forcing out the driest laugh you ever produced in your entire life.

Mark excitedly pumped his fist in the air, "Great! Thank you, Mister Barnes. Guess she just needed a little push." he said.

Bucky feigned a smile and nodded, taking a step back from you. "A little push. Yeah, I guess so."

Finally, the elevators reached the ground floor and you were ready to sprint out of it when Bucky said his parting words.

"You enjoy your date with Marty now. Totally nothing unprofessional about dating a co-worker." Bucky told you and before the elevator doors closed, you saw the scowl that appeared on his face.

Shit.

"Mister Barnes is acting weird, don't you think?" Mark asked as the both of you walked out of the building.

You forced a smile and walked ahead of Mark, "Definitely not weird. You know what? I badly need a drink or two, an entire bottle of tequila maybe so let's just go now."

As if on cue, your phone buzzed and the message that showed up made you want to stop in the middle of the street, lay down on your back and await your demise.

You're playing a dangerous game. Well, two can play at that.

-

The Match Special Tags:

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Everything Bucky Tag List:

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[blissfulparker]

Prince Tom taking you on the throne…..

Okay so what I’ve came up with is prince!tom eating the reader out on the throne 😄

Smut under cut!!!

“So this is it?” You walk into the large room where it was empty completely except for two large stone chairs sitting at the end.

The floor made of the most expensive marble you’ve seen, the ceilings painted and the windows tinted of different colors. The throne room. Where Tom would be announced and crowned king when the time comes.

“The room has no other purpose than for when announcing the new royals. I’m sure it had more use back in its day but now it’s just…just a old room that attracts history nerds and people obsessed with my family.” He watches as you walk over to the largest throne and sit.

Falling back into the uncomfortable chair with your legs crossed as the silk night dress you wore could reveal everything. You let out a hum and he stands at the bottom of the steps looking up at you.

“That’s the chair for the king.” He points to the one you’re sitting in. “Yours will be right there.” He points to the slightly smaller one. Only a fraction difference in height but enough to make you furrow your brows.

“And why will my throne be smaller than yours?” You tilt your head and he shrugs.

“It’s how it’s always been. You will be my queen and that is where you will sit.” He tells you and you hum.

“Well…no ones watching so who’s to say I can’t be the king right now?” You tease and he steps in front of you.

“And what will be your orders as king?” He teased and you closed your eyes pretending to think. He watches you, wanting to touch you and feel how soft your skin is.

“Kneel.” Was all you said and he did. He kneels below you, England’s soon to be king kneels before you.

His lips press gently over the exposed knee. His eyes keeping contact with you the entire time as he lets his hands glide up your thighs and he takes a deep breath in. You smell like lavender vanilla soap, the one you used all the time and yet he couldn’t get enough.

“What do you need?” He lets out a hot breath against your thigh.

“You.” Was all you said and he let out a chuckle before kissing your thigh.

“You’d make a terrible king, not being specific with what you want…you already have me.” He teased and you let out a groan of annoyance, one you think he can’t hear but he does.

“I want you to eat me like I’m your last meal on this throne. I don’t care who walks in just do it.” You told him—demanded him. He smiles as that’s the girl he loves. So assertive when needed but so shy when in public.

“As you wish, your highness.” He doesn’t waste any time as he slips up the dress, pulling down the panties that were soaking wet as he pulled you right into his lips. Your hands grip onto the arms of the chair, it is awfully uncomfortable but the power you hold over him.

The future king, on his knees for a princess that was nothing before she met him but everything now that she was here. You knew your power over tom and you loved it.

He doesn’t stop. Even when your hips buck up and you are sure the moans you release are echoed far enough that any smart maid knows not to come near this room. Your head falls back and all you can see is the paintings on the ceiling, the paintings you never even cared about until you couldn’t keep your head straight as your boyfriend sticks two fingers inside of you.

“Look at you.” He mumbled against you but loud enough for you to hear. “So weak under another persons touch. A king is never weak. Never lets anyone take so much control over them.” He tells and you grow a smirk. Finding enough strength to get your hand to his hair and tug at his curls.

“Really? No control over anyone? Was last night nothing to you?” You tease as he was whimpering under your touch last night and that only made him groan.

Watching you release all over him as he ate you through your orgasm. Watching you shiver and your eyes fall back as you beg him to stop for it felt too good but he knew if he stopped you would just shove his face right back against you.

When you were done. He kissed gently at your thigh. His hands gently massage up your thighs to calm you.

“Are you okay?” He asked and you nodded. He kissed your forehead before gently moving your dress back down. “Can you walk?” He asked and you looked down at him.

“Yes, but if you’re offering to carry—“ before you could finish he had you scooped up. Golfing, boxing and his daily workouts did wonders for his strength you were sure he could lift a car if he tried. But for now he would just take his princess back to the room where he would spoil you in back massages and cuddles, snacks and movies as he made sure you were cared for.

“Just so you know,” he played with the strap of your dress as you were finally cleaned up in bed and laid down to rest. “A king never lets another have this much dominance over them.” He kisses your shoulder.

“Just because my legs can’t move doesn’t mean I won’t hit you with this pillow. Now cuddle me or I will find a way to get up and leave.” You tell him and he rolls his eyes.

Today was just one of the many days you two would spend worshiping each other. For the day you were both crowned king and queen, tom had a whole idea planned for that room.

[hqbaby]

50. all that came before | 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐝 (𝐦𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐮 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

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(written portion! you can find a summary at the bottom if you have difficulty or simply don't feel like reading large chunks of text<33 word count: 1.5k)

Atsumu can’t help but think that this has all happened before. He’s sitting on one of the chairs in the living room while his mother is on the floor in front of the coffee table flipping through a family album. Beside her sits the girl Atsumu is certain he’s going to spend the rest of his life with, and, together, they point at pictures and talk.

It’s all happened before… So why does he feel so sick this time around?

“This is from my wedding day,” his mother says like she did last time, pointing at the same picture she did three years ago.

He can almost hear your voice answering, “You look beautiful, Mrs. Miya.”

Except you don’t answer this time. Because you’re not here this time. No, this time, all Atsumu hears is a patronizing, “Oh, that’s cute.”

Atsumu swears he’s gonna combust.

Unfazed by the pointed look the woman beside her gives, Kaiya curls her perfectly painted lips into a practiced smile and lifts her chin proudly. “Of course, our wedding is going to be very different,” she declares. “Not that your wedding wasn’t quaint, Ma. I’m just not one for simple things.”

Mrs. Miya offers a stiff smile. “Oh, I know.”

Kaiya nods. “Oh, and my dress!” she exclaims, clutching her hands to her chest.. unironically. “It’s going to be absolutely beautiful!”

Avoiding his mother’s daggered looks, Atsumu scratches the back of his head and lets out a nervous chuckle. “She met with a designer the other day, Ma,” he says. “All the way from Miyagi.”

“A designer,” his mother says slowly, as if to make her son hear the words with his own ears. “Already? Ya haven’t even set a date. Or booked a venue. Or planned anything else for that matter.”

Kaiya pats Mrs. Miya’s shoulder playfully, laughing. “Oh, Ma!” she says. “Dresses need time. More time than the rest of the wedding, in fact. We can’t all just get our clothes off the rack.”

“Ah,” Mrs. Miya says, standing up. “Of course.”

“Where ya going, Ma?” Atsumu asks as his mother begins to walk away.

She looks at her son for a brief moment and shrugs. “I’m gonna get dinner ready.”

Closing the photo album, Kaiya stands up and stretches her arms over her head. “I bet dinner will be fabulous, Ma,” she says in a sing-song voice. “I’m gonna go take a shower.”

After his fiancé disappears into the bathroom, Atsumu follows his mother into the kitchen like a puppy with his tail between his legs. He tries to help her prepare the food but all she does is motion him to go away.

“Ma,” he whines. “Talk to me. Please.”

She doesn’t look up from the water she’s bringing to a boil. “I don’t like her,” Mrs. Miya tells her son. “She’s vain, she’s materialistic, she is everything I do not want in a daughter-in-law.”

Atsumu crosses his arms and leans against the counter awkwardly. “She’s my only choice.”

His mother looks at him seriously. “No,” she says. “I know that ya had a hard time with Y/N and the kids. I know that it was difficult for ya. That’s why I was fine with ya dating Kaiya for a while—just to get yer mind off of things.”

“Yeah, so—”

“But ya cannot marry her,” Mrs. Miya tells her son. “She doesn’t love ya. All she sees is in ya is someone she can use to become the person she wants to be.”

Atsumu looks at his mother with pleading eyes. “Just give her a chance,” he says. “Her family’s a mess right now with her parents’ divorce and all. She’s just… confused.”

His mother looks down. “I know ya were hurt,” she says slowly. “But if there’s anything ya should learn from yer experience with Y/N, it’s that ya deserve to be loved right.”

“Ma,” Atsumu says quietly.

She shakes her head. “Ya deserve someone who can love ya right, Atsumu,” she tells him. “Kaiya may seem like the only choice but… Trust me, she isn’t even an option.”

“Mama, what’s that?”

You look down to find Hikaru pointing at the gun strapped to the security detail’s side. Your eyes widen and you pull your son to your side, stifling your laughter.

“Nothing, Ru,” you tell him, waving your hand with a smile as the guard sends you an apologetic look. “It’s just something security people have to carry to make sure we’re safe.”

“O-kay,” your son says. Then, he points at the elevator buttons. “What’s that?”

Crouching down to his level, you place a hand on his shoulder. “Those are buttons,” you say. “You press a button and it brings you to a different floor.”

“A different floor?”

You nod. “Yeah, like in our house,” you tell him. “We have the first floor and the second floor. So, we have two floors.”

Akari chimes in. “How many floors does this house have, Mama?”

“This house is big,” you tell her. “So, it has a different name; you call it a building. And this building has sixty-five floors.”

��How much is sixty-five?”

You look down in defeat, chuckling. “A lot.”

When the elevator stops and the doors open, you pick Hikaru up and take Akari’s hand. The security detail leads you through a hallway full of doors and stops at the one at the end.

As if it were sentient, the door swings open as soon as you reach it and a maid greets you, taking your coats and bag before directing you to the sitting room.

And that’s where you find him.

“It’s Mama’s friend!” Hikaru exclaims, pointing at the man. He turns to you. “Mama, what’s his name again?”

You smile. “His name is Uncle Kiyoomi.”

Putting Hikaru down, you walk towards Kiyoomi and give him a warm hug. “How have you been, monster?” you say teasingly as you pull away. “Been giving any other kids toys without their parent’s consent?”

Kiyoomi rolls his eyes. “No,” he says. “Unfortunately, your kids are special.”

After cheers of greeting and amazement at the number of toys Kiyoomi manages to give them, the kids settle down on the couch and you and Kiyoomi sit at the bay window. Outside, Tokyo buzzes like the metropolitan dream of your childhood and part of you can’t help but miss it.

“How’s work?” you ask. “I hear business is booming.”

He shrugs, soft eyes still focused on the twins. “It always seems to be,” he tells you. “We bought a few cosmetic companies. Figured we should branch out some more.”

You grin. “You’re quite the businessman now, aren’t you?” you say, bumping your shoulder against his. “The proper heir to a family company.”

“Well, with my dad sick, it’s not like I have a choice,” he tells you.

“There’s always room in Miyagi if you ever wanna run away,” you joke. “Of course, you’d have to share a room with Koushi so I don’t think you’d survive a day.”

Kiyoomi nods, laughing. “Yeah, I think I’ll pass,” he says. “My family isn’t quite as problematic as yours was.”

“That’s true,” you say. “I wonder how they are.”

He looks at you quizzically. “You don’t know?”

You shake your head. “Never felt the need to keep up,” you tell him. Then, you tilt your head to the side and grin slyly. “Why? You got gossip on them?”

“No,” Kiyoomi says, smiling. “Just that they sold their Paris operations.”

“No way!”

“Yes way,” he nods. “After Mina split from the family to be with her elementary school teacher boyfriend, your grandfather decided to just sell the whole company. Last I heard was that Mina was starting plans for her wedding.”

You gape. Something about your cousin, the all-mighty and haughty Mina being with a teacher—let alone an elementary school teacher—is an absolutely unbelievable thought. And marrying him? Ridiculous.

You turn to Kiyoomi with furrowed brows. “Sorry,” you say. “Did you say Mina is marrying an elementary school teacher?”

Kiyoomi bursts into laughter at your disbelief. “Yeah!” he tells you. “She’s in love or whatever.”

“Wow,” you say dramatically. “And she left the family to be with him? That’s insane!”

“I actually saw her a few months after the company was sold,” he tells you. “She looked so… normal, like all the pressure she’d been living with her whole life was gone. And she was actually nice. It was bizarre.”

You smile. “I guess people really do change.”

Kiyoomi looks at you and nods.

Looking down at your hands, you let out a sigh of relief. “You know, I was really nervous about today,” you admit. “But I’m glad we did this.”

He leans back in his seat. He’s glad too.

It’s a familiar scene, straight out of your childhood: a boy and a girl sitting together in quiet peace. The boy stares at the girl like she’s the only thing that will ever matter to him—but he’s older now and he’s learned to let her go. So he sits and they smile and everything is just fine.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Atsumu’s mother tells him not to marry Kaiya. Meanwhile, in Tokyo, Kiyoomi and Y/N reunite—except they’ve changed for the better this time.

𝐚/𝐧 : I’M NOT CRYING YOU ARE >:( honestly though this chapter was so fulfilling to write after all the angst i’ve put on y/n and kiyoomi’s friendship. idk about y’all but this chapter was cathartic for me 😩 and as always, this has been a blast<33

☏ 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐮𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦!

[subspencer]

Neighborly Favors

baby!spencer x fem!reader

based on this request from @spencergubler

spencer discovers what his neighbor does for a living, and she offers to give him a show EDIT: i realized after posting i switch from using third person/‘she’ to second person/‘you’ halfway through. my excuse is i was sleep deprived. hope you can overlook the error!

wc: 2.3k. cw: none

He's only ever seen his neighbor in passing, catching the flash of her coat as she enters her apartment while he's leaving his, or seeing the top of her head as she's walking by on the street when he looks down from his window. Most people don't take enough interest in their neighbors to care to get to know them, and normally Spencer wouldn't care either. Except this neighbor plays some pretty interesting music, which he can hear through the thin walls connecting their apartments.

He's not exactly sure what she's doing when she's playing her music loudly, but it doesn't sound like she's with anyone. And not that he's trying to invade her privacy, but he also doesn't hear anything happening that's remotely as sexual as what the music is. It kind of sounds like she's working out? He's not sure.

What little information he has on her only inspires his mind to think of her more often. To solve the mystery of his next-door neighbor, who comes home just as he's leaving for work, who he thinks always looks pretty despite never having seen her face.

Unfortunately, his sweet, innocent mind doesn't consider what most would think is the obvious answer. He has to find that out himself after he finally sees her, properly, in the hallway, trying to break into own apartment by picking the lock.

"Are you locked out?" He manages to speak calmly even though his mind is racing looking at her. She has on a short coat that stops just above her knees, and a pair of heels that look incredibly tall. All he he sees between are long, bare legs.

"Yeah.” She sighed, dropping the bobby pin she jammed into the lock. “Can I wait in yours until the maintenance guy comes?"

And he has no idea how he doesn't just pick up his feet and start running, but he actually lets her in, and now it's just the two of them sitting on his couch, multiple feet apart as they try to find conversation to fill the awkward silence.

"So... what do you do for work?"

"I'm a dancer."

"Oh... like ballet or-"

She looks at him like he's grown a second head and laughs, "I'm an exotic dancer."

"Oh."

He folds his hands in his lap and is suddenly extremely red. From the embarrassment of looking stupid in front of her, for one. And a bit because now he's thinking about her, in those exact high heels she has on, dancing in a dark room.

"These aren't the shoes I wear for that."

His head snaps up at her, terrified he’d said those thoughts out loud. He must not have realized he'd been staring down at her shoes for a moment too long, and that given her profession, she can tell when a guy's looking at her a certain way. Lucky for him, she finds his bashful innocence to be endearingly cute.

"They're a lot taller than this. I just wear these to get to and from work. You can see them sometime," she shrugs. Too coolly offering to show Spencer what she looks like when she dances.

He really doesn't know what to say, it probably should not have been what he ended up saying, "So the music from your place then?" He blinks at her, hands holding his knees so he has something to do with them. When she doesn't answer right away, he offers his signature frog smile, feeling incredibly awkward still.

"Sorry, didn't realize it was so loud." She looks genuinely apologetic, and it makes him feel bad for saying it like that.

"No, I mean- I mean is that like, the music that..." She knows what he's trying to ask, but it's just so much more fun watching him squirm trying to figure out how to word it in a tactful way. "Is that what you listen to at work?"

God, he's so cute, managing to find the most unassuming way to ask that. "It's what I dance to, at work, yes."

"Cool." He has no idea why he asked that. Or where to take the conversation from there. Now he's just sitting in that silence again, staring pointedly at his floor as he ignores the new mental image of her next door, kept apart from him by only a paper thin wall as she practices her routines in her living room.

Spencer's not a creepy guy, he's really not, but he feels like one when he's picturing his neighbor naked while she's sitting right next to him.

And who is she helping when she takes off her coat (because Spencer's apartment is eighty degrees)? Certainly not Spencer, who is half-expecting her to be wearing her uniform underneath. He's relieved when it's actually just a dress. And then he hates himself for thinking it wouldn't be.

She’s too sharp to not catch the look that flashed across his face as she took it off. Curious, excited. Maybe a little lustful. Nervous, for sure. But curious is what she was going to cling onto.

“Do you at least like some of the songs?” She said behind a devilish grin.

“I uh... I haven’t heard any of them, before-”

"What's your favorite?"

Spencer let out an airy chuckle, shrinking under the pressure that she wouldn't let up. He can't answer that question without incriminating himself a little bit. It was easier to laugh and brush it off like she was joking.

"Spencer, I know you have a favorite," she pressed, scooting a tad closer. Her chin rested on her hand, propped up by her elbow resting on her crossed-over knees. "If you tell me I might show you the routine."

The lump in his throat is visible as he swallows, Adam's apple bobbing up and down. He wipes his sweaty palms on his knees before suddenly you're grabbing them, calling his attention as you stand up in front of him.

"I was going to practice anyway. I'm working on a new routine." His eyes can't get wider as you pull him up from the sofa and drag one of his dining room chairs to the center of the living room. "Maybe you can tell me if it's good."

As you queue up the song on your phone, Spencer does the only thing his mind is capable of doing. To sit down and wait for what's coming. Music starts playing softly from your phone speakers, and you move to the light switch in his living room, gesturing to ask if it's alright as you hit the dimmer.

Even in the dim light, Spencer can see how beautiful you are. He can make out the features of your face if he trains his eyes hard enough, and that's exactly what he's doing. Trying to watch your face, even as you're sauntering towards him, hiking up the hem of your dress.

"You okay?" Your tone was playful and light, two things Spencer did not feel capable of being right now. He felt completely serious as you placed a hand loosely on his shoulder, dragging it along his body as you circled the back of his chair, across his back and bracing his neck. Cupping under his jaw so tenderly before letting go. It lit up each nerve ending that came across your path.

You were behind him again, sliding both your hands down the front of his chest with soft pressure, dragging them down as your lips came to ghost near his neck. Your face just barely touched his skin, grazing it in a feather-soft way that made him tickle.

Each cell in his body came to attention under your touch. His eyes almost drifted shut to succumb to the feeling, but then you stood in front of him, swaying your hips gently as you sunk down towards the floor, bracing your self with a hand on each of his knees

As you came up, your hands slid up his thighs, using him as a brace to bring your body closer to his, diving towards him with your chest to his face. You moved slow on the way up, giving him time to appreciate the cleavage revealed by the skimpy dress as you did.

His eyes were still locked on yours, cowering under the attention and to nervous to look anywhere else.

"I-I don't know what to do with my hands," he chuckles, blushing hard.

You hum, turning around and taking a seat on his lap, pushing your hips slowly back until they met his crotch. You gave him a soft grind before letting your back fall to his chest, wrapping one arm around his neck. Taking his free hand into your own, you placed it gently around your thigh before trailing it up your body, allowing him to push the hem of the dress further up as your hands travelled towards your chest. You let his fingers toy with the lace edge of your panties for a second before ghosting them over the swell of your chest, skimming just briefly and teasingly, before dropping his hand back to his side.

Lifting up from your hips, you suspended your body over his, rolling in slow motion just above his lap, barely making contact with his body as he watched you. Still using his chest to bear your weight with your arms hooked around his shoulders, able to crane your neck to the side and place soft kisses on the shell of his ear before sighing deeply into it.

On instinct, his hands fly up, gripping your waist and bringing you back down to him against his hard dick. Immediately, he dropped his hands, feeling suddenly rude for being so forward and demanding. Instead, he was rewarded with a gracious bounce of your ass against him, a few times before grinding deeply against him.

Just as a groan fell from his lips, your fingernails scraped against his shoulder, ducking under the collar of his shirt to feel the bare skin. His hips buck up in reaction, and he's quickly embarrassed again.

"It's okay," you coo, running your hand through his hair. He follows your fingers as they run through the strands, chasing after them, so you provide him with a gentle tug. He bites back a moan and you tug harder, determined to make it fall from his mouth.

He lets out a surprised gasp and his arm wraps over your waist, weighing you down so you couldn't move too far from him. You almost want to tease that clients are never allowed to touch the dancers like this, but you fear that then he might stop. So, you don't.

Just for his benefit, you give him a deep, exaggerated moan right in his ear as you roll against his dick, allowing your free hand to wrap over the arm gripping your waist so tightly. When he starts subtly shifting in his chair, you can feel him getting closer.

He starts rolling his hips in time with yours, pushing them into you as you shift yours back, pressing your bodies ever closer. His eyes flutter shut as he bunches up the fabric of your dress, knotting it in his hands as he tries to hold himself back.

You break another rule when you wrap your lips over his earlobe, sucking it softly into your warm mouth before releasing, "It's okay."

It's all the permission he needs, both of his arms now pinning you against him. He gasps as his hips jut up, staggered and out of rhythm, a few times before he lets out a strangled moan, spilling his release inside his trousers.

It was never your intention to let it get this far, but you're so glad it did when you see his face, covered in a light sheen of sweat and pupils blown with lust. His naturally plump, pink lips are red and swollen from biting down so hard. That slicked-back hairdo he had before is now tousled up from your fingers knotting through it. He looks nothing like that shy, innocent boy who opened his door to you just thirty minutes ago. He's something else entirely, panting for air as he comes down from his climax.

When his eyes open again, they still look at you as softly as they did before. With the same admiration, and maybe now a deeper level of want.

You've never been one to be at a loss of words, but you truly don't know what to say now that you've seen your very cute neighbor come undone under you. And that he looks at you so sweetly despite what's just transpired. You keep it light and playful just as before as you climb off of him, searching for your phone and purse while he excuses himself to the bathroom to clean up.

While he's gone, you hear the maintenance guy coming down the hall, and you have no reason to stay. Just as you go to leave, he comes back out, and he hides his disappointment poorly because you look like you're making a quick escape. But when you see him, your hand leaves the doorknob and you turn to say goodbye.

His long legs carry him across the length of the room quickly, stopping just short of you, and you notice just how tall he is as he towers over you. His eyes flicker between yours and your lips, wanting to kiss you, but unsure where the boundary lies.

You lean forward to kiss him, the gap between you narrowing and your eyes drifting closed.

"Can I take you out?" he stops you in your tracks. He starts panicking internally, taking your stunned silence as a rejection. "Like, on a date? Is that... is that okay?"

Then you finally lung forward, crashing your lips over his as you bring him down to you by his neck, pulling him closer. His mouth chases yours as you separate, and you leave a trail of sweet pecks over his lips and chin, smiling at him and nodding, "It's okay."

-

-

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[reidyoulikeabook]

A is for Ankle Socks

Summary: The first installment in my A-Z of Spencer Reid series. Spencer Reid is very particular about his socks.

Ship: fem ! BAU reader x Spencer Reid

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: Discussions of case-typical violence, blood, brief description of a fight, minor injury to reader that requires some stitches.

A/N: hello! this is my first ever series and i’m very nervous about it! it’s going to be a chronological a-z series with Spencer, detailing the progression of your relationship!

Spencer Reid permanently wears odd socks. The only time you can recall him wearing matching ones, in the year you’ve known him, was on days he had to go to court. Then, it was required that he wear the technically mandated uniform of proper leather shoes, and monochrome socks. On those days, Hotch would turn up with a pair of black socks tucked into his briefcase, just in case. Spencer had needed them, twice.

However, today is not a court day. Today is day 8 of a case in back of beyond Oregon that, quite frustratingly, seems to be going absolutely nowhere.

It says quite a lot, really, that in a day spent combing over convicts with domestic violence charges, the sight you look up to see is more viscerally disturbing. Spencer’s perched on the end of a desk, as he so often seems to be, his ankles crossed over each other. Signature black converse on his feet. And he appears...not to be wearing socks?

He notices you looking at him, and flicks his eyes downward self-consciously, “Is something wrong?”

“Are you wearing socks?”

He lets out a quiet laugh, “Uh. No. I meant to go to the laundrette last night but then Hotch called us into that meeting. I wasn’t expecting to be out here this long.”

“Is it comfortable?” You ask, “Wearing those without socks?”

He kicks his feet around just slightly, “Not really. I guess I’d forgotten about it until you mentioned.”

“Sorry,” You say, with an apologetic smile.

“Not your fault,” He says, looking back at the paperwork in his lap, “Hey would you mind coming to take a look at this actually? I think I might have something.”

***

By day 2, you’d learnt that the only sandwich shop in town had a reputation for bad food hygiene that none of you felt like risking. Normally, everyone would roll their eyes at Spencer for his investigation into such things. However, in this case, everyone else seemed to be as thankful as you always were.

It’s your turn to do the lunch run today, so you head to the grocery store that isn’t too far out of town. Putting your car in park, you mentally run through the list that the team had given you: cheap pasta for everyone but Rossi, who was willing to risk running foul of their microwave meal selection, as many coffee supplies as you could manage, some sour gummy worms for Spencer, mineral water for Hotch, and tights for you. It was frankly quite impractical to wear the things. You ran through so many brambles, fell down so many times, that you almost felt you should get pantyhose hazard pay. In fall in Oregon though? You’d splash out the $6 for the sake of preventing frostbite. If only because Hotch would be furious.

You smile at the thought. Wandering through the aisles, you collect everything you need. Spencer only asked for a pack of sour gummy worms, but, with a smile on your face, you decide to get him the strawberry laces he likes too.

It’s only when you scan the cart, last minute, that you realise what you’ve forgotten.

Tights. Shit.

Wheeling the cart around, you weave through the aisles looking for them. The underwear aisle is aisle 20, and it looks like it’s been ransacked. Flicking through the disorganised display, you see them.

A five pack of socks, adorned with farm animals and backgrounds of a completely clashing colour. It’s almost too bright for you, but you know a certain sockless Spencer who will be sure to appreciate them. Out of curiousity, you navigate your way over to the men’s section and have a look through. Mostly, it’s all black and navy. Right at the back though, you spy a similarly garish looking pack, this time with vegetables on.

You put them in the basket, eyes flickering over a pair of matching aubergine patterned boxers, as you make your way over to the tights. You select your usual kind, turning your attention back to the boxers.

Is it weird to get him boxers?

He’d know it was a joke, right?

Is it weird to get him socks?

Well he didn’t have any

Yeah but you don’t need to get him two packs

Yes I do we might be here a while

10 more days?

He could fall. He could spill coffee on his shoes. He could get shot.

How would socks help with him getting shot?

Your internal monologue gives you a moments reprieve, and then.

Kinda weird you got him socks

Nobody else would have got him socks

Yeah well I’m just thoughtful.

The last thought crosses your mind without permission, and you almost bristle at the brazenness of your lie to yourself. However, you decide, examining the real reasons you’re so eager to provide comfort to your favourite co-worker would require mental stamina you didn’t have right now. Mental stamina that would be better put to use on the case at hand. Mental stamina that definitely wasn’t being used to employ the BAU’s favourite defense mechanism: denial.

***

“I got you a surprise.”

“A surprise?” Spencer spins around in his chair to face you.

“Yep,” You say, plopping the sweets down onto the desk in front of him and grinning.

“Strawberry laces!” He says, smile lighting up his face, “Thanks ____!”

“That’s not the surprise.”

He quirks his brow, confusion tugging at his features, “Then what’s the surprise?”

You untuck your arms from behind your back, handing him the pairs of socks.

He looks down at them. He’s silent for a moment, and your heart thuds.

Fuck.

Told you it was weird.

It’s definitely weird.

He definitely thinks you’re-

You don’t have time to finish that thought, however, because Spencer scoots his chair back. Standing up, he pulls you into a hug. He gently squeezes you, and when he speaks his voice is low, cracking a little.

“Thank you,” He says quietly, “That was really thoughtful of you. Thank you.”

You lean into him, allowing yourself to be enveloped, “No problem. I know you have some issues with sensory things sometimes and I just thought, you know,” you trail off, “Anyway, I didn’t know which ones you’d prefer and I know you like to mix and match anyway so I just got both.”

He doesn’t say anything. But he squeezes you again, tighter this time, before releasing you. Strangely, he won’t meet your eye as he does.

“I’m gonna go put them on, okay?”

“Okay,” You say, watching a little quizically as he hurriedly heads out of the room.

Derek happens to be heading back to the room, bumping into Spencer on his way out.

“You alright kid?” He asks.

“I'm fine," Spencer says, waving him off. He tries to avoid meeting Derek’s eyes, knowing as well as he does that if the profiler catches the look on his face he’ll be found out.

Derek allows him to shrug past him with a confused glance over his shoulder. He walks into the room, scooping the nearest file off the desk and asking in your general direction, “You know what’s up with him?”

“Nope,” You say, popping the p.

You don’t. And it’d bother you, except you genuinely don’t have time right now to dwell on it. Although, try as you might to focus on narrowing down this list of factories in the area, it niggles at you.

***

You don’t see Spencer again until you’re heading out to the unsubs location. You get called out by Hotch in the minute before he returns, and then it’s all guns blaring. Emily and Dave managed to work some magic with Penelope, and the place he’s holding the hostage has been narrowed down to a factory quite far out of town.

You’re perched in the back, discussing entry tactics with Hotch when your eyes travel down to Spencer’s shoes.

One chicken, and one broccoli sock sit on his left and right feet respectively. It’s hard to see them though, with how far they are down his feet.

Hotch answers his phone then, immediately barking down commands at the local PD who are apparently failing to summon adequate manpower, in Hotch’s opinion at least.

You take the moment to cautiously lean over to Spencer, whispering, “Were they not the right size?”

He smiles at you, “They fit just fine as ankle socks.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even think to check the sizes, womens ones are pretty much all one size. I completely forget that men have massively different sized feet.”

He laughs, “Are you suggesting I have huge feet?”

You feel yourself flush a little, “I don’t think that’d necessarily be an inaccurate suggestion.”

Amused, he smiles. Hotch turns around to you both, momentarily taking his eyes off the road, “I need you to call Penelope, and tell her to get us all the CCTV she can get in the area. If we’re going to have to go in without enough men to cover the perimeter we’ll need all the tactical advantages we can get.”

“Of course, sir.”

***

Lunging forward, you tackle the unsub to the ground, effectively freeing Spencer from the grasp he’d previously been held in.

“It’s over Peter,” Hotch’s voice comes, even and steady.

“No it’s not.”

Before you can even register what’s happening, you’re being tossed backwards, landing against some barbed wire. Immediately, you’re on your feet again, running after him. Not noticing how the wire has ripped a hole in your tights, and cut into your leg a little.

Grabbing his arms behind him, you use all your strength to subdue him to the floor, handcuffing him. Wiping the sweat off your brow, you breathe out a deep sigh of relief.

Derek has it from there, patting you on the shoulder and giving you a “Good job kiddo.” He leads Peter out.

You rub your chest, feeling the adrenaline start to flood out of your body with all the excitement now over. A stinging senstation in your calf gets your attention, and looking down you see the nasty wound oozing blood. It isn’t much, nothing that two stitches won’t fix.

“Are you alright?” Spencer asks, having gotten up from his position on the floor, “You didn’t have to...Derek would have gotten him.”

“Why should he be the only one that gets to tackle people?” You ask, letting out a breathless tinkle of a laugh.

“Statistically, he is the one who does the most tackling out of all of us. Then Hotch, then Emily, then Rossi, then me, then you.”

“I am not the one that tackles the least,” You say indignantly.

He tips his head to the side, “Are you gonna argue with the guy who has an eidetic memory or are we going to get you stitched up?”

“Both, please.”

He laughs at that, linking his arm around your waist. You limp against him a little, out to the paramedics. Mostly it’s for Spencer’s benefit. That’s what you tell yourself, you’re letting him help you so he doesn’t feel emasculated.

When has Spencer Reid ever fallen pray to toxic masculinity?

He might have

When?

Well he could

You just like how he smells

It’s true. The faint waft of his cologne is incredibly comforting. He doesn’t loosen his grip on you for even a second, helping to hoist you so you can sit on the ambulance bed while the medics attend to your leg. You’re feeling a little woozy, so Spencer sits next to you, allowing you to lean on him for support.

“Can you tell me something?” You ask, gritting your teeth, “Distract me?”

It doesn’t really hurt, getting stitched up, you’ve just never found it the most comfortable of processes. All your favourite cases have ended with you not having to get sewn up. You know that much.

“I’ve actually only tackled one more person than you in my entire BAU career,” He says, deciding to return to your former discussion, “I didn’t really go out in the field all that much until a couple years in, it was only because of Hotch that I really went out in the field to take down an unsub for the first time. That was March 12th, 2005. You’ve only been here 9 months and have done almost as much physical stuff as me. One more and we’re even.”

“Well, if you could try not to be the person getting tackled by the unsub next time. Then I might not have to make a tackle.”

His mouth turns up at the corner, “You tackled him for me?”

You feel yourself growing embarassed, “Not for you. For the socks.”

“Oh the socks?”

“Yeah, I mean, it’s a little unfair to go putting yourself in harms way while wearing a gift someone got for you. 5 dollar socks Spencer, practically designer at that price, I’d hate to see them ruined day one.”

He laughs, his tone playful, “Well you’ll need to bare that in mind.”

“Huh?”

He tilts his head towards Emily, strutting her way across to the ambulance with Spencer’s go-bag in her arms. She hands it to him, smiling at you.

“Should I let Morgan know the team will no longer be in need of his services?”

You snort, “I’d hate to steal his brand.”

She shakes her head, “Drinks when we get back? Hotch said the jet’s ready for whenever you’re done, and Rossi says he’s buying.”

“You got it,” You nod.

She pats you on the shoulder, exaggeratedly eyeing your leg again and rolling her eyes as she walks away, “Idiot.”

You smile, turning back towards Spencer, “Are you coming for drinks? I can drive you home.”

He visibly considers it for a moment, “Yeah. That’d be nice.”

“You’re all done here,” The paramedic interrupts, wiping down your leg with an anti-bacterial wipe, “Was a really smooth tear for barbed wire, shouldn’t leave that much of a scar.”

They press a bandage over it and you thank them, getting to your feet with the help of Spencer.

“Wait, why’d you get Emily to bring your go-bag if we’re going home?”

He looks almost bashful. Out of his bag, he pulls a three pack of tights. Just the kind you always wear. Down to your preferred brand, and everything.

“When did you-?”

“I noticed you rip them a lot while we’re on cases. I didn’t know if it was weird but then...the socks?” He gestures at his feet, floundering, “I’m sorry if that’s...I just didn’t-”

“No,” You cut off his ramble, “No, Spencer, that’s really sweet. Thank you, thank you so much. Can I hug you?”

He nods, happily. You wrap him into your arms, pressing your face against his chest. Inhaling the scent of him. Reveling in how safe you feel, how protected, thinking how you’d take three hundred stitches if it meant you got Spencer out of harms way. He was so thoughtful, so kind, so attentive to detail.

Oh fuck.

You can barely look at him. It hits you like a train, the realisation. Co-workers save each other from unsubs. Friends buy each other gifts that have meaning and value. But only somebody who is in love feels like this when they get handed tights. Oh.

It’s a warm feeling. Overwhelming. So much so that you miss Spencer saying he’ll be right back, scooting off to Rossi who’s shouting him over with a question the local PD need answering for their report.

You stumble a little, thankful that you have the blood loss and adrenaline rush to blame if anybody were to notice.

You wait for the wave of denial to hit, to come and lock your feelings back in the treasure chest you’ve managed to shove them down into now. It doesn’t come. Instead, you look at Spencer with a sense of awe that feels newfound, but has actually been here all along. Watching him speak to Rossi, you really notice him: just how much he gestures with his hands, how quickly he relays information, how the huge smile on his face, when he turns around to notice you staring, truly meets his eyes.

***

You can’t tell if it makes you a good profiler, or somewhat of a stalker, that you notice Spencer wears the ankle socks you got him to work everyday for the next 9 days.

Spencer worries he’s being a little too obvious, but he can’t help that whenever he sees the socks he beams at them. They remind him of you. Unbeknownst to everybody but Dave (who somehow notices everything), he spends a good minute or so a day sneaking a peek at the novelty socks under his converse. And then trailing his eyes over to you. Thinking how much he loves the person who got them for him.

----

B is for Blindfolds

Tagslist (this is just people who replied to the post about this series and said they’d like to be tagged! let me know if you’d like to be added/removed to this series masterlist): @reidingmelodies @rem-ariiana

[snaddyx]

A/N: This is literally the first NSFW anything I've written, so PLEASE let me know what you think! I'd love to improve in any way I can. No real warnings apply to this, there's some light bondage, degradation- nothing too crazy.

~~~~~

The heels of your boots clicked down the hall of the dungeons, matching the pace of your racing heart while you made your way to Professor Snape's office for the sixth night this week. You could have sworn that he was making up work for you to do as a small way of torturing you for merely existing. But you had decided that you would not give up, not this far into working with the potions master. This was your second year as his assistant at Hogwarts and it was already proving to be harder than the last. 

The school year started nearly a month ago. At first, he ignored you much to your chagrin. You thought that after the events of last year, you had finally moved past him brushing you off and sneering at you. That maybe your working relationship could now at least be civilized. You shuddered at the thought of last year - images of Severus limping into your office one night with desperation in his eyes. You had stood from your desk, looking down to see a gash across his leg that was bleeding profusely. You still weren't sure why he hadn't gone straight to Madame Pomfrey to tend his injuries after he had thrown himself in front of Professor Lupin when he had tried to attack students as a werewolf. You tenderly treated his wound with healing magic, potions and salves before finally helping him to your bed. You stayed up all night monitoring him - you knew he would be fine, but you worried. 

After that, he had acted kinder towards you. It was his way of thanking you. But then you left for the summer break and everything had returned to normal when you arrived two weeks before term started. Determined to break through his rough exterior and see that side of him again, you had decided to keep pressing him, continued to be kind to him. You were resolved to become his respected colleague. You hoped to be his friend. And the butterflies you got when touching him, lightly caressing his thigh as you applied a healing salve to avoid scarring - the small grunts he made that didn't entirely sound like they were from pain - electricity shot down your spine and to your core... Maybe you wanted to break through to him in deeper ways. But he hadn't acknowledged anything that passed between you, and now you were back to square one. 

Until you had called him out in front of the second years in class six days ago. He had disrespected you in front of them and you had hit your boiling point. His eyes turned black, angry, and he dismissed the glass with a low and dangerous "Get. Out."  He brushed passed you then, storming out of the classroom leaving you to clean up and teach the next class. You received an owl at dinner that night with a letter scrawled out to you. 

My office, 7:00. Do not be late. 

And it had been so every night since - except tonight. Tonight, the note said to arrive at 9:00. So you did, at 9:00pm sharp, and entered the open door to his office with your shoulders back, chin high. Whatever tedious task you were assigned tonight would be done without complaint. 

"Shut the door," Snape said without looking up from the homework on his desk. 

You did as requested and approached his desk quietly. Sat in the chair across from him. Waited. 

"Sir?" 

Nothing. You sighed and sat back in your chair, crossing your legs. His eyes snapped up from his grading at the sound and lingered on your face before his gaze slowly went down to your chest, your legs, then back up again. 

"It's rude to stare, sir," you leaned forward again and propped your elbows on his desk and smirked. "What do you require of me tonight?" 

"I would like," he finally replied, "for you to transfer the ingredients from those jars to those jars." He waved at the ingredients across his office and resumed grading the papers. You scoffed and didn't move. 

"I believe that is all the instruction you require, is it not, Miss Y/N?" 

"Yes sir." 

"And are you incapable of standing to complete this task?" 

"No sir."

"Then why are you. still. sitting. here?" Each word punctuated, venomous. 

"Because this is a foolish task, Professor." You had spent the past six nights completing similar tasks, and when you had finished one there was another one lined up. It was a waste of time. "Do you not think that I am more than capable of assisting elsewhere?"

Snape slammed his hands on his desk and stood up, the legs of his chair scraping the floor as it flew back. 

"Do not speak out of turn! It may have escaped your notice, but you are my assistant, you are here to assist me." His brows were furrowed together and he leaned over his desk towards you.

"That may be true, sir, but it may have escaped your notice that I am qualified to do more than just silly tasks to pass the time. Why do you insist that I am here as just some fucking girl that you can ogle and abuse your power on. Does the potions master title feed your ego that much, that you feel the need to degrade me at every chance you get?"

Snape's eyes turned dark with anger as you spoke, but you didn't give a shit. You were tired of this, past your limits of what you could take and still respect yourself. If he wasn't willing to work with you, respect you enough to lend you even a speck of decency, then you didn't know where you were going with this. When you were finished talking, he recoiled away from you with a look of disgust. 

"That you have the audacity," Snape replied with a low voice, his fingers dragging on his desk as he began walking around it, "to speak to me in such a way-"

"The same could be said for you, Professor," you cut him off. You lifted your chin into the air as you held his eye contact, but backed away as he got closer to you. With every step you took back, he followed. 

"You insolent little witch!" Snape leaned down to your eye level as he spoke. "Always parading around like you own the place, demanding more respect when you have not earned it!" 

"Have I not?! I've been working as your assistant for a year now, and yet you still treat me like a bug on the bottom of your shoe. And after I helped you last year, I thought-"

"Thought what, exactly? That I would bow to you, my savior?" 

"No. That maybe things would change, that you would be able to acknowledge whatever this tension is between us because I know that there is more to it than just disdain. And you are too cowardly to admit it." You took another step back, turning to the door. "Fuck you, Severus. I don't know why I've bothered."

You reached the door and opened it, prepared to exit, but you heard his footsteps approach you quickly. His hand reached around your head and slammed the door shut, the other arm coming around your other side to lock it. You were pinned in between him and the door, heart beating in your throat, and you spun to face him. He leaned down once again to eye level. You could feel his hot breath against your neck and the smell of him... Merlin, did he smell divine. 

"Fuck you, she says. Yes, that's exactly it, isn't it? Don't you dare act as though I am the only one ogling here, Y/N. Yes, I heard those filthy thoughts when you mended my leg. I felt your desperation seeping from you." He stood straight then and grasped the back of your neck, dragging you beside him back to his desk. "Every day I must suffer those thoughts."

He shoved you towards the desk and spun you around, facing away from him. His hand pushed you down so your face was pressed into the cool wood. 

"Is this what you want, Y/N?" He pressed himself into your behind and you could feel his length against you. "Is this what you have been so desperate for?" You tried to stand back up but he pushed you down again. His belt rattled as he took it off, as he tied your hands with it behind your back. 

"So desperate for my approval, my respect, my cock." He chuckled lowly. You felt your skirt being lifted, exposing your ass to him. Heat rose in your face. "Just lovely," he praised as his calloused hand rubbed the now exposed skin, "and all for me."

He leaned down to your ear and whispered, "Count." 

You tried to turn back to look at him, to ask what he meant, when his hand came down and made sharp contact with your skin. 

"Severus, please," you yelped as his hand came down again. 

"Count!" 

"One," slap. 

"Two," slap. 

"This is what disrespectful witches deserve," he sneered at you as his hand came down again and again. By the tenth slap you were whimpering. "Enjoying this, are we?"

Snape pulled you up by the belt just enough for him to reach around and rip open the buttons of your blouse. His hand went under your bra and pulled your breasts out before he roughly pinched your nipples between his thumb and forefinger. He pulled you up some more, giving him leverage to reach around to your heat. His fingers slipped between your folds and began rubbing circles around your clit. 

"Already so wet for me," he whispered into your ear. He nibbled at your neck and earlobe. "I need you to tell me you want this." 

You nodded eagerly, but it wasn't enough. He pinched your nipple hard. 

"Use your words." 

"Yes, please."

"Please what?"

"Please, sir."

He pushed you back down onto the desk and lined himself up with your entrance before pushing his cock in, not giving you time to adjust to his length. You both let out a low moan as he slowly pulled back out, quickly plunged back in. 

"My little slut," he grunted as he pushed all the way into your dripping cunt. "You belong to me." 

"Yes, sir." 

"Tell me." 

"I belong to you." You breathed out. With every pump, your hips hit against the desk and you let out a cry of pain and pleasure. Severus splayed his fingers in your hair before grabbing onto a handful and pulling it. His his snapped into you, quicker and quicker. 

"So tight for such a little slut," grunted out between thrusts. "Is this what you wanted? Taking my cock on my desk, writhing under me."

You moaned back in response, feeling yourself getting close. Teetering on the edge of coming, you clenched around him. 

"You don't come until I say you can come, do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." 

You struggled not to as his breathing became erratic as his hips kept snapping against you, his balls slapping against the back of your thighs. He once again reached around to rub circles around your clit. Your hands grasped the edge of the desk, knuckles turning white as you groaned from the pleasure. His low moans filled the air, making you throb on his dick even more, your body threatening to tumble over the edge. The heat was rising in your core, the familiar feeling becoming overwhelming. 

"Come for me," he demanded. Your body pulsed with the waves of your orgasm as you climaxed, your walls slamming down around his cock. You cried out with each wave of pleasure.

"Fuck, Severus!"

 "What a good little whore, coming all over my cock," he praised you as you came down from your climax. He kept pumping into you but you could feel he was close. 

He pulled out of you after a few more thrusts, pulled on the belt around your hands and dragged you to the floor. He pumped his cock in one hand, the other on the desk behind you, before streams of cum shot out onto your face and dropped down onto your chest. He tucked himself back into his pants before wiping up his cum with his thumb and wiping it along the inside of your bottom lip, marking you. 

"Clean yourself up and get out. I will see you tomorrow night at 9:00."

[lepusrufus]

Double edged scalpel ch. 3

Ch.1   Ch.2

Summary: "it matches your eyes"

----

Cleaning Cassandra’s study became routine. Once a week, her chores were swapped for a two way -for now- trip to the dungeons. Despite every other maid looking at her with utter pity in their eyes, the redhead was not really complaining. She would take Cassandra’s mock autopsies and weird collection of specimens over dusting an ancient opera hall any day. It gave her an odd sense of nostalgia, almost as if she was back with her classmates studying forensic pathology and a friend threatening to throw a severed hand at her. 

She also got to see glimpses of Cassandra. Not that they talked, oh no, the brunette would simply observe her and come up with the occasional task to get a raise out of Nicole and, when it failed to do so, she would grumpily go back to whatever she was doing prior. Her study, however, was an open book. While cleaning the shelves by the desk, Nicole took her time to read the title on each and every worn spine of her books. A lot of them more or less outdated medical books, some relatively modern looking textbooks, even an occasional novel tucked in between its more science oriented siblings. The adjacent wall was full of what looked like hand drawn diagrams, messy notes pinned by tape or even sticky notes. Nicole even noticed a family photo taped to that same wall. It was black and white, with the castle’s courtyard in the background, the three sisters standing in front of their mother.

Cassandra was sitting in her chair, occupying herself with her sickle when all of a sudden she stilled. She pulled out her pocket watch, softly cursed under her breath and pushed herself out of the chair. She was about to exit the room when she probably realized that Nicole was not supposed to be there by herself. 

“Ugh...Follow me. I can’t leave you here alone and I need to get something.”

With the mop abandoned by a wall, Nicole followed the brunette’s hurried steps through the main hallways of the castle, occasionally crossing paths with another staff member. It took no more than five minutes to get to their destination. Bela and Daniela could be heard from inside a room near the castle’s main entrance when Cassandra pushed open its ornate door and stepped inside. Nicole took two steps behind her when a familiar voice called out.

“Ah, Nicole darling! I see you’ve settled in,” Duke said in his usual cheerful tone. 

It did little to stop her stomach from sinking a little when three sets of golden eyes snapped in her direction. He either didn’t notice or didn’t care when he went on. “I hope my favorite clients here are treating you well.” Oh god please shut up. “Lady Cassandra! Your package is also here.” 

She wordlessly took a wrapped box from him and, with a thanks, went out the door. Not wanting to fall behind, Nicole gave Duke a small wave and a smile before turning around to follow. She had to almost jog to keep up with her long strides. Damn you short legs. 

“How on earth do you know him?” Cassandra’s question was accompanied by narrowed eyes.

Was there any point in lying? Lady Dimitrescu already knew so her ever so nice middle daughter could always find out too. 

“He’s the one that brought me here.”

“From the village?”

Nicole rubbed her temples. “From a hotel bar in the nearest big city.” She was beyond done with this conversation. 

Cassandra stopped in her tracks, grabbing the other girl's shoulders when she almost crashed into her. Was that a genuine trace of concern in her eyes?

“You mean you’re not from here? Does mother know?”

Nicole nodded, but before she had time to add anything else, another voice called out for the brunette from behind the pair. It was Bela, the sound of heels on the marble floors echoing around them as she approached. 

“Cassandra, dinner is in two hours.” 

“And?”

“And you said you would take care of the meat. Did you?” 

The blonde scoffed at her sister’s widened eyes, then hooked a finger around the chain connected to Cassandra’s watch and clicked her tongue when she saw the time.

“If you insist on carrying this around at all times, you could at least start making use of it. You have around twenty minutes.” Her voice was icy cold, as opposed to Cassandra’s stammered reply.

“Wait, can you stall the cook for a bit, there’s no way I can do two bodies in twenty minutes!”

“Sorry Cassandra, that’s out of my hands.” And with that, the blonde turned on her heels and left the two of them at the entrance of the dungeons, Cassandra damn near seething.

The two wasted no time in hastily descending the stony dungeon steps, Nicole going back to the study while Cassandra went towards the cells. After no more than two minutes, she came in and haphazardly threw a body on each table. 

The most logical thing to do would be to go about her chores and not risk attracting the brunette's wrath upon herself. But logic was out the window the moment she stepped foot into the Duke's caravan to come to this place. Besides, staying on Cassandra's good side was far better than mopping the floor in hopes she wouldn't snap one day and throw her in one of the moldy cells. 

"Would you like some help with those?" Nicole asked tentatively. 

"Can you help?" Cassandra didn't even look in her direction, only throwing a hand in the air and taking out what looked like freezer safe bags from a cupboard. 

"...Yeah." 

Golden eyes turned to her and the brunette stilled for a second. Skepticism and confusion both obvious on her face at the idea of this small meek maid offering to help out in chopping up a human body. She realized however that the alternative wasn't much better so with a raised eyebrow she put a scalpel and a pair of gloves on the table closest to Nicole. 

"Suit yourself. And don't make a mess." Oh you're to talk. 

Now, admittedly, performing an autopsy wasn't exactly the same as straight up butchering a human body for consumption. How different would it be though? The organs just needed to be separated and the limbs cut. She tried not to look at the face while making the first incision. 

---

It took 17 minutes for both of them to finish. All the bits and pieces were separated and secured in bags just in time for a knock on the door. Cassandra threw her gloves in the sink and went to open it, letting an older woman only vaguely familiar to Nicole inside. 

"Lady Cassandra, I didn't know you had help," she raised an eyebrow at the redhead awkwardly standing by the table she had worked at, scalpel still in hand. 

Cassandra only grimaced and with mock cheerfulness in her voice said, "Surprise." 

The older woman, presumably the cook, motioned for the maids that came with her to take the bags and, with a slight bow of the head to Cassandra, they were gone, only the bloody mess on the tables left behind. The brunette let a sigh escape past her lips and turned to Nicole. Her yellow gaze examined the now bloody uniform for a moment. 

"A shame this got dirty," she said, approaching the redhead. 

Tiredness and holding her tongue never mixed well within Nicole, so at the obviously fake apologetic tone she allowed an edge of snark into her reply. 

"Oh don't worry, the maids are all quite good at washing out blood stains. It's part of the job requirements." 

Cassandra just chuckled and rolled her eyes at the sass. 

"Just ask the head chambermaid for a replacement. This is seriously ruined," she said toying with the hem of Nicole's white blouse, now soaked in crimson. "Your face however, we can still salvage that." 

Nicole furrowed her brows and brought a hand to her cheek, cursing herself under her breath upon realizing that she was still wearing the bloody gloves and had just smeared even more on her face. She took them off and threw them on a cleaner spot on the table to be retrieved later. Meanwhile, the brunette moved to the sink and returned shortly with a damp handkerchief. 

She grabbed Nicole's chin between two slender fingers and tilted her head upward. Nicole could feel the metal of the table's edge against her lower back when she instinctively tried taking a step back. She had no way of escaping. Not that escaping even as much as grazed the surface of her mind when she locked eyes with Cassandra, an uncharacteristic sort of softness in her gaze. She took her sweet time passing the damp fabric over the blood stained skin. Then, after she seemed content with her handywork, she dragged her fingers over Nicole's cheek in a caress that sent a small shiver down the redhead's spine. 

"There. Good as new," the brunette hummed. 

It was a complete lie and they both knew it. The blush now present on Nicole's cheeks was probably just as bad as the crimson stains she was sporting mere moments ago, she was quite sure of that. By some mercy of the crow woman these people worshipped though, Cassandra didn't acknowledge it and simply moved back to her desk, leaving Nicole frozen in place.

After a few seconds of silence, Cassandra chuckled and, without turning from whatever she was scribbling in a notebook, said:

"Those tables won't clean themselves darling." 

Oh shut the fuck up. 

---

Most staff members preferred to spend their free time in the gardens, be it the inner courtyard or the fenced in garden at the back of the estate. Nicole was no exception to that. When she had time, she liked to grab a hot cup of tea and sit down in this small nook of the garden where a small, almost knee high bench was overshadowed by large rose bushes. Nobody else seemed to come there if the old cracked wood of the small seat was anything to go by, except maybe the gardener for occasional maintenance but she was nowhere to be seen most times. 

The quiet was interrupted by a distant set of heavy steps. Steps that Nicole ignored. She wasn't in any off limits area and this was her day off. She wasn't doing anything wrong and, therefore, had no reason to believe whoever was walking around was there for her. Until the steps became louder and the sound of heels clear on the stony path. 

"There you are," Cassandra's voice almost made Nicole spit out the tea she was currently drinking. 

The brunette laughed at that, in an oddly good mood and stopped to stand in front of the redhead. Cassandra's "good mood" made Nicole highly suspicious given past experience. She set her cup down and, with a cough to clear out her offended airways, stood and addressed the brunette. 

"To what do I owe the pleasure, my lady?" Aside from having my one free day interrupted. Again.

She saw Cassandra pout for a brief moment but it was quickly replaced by her ever so characteristic smirk. A smirk that Nicole would never admit was awfully attractive paired with the sharp features of her face. At least not out loud. 

"I have wonderful news for you," she said, tilting Nicole's head up with a hand, thumb distractingly close to her lips. "Cynthia, our cook, said she really appreciated the way you sectioned that body last week. So mother decided to give you a ...promotion so to speak." 

Nicole had yet to decide whether this was indeed wonderful news or not, but the part of her brain that was seeking some kind of thrill made that decision for her when Cassandra leaned in close to her ear, lips tantalizingly close to the skin. 

"Congratulations, from now on you're only working with me in the dungeons." 

Cassandra didn't want to kill her did she? She did say that Nicole was intriguing to her and therefore the redhead was somewhat safe from ending up on one of the autopsy tables herself. At least that's what she told that part of her mind still somewhat concerned about self preservation that was screaming at how risky her next move was. 

She gingerly placed her hands on the brunette's hips, tilting her head in a way not unlike Cassandra did mere moments ago. 

"Does that mean I get to teach you proper autopsy technique?" 

Thankfully that got a chuckle out of her, moving back just enough to be able to look into Nicole's green eyes. "Assuming you manage to keep your tongue long enough." 

She couldn't do much more than let out a soft laugh at the absurdity of her situation. There she was, in the garden of a castle in the middle of nowhere with the Lady's sadistic daughter mere inches from her. She decided that at that point in her life if she was going to die, she may as well go out in style, and what on earth could top falling for one of the most dangerous women in a village full of horrors. She shifted her hand slightly, bumping into the handle of the sickle strapped to Cassandra's waist. 

"May I?" She said barely above a whisper, fingers wrapping loosely around the weapon. 

Cassandra gave her an incredulous look, trying to understand what on earth she could want with the weapon. She was aware she couldn't hurt her right?

A small shrug was all the permission Nicole needed. She undid the leather strap that kept the sickle in place and moved back only a bit. Enough to step on the small bench and lift herself. She felt Cassandra's hands placed on her waist for support, almost mimicking the gentleness of Nicole's touch from earlier, when she raised herself on her tiptoes. She took hold of one of the roses above them -a yellow one- and with a quick swipe she cut the stem. The brunette watched her take her sweet time scraping off any thorns before her hood was taken off and that same rose was now placed in her dark wavy hair, right above her left ear. 

"Mm… it matches your eyes. And necklace," Nicole added, bending down to return the sickle to its rightful place. 

Cassandra crashed their lips the next second, her hands pulling Nicole closer from where they were placed on her hips. After a second of shocked stillness, the kiss was returned, their lips tentatively sliding against each other. "Tentatively" didn't last long however, as Cassandra pushed forward, pressing the her against the stone wall behind them eliciting a small moan from Nicole, who's hand ended up tangled in black locks. She tugged on them slightly once she finally needed to breathe and Cassandra pulled back only a bit. She let their foreheads rest against each other and felt Nicole's soft laugh on her lips. 

"Do you even need to breathe?"

"No," the brunette answered simply. 

Nicole blinked in confusion, not expecting her half joke to turn out truthful but before she could speak, Cassandra took a hand off her waist and pulled something out of a pocket. 

"Here," she pushed a familiar looking object into the redhead's hands. 

"Y...Your key to the dungeons?" She was still trying to get her thoughts organized into some sort of coherence when Cassandra rolled her eyes. 

"It's a copy. So I don't have to escort you every time you come down there, which," she added with a gloved finger brushing against her lower lip, "is gonna be more frequent now." 

Nicole nodded, not really trusting her words. She didn't need any though, as Cassandra simply pushed herself off the wall and turned on her heels to leave. 

"See you tomorrow at dawn." 

And with a smirk, she broke into a swarm of flies and disappeared down the stony path.