#depressed. sitting in his dark room late at night.

[light-lanterne]

found this song and the lyrics are very mike wheeler-core so here, enjoy :]

my insecurities surround me like lions in the den, and i feel like i’m losing touch with what i am again. and slowly i remember why, i cannot pretend that i never think of you and all this screaming silence. (oh god, i wish you were here) so won’t you fall for me, won’t you fall for me? through a fractured existence, won’t you fall for me? won’t you fall for me, from reality? to the rhythm of eternity, won’t you fall for me? — sleep token, ‘fall for me’

[darlingdaisyfarm]

cigarettes after sex

tags: mullet!stan pines, fem!reader, mentions of alcohol and smoking, nsfw, sexual themes, depression, ptsd, drunk sex, hurt/comfort, fluff and angst, inspired by cigarettes after sex songs, so I recommend to listen some while reading that :)

Stan hasn't been himself since the portal swallowed Ford up.

His life is ruined, his mind is ruined, everything is ruined. Every single night, he’s hunched over the journals, Ford’s stupid, cryptic notes that Stan can’t figure out, can’t understand, but wants to. It's like trying to read in the dark. He knows there’s something in them, some answer, but it’s out of his reach and every time he thinks about his brother being gone, his chest tightens, that guilt slamming into him so hard he feels like he can’t breathe so he drowns in his own tears. 

Stanley knows he’s not the smart one, never was, and now it feels like he’s lost every chance to make things right. The lab is his prison. The cigarettes are his only escape, one after another until the ashtray overflows, the smell of smoke permanently clinging to everything in this place. His eyes burn from lack of sleep, the bags under them deep and dark and he doesn’t bother to clean himself up anymore. What’s the point? He’s all alone. Again.  

Tonight, something changes. He can’t sit in that goddamn lab for another second, can’t stare at those useless pages with his head spinning. So, he stumbles out into the cold and ends up at the bar down the street — the only place still open this late. 

When he walks in, he’s already halfway drunk and you spot him immediately from across the room. It’s not hard; the guy’s a walking disaster. His coat is rumpled, hair a tangled mess, and his eyes are empty, hollowed out like he’s already lost something far more important than money. You've seen a lot of people sink to the bottom, but this guy sank even lower than most.

Stan doesn’t notice you at first. He barely notices anything as he stumbles up to the bar, hands trembling as he grips the counter. His cigarette hangs loose between his fingers, half burnt and about to fall, but he’s too out of it to care. He leans heavily against the bar, head down like the weight of his own body is too much.

“Whiskey,” he grumbles. “whatever’s cheap.”

The bartender glances at him, sizing him up with a frown. Stan looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks, hasn’t eaten much either. It’s written all over him, the sag of his shoulders, the unsteady sway when he tries to straighten up.

The bartender slides the glass toward Stan, but before he even picks it up, he’s already mumbling something under his breath, little grin pulling at his lips. “Don’t think I got the money for this, pal.”

He downs the drink in one go, barely wincing as the burn hits his throat and for a moment, you think he might get away with it. But the bartender’s patience is wearing thin. He scowls, leaning in with narrowed eyes, clearly not in the mood to deal with Stan’s shit tonight.

“I’m not running a charity here,” the bartender snaps. “you pay or you leave.”

Stan grins, and it’s the saddest, most pathetic thing you’ve ever seen. “What, no freebies? Guess I’ll have to put it on my tab.” he laughs, but there’s no humor in it. 

The bartender looks about two seconds from throwing Stan out on his ass and for some reason, you find yourself moving before you even realise it. Sliding off your seat, you walk over. Stan doesn’t notice you until you’re standing right next to him, and even then, his gaze is unfocused, blurry as fuck. 

Before things get ugly, you step in, sliding a couple bills across the counter, “I’ll cover it.”

The bartender takes the money without a word, though you can feel the tension of the situation, he’s definitely bothered and not in the mood. Stan looks at you, bleary-eyed, like he’s trying to figure out if you’re real or just another hallucination. His mouth twists into that lopsided grin again, but there’s something softer about it this time, like he’s genuinely surprised someone bothered to step in.

He’s too drunk to notice the bartender’s scowl as you grab him by the arm, hauling him to his feet. He stumbles, almost dragging you down with him, but you manage to keep him upright, though just barely.

“Hey, thanks, sweetheart,” he slurs, blinking at you like he’s trying to clear the fog in his head. “didn’t know I’d be gettin’ free drinks tonight.”

He tries to stand up straighter, but the alcohol’s got a firm grip on him. His body sways dangerously so you reach out, grabbing his arm to keep him steady. He’s heavier than you expected, way too much, his body leaning against yours as you pull him away from the bar.

“Come on,” you mutter, dragging him toward the door. “let’s get you out of here before you piss off anyone else.”

Stan stumbles along beside you, his steps unsteady, barely able to keep himself upright. He’s mumbling something under his breath, words too slurred to make out, because he’s so fucking drunk, but you can tell it’s nothing good. Outside, the cold hits you both like a slap to the face. The winter air is brutal, biting through your clothes and cutting through the haze of alcohol that’s been clouding Stan’s head.

“Jesus, it’s freezing out here,” he mutters, blinking against the cold. His breath comes out in visible puffs, his flushed face suddenly looking even redder in the harsh chill. Then he looks at you. “So what, you my babysitter now?

This time you have to shove him back against the wall just to keep him upright. His back hits the cold brick with a dull thud, and he lets out a low, drunken laugh, his head tipping back to rest against the wall.

“Ohh, you gonna pin me here? gotta say, I’m not usually into this kinda thing, but for you, sweetheart, I might make an exception.” his body sags, leaning heavily into the wall as he looks at you with half-lidded eyes. “or are you just waiting for me to do something stupid?”

Your brows furrow at that, irritation flaring in your chest. “What are you talking about?”

He’s a mess, a complete disaster, but there’s something about him that makes it hard to walk away. Maybe it’s the way he’s still trying to crack jokes, even when he’s clearly drowning in his own misery. Maybe it’s the way his hands tremble, even though he’s trying to play it off like he doesn’t care.

He’s quiet for a moment, his eyes half-lidded as he stares up at the sky. Stan chuckles. “Well, I could just. . . y’know. Throw myself off a cliff. Put an end to all this crap. What’s one more dead Pines, huh?”

He’s not joking anymore. There’s something raw in his voice, he sounds way too hurt, too honest, too broken that makes your stomach twist. You don’t really know what to answer on that. You aren’t that good at supporting people, but supporting drunk guy? He’ll barely hear what you’ll tell him. 

You pull a cigarette from your pocket, lighting it up with quick movements, because cold air stinging your fingers. Stan watches you through half-lidded eyes, his breath visible in the frigid air.

“Hey,” he mutters. “mind if I bum one off ya?”

You hand him a cigarette without a word, and he takes it, his fingers still shaking from cold or. . . as he lights it. He leans back against the wall, the smoke curling around his face as he exhales slowly, closing his eyes for a moment.

Neither of you speak after that. There’s nothing to say. You don’t know how to start a talk either. Is it even needed?

Stan’s a complete mess, the kind you don't want to get too close to. But as you stand there, cigarette smoke curling between your fingers, you can’t tear your eyes off him. He’s slumped against the wall, looking like he’s got the weight of the world on his shoulders or maybe that’s just the whiskey. You wonder why the hell you bothered to drag him out here in the first place. He’s a disaster and his weird comments aren’t helping, they just disturb you.

You take another drag, feeling the bitter taste of nicotine hit your lungs, and for a moment, you think about just walking away. He’s not your problem. You’ve done your good deed for the night and the cold air is starting to bite at your skin. Just leave him here. He’ll figure it out, or. . . he won’t. Either way, it’s not your concern.

But just as you’re about to turn and go, Stan mumbles something under his nose. It’s faint, too quiet to catch.

“. . . should’ve never messed with the damn portal.”

You blink. Portal? The word echoes in your mind, that’s surprising, intriguing. What the hell is he talking about? You glance at him again, but his eyes are fluttering shut, his body slumping further against the wall.

“Hey,” you say, stepping closer. “what did you just say?”

Stan’s lips move, but no sound comes out, he’s completely out of it. Your eyes widen in shock as you say “hey, man” louder to get him back to his senses, but before you can react, his knees buckle and he collapses, dead weight against the cold ground.

“Holy shit!” you drop your cigarette, your hands immediately going to his shoulders, trying to shake him awake. His head lolls to the side, completely out cold

Of course. Of fucking course! He’s drunk off his ass, hasn’t slept, probably hasn’t eaten anything substantial in days. You run a hand through your hair, staring down at him, your mind racing.

You’re not sure what the hell to do with this guy. You don’t even know him. But something in your gut twists, something telling you to stay, to not leave him lying here like this. 

***

He’s strange, sure. But why does that word “portal” keep sticking in your head?

Days pass, but your thoughts keep drifting back to him. That night, his ramblings, the look in his eyes before he passed out. You shouldn’t care. He’s just some guy, a random drunk you stumbled across. But you’ve always been a curious person. You keep thinking about how broken he looked, how utterly wrecked he seemed and you wonder what could’ve driven him to that point.

You’re out in town again, aimlessly wandering the streets of Gravity Falls, and without even realizing it, you find yourself back at the bar where you met him. It’s the same cold winter night, what makes your body shake from chill no matter how many layers you’ve got on.

You stand outside with a cigarette, your breath mixing with the smoke. Your mind’s still on him, on that weird stranger. You can’t help but wonder if he’s alright. Probably not? Guys like that don’t bounce back easy. 

You take another drag, exhaling slowly, your thoughts swirling. You think about how he stumbled around, barely able to stay on his feet, and for some reason you smile. It’s ridiculous, really. He’s such a loser. But there was something strangely. . . cute about it all. God, why are you even thinking about him

Suddenly, the door to the bar swings open, and a familiar figure stumbles out into the cold. You blink, and sure enough, it’s him. That drunk weird guy. Same red jacket, same disheveled look, but this time he doesn’t seem quite as far gone. Still drunk, but not teetering on the edge like last time.

The bouncer gives him a shove, muttering something about not coming back without cash and Stan nearly trips over his own feet before catching himself. He stands there for a moment, muttering insults and then his eyes land on you. His gaze lingers, squinting through the haze of alcohol, and recognition slowly dawns on his face. He straightens up, well, as much as a guy like him can, and adjusts his jacket, trying to look somewhat presentable.

“Well, well, if it ain’t my guardian angel,” he says with a grin.

You raise an eyebrow, flicking the ash from your cigarette. “didn’t know angels had to drag drunks out of bars.”

Stan laughs, but it’s more of a low chuckle. “do I know you? I feel—“ he hiccups. “fuck, feel like I should know your name. . .”

“I never told you, dummy.”

Stan stares at you for a moment, processing that, and then he smiles wider. “Ah, right. Guess I can’t forget what I never knew.” he winks, but it’s sloppy, and you can’t help but smile back.

He takes a step toward you, leaning against the wall beside you. “Y’know, I gotta thank ya for payin’ for me back there. ‘Specially since that whiskey was crap. Worst I’ve had in years.”

You snort, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. “Yeah, and that’s why you drank all of it, right? real convincing, man.”

He chuckles again, running a hand through his brown hair. “What can I say? Gotta give every drink a fair shot. Even the bad ones.”

You shake your head, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips despite yourself. The guy’s a mess, sure, but there’s something oddly charming about his complete lack of shame. He’s so human. Flawed and ridiculous, but human. And funny.

For a while, neither of you say much, just standing there under the night sky, the snow crunching beneath your feet as you walk slowly down the street. The cold bites at your skin, but it feels less harsh with him beside you, talking about nothing in particular. He rambles about the bar, about the bartender, about how he’s been kicked out of worse places, but there’s an ease to it, like he’s just talking to fill the silence.

And for some reason, you don’t mind it. His company is strangely nice. Despite everything.

As you walk, you glance over at him, still trying to figure out what it is about this guy that’s gotten under your skin. He’s weird, yeah. Definitely not what you’d call put-together. 

He catches your gaze and smirks, a little lopsided but softer this time. “What, you like what you see?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Not even close.”

***

Over time, you start to see Stanford Stan more regularly. It's never planned, never some formal arrangement. He’s just there, outside that same dive bar, smoking under the dim streetlight or wandering down the streets with his red jacket pulled tight against the cold. And every time, you find yourself walking beside him, talking about nothing and everything.

It’s not like you’re close, not really. He doesn’t open up, never gives you much more than surface-level comments or dumb jokes to deflect anything too personal. You only know what he lets slip, and even that feels like more than you should. He insists his name is Stanford, though something about it always sounds. . . off. 

Stanley thinks he’s idiot. It’s a role he’s playing, a mask he’s not ready to take off, won’t take for for the next thirty years.

One night, after you’ve met up for what feels like the hundredth time, you finally ask him why he’s always drunk when you see him. It’s been bugging you for a while, how every time you meet, he reeks of whiskey and stale cigarettes, eyes glassy, speech slurred, sometimes flirting with you or winking dumbly at you. You’ve tried to ignore it, but tonight the question just slips out.

Stan pauses, cigarette halfway to his lips. You think he’s not going to answer, but then he takes a drag, exhaling slowly before speaking. “Helps me think,” he mutters. “keeps the noise out.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Noise?”

He shrugs, leaning back against the wall, his eyes scanning the street. “Yeah. The crap up here. Some people got quiet minds, y’know? Not me. Gotta slow it down.”

It’s vague, cryptic. You don’t push for more. You’ve learned by now that pressing Stan doesn’t get you anywhere. He only shares what he wants, and even then, it’s always layered in something else, sarcasm, a joke, some offhand comment that makes it hard to tell what’s real and what’s just him deflecting.

Nevertheless, there is something in the way he says it that does not leave you indifferent. The way he looks when he mentions his thoughts, as if there's something more hiding under the surface that booze and cigarettes can't hide. You wonder what’s rattling around in his brain, what kind of shit he’s trying so hard to drown out.

Time passes, and your strange friendship, or whatever it is, continues. Nothing changes. You meet up, you talk, you walk through the streets of Gravity Falls, smoking and trading stories. Stan makes jokes, you laugh, and somehow, despite everything, you find yourself growing more comfortable around him.

But he never lets you in, not really. You can only guess at what’s going on in his life, at what’s driving him to the bottom of a bottle every time you see him. It’s frustrating in a way, how closed off he is, how he seems determined to keep everything buried. There’s a part of him that’s afraid to let you see the real him, afraid to show just how broken he really is.

You start to ask him more personal questions, though he always dodges them with some half-assed joke. Like the time you asked him about his hair. His mullet, to be specific. It’s a mess, now unruly and overgrown, and you can’t help but wonder why the hell he refuses to cut it. 

“Why don’t you change a haircut?” you ask teasingly. “you look like you haven’t touched it in years.”

Stan just grins, flicking his cigarette into the street. “Ah, what can I say? Chicks dig the mullet.”

What you don’t know is that Stan’s too scared to look at himself in the mirror.

The way he avoids mirrors, the way his eyes flicker away if he catches his own reflection for even a second. It’s not about the hair, it’s about something deeper. Every time he sees his reflection, it’s not his face he sees, it’s Ford’s. If he cuts his hair, changes anything, he’s worried he’ll lose himself completely, that he’ll become the brother he’s spent his whole life running from. It’s not something he’d ever tell you, though. That’s way too deep for the guy who lives behind a wall of bad jokes and alcohol.

Stan never talks about his past. You’ve asked, but he always deflects with a joke or changes the subject. The most you’ve gotten out of him is when something goes wrong, he drops something, or his stupid car won’t start, or even when he just stumbles over his own feet. He’ll shake his head, muttering to himself, “Screw-up. Always been a screw-up.” It’s weird, like it’s the only thing he knows how to be.

It bothers you. You don’t get it. Yeah, he’s a mess, but this weird obsession with calling himself a screw-up, like it’s some kind of mantra, doesn’t make sense to you. You don’t know where it’s coming from, but every time he says it, you see a flash of something bitter in his eyes, like he’s heard those words so many times they’ve become part of him.

What you don’t realize is that those words are burned into him. His father used to call him a screw-up, over and over until it became his identity. And then there was Ford, his golden child of a brother, the smart one, the successful one. Stan’s always felt like the lesser of the two, never quite measuring up, always stuck in his brother’s shadow. He’s spent his whole life trying to live down to that title, like it’s all he’s worth. Stan was a kid, who heard those words over and over until they stuck, until he couldn’t see himself as anything else.

You can’t fix what’s already broken. But that doesn’t stop you from trying. Something about Stan makes you want to help, even though you know you can’t. He’s too far gone, too buried in his own mess. Still, you keep coming back. Maybe out of curiosity, maybe out of some sense of hope.

***

Another night, another round of drinks. The two of you sit at the bar, glasses clinking against the wood, the air is filled with the smell of cigarettes and alcohol. Stan’s already a few drinks in, and you’re not far behind. You laugh at something he says, probably another dumb joke, but you’re not really paying attention. Your mind is clouded, your body is hot from drinking, and before you know it, your gaze slides over his lips.

It’s stupid. You’re both drunk, and this is Stanford, the guy who can barely keep his life together, let alone maintain a relationship. But the way he looks right now, disheveled and messy, his lips curling into that cocky grin, makes your heart race.

His lips. Your lips. Apocalypse.

The kiss happens fast, messy, without warning. One minute you’re sitting there, and the next, his lips are on yours, rough and dry. It’s not graceful, not soft. It’s desperate, like he’s been holding something back for too long, and now it’s all spilling out at once.

The kiss deepens, but you don’t care. His mouth moves against yours, hungry, needy, like he’s searching for something, like that’s what he needed all those years. Human touch and someone else's warmth.

You’re both drunk, of course. Maybe that’s the only way it could’ve happened. 

Stan tastes like smoke and cheap liquor, the bitterness lingering on your tongue as his hands slide up your back, pulling you in. You can feel the heat of his body, the way his chest presses against yours.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wonder if this is a mistake, stupid drunk accident. But then he kisses you harder, his hand tangling in your hair and all thoughts of logic fly out the window. This isn’t about fixing him. You don’t care about anything except the fact that Stanford, the complete disaster of a man you’ve somehow gotten tangled up with, is kissing you like the world’s about to end.

His hands are rough, clumsy as they cup your face, and it’s all heat and desperation, like neither of you know what the hell you’re doing, but you don’t want to stop.

You’re not sure how it happened so quickly, one second, you were sitting at the bar, laughing, your lips crashing into his, and now you’re pressed against the cold wall of the bathroom. The neon lights of the bar barely make their way out from under the door, flooding the room with a dim glow as Stan presses you against the sink.

Stan kisses like an animal, like he’s trying to lose himself in the moment, drown out everything that’s weighing on him. Like he’s searching for some kind of escape. The alcohol has dulled his brain, but not enough to make him forget. He needs something more, something real to pull him out of the relentless spiral of thoughts, of portals, journals and the constant gnawing guilt.

Stan needs to lose himself in something, anything else. And tonight, that something is you.

His big hands are on you, one sliding up your back, fingers curling into your hair, tugging you even closer as he deepens the kiss. He groans into your mouth and you feel how his hard cock presses through his jeans as he pushes you against the sink in the bar's bathroom. You feel like you’re burning from the inside out, every nerve igniting under his touch, his mouth trailing down your jaw, leaving a scorching path along your skin.

You barely notice when the door creaks open, someone stepping into the small, dimly lit room.

“Bathroom’s occupied, unless you wanna watch, but that’ll cost you.” Stan snaps, irritated as he glares at the stranger. The man stutters away quickly and the door slams shut with a loud bang. 

Before you can say something, he’s kissing you again, hard, desperate, rough, demanding. 

You moan into his mouth, tangling your finger in his brown hair, tugging him closer, and the word slips out between your breaths. “Stanford. . .”

Stan freezes and that name seems to knock all the alcohol out of his blood. It feels like something heavy and wrong between you, Stan's gaze is blank, like he's not here at all. It’s his brother’s name, the one he’s stolen, the one he’s buried himself under. You look at him and see something in his eyes. Regret. Guilt. That endless pain that’s been eating at him for as long as he can remember. You don't know what's going on, but you want to solve this damn mystery so badly. What's wrong with this man?

But then it’s all gone, replaced by that cocky grin.

“Stan’s fine, sweetheart. Trust me.”

His hands fumble with your pants, yanking them down roughly, desperately, his fingers massaging and rubbing you through your underwear. You’re already soaking, practically trembling from his touch, and he groans when he feels it, his fingers sliding through your wetness.

“Shit, you’re so wet for me,” he growls. “fuckin’ perfect, baby.”

You moan, head tilting back, the sensation overwhelming as he slides two fingers inside you, rough and fast. He’s not gentle, not tonight, there’s no time for that, no point for that too. He’s desperate and it shows in the way his thick fingers pump into you, the heel of his hand pressing against your clit in the most delicious way.

“St-Stan—“ you moan, looking down at his fingers thrusting into you.

“Please, don’t say it, don’t say that name,”meanwhile, Stan thinks, hoping your drunken mind has figured it out.

“—fuck me,” your last words make him breathe a sigh of relief. Good girl. And then he’s yanking your panties down as he have you bent over the sink, your palms pressing into the cold porcelain and you barely have time to register the sound of his belt hitting the floor before you feel the thick head of his cock pressing against your entrance.

“Fuck,” he mutters as he lines himself up. “I’m gonna fuck you right here, right now. And you’re gonna let me, aren’t you?”

You moan, nodding, pressing back against him, desperate for the stretch, to feel him inside you because your brain can't think of anything else but getting fucked hard in the bathroom of a bar. “Please, Stan— please, use me!”

And he obeys, slamming into you, burying himself deep in one rough, brutal thrust that actually hurts, but your drunk state doesn’t care much. You gasp, his cock fills you so completely you can barely breathe, you cry out, your body arching, but Stan's hand is holding you back, pressing on your back to keep you in place and he groans. It’s overwhelming you, a mix of pain and pleasure and you can’t stop moans that escapes your lips as he starts to move, his cock sliding in and out of you with rough thrusts.

“Huh, oh jesus fuck, baby, yer tight,” Stan grits out between ragged breaths, his voice hoarse. He pulls back only to slam into you again, harder this time, his hips snapping against yours with a brutal rhythm that has you gasping. 

“Staaann—!” you whimper his real name again, your fingers gripping the edge of the sink for dear life, his cock so deep it’s like he’s claiming every part of you. “Oh, fuck-fuck-fuck!”

“my fucking god, baby,” he groans, his dick hitting that spot deep inside you that has your body trembling. His fingers find your clit, rubbing in quick circles as he fucks you harder. “you feel so fuckin’ good, doll, so tight around my cock.”

Of course, there's a mirror hanging over the sink, and Stan glances up, wanting to see your fucked-out expression, how gorgeous your face looks when he's pounding into you like this. But, almost spitefully, his eyes land on himself instead. He wants to look away, he should look away, but something makes him stop. For the first time in years, the reflection staring back at him is someone else. Not his twin. Not his nerdy brother. No, not Stanford. Ford would never end up like this. Never get so fucking dirty.

Stan sees himself for what he is. What he's become. Hair disheveled, drunk, filthy, fucking in a bar bathroom. Ford would never be like this. Stan, you piece of shit, you're a disgrace to your brother's name, Stanley thinks.

But then your moans reach his ears, pulling him back, reminding him where he is. Thank God the bar music is loud enough to cover you. He blinks, realizing he's let the pace slip, and his hands tighten on your hips, his grip hard enough to bruise, grounding himself.

You’re a mess of moans and gasps, your body shaking, your warm walls tightening around him as the pleasure builds. “Stan— fuck, I’m gonna—”

Stan leans into you as much as the position allows, one hand tangling in your hair, tugging hard enough to make the roots sting, though in your drunken haze, you barely even feel it.

“Do it,” he growls, his breath hot against your neck. “Cum for me. I wanna feel you cum on my cock.”

And you do, the orgasm rips through you, your body convulsing as you cry out, your walls squeezing around him what makes Stan groan, his fingers digging into your hips, thrusting harder, faster, chasing his own release. You can feel him throbbing inside you and then he’s pulling out, his hand wrapping around his cock as he strokes himself, his cum spilling hot and thick onto your skin.

***

The days began to stretch into weeks. Time wasn’t something you paid attention to anymore, not since that night. You could still feel him sometimes, his rough hands ghosting over your skin, the taste of whiskey and cigarettes lingering long after he’d left, his groans, the way he said your name. It hadn’t been anything gentle or romantic that night, just bodies lost in drunken hunger. And after that, you hadn’t seen much of him since, not like before.

You couldn’t help but wonder if maybe that night had ruined something between you. Maybe it had been a mistake. Maybe he’d felt nothing, and you’d been stupid to think it could’ve been anything more. The way his lips had pressed against yours, hungry, desperate, hadn’t felt like love. He was drunk, did he even know who he was kissing? Your anxiety was growing, your thoughts were fighting one another. It wasn’t love. It had been something else entirely, it was raw and messy. You knew it wasn’t love, just a night. It wasn’t tender or slow; there were no whispered promises of endless love, marriage, kids, whatever “all happy” people have. Just a desperate fuck, not some grand confession of feelings. Whatever had been between you before �� it felt like it was ruined, as if that thing in the bathroom had burned everything else to ash.

Stanford had disappeared, leaving you with silence and your own thoughts, and you believed that he regretted it. Maybe it was just too much for him. 

However, Stanley, he couldn’t shake the feeling of your lips on his, the way they were so warm, because no one had ever kissed him with that kind of passion before. He wasn’t used to that, to being touched like that. His entire life, he believed nobody really liked him. Not like this. Hell, even his own family had given up on him at some point. Except for his mom, she’d always tried to love him, even when he couldn’t love himself. 

He tried to ignore the way his chest ached when he thought about you, tried to drown it out with more cigarettes, more drinks, he tried, but failed because nothing worked. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw your face. Stan was getting attached to you, he knew it, even when he didn’t want to admit it. Even without alcohol, without the nicotine to calm his nerves, he knew he wanted you and your presence. It wasn’t just lust. It was something deeper, something that scared the fuck out of him because he wasn’t used to it. And maybe that’s why he’d been avoiding you. Because how the hell was he supposed to deal with feelings he didn’t even know how to name? Stan always felt that people didn’t love him, they tolerated him.

With you, for the first time in a long time, Stan had felt like he mattered. Like he was seen.

It scared him a lot.

***

Spring came early that year, and with it, the world outside the window seemed to come to life. Gravity Falls blossomed with colors you hadn't noticed before — the world is painted in bright greens and soft pastel tones, flowers made their way through the ground, as if the whole town was shaking off the cold and waking up. And that's when you saw him again.

You weren’t expecting to run into Stanford like this, not here, not in daylight, when spring is blooming around you. He was standing at the edge of the road, hands shoved into his pockets, a slight frown on his face like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be here. But then his eyes met yours and he didn’t look away this time.

There was no alcohol, no bar lights casting shadows on his face. Just sober Stan, the man who had kissed you with so much need that it had nearly broken you.

“Hey,” he called out and you immediately responded with excited “hi!” you smiled, he stood there, waiting for you to come closer. When you did, there was a long pause, neither of you quite sure what to say. His eyes flicked down nervously and you noticed it then, the subtle change, not too noticeable. Had he fixed his mullet a bit? It wasn’t much, but it was. . . cleaner. Neater, like he’d put in just a little more effort. Like maybe he had been planning on running into you.

“Uh, you wanna grab some coffee or somethin’?” Stan asked, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, clearly trying to play it cool, but the way he shifted on his feet betrayed him. He was nervous. Actually nervous. You hadn’t seen that in him before. “I figured we could, ya know, talk. Maybe. If that’s somethin’ you wanna do, of course.”

You nodded, a soft smile playing on your lips. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

That’s how two of you ended in a small café nearby, the conversation light at first, both of you avoiding that specific term about. . . Doesn’t matter. 

It was much easier to talk about the weather, or the weirdness of Gravity Falls, or how spring had made the town feel alive again. But every now and then, your eyes would meet and you exchanged awkward laughs and smiles.

“So, uh. . . I gotta ask,” Stan started. “did ya notice somethin’ different?”

You tilted your head, pretending to think for a moment before grinning. “Your hair? you mean you actually put effort into it?”

He smiled back at you. “Yeah, well, figured I’d try to clean up a bit. Y’know, look a little less like a bum.”

You laughed, feeling warmth blooming in your chest. It was such a small thing, but it felt significant to you. Like he’d actually cared enough to try for you, impress you maybe. And that meant more than you could say.

***

Nights bled into days and days slipped back into nights. Time seemed to blur together, the moon swapped places with the sun over and over. And here you were, tangled in the sheets of Stan’s bed, staring at the ceiling, while the moonlight filtered through the triangle-shaped window, the soft glow of it lays over your face, feels like the world outside was holding its breath just for you.

Things between you and Stan had shifted in ways you hadn’t expected. It wasn’t quick or loud. At end, Stan let you get closer, but piece by piece, he was afraid you might notice if he let you too far in all at once.

The first time Stanley let you hug him, really hug him, was late in night. You weren’t sure how it had happened, it wasn’t planned, you reached for him first. You didn’t even think about it, just pulled him close. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him carefully at first, waiting for him to tell you to stop. But he didn’t. Stan stiffened at first, because the idea of being held was foreign to him, something he wasn’t sure he was allowed to do. Then his face buried against your shoulder, and at first, you thought he was just tired, resting, taking what he needed and nothing more. But then you felt it. The dampness against your skin.

You realized with a sinking heart that Stan was crying.

It wasn’t loud. No sobs, no gasping breaths. Just silent bitter tears soaking through your shirt, his grip tightening on you like he was afraid you might disappear, just like his brother. His body trembled slightly, now he couldn’t hide anymore. It broke something in you, seeing him like this, this man felt so small in your arms. 

He clung to you like a child, because no one had held him in years. No one, no one had hugged him like this since he left his family.

You sighed and held him tighter, feeling his tears soak into your skin. Stan wasn’t just crying about tonight, he was crying for all the years he’d spent running, for all the times he’d pushed people away because it was easier than getting hurt. He was crying because, for the first time in so long, someone was holding him, and it wasn’t just physical, it reminded him of what it felt like to be cared for. To not be alone. 

Your hand gently stroking the back of his head, letting him melt into you like the child he probably hadn’t been allowed to be in years. Decades, maybe. For the first time, Stan didn’t feel like the tough man you knew him as. He felt small, fragile, like he was that little boy again, the one who had been left behind, pushed out of his family and told to figure it all out on his own.

Stanley pulled back, wiping his face roughly with the back of his hand, embarrassed as he looked down. But you didn't give him time to think again and regret his actions, you didn’t let him feel that shame for long. You reached for the pack of cigarettes on the table, handing one to him without a word. Stan took it and you lit it for him, the soft click of the lighter the only sound in the room.

You sat together in that silence of the night, both of you smoking. You weren’t drunk this time and that made everything feel more real, clear. It wasn’t about the cigarettes, though. It was the quiet between you, the kind of quiet that didn’t feel uncomfortable or awkward. Stan wasn’t running anymore, he could finally relax, finally let himself breathe. 

He looked up at the night sky, at the Milky Way stretching above you and smiled then, just a little, but it was there. A real, sincere smile. You hadn’t seen that on him before, not like this. It wasn’t the cocky grin he wore after dumb compliments or the smirk that followed some joke. This was softer. Stanley stared at the stars, his eyes reflecting the distant light and you wondered what he was thinking about. But while he was smiling, you were calm. 

Stanford, real Stanford, he’s always been somewhere up there. In the stars, in the galaxies, in other world, always lost in science and mathematics, in things Stanley never really understood.

Nights passed like this more often, where it wasn’t about the rush of everything. He didn’t have to keep running anymore, didn’t have to keep pretending he didn’t care. He’d gotten soft around you in a way that surprised both of you, but it felt right. He could relax now. He could let himself be vulnerable.

One night, after the smoking had long stopped, after the silence had stretched between you in that comfortable way again, the two of you ended up in his bed. Not in the desperate lust way you had before, but in a way that felt natural. Like this was where you both belonged, in each other’s arms.

Stan was lying on your chest, his head resting against you as you calmingly ran your fingers through his hair, the brown strands slipping through your hands. He let out a long, contented sigh, relaxing into your touch. 

You felt his breath against your skin, the slow rise and fall of his chest in sync with yours, and that made you understand just how fragile he really was. He never was the tough guy he always tried to be. Stanley Pines was was just a man trying to figure out how to feel again.

Stan’s arms wrapped loosely around you, holding on but not out of desperation this time. Just out of comfort. Out of need.

You smiled softly, your fingers still tangled in his hair. “I’m not going anywhere, Stan.”

And for the first time, he believed it and smiled.

***

It wasn’t in Stan’s nature to lay everything out in some big, romantic gesture, not now. This will happen later when he gets older, much older. So there was no official conversation, no ‘what are we now?’ that hung awkwardly in the air.

It happened one evening, at dusk, because at this time of day people always become more sincere and honest, the two of you sitting on the back porch, sharing the silence in the way you’d grown to love. He had that usual cigarette between his lips, the glow of the ember flickering in the dark and you were watching the stars. That's when he said it, which in his language meant “I love you”: 

“I think I like you best when you’re just with me and no one else.”

That was his way of telling you. You didn’t need him to say the word love. You understood him well enough by now to know that what he felt was real and that was all you needed. 

You didn’t ask him to clarify, didn’t push for more. Stan was never someone you could push. Instead, you waited. You knew he would tell you everything in time. He just needed to get there on his own, at his own pace. 

Sometimes he’d disappear into the lab, working on some thing he barely explained, shrugging it off with that typical grumble about science and mathematics. “It’s all bullshit anyway,” he’d say, tossing his hands in the air. “I ain’t ever understood that crap.”

“Not like my brother, he’s the smart one.” Stanley continued in his thoughts. 

Then you started noticing the small changes. The way the bottles that once cluttered his desk and the corners of the shack were fewer now. He still drank, yeah, but not like before. He wasn’t drowning himself in it anymore. It was like he was learning, little by little, how to exist without that forever haze of alcohol clouding his thoughts, feelings and memories.

Stan was still scared though. He was scared of a lot of things, scared you’d leave, scared you’d find out something about him and realise you couldn’t stay. And then there were the nightmares. The ones he never talked about, but they were all the same, repeating every time. You’d wake in the middle of the night to find him tense beside you, his breathing uneven, his hands gripping the sheets as though he was trying to hold on to something slipping away. 

That haunted him. The portal, always the portal. He’d never say it, at least not now. He’s not ready yet. He’s terrified that somehow, you’d be pulled into it too, just like Ford. That one day you’d be gone and he’d be alone again, abandoned forever. 

But when your lips touches his in slow kiss, when you brush your fingers through his messy hair and kiss his forehead, all these fears are washed away. You’d hold him close, feel his body relax against yours and slowly, slowly, his breathing would steady as the nightmares faded. There he stops dreaming about portals and disappearances. Instead, he sleeps deeply, peacefully, like a normal human being.

In the mornings, he’d stay in bed longer than you, his eyes still closed when you slipped out from under the covers. He’d stretch, arms reaching out lazily, that rough voice of his so sleepy. “Sweetheart, come right back,” he’d mumble. “i’ve been waitin’ for you to slip back in bed.” he’d smile when he’d feel your warm body next to his.

That’s what made you fall in love with him harder.

The way he was always a bit softer in the mornings, not yet fully awake and not needing to be. He wasn’t running anymore. Not from you, not from himself. For the first time in what felt like forever, Stan was learning what it meant to just be. To exist in the quiet moments. He still smoked, but it wasn’t to escape anymore, it was just a part of him, something familiar, habit. 

Stanley had spent so much of his life running, from his past, from laws, cops, states, from his brother, from his mistakes. But with you, for the first time, he wasn’t running anymore. He was staying.

[sicbaby]

sleeping beauty

stepdad!leon kennedy x f!reader

cw: 18+ smut, stepcest, somnophilia, non consensual (at first)

it was a weekend you were looking forward to. a nice little winter vacation with your mom and some of her friends. it would be nice to get out of the house for a while anyway, especially since your seasonal depression kicked in.

however, your plans quickly changed when you fell ill. god damnit, stupid fucking weather. had to ruin your plans. now you were bed ridden, absolutely no energy so you refused to do anything. your loving mother didn’t bat an eye, wishing you well and heading off with her friends for the weekend. thanks, mom.

luckily, your stepdad was free. leon.

leon was a good dad, sweet and caring… more than your mom ever was. you liked him a lot. your mom put leon in charge of taking care of you for the weekend, and he was more than happy to oblige. he barely ever had time off work, and he was looking forward to spending time with you.

it was friday night and leon sat on the couch watching tv, feeling frustrated. the reason why? you.

yes, you. the poor little thing that had slept the day away. he had planned out the whole evening for the two of you. he was going to make soup, cuddle you and watch your favorite movies and kiss and love on you. like a good father should when his daughter gets sick. but you never even got out of bed. he felt lonely, frustrated, and needy. he missed his pretty little girl.

it was getting late. he shut down the house and put away the full pot of soup he had made for you. just seeing it sitting there made his frustration grow even stronger.

he turned off all the lights, locking the front door and heading upstairs. he’s mad at you.

he knows he shouldn’t feel that way, especially when you’re sick. but he can’t help it. he passes your door, not giving it a second look as he heads to his room.

he strips to his boxers, ready to get in bed as he fights an internal struggle within himself.

god, it’s not your fault, you poor thing. but he has needs too, doesn’t matter if you’re sick. with a frustrated sigh, he heads to down the hall to check on you.

he knocks on your door softly, and when there isn’t a response he opens it. the air is damp, filled with the peppermint scent of your diffuser on full blast. the room is dark, and he can hardly see until he comes closer. you’re sleeping. still.

his gaze wanders over your sleeping form. you were on your belly with your left leg hiked up. you were wearing the sheerest pink nightgown, and the silk practically melted into your body, leaving little to the imagination. it also didn’t help that your position caused the gown to ride up, the bottom of your cheeks exposed to him. nothing underneath that slutty little gown, of course. despite his irritation, he couldn't deny the allure of your vulnerability. a mischievous grin tugs at the corner of his lips as a wicked idea forms in his mind.

leon slowly approaches the side of the bed, his steps almost silent against the carpeted floor. he felt as if you owed him for the lonely, isolated day he had.

swiftly, he reaches out and gently brushes his hand against your cheek, feeling the warmth of your feverish skin beneath his fingertips. "you know, i was hoping we could have some quality time together," he murmured, his tone mocking. "but it seems like you're too busy being a useless little burden, sleeping the day away."

his frustration brewed beneath the surface, and he couldn't resist the temptation any longer. leon slowly reaches down, his fingers grazing over your thigh. the touch was light, teasing, not wanting to wake you up just yet.

"since you're so useless, maybe i should find another way to entertain myself," he whispered, his voice dripping with dark amusement. "hmmm,” he hums, “maybe i'll have to wake you up properly, little sleeping beauty."

leon's hand continued caressing your thigh, inching higher and higher. your mouth was wide open, snoring softly. he chuckled at that. even sick and asleep, you were such a prize. and he was going to claim you.

trailing his hand along the back of your left thigh, he nudges it to the side slightly, guiding your legs to open more for him. he trails up and up, until his index finger flicks over the soft flesh of your pussy. he smirks when you don’t move, and proceeds to glide his finger up and down your folds until it settles on your clit. he applies just enough pressure to elicit a small noise from your parted lips. it’s barely noticeable, though, and he keeps playing and teasing with your pussy until that warm wetness is coating his finger.

the act of making you wet even while you slept was an intoxicating feeling for leon. the sudden urge to possess you and claim you as his own rushes over him.

he crawls over you, settling into bed next to you. he places a light hand on your back, feeling the silk of your nightgown. his touch trailed lower and his fingers knead the soft flesh of your ass, reveling in its plumpness. he couldn't help but let out a low, husky groan as his desire for you intensified.

leon's desire grew even stronger as he shifted closer to you. being careful not to disturb you, he delicately repositioned you onto your side, hand still firmly gripping your ass. once he’s satisfied with your position, he presses his hand to the front of your hips, pressing your ass against him. his cock hardens at the feeling of your warm and soft ass against him. he couldn't help but grind his hips against yours, feeling his cock grow with every slow rut. a low growl of satisfaction escaped his lips as he continued, moving his head up to press his face into your hair, inhaling your scent.

he looks back down to your ass, slowly and carefully lifting your nightgown up your back, exposing your bare skin to the fabric of his boxers as he continues to slowly hump you. in a low, whispered voice, he couldn't resist indulging in dirty talk again, knowing you wouldn't hear him. you were so deep in your slumber.

"hi, princess.” he taunts, right in your ear this time. “you gonna let daddy fuck your tight little pussy? hm? yeah, you are. daddy’s gonna do whatever he wants with you tonight, baby," he murmured, his voice laced with desire. “daddy deserves that, right?” he asks, reaching up to grab your chin, forcing you to nod your head in your sleep. he chuckles deeply at this. “yeah, that’s right. good girl, baby.”

as he continues grinding against you, his hand lowers from your chin to your breasts, lightly grazing his fingers over your nipples, smirking to himself when he feels them harden almost immediately. you don’t move, don’t make any noise, and he wonders how much farther he can go. he trails his left hand down your tummy to your pussy, his hand once again finding your clit. at this point, you’re soaked. “dirty fucking girl..” he chuckles deeply.

he removes his hand, wiping your slick off on his boxers as he pulls them down his legs. he tosses them off the bed, moving back to you to lift up your leg. he scoots up, placing his now hard cock up against your wet cunt. he brings your leg back down and groans at the feeling of your lips and thighs surrounding his cock. he begins humping you again, your pussy continuously wetting his dick and making the most obscene noises in the quiet room.

it wasn’t until now you stir slightly, in a weird dream like state. you feel heat on your neck, a warmth against your body and wetness pooling between your legs. and yet, your mind can’t comprehend it, choosing to stay asleep.

leon continues humping his cock against your pussy, grunting softly in your ear. soon, he’s losing all control. he quickly lifts your leg, taking his dick into his hand as he slaps your cunt a few times with it, teasing himself yet again. he rubs it back and forth, pushing his head against your entrance, gauging your reaction. you still don’t move, and he scoffs a little. he finally presses the tip of his cock into your waiting hole, slowly yet surely filling you up. he barely gets all the way inside when you finally wake up, in a daze.

“hmm- huh, hnnng? leon?” you whine, immediately trying to get up when you feel a heavy, almost painful weight inside of you. you’re sick, weak and confused, your whines almost sound like you’re about to cry. and you just might, until leon pushes you gently back onto your side. “shhh, shhh, princess. it’s okay, daddy’s here. just needed to fill you up, make you feel better. daddy just wanted to feel you. that’s okay, right baby?” he shushes you, keeping his cock buried deep inside you.

you lay back against the pillows, your face contorted in confusion and worry. you nod. “o-oh, y-yeah… okay, daddy…” you immediately comply. you trust your dad. whatever he’s doing.

your voice is weak, eyes burning and you’re just so fucking tired. your state turns leon on even more. you don’t even comprehend what’s going on until you blink a few more times.

and then you realize it. your stepdads cock is inside of you.

“d-dad?” you say weakly, unable to move. your eyes shift around the room, scared to move, scared to turn around to face him.

“yeah?” he groans. “so naughty. leaving your daddy all alone all day.” he mumbles. “you’re gonna make it up to me, kay princess?” his voice is condescending, a bit mean, and it makes your pussy clench around him. yet your face tells a different story. you’re on the verge of tears. why is this happening? he laughs breathily into the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. you want this just as much as him. even if you don’t realize it yet.

your mouth is slightly open, unable to breathe through your nose due to your sickness. you feel dizzy, your body hot and sweaty and leon begins to thrust, pounding into you relentlessly from behind. your body is completely limp in his hold, his left hand digging into your thigh harshly as he keeps your leg up in the air.

you cry out, your body feeling so fragile and sore. he’s just making it worse. this isn’t right. but why are you so wet? your panic increases by the second.

“d-dad! stop! this is so bad,” you sob. “t-this is sooo wrong!”

his thrusts are forceful, taking exactly what he wants from you with no mercy. he can sense your energy waning, your body growing weaker as you try to fight back. he drops your leg, reaching around to rub circles into your swollen clit.

“oh, it feels wrong, does it?” he growls. “but i know you want this, baby girl. fight all you want. pussy’s fuckin’ crying for me.” he feels your body trembling, little whines and cries falling from your pretty mouth.

you feel so overwhelmed, thrashing in his hold, tears falling from your eyes. you don’t even know what you want, a pure mess, brain mushy and can’t think straight. your movements are futile against him. “s-stop! stop! hurts, daddy! please…” he’s huge, practically splitting you in two on his dick.

“no, no, baby. you be good for daddy. you don’t wanna make daddy angry, hmm? bad girls don’t get to cum, you know.” his voice is surprisingly soft, yet so fucking condescending it makes a sob erupt from you. he pulls all the way back out, before slamming his entire length back into your pussy.

“d-daddy,” you cry. “please!” you’re shaking so much, poor baby. your pussy keeps clenching, sucking in his cock before trying to spit him out.

“awww.” he coos. “does daddy’s cock feel too big for your tiny little pussy, baby girl?” he slows his thrusts, giving you some time to adjust. you can feel your heartbeat racing in every part of your body, especially in your cunt. you’re thankful he slows down. you can really feel him this way, feel how every ridge drags deliciously against your walls. it feels too good now. you want to cum. you need to cum.

however, leon doesn’t like taking it slow. “don’t worry, honey. i know you can take it.” he resumes a faster pace, your entire body bouncing from the force. your sobs of pain and discomfort quickly turn into whiny moans of pleasure, no matter how much you try to fight it.

he grabs your cheeks roughly, squeezing them, making your lips pout as he turns your head towards him slightly. he kisses at your tears, tasting the saltiness on your face.

“you’re doing so well, my precious little toy. you’re such a good girl for taking all of daddy’s cock.” he praises, causing you to subconsciously relax a little, letting him sink deeper into your cunt.

“thaaaats it, princess,” he continues, bottoming out and stilling for a moment again. he kisses your neck hungrily, breathing in your scent once again. “you ready to cum for daddy, my little bunny?” he teases, his voice dripping with control. you whine in response, that dumb little brain of yours not able to form words. “beg for it, baby. show me just how badly you need it.” he ruts up harshly into you one time, urging you to speak. it causes you to gasp out a broken moan.

“p-please… please.. need ‘t cum…” it’s a weak response, but you truly aren’t able to conjure up anything better. your hips have a mind of its own, grinding back on leon’s cock desperately searching for release.

leon would want to make you beg for it until you were screaming, but he had to have some type of consideration for his sick baby, right?

he doesn’t respond to your begging, only continuing to pound into you. it feels so good you feel like you’re about to pass out, head empty and dizzy.

he reaches around once more, slapping your bouncing tits a few times, making you gasp. you throw your hands up, trying to stop him but he easily swats your hands away and continues. his fingertips drop down harshly right on your hard, sensitive nipples. “nuh uh, baby. what did i say, huh?” he threatens in a high pitched, taunting baby-like voice.

“‘m sorr- sorry, daddy!” you cry out, hiccuping, your voice hoarse.

“mm, it’s okay, my sweet girl. ‘s brave, endured so much for daddy. go ahead and cum, baby. cum all over daddy’s cock.” he says through gritted teeth. he stops his assault on your tits, bringing his hand down to rub at your puffy clit.

your hand wraps around his wrist, pushing it down harder against the swollen nub. he smirks at this. your lip is drawn between your teeth, body going stiff as you near your release.

“cmon, baby. be a good girl for me. wanna feel that tight pussy cum around my cock. you want it, don’t you?” he encourages, his balls drawing up, so so so close to cumming inside of you.

“mhm, mhm, mhm!” you moan, nodding your head once you feel your orgasm approaching. your jaw goes slack, eyes rolling back into your head, body convulsing as you cum hard. your head is thrown back, resting on leon’s shoulder. he places kisses on your temple, holding you tight through your release.

he starts rutting into you like a rabbit as he cums, shooting his load deep into your womb, offering a warm satisfaction in your lower belly. his thrusts turn into slow, sharp ruts, making sure your cunt takes everything he has to give.

“fuck, baby.” he grunts, his body convulsing with the aftershocks of pleasure. he stays inside of you for a moment. both of you are breathing hard and you sigh tiredly. he moves the hair from out of your face, kissing you sweetly on the cheek.

your cheeks are red and puffy, stained with tears. you feel so good, you can’t even be upset at what just happened. in fact, you want it to happen again.

exhaustion washes over you. your thoughts, your morality… it can wait for the morning.

“go back to sleep, sweet girl. daddy will take care of you. love you so much, princess.” he kisses your forehead, nosing your hairline, inhaling your sweet scent. he just can’t get enough. such a perfect little girl, and now he’s claimed you. his perfect little girl, all for him.

[starlightazriel]

bee 10

series desc: modern best friends >lovers au(fem reader, tattoo artist coke boi az haha) part 10 psa: not everyone will like this part lol don't kill me borderline domestic violence/abuse

warnings: 18+, rough sex where reader is drunk(blurry consent lines, i know i have issues im sorry), unprotected sex, spanking, praise, bj, possessive az, dark az, more groveling, drug/alcohol addiction, az having lots of inner monologue, self loathing, depression

a/n: canon az would never do this omg hes an angel with women bee series az however is a hot mess PROCEED W CAUTION!!!! kisses xoxo

AFTER COMMENTS RECEIVED I ADDED A POLL FOR THE NEXT 24 HOURS REWRITE OR PART 11 VOTE HERE

wc: 4.7k

other parts can be found on my az masterlist<3

ten

Azriel was watching the front door for hours. He knew she was back in town, he saw Kat's story. Y/n standing next to her, drink in hand. A grin, bloodshot drunken eyes, swollen from crying too, a tiny jean mini skirt, a crop top that was definitely Kats as it stretched too tightly over her generous breasts, nipples rings showing through the taut fabric. It had taken everything in him not to throw his phone through the flat screen. She was out looking like that, and he was here, miserable, sober besides all the weed he had smoked, which didn't do much for him anymore.

12:23 am.

He did clean up the house a bit for her... He couldn't let her walk into the mess he had created. He started with all of the trash, moved to the dishes, put any paraphernalia away back in his room, picked up all of his clothing strewn about the house.

1:37 am.

Fuck. The drawings. Azriel hesitated in front of her door, though he had been spending a lot of time in there recently, knowing she was back in the city, it somehow felt like a violation. That was ironic, considering how all of this had even started between them. It took effort not to physically cringe when entering her room, and his stomach twisted, cheeks burning at the realization that she had been in here. She had stopped here earlier before going to Kats. There was her bag. Right there, in the corner. His eyes settled on her bed, three of his drawings laid there carefully. He swallowed thickly as he looked at the drawings, each one made in the peak of his mental breakdown he had been going through since she left. One was of their hands, his own scarred flesh against her delicate smooth skin. One of her by herself, laughing, happy, his gut twisted. The last, of them kissing, him holding her face in his hands, tear stains dotted the page and that feeling of guilt that he was all too familiar with lately settled, dragging him down with it.

2:01 am.

Fuck. What the hell was she even doing? Where was she? He let out a heavy sigh before he picked up each and every one of the messy drawings he had done and brought them into his own room, shoving them deep into the filing cabinet by his desk. That was when the pacing about the entire house began— he couldn't possibly sit still now.

2:22 am.

Twenty minutes of pacing wasn't him doing any good, so on went the TV, he thought some cartoons should make him feel better and he settled on CatDog. Another spliff, some chips, cartoons humming in the background. It was better than going out of his fucking mind wondering what she was doing. Which he was still doing— but at least the mindless cartoons helped to drown out the voices screaming in his head, and the insatiable desire to do a line. He had forced himself to stay sober today... He wanted a clear head when he spoke to her.

2:46 am.

Azriel froze when he heard the doorknob turn, his heart beginning to pound wildly. He hadn't seen her since that night on her parents porch. What was she going to say? He had been preparing himself for the worst.

"You cleaned," a small hiccup, flushed cheeks, nervous, sad eyes avoided his as she entered the apartment. She was looking around, anything to avoid eye contact.

"I did," he rose to his feet, dropping the end of the spliff into a the ash tray he had been using. He took a few strides closer, freezing in the hallway when he finally got a good look at her. Lipstick smudged across her lips, hair disheveled, stray pieces falling around her face and eyes.

"Az," she whispered, her eyes widening slightly as they met stare that was growing angrier with each passing second, the emotion emanated from him, filled the apartment like a heavy shadow that pressed into her chest, that made her want to cower away from him.

He didnt know what it was, what over came him but he was in front of her in an instant, long scarred fingers grabbling her face, jaw clenched, grip tight around her own jaw, her cheeks squished, smudged lips smushed together. She's afraid of you, stop. She yelped quietly, eyes wild, wide with fear as she stared up at him, a pleading look in her eyes.

Stop now.

"What the fuck did I say?" it was a low growl, deep from his throat, she was drunk, he could tell, she could barely keep herself up, her knees wobbled, both hands curling around his arm, trying to pull him off of her. He knew this wasnt okay— no this was wrong, so very wrong.

Let her go.

"Az," she whimpered softly, her eyes glazed with tears.

Fucking stop— irreversible damage Azriel, stop now, before you can't.

"I told you not to fucking play with me. You fucking reek like booze and you look like a cheap fucking whore," a lie, his eyes flashed as it passed his lips, she thrashed slightly trying to free her face from his grip. "Stop fucking moving," he grunted, releasing his grip on her face to grab her neck, his fingers squeezing against her soft flesh, he felt her swallow beneath his grip, his blood thrummed.

"Az stop," she begged, her fingers still wrapped tightly around his arm, eyes wild and nervous as her nails dug into his skin.

"This is mine, its all mine," he rasped, his other hand roaming roughly over her body, "I swear to fuck— y/n if you gave my pussy up," he nearly choked on the words, his blood boiling and stomach churning at the thought.

This is wrong Azriel— stop, stop now. You should be on your knees begging forgiveness, stop.

This wasnt him, this wasnt supposed to be happening... This was his father— this is how his father treated women, not him.

"Az, I didnt," her voice broke as she rasped, her eyes were afraid but also— tender, because she knew him, she knew he didnt mean to treat her this way, she understood him on a level that no one else could.

"I should slap the fuck outta you for coming home like that," his fingers loosened on her neck, a sigh of relief escaping her lips with the motion. He didnt mean it, he would never hit her, his chest tightened, her eyes flashing as his words sunk in.

What the fuck is wrong with you? She's never going to talk to you again.

"Im sorry," she slurs softly, her glazed gaze dropping as if she couldn't look him in the eyes, guilt settled on her face. No, this is my fault, don't do that, don't look like that because of me.

"Don't be sorry," His voice was still firm but his eyes softened, swallowing the lump in his throat. I don't deserve you, run. Fucking run. "Just be a good girl and take off your whoring outfit," he finally loosed his fingers from her neck with a gentle push and she stumbled back, wobbly on her feet, she's drunk as fuck, don't fucking do this Az, this is fucked. Youre fucked, youre fucked in the head.

"You missed me didnt you?" she relaxed again allowing a small drunken giggle to escape her lips, she steadied herself on the near by side table before beginning to undress. His eyes followed her movements as her fingers slid over her silky skin and she slowly unclasped the dainty clips on her high heels revealing the fresh looking French tipped toes, his mouth watered at the sight of her.

Tell her how much you miss her. Tell her the truth, tell her youre sorry. Put her to bed Azriel, change her clothes, put her to fucking bed you sick fuck.

Anger outweighed his desire to do the right thing, he couldn't stop himself, what if this was his last chance to fuck her? To feel her?

"Keep going," he encouraged, his hard cock aching in his pants, pressing against the fabric of his sweats, he could feel the precum leaking from the tip, painfully so, he hadn't gotten his nut off since last time they'd fucked weeks ago. He watched as she slid the little mini skirt down her long smooth tattooed legs, many of them he had done himself. She looked so fucking good, shit he'd missed her. "Mhmm," he hummed to himself, his eyes burning into her skin, not looking away for even a second. She shimmied off the crop top next, her braless breasts bouncing deliciously as she freed them from the tight top. A soft involuntary groan escaped his lips at her now near bare body before him. He took a step toward her, placing his hand under her chin and tilting her head up so he could inspect her, she shivered slightly at the touch and he pressed his thumb lightly into her chin, his eyes raking over her bare skin.

"Azriel," she whispered, squirming slightly under his gaze, he froze at the small purply spot behind her ear, a little hickey.

"Oh youre so fucked," he let out a soft breath, poking the small bruise, she let out a small yelp, flinching away from him.

"Az! What is wrong with you?!"

So many things.

"What is wrong with you?" a soft growl escaped his lips, his eyes growing darker with each second that passed, he reached behind her, his body pressing against hers as he did, her breath caught, her eyes wide as she stared up at him. In a swift motion he cleared everything off of the side table in the hallway, the ceramic bowl that held their keys cracking on the floor, she winced, opening her mouth to say something but he grabbed her chin tightly again, forcing her to meet his gaze. "You come into my house, at almost three am, dressed like a fucking thot with a hickey on your neck, face all fucked up," he released her jaw aggressively, her head thrown to the side slightly, she let out a soft whimper, rubbing her chin. "Who gave it to you?" he demanded, placing his hand on her shoulder and whirling her around, pressing her against the table so her hips were flush with it, another small whine escaped her lips.

"It doesn't matter Az-"

"Tell me," he growled softly, his hand connecting with her ass in a sharp smack, she flinched, her hand finding the edge of the table and she held tightly. "Tell me," a warning edge in his tone

"E-Eris!" she yelped out softly, bracing herself for the next impact.

"Yeah, youre so fucked," he chuckled dryly, without an ounce of humor in his tone. Rage was coursing through his blood, red, red was all he could see. Fucking Eris, why? Why him? He didnt know why it infuriated him so much, maybe because he was so different from Azriel, practically opposites. How could she even be attracted to both of them? His pale perfectly smooth skin and red hair like the fucking devil, immaculate cleanness, infinite pockets and endless confidence and suave. He hated all of it.

"Az please," she begged, and he was too angry to even acknowledge the damage he knew he was doing.

"Youre soaking wet," he yanked her thong down, exposing her bare ass to him, his mouth watered again at the sight. "Is it because you like when I rough you up like this?" another smack to that same reddened spot on her bum followed by another soft whimper, her fingers gripping the edge of the table tightly. "Or is it because you like redheaded pricks?"

"Both," she bit back, her words slurred, he laughed again, that same humorless cold chuckle before his hand connected with her skin again, the sound echoing through the quiet hallway. A shaky breath released from her lips as she braced herself for more, her eyes squeezing shut.

"Makes me sick you let him put his hands all over you. Act like a whore get fucked like one," his gravelly voice laced with intent as he released his hard cock from his sweats, they pooled on the floor at his feet as he wrapped his fingers around his thick length. She gasped softly, wincing at the sting as he slapped his cock on the round of her ass in that same spot he had spanked numerous times. His teeth sunk into his lower lip, cheeks flushed with anticipation, he had missed this.

"Youre mine, you understand me?" he asked, his tone sharp as he slid his leaking tip over her entrance, he hissed softly under his breath at the feeling of her wet cunt on his most sensitive skin.

"Yes Az, yes I understand," she rasped softly, another soft yelp leaving her lips as he shoved his cock into her, a low guttural groan leaving his lips. He had missed this so much.

"Good girl," he ground his hips against her ass, pinning her against the table, another small cry left her lips as he pulled his throbbing cock nearly all the way out and back in, the table shook beneath them. His thrusts were greedy, quick and unforgiving as she fell apart beneath him. Her pussy clenched around him, the tip of him dragging across her g-spot with every forceful stroke.

"Az," she let out a broken whimper, her mouth falling open, face twisting in blissful pleasure as she came all over his cock. He rasped a breath, surprised he hadn't been the one to cum first. Maybe she had been wound just as tightly as he was.

"Oh?" he breathed out, panting softly from the pace, small beads of sweat forming at his temples. "You came already?" he asked, a prideful smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he ground his hips his cock filling her up so perfectly, her creamy release leaking around the base of his cock. She only whined softly in response which was only broken up by a soft yelp when he abruptly yanked his cock from her. Azriel grabbed her shoulder, pulling her up on wobbly legs before pushing her down on her knees.

"Go on," he grunted, his eyes glazed as he stared down at her, she was drunk as hell. He swallowed, wrapping his fingers into her hair and tapping his cock on her face, she loosed a breath, her jaw dropping open for him. She gagged as his cock hit her throat, not nearly fitting, he moaned, holding her head in place and fucking her face. "Fuck baby, good girl," he panted softly, his cheeks flushed, eyes glued to her, she moaned around him, her eyes squeezed shut, tears forming at the corners of her eyes as he brushed the back of her throat over and over. He hummed in approval as she swirled her tongue around his tip, dragging it along the underside of his cock, over his balls and then back up, her lips wrapping around him again.

Azriel cursed under his breath, his fist tightening in her hair as he released his thick ropes of milky cum into her mouth, she nearly choked as it shot to the back of her throat, one of her hands gripped the back of his knee tightly as she swallowed every last drop and sucked his cock clean. She panted, shrinking down onto the floor a bit her knees nearly buckling beneath her. He released her hair as she sunk down, a shaky breath escaping her lips as he did, his gut wrenched at the sight of her. On the floor beneath him, body dusted with red marks that he knew would turn to purple by the morning, he left them there. Azriel swallowed thickly as he tucked his cock back away into his pants before leaning down, putting his hands under her arms to lift her.

"Come on, get up," his tone is soft as he helped her up, once she was on her feet he easily he picked her up, and she rest her head on his chest as he brought her to the bathroom. "You feel lighter... You eating?" he asks, the guilt beginning to gnaw at his gut.

What the fuck is wrong with you? Fucking sick piece of shit.

"Mhm," was her only response, he let out another small sigh before setting her down on her feet. "Where's all my pictures?" she slurred softly, her eyes raking her her room.

"Put em away," he muttered, a blush creeping onto his cheeks as he rifled through her clothing retrieving a soft cotton pair of panties and a long t shirt.

"I liked them Az," she mumbled lazily, her eyes closed as he dressed her in her more comfortable clothing. He winced a little at her words

"Bed time," he breathed, steadying her on her feet before scooping her up in his arms again, and placing her into her bed. He tucked her in, pulling the blankets up to her chin and tucking them around her body.

"Why didnt you tell me you were moving to Vegas Azriel?" she asked, her words still slurred, he swallowed hard, tugging at his hair as he sat on the edge of her bed.

"We should talk tomorrow," he muttered, knowing she probably wouldn't remember the conversation if they had it now. She only nodded, her eyes still closed. Azriel reached out hesitantly and gently rubbed her back as she fell asleep.

He stayed there, watched her sleep, the soft glow from the string lights she had put up along one of her walls the only thing iGuilt gnawed at his gut, at his insides, he wanted to jump out of his own skin.

She deserved so much more than him... The little girl that he had shared his favorite candy with in front of her house, the girl that had saved him, so many times— she deserved the world, and he couldn't give it to her. He couldn't even keep her happy, the dark circles and the drop in weight proved that. It was his fault. All of it.

All day, he had gone all day without a single line.

And now— after he had taken advantage of her, put bruises on her, fucked her while she was too drunk to say no, said horrible fucking things he didnt mean...

Now he needed a fucking line.

-

A soft groan escaped my lips as I rolled over, pain, I was in pain everywhere— felt like I had been hit by a damn bus. My head pounded from the amount of alcohol I had consumed, my pussy was still lightly throbbing, completely beat up from last nights activities.

The house was quiet, but still my head throbbed.

My mind was fuzzy but I remembered pieces, remembered that I had made out with Eris, come home late, Azriel had put his hands on me- we had fucked. I groaned again, pressing my palms into my aching eyes.

Obviously, Azriel was out of fucking line— out of control. I hadn't thought our situation could get any worse, and now, impossibly worse.

Could I blame him for his actions when nobody taught him how to love someone? When I knew that his need for control had rooted from the childhood horrors he had once faced? Could I blame him for his actions when I knew his brain had developed around abuse and violence? No, I couldn't blame him.

Maybe I was in denial, but underneath it all? Still my Az.

Waiting on the counter for me was a latte and a breakfast sandwich from my favorite cafe, next to it a folded piece of paper. I unfolded it, my chest swelling at the bouquet he had drawn along with a few bees flying around it, the drawing was messy a few ink splatters where he had pressed the pen down too hard, but still beautifully done like anything he touched with his artistic ability. A small message scribbled at the bottom.

hope its still warm when you get up im sorry if you don't completely fucking hate me stop at the shop before your shift, i love you, azriel

Still my Az.

I sighed, frustration beginning to bubble within me. Always lax, always acting like everything was just fine. I was tired of it, I was tired of always just pretending like everything was okay when that dark cloud of depression had reared its ugly head weeks ago.

It was an effort to shower, to get dressed, I didnt have the will to put any makeup on besides a little mascara afterwards. Every movement felt heavy and painful and full of more effort than it should, but it wasnt only my physical condition from drinking an ungodly amount and Azriels- outburst. It was also my emotional state- my brain so utterly exhausted from all of the trauma I had been enduring in the past weeks. I couldn't even bare to look in the mirror for more than a few moments either, the fingerprint shaped bruises dusted along my jawline highlighted by the brightly lit bathroom.

It was even more of an effort to get myself out of the car when I reached the shop. Anxiety gnawed at my gut, would they ask? Would they even notice? It didnt matter, I needed answers. I needed answers to questions I hadn't even formed yet. The bells chimed as they usually did and the stares I received upon my entrance didnt do anything to sooth my anxious gut. The lack of clientele in the waiting room definitely helped, a little.

"Hey," I said wearily to Kat and Cass, I avoided eye contact at all cost, and found my usual place leaning against the counter. Kat was in her chair behind it, Cassian perched on a stool nearby.

"Hey boo," Kat says quietly, I could feel Cass' boring into me. Don't bring it up. I could tell by his lack of greeting he was about to.

"Y/n, please don't tell me Az did that," Cassians voice is soft but I could hear the concern laced in his tone.

"Is he here?" I ignored his question completely, I didnt want to get into it. Not now.

"Hes doing a tattoo, Cassians room is empty tho— if you wanted to wait for him, its been a couple hours, hes almost done," Kat didnt pry, she knew better, and Cass didnt protest when she offered his room up without asking first.

"Thanks," its slightly breathless, with an effort not to burst out in tears in front of them. I couldn't handle the worried stares— the pity. The door clicked shut behind me and I dropped my bag on Cassians piercing bed and slid into his chair. Alone, now, I let the tears of frustration flow freely. They were silent, but hot and streaming, I wiped my eyes with my sleeves, letting out an exasperated sigh.

I didnt know how long it had been when I heard his voice outside, I held my breath to listen. "She's here?" surprise, hopeful surprise.

"Az— Im not past putting you on the floor if you put your hands—"

"Im not," Azriel cut him off with annoyance. I straightened, realizing he was about to be in here.

I sniffled, wiping my eyes again quickly to try and hide the evidence of my tears before Az stepped in, in all his brooding glory. His face was grave, eyes impossibly more tortured than usual, hair messy and disheveled, chains stacked, poking out from under his shirt, he was in the same clothes that he had been in last night and it didnt look like he'd gotten an ounce of sleep.

"Leave it open," I commanded softly, I saw Cassian quickly look away and back toward Kat as Az began to shut the door. Hurt flashed in Azriels eyes, but he stopped, leaving the door where it was. It wasnt wide open, but open enough.

"You don't trust me," it wasnt a question, but a statement, and he was right, to an extent at least. I didnt think Az would hurt me— after last night... I wouldn't feel bad for asking him to leave the door open.

"Youre fucked up," I muttered when our eyes met, his pupils always a tell tale, he swallowed, his throat bobbing with the motion. "Probably should have this conversation another time."

"I was always fucked up Bee, every fucking moment I was fucked up— it doesn't matter," he took a step toward me, I held my breath again, my eyes tracing every movement he made. "Im sorry." Another step, I bit my lip, my cheeks flushing as I watched him drop to his knees in front of me.

"Sorry doesn't fix everything," my voice broke, he winced, his eyes boring into mine, showing me a vulnerable side Id never seen before.

"I know that," he breathed, and I almost broke all over again seeing the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. "Im so fucked in the head Bee nothing I did last night was okay- fuck- it was- Im sick Im sorry," he rambled, he slid his hands into his hair, his fists curling into it, his elbows on either side of his head.

"Its not okay none of it— the fucking bottle girls, the lying, last night especially... I- you asked me last night why I kept Vegas from you and I have nothing- I have no good fucking answer or excuse that makes it okay but I swear I was gonna ask you to come with me, like fuck y/n I wish you could see I wish you could understand—" rambling again, I let him, my tears flowing again, words failing me. "I would let Rhys fucking sue me for breaking contract before I would leave this fucking city without you," his cheeks were flushed, tears running down them, I hadn't seen this before... As well as I knew him he never showed this much raw emotion, besides anger. "I know Im a fucking addict and a fucking alchy, but Im trying to be better, I went to AA, Im trying to quit drinking, but Im fucked Bee- Im so fucked up from all the shit Ive never faced and Im so fucking sorry I put that on you lastnight."

AA, he had done that for me, my heart ached for him. To hear him say those things about himself, in front of his friends, my heart ached knowing how hard all of this must be, but for me, he was doing it for me.

"If you never forgive me I deserve that, I honestly do Im a piece of shit— a fucking stain on your very existence you deserve so much fucking more than someone like me," I wanted him to stop, I wanted him to stop saying all of those horrible things, as angry as I was at him.

"Im so fucking sorry," he breathed again, his voice breaking, with a sob. Az, my Az, the one who hid behind that cold stare and never let anyone in, the one who never let that hard exterior crack... Was on his knees for me... Every word, Kat and Cass could hear every single word, they could hear him cry, hear his confessions his countless apologies and he didnt care. He didnt care that they knew, he only needed me. He needed me like air to breathe.

And I felt it, I felt it with every ounce of me because I needed him just as much.

So I didnt hesitate when I reached for him, when I pulled his hands from his hair, and pulled him to me. His body went limp, his knelt form hunching over as he let his head fall into my stomach.

"It's okay Az, breathe," my voice was soft as I stroked his hair, holding him close to me while he cried.

I knew it wasnt okay, none of it was, but he needed me and I needed him, and the rest I would figure out later.

-

a/n: wow they are toxic and codependent hahaahahaha NOT FULLY PROOF READ EXCUSE MISTAKES

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[peachsukii]

Operation: Shut Down

『♡』  fem!reader x bakugo ╰➤ ꒰ Senior year of UA | Characters are all 18 ꒱ ♡ katsuki bakugo masterlist ♡ summary: during their senior year of UA, midoriya, bakugo and todoroki return to endeavor's agency for senior internships. while on a supervised patrol, bakugo experiences his first 'failure' as a hero-in-training and takes it extremely hard. reader makes an attempt to care for his fragile state when he returns to the dorms. tags & warnings:  failed mission, ptsd/trauma, mentions of blood/gore/violence, depression & anxiety, mild angst, emotional comfort, semi-fluff, bakugo and midoriya hug!? a/n: similar to the "tidal wave" story, but this one is a bit grittier and heavier subject matter. hopefully this also isn't too OOC for bakugo! i figure at some point during their time at UA, or in the field, they’ll have to go through something similar to this on their own. ꒰ Ao3 version | word count; 2,671 ꒱

Ahh, Saturday mornings - one of your favorite times of the week! There's something refreshing about being free from classes, surrounded by all your friends as you laze around the dorms. Yourself and Bakugo are usually the first two awake, often bumping into each other in the kitchen for breakfast. Midoriya and Kirishima are typically next, followed by a random assortment of the rest of the class. One thing's for certain, though, Kaminari is always the last one awake. Jiro swears it annoys the shit out of her that she needs to have an extra alarm to get him up, but he never fails to make her smile when she does.

Today, the dorms are on the quieter side as most of the class are off at their senior internships for a long weekend. You completed yours a few weeks prior, leaving yourself and Kirishima, Kaminari, Ashido and Yaoyorozu hanging around this weekend. Meandering toward the kitchen to grab a bowl of cereal, you run into Midoriya, sitting at the small table - alone.

"Hey! I thought you guys were gone 'til Monday?" you ask, confused as to why he's back early. As you approach the table, you see the somber emotion painted across his face, the usual radiance in his eyes dulled.

"Oh, hey y/n. Yeah, we got back late last night."

There's something unsettling about the way he said "late last night." He still hasn't looked up at you. You place a hand on his shoulder to grab his attention.

"Everything okay?" He jumps a bit at your touch, startling you. He's not typically this jumpy. "You look like you've seen a ghost, Zu."

You can see he swallows nervously, his eyes glued to the table.

"Christ, Izuku! You're scaring me, spit it out already!" you urge, growing impatient with his evasiveness.

Midoriya finally turns to face you, his face not able to hide the fact he didn't sleep last night, the darkness growing under his eyes.

"It's Kacchan...," he starts, stopping for longer than you were comfortable with before continuing quietly. "He's in his room and hasn't come out since last night. He won't talk to me or Shouto."

Your stomach cartwheels with a sour feeling.

"You can't just say that and not give me more background on what the hell you're talking about."

He shifted uncomfortably in the diner chair, placing his head in his hands on the table.

"We were on a supervised patrol with Endeavor after dinner last night. The three of us were responsible for escorting a family across the city when Endeavor received an emergency call, taking Kacchan with him and leaving myself and Shouto responsible for the original task."

Midoriya paused, letting out a soft exhale.

"While on the emergency call, Endeavor ended up getting hurt -," he puts his hands up, waving them as he quickly interrupts himself to say he's fine before putting his head back down. "- due to a fall. Supposedly, the villain they were pursuing took advantage of that as a distraction. Kacchan was able to subdue him..."

Again with the damn pauses.

"...but?" You try not to sound too annoyed, but can't help it. You loved Izuku dearly, but he really needed to learn to get to the damn point.

"...but the civilian he captured wasn't so lucky."

What the hell does that mean?

Something in your gut tells you to sit down for whatever it is he's going to say next. You take the seat next to him, placing a hand on his thigh for reassurance.

"You...don't have to say anything if you don't want to, Zu," your tone shifting from your previous annoyance to concern.

He puts a hand on top of yours and gives it a squeeze. "T-thanks, but it's okay. Maybe you could try to talk with him? I had Kirishima try, too with no luck."

"Okay, sure. Do you wanna tell me what happened, then?"

You're not really sure if you should know, at this point. If Bakugo's locked himself in his room and refuses to speak to anyone? Some serious shit must have happened. He's not one to completely shutdown and isolate himself, let alone from Midoriya and Kirishima.

"The...civilian didn't make it. The villain planted a bomb inside of the civilian as, uh...a backup plan, I guess. It went off as Kacchan was escorting them to the ambulance for evaluation."

Your stomach stirs a second time, afraid to confirm what you think happened. "...so, you're telling me he saw someone...explode?"

He hesitates. "Y-yeah. Endeavor told us he went into shock, which isn't like him at all but completely normal, all things considered. He went non-verbal until we got back last night. He didn't even yell, told us he was going to bed, walked off and slammed the door."

"Fucking hell...do you know if he at least got some sleep on the drive back?"

"Funny enough, yeah. He fell asleep on my shoulder." He smiles faintly, trying to look at the positive in this situation. You can't help but smile, too, imagining Bakugo passed out on him without a care in the world.

Midoriya rubs two fingers against his temple - he's intensely fighting to stay awake. But who could blame him? His best friend just went through something extremely traumatic and he doesn't know the best way to help him.

You rub his back, attempting to calm his visible anxiety.

"Alright, I'll tag in. Please Izuku, go to bed. You need to rest," you assert, knowing that he would keep himself up until he physically couldn't stand if it meant helping a friend - especially Bakugo.

"Yeah. Thank you, y/n," Midoriya says wearily. As he stands, you jump up from your own seat to wrap him in a tight hug. He accepts, sighing into your shoulder as his body deflates into yours.

"Come on, I'll walk you back to your room."

───

After you walk Midoriya back to his dorm room, you go inside with him for a few minutes to be sure he actually gets into bed. He lazily crawls under the sheets, letting you tuck him in as his eyes are fluttering closed. You pat his head and mutter a 'night Zu' as you tip-toe to the door, carefully shutting it behind you.

Jogging up to the 4th floor, you make your way down the hall to Bakugo's room. You stand outside for a moment before knocking twice.

No response.

You give him a few seconds before knocking again.

Nothing. You don't hear any movement on the other side of the door, either. Maybe he's asleep?

One final try before you give up and resort to calling him.

Thudding footsteps are stomping on the floor from inside his room after the third set of knocks. The sudden sound shocks you as the door flies open, Bakugo's scowling face emerging from behind it, the whites of his eyes faintly pink in color. Has he been crying?

"God dammit, nerd! I fuckin' told you -," He doesn't notice it's you right away as he's shouting in your face. Once the realization sets in, he visibly recoils at his mistake. "...sorry. Thought you were Izuku."

"I could go dye my hair and draw freckles on if you wanna yell at me," you joke.

He doesn't laugh - not even an eyeroll.

Your heart sinks.

Neither of you say anything, standing there awkwardly as the air thickens between the two of you. Bakugo audibly exhales and you can't tell if he's annoyed, angry or...sad.

"Can I come in?" you ask humbly.

He says nothing, retreating back into his room - but, he leaves the door open for you. You take that as an accepted invitation, coming inside and closing the door behind you. He sits on his bed, knees tucked up to his chest as he scoots back to the wall.

Seeing Bakugo like this tugs at your heartstrings, despondent and detached, the opposite of any emotions he'd usually carry. You follow him to the bed and quietly ask permission to sit with him.

"Do you want me to sit with you, Kat?"

He doesn't move, just answers with a muted 'whatever.'

As gentle as you can, you climb onto the bed and shimmy next to him, back against the wall. You'll take this as a win, especially since Midoriya mentioned him not answering anyone else. You're about to say something as you hear a sniffle, confirming your suspicions.

Bakugo was and has been crying.

You reach over to put a hand in his hair in an attempt to comfort him. Instantaneously, he smacks your hand away - hard - and a spark jumps off his palm. Normally, he'd let you touch him without an issue - to an extent, of course, but right now? You understand why he wouldn't want any physical touch.

"Okay, I'll sit here as long as you want," you affirm, retracting your hand and pulling your own knees to your chest. "You don't have to say anything."

With that, the flood gates busted wide open. Bakugo whips his head in your direction, his nose red and eyes swollen, and frantically scrambles on to you. The two of you fall sideways into the pillows at the head of the bed as he wraps his arms around you into an awkward embrace. He buries his face in the curve of your neck, latching onto the back of your shirt with an ironclad grip as he begins to sob.

You have never heard him cry this hard over anything, not even after his fight with Midoriya back in their first year.

You don't wait for Bakugo to say anything before you're cradling him against you, one hand delicately stroking his hair while the other massages light circles on his back.

"I've got you, Katsuki, it's okay," you whisper soothingly while trying your damndest to stop yourself from crying along with him. You wish, more than anything in the world, that you could physically remove the memory from his brain to free him of this trauma.

"I'm not going anywhere, I'll stay as long as you want."

He doesn't respond, only pushes himself deeper into your embrace. You can feel the material of your shirt sticking to your skin at your collarbone from his snot and tears, and you're definitely going to have bruises on your back from his fingers digging into you for support. None of that matters though in the moment, what matters is that he's getting the initial shock out of his system.

You're not too sure how long you both lay there, but with time, you can tell Bakugo's calming down by his sobs mellowing out. His body begins to loosen up, the tension melting from his tightened grip around you. And then you hear it - a low snore.

He'd fallen asleep.

You tilt your head back to get a look at his face. His features have relaxed around his puffy eyes and pink nose. Without thinking, you run a hand through his bangs, exposing his forehead and press a tender kiss to it. He doesn't stir and continues to take deep, sleepy breaths.

───

Bakugo wakes an hour later, dazed and exhausted. When he starts to shift in your arms, you open your eyes. You give him a hearty smile as he releases his hold, rolling onto his back next to you.

"Mornin' sunshine. How're you feeling?"

He snorts as his eyes focus on the ceiling. "Like shit."

He pauses before looking back at you. "But less than before. Thanks. I'm just fuckin' tired."

"You scared me, I've never seen you that upset before," you admit. "You don't have to talk about it now, or ever, just know that I'm here for whatever you need."

"I don't even know what to say about it. Shit sucked, but it's what we signed up for." He's very monotone, but at least he's talking.

You roll over to face him. "I'm sorry you had to see it."

Bakugo sighs. "'S what it is. I'll get over it. Endeavor told me the first one is the hardest, better to get it outta the way before becomin' a pro."

Damn, that made your heart ache.

"Just 'cause we wanna help people doesn't mean we can't also ask the same for ourselves. Heroes need a hero, too."

He lolls his head to the side and stares at you, a gleam in his tired eyes. "...yeah."

The room is silent as the two of you take a break from the rough conversation. If he doesn't want to continue talking, you don't push it. Instead, you offer a distraction.

"I'd love to take you hiking today, if you're up for it," you say with enthusiasm. "I know how much you love that one trail nearby with the overlook of the city."

Bakugo felt his heart flutter at the proposal, confusing the hell out of him, but offered a sense of comfort that he needed. He loved that you remembered something so niche about his interests.

"Maybe tomorrow."

"Sure! You tell me how early you wanna go and I'll get my ass out of bed. Just for you," you tease, jokingly smacking his arm. "We can get lunch on the way back from the hike, too. Wherever you wanna go!"

Between the swirl of emotions from earlier and how sweet you're being to him now, he's overwhelmed with a feeling he can't quite place.

"Y/N, can I ask you something?" he asks abruptly.

Well, that came out of nowhere.

"Always, Kat. What is it?"

He stalls his follow up, seeming to think a little longer on how he wans to phrase his question.

"Why...are you here with me?"

His question baffles you. "Because you're my best friend?"

Best friend, he repeats in his head.

You notice the pondering look in his eyes as he turns to face you, shifting to lay on his side.

"It's because I care deeply about you, Katsuki. Nothing'll ever change that."

"...promise?" His voice is shaky, a nervousness to his tone.

You reach out and touch his cheek, stroking it lovingly with your thumb.

"Is that even a question? Yes, I promise. You're stuck with my ass forever, like it or not. I’ll be cheering for you every step of the way."

He laughs - genuinely.

And then he smiles. Your heart soars into the heavens.

"There's my favorite firecracker!" you boast, squishing his cheek in your hand.

Bakugo huffs at the sudden affection, a dusting of pink on his cheeks and nose.

"Th' fuck?!" he curses, playfully poking your forehead. "I'm not a firecracker!"

“Coulda fooled me, Mr. Lord Explosion Murder God Dynamight.”

The two of you play fight, cackling like children as the tension melts from the room.

Even if it’s just for a little while, Bakugo forgot about the agonizing dread from hours ago.

───

Later on in the dorm lobby, you’re sitting on the couch with Bakugo, feet in his lap watching TV as he’s reading a book. Midoriya comes prancing into the room, fresh faced from his nap. His eyes brighten when he sees Bakugo on the couch.

“Hey guys! Kacchan, how are you feeling?” he asks cheerfully, taking a seat on the couch next to him.

Unexpectedly, Bakugo wraps an arm over Midoriya’s shoulder, tugging him into his side.

“Fine, nerd. Thanks.” He lets go, puts a hand on his head and roughly fluffs his curls - just like when they were kids. Midoriya is so taken aback that he doesn’t say anything, he just smiles and relaxes next to him.

“What are we watching?”

You lean sideways to catch a glimpse of the boys together on the couch, co-existing without any negativity. Even after all the shit life throws at them, they still find ways to shove it all away to enjoy each other’s company. Sometimes, they just need a little help getting back to that mentality.

A silent huff escapes you as you lay back into the couch.

These boys are going to be the death of me.

i love these goobers and wanna buy them a lifetime’s worth of ice cream and take them to disney world to make them happy :’)

[slayagami]

𐙚 synopsis: after losing consciousness in a villain attack, you wake up 2 and a half years later in the hospital. the time doesn't feel long to you, so adjusting to the new updates takes you by surprise. like your boyfriend of 2 years, izuku midoriya, apologizing that he found love elsewhere, in your best friend ochaco uraraka. you find refuge and comfort in your old friend todoroki, who visited you everyday you were out. does new love blossom or do you fight for midoriya back?

𐙚 pairing: midoriya x afab!reader x todoroki

𐙚 warnings:: mild violence, cursing, cheating?, love triangle-ish, angst to fluff, slow burn, friends to lovers, depression, nonchalant reader but over thinker, reader struggles expressing emotions, characters are 22

𐙚 readers quirk: poison arrow. can appear a bow and produce arrows that are ingested with poison that can temporarily paralyze or slow down the movement of who was shot. effects lasts roughly 20 minutes but depending on the victim, possible to move but will be slowed down. quirk allows the reader to have sharp sight, and can see farther and more clearer than most. reader has to train to shoot arrows more accurately. strength of poison depends on readers emotions. hero name: artemis.

𐙚 a/n: slow writer </3 3.9k words & might include typos, i finished this at 4:45 am lolz. link to join tag list is at the bottom! [next]

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° m.list ! ┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° mha m.list ! ┊ love again

you remember sitting in your u.a. classroom in your final year, ochako around your arm while giggles left the slip of her mouth laughing at iida’s antics. his stiff arms flailing around the place as he scolded bakugo yet again, red eyes full of irritation and annoyance.

“something’s about this class will never get old!” you laughed as well, holding onto your bestfriend. she agreed, slowly pulling you to the hallway as the lunch bell rang, waiting outside the door for iida and another.

you remember loving your class. loving your homeroom teacher. loving the lunch meals, loving the thrill of training. but most importantly, you loved the flirtatious glances across the room from bright green eyes, the soft pink hue of his cheeks dusting over his freckles, a nervous smile paired with a wave. you loved eating lunch with him, sitting beside him while your knees touched. you loved visiting his dorm room late at night to play games on his switch. you loved going on dates around the city with your hand holding onto his arm while he guided you through town. you loved graduating with him, jumping into his arms in your cap and down and diploma in hand. you loved the way he asked you to be his girlfriend, bringing a huge bouquet of your favorite flowers and a pretty bracelet to your apartment door. you loved how gentle his hands always caressed your body, mumbles of permission being asked against your lips. you loved waking up in the early mornings with his arm over your torso, half naked while drool seeped its way onto your pillows, green hair tousled and scars on his back prominent. the melodic hum when you scratched his scalp, eyes peeking through long eyelashes up at your sleepy face. you loved working under the same agency as him, being sent on missions together and working hard. you loved having parties in your now shared apartment (after a year of dating) and inviting ochako and iida as well as other old classmates.

it was a comfortable life. so warm and loving. maybe that’s why you had this unfair situation happen to you. perhaps being too happy, too perfect, was a sin. but why? why have you been stuck in a void for so long, unable to move or wake up. faint beeping to your right. why did you deserve to be paralyzed for so long, after having everything you wanted. being where you wanted. you lost sense of time, only knowing the inescapable black hole that you seemingly floated aimlessly in. it was dark and cold. so dark that when you finally opened your eyes, even with the lights turned off the room was still too bright. it took you a while to understand where you were. pupils dilating as they adjusted to the low light. you turned your head to the side, eyeing the heart monitor and wires that connected from the machine to your arm, the soft glow illuminating the bed stand. there was a vase of flowers, still fresh, with a small ribbon that wrote ‘mom & dad’ . there was a red button behind the vase above the desk, ‘push for assistance’ and with a slow and sore arm you reached over. almost immediately loud footsteps and hushed yells came from the hallway, the intense flicker of the lights turning on causing you to wince and close your eyes.

“miss y/n! you’re finally up, how are you feeling?” the head nurse walked over with a clipboard, her blue eyes shining excitedly through her glasses. she wrote down on her clipboard while looking at the monitor, pen scratching filling in the silence. now that you had the chance to talk, your throat felt like sandpaper. dry and stiff, so scratchy it made your eyes water. one of the nurses standing around passed a cup to you, pink bendy straw in all its glory.

“what time is it? how long was i asleep?” a nervous glance between the nurses made you uneasy, fully awake now.

“ahem, its currently 3:44am. you were out for almost two and a half years. do you remember anything before you knocked out?”

a throaty laugh mustered its way up, scoff-like. you thought, unbelievable. it had to be some prank. some pro-hero reality show. you scanned the area, looking for possible hidden cameras. but the room was empty. just your heart monitor, IV bag, flowers. you spoke slowly, unsurely.

“i dont. i feel like i woke up a very long nap but im so stiff..” you fixed yourself to sit upright, your lower back tight. with uncertain eyes the head nurse gave an awkward smile, telling another nurse on stand-by to notify your parents. she spoke with a low tone, as if it would ease into her words.

“you were involved with a villain attack two and a half years ago. you fought very bravely one on one with a man who’s quirk went out of control. from what other pro heroes told us, your body had given out due to extreme exhaustion and overuse of your quirk, but your body automatically moved on its own and still fought. we believe the immense stress your brain and body endured is the reason you fell into a coma for so long.”

after the nurse ran your vitals she excused herself, and you spent the rest of your time wracking your brain to try and remember this so-called fight you were in. but you cant recall anything, and to be honest you don’t remember much of anything from before your coma. just the general facts like where you live, your agency, your friends, your boyfriend. but what you did the week before passing out? nothing. you don’t even remember when you had last went to your agency to work, just the general knowledge that you went. it was a strange feeling. almost out of body, like the person you were was you but also wasn’t.

it was 4:00am when your parents walked in the room, teary eyed and elated. your parents’ hair was longer, complimented with a few more noticeable gray hairs. it tugged at your heart not knowing the amount of stress you put them through, engulfing them in a warm hug. you talked for an hour or two, for any updates you should know and if everything the nurse told you was true. a part of you was hoping this was still a stunt. your parents awkwardly gave each other a look while you drank some water, unsure what to say. their hands found place in each other and intertwined their fingers, a thumb from your father rubbing your mother’s hand. it was quiet and still in your room. the clock on the wall ticking faintly in anticipation. you were now propped against your pillows, big eyes waiting for their words. and, almost comically, a knock on the door broke your attention, all three of you turning in curiosity. plush green of hair paired with the emerald eyes you fell in love with two- no, four? years ago. a smile cracked at your lips, your heart skipping at beat at the change of look your boyfriend held. hair that was shorter than before, styled and cut. a tanner complexion, slightly taller in height with new scars on his arms. he seemed more buff too, white tee hugging onto his biceps.

now, your eyes were always more perceptive than most, mainly because of your quirk. maybe thats why finding these differences were so easy for you to see. maybe thats why you noticed his new scars and shorter hair. maybe thats why your eyes trailed to his wrist, a thin gold chain wrapped around. a different bracelet from what you had given him on your one-year anniversary, to match with the old one he bought you when he asked you to be his girlfriend. your smile faded, intuition kicking in. something didn’t seem right. the glare in his eyes wasn’t as bright as before. weren’t excited. his face showed relief, sure, but also uncertainty. uncomfortableness. guilt. but for what?

you spoke softly, unsure. nonchalant. but your eyes held so many emotions. and midoriya knew that. he knew you’d rather be nonchalant when you’re unsure, even if the thoughts in your head are spiraling. he knew everything about you. which is why it was so much harder to speak. to get the words out. his eyes glanced at the machine next to you, the bpm slowly raising. with awkward, stiff steps he walked towards you, stopping at the your side of the bed. his hand held yours, unfittingly. you took note of the uncomfortable look on your parents face. it only made you worry more.

“it’s nice to see you’re finally awake. are you feeling okay? does anything hurt?”

of course, he still cares for you. you can hear it in his voice the hidden feeling of love and affection,

but why hide that?

like its there but he doesn’t want to show it. you can feel the tension in the room, in your neck as you strain to look at him. you told him you were fine, not knowing how to feel. the conversation lingered, all four of you sitting awkwardly in silence. in the background down the hall, faint flip-flop and footsteps made their way in the direction of your room. little gasps of air, brown hair shoving itself through the doorway.

“y/n oh my goodness! i’m so happy to see you’re finally awake!!” ochako squeezed her way to your side, hugging your body with teary eyes. she seemed like the only normal one, the only one expressing her happiness and relief. it was enough to make you feel better yourself, sighing in ease at her side with a light chuckle.

“of course im awake. that would’ve been a lame way to go out.”

she laughed with you, exchanging jokes and a giggle, yet slowly making her way towards midoriya’s side. then your unease came back. the weird gut feeling, the tug at your emotions and brain. you can see the remorse through the green irises. you can feel the thickness in the room. and as much as you wanted to run away from this feeling, you couldn’t. not physically, not emotionally. what in the world happened when you were out? with a quivering voice, midoriya speaks up softly. cautiously. you can practically see his puppy-dog ears folding downwards against his skull. “things changed between us.” you parents escorted themselves out, saying a faint goodbye. midoriya fiddled with his thumb, teeth nipping at his lower lip. you just say and listened. to his rambling, to the way his voice shook and how the back of his food tapped the floor.

“the doctor’s told us many times you weren’t going to make it. that your body would reject the IV fluids and make you ill, or your heart would stop and they’d struggle to start it again. i spent a year in agony, refusing to eat, refusing to work. i never left your side in the hospital. but it make me sick too. i couldn’t sleep, i-… i felt so hopeless knowing there was a huge chance you’d never wake up.” his lip shook with every word like a leaf to a tree, the smallest crack in his voice breaking his sentences.

“and so ochako took care of me. she let me cry, listened to my nonsense, helped with my sleep and motivated me to go to work again…”

“i guess a part of me accepted you weren’t going to wake up, so i allowed myself to grieve and found new love in ochako. she said she the healthiest way for us us if i agreed to be with her even if there was a small chance you woke up and wanted me still. that if you woke up, i’d still choose her.”

you wanted to laugh. now this really had to be a set up. some sick joke. it was unfair. to wake up, and be told by your nurse you've been out for two and a half years. to not even remember you fighting in the first place. to be stuck in a black hole with faint memories of your past. to see your parents age in the slightest ways 'overnight'. to see your boyfriend change physically. to hear your boyfriend say he's in love with your best friend.

to have your best friend betray you.

frankly, you don't know what hurt more. the fact that your own boyfriend, or now ex-boyfriend, the same man who never let you open a single door, pay for a meal, tie your shoes or take them off, order your yourself, walk alone anywhere without him, the man who talked about marriage and kids with you. to just wake up and hear he couldn't "wait" for you. and that he still can't chose you just from a stupid promise.

or your best friend, the one you've known since you were 5, the girl who sat in the rain with you when your parents forgot to pick you up after school, the girl who's seen you cry so hard you threw up after your first boyfriend in middle school, the girl who always chose you over a boy, over anyone. or used to. ochako knows everything about you. she knows you hate super sweet foods because it makes your stomach hurt. she knows you like your coffee on thee slightly more bitter side. she knows you like the fuzzy socks with animal faces. that you attempted to run from home when you were 11 because your parents grounded you, but got lost at the subway station and cried. and especially knows your love for midoriya. ever since you first started being friends, he was all you talked about. she knows how much you talk about him and how he treats you so well, how excited you were when he first held your hand when he walked you home for the first time, or how you cried when you had an argument that almost ended your relationship, how you had a pregnancy scare and couldn't sleep for days. so why? and ochako looked at you with her huge brown eyes, almost hopeful. you can see it, her asking not for forgiveness, but for you to understand where she's coming from. if you can let it go because nobody knew if you would ever wake up. that she should have the right to date him too. that you were too late.

the tips of your fingers grew cold. your face grew even more pale than before, completely losing whatever life you could express. why must the world be so unfair to you? and why couldn't you express the frustrate you felt, the anger, the pain, the betrayal. you had it verbally sorted out in your head, everything you could possibly say to make you feel better by shitting words out, but the lump in your throat refused any noise to slip by. the room was silent, becoming colder each passing second. it was unsettling. the two just stared at you. green eyes filled with guilt, brown eyes with expectance.

you allowed yourself to slump down the hospital bed, trying to calm your beating hard. though the machine just gave it away, beeping at the same pace as you, only increasing as more time passed, the rise of your chest more visible as you kept battling your thoughts.

"i understand it must be hard for you, for your girlfriend to be unconscious for two and a half years and you finding the comfort in our close friend. and i know as heroes we talked about death, and for us to find happiness if we ever lost one another," you could practically see the growing excitement in ochako's eyes, holding onto every syllable that slipped through. was she even ochako anymore? did she even care that you just gained consciousness not even three hour ago? doesn't she not understand that, to you, yesterday you were 20 and today you wake up 22. you ignored her gaze and look dead straight into midoriya's.

"but i didn't die. and i guess it was wrong of me to assume you'd wait in the first place."

you could tell izuku wanted to say something, and you can see the stupid look in his eyes of wanting to be with you, but would rather be a man of his word to ochako instead of you. and ochako? the excited look in her eyes should be illegal. why is she so happy she gets to be with your man? why does she look like she’s accomplished something? did 20 years of friendship mean nothing to her? before she could slip a word out, your assigned nurse came back in with a stack of papers and medications, asking the visitors to leave so she can properly discharge you. her words found no importance in your mind, completely passing through your head as you replayed what just happened, the anxiety kicking in and making the monitor go off again, dangerously high.

but the nurse calmly removed your vital compressor on your arm as well as your IV drip, refusing to ask questions. she stood outside your door and heard everything. but she really didn’t have to. there’s articles everywhere pertaining to your coma and inside scoop magazine’s of midoriya and uraraka’s dating life. you guys weren’t celebrities or anything, but coming from a school like U.A. that documented your every move puts you in the spotlight. you were considered heroes as soon as you got you license anyways.

midoriya was always at the top of his game, having interview after interview, making his name known whether he meant to or not. he became a popular topic for years, and still continues to rise in popularity. and you got your spotlight after being sent to Kyoto with ochako to handle a gang of villains from the LOV in an abandoned building, managing to save three children who got lost in there while fighting off three villains with close ranged attack-based quirks. your quirk is mainly used for medium to long range combat, but you and ochako interned under gunhead and improved your physical combat which stunned citizens and made you a ‘big deal’. you spent 20 minutes using only combat skills and plain arrows to paralyze them, since they always attacked once you pulled your bow out, never giving you an opportunity. you both took a beating, sure, but you both had unwavering confidence and raw strength, causing you to headline for a couple weeks in Kyoto. ever since then, the media has been keeping tabs on both of you, and your relationship.

so obviously everyone freaked once pictures of him holding ochako’s hand went public, a year after your comatose article went viral. he received a lot of hate, especially from his friends. and it was hard for him to be out in public again without being ridiculed. he eventually stopped his hospital visits, the media speculating it was his new girlfriend’s jealousy of her boyfriend visiting his unconscious lover.

“take this medication when your body feels sore, its just some asprin. your limbs shouldn't feel too stiff, our staff helped stretch your body while you were in your coma. this reduced the shock of trying to use them after they were idle for so long. and these pills are supplements to update your body on the natural nutrients it missed throughout the years! come back in two weeks for an MRI to make sure your body is recovering well,” she handed you two bags of pills, and a change of clothes your parents had left before going to work. you took your leave, a stretch of the body with a silent ‘crack’ of your unused bones. it was roughly 8am now, the sky painted in pink and blue’s as the sun rose, rays of sun covering your body in a light hug. you thanked the nurse,

“oh, and before you go!” she chimed, blue eyes sparkling with interest, “i know its not any of my business, but while you were gone the handsome young man with red and white here visited you quite often, you should thank him.”

todoroki? he was a good friend to you, in fact one of your closest friends you shared with midoriya. you sat next to him your second year at u.a. spending time getting to know him as a person. he was always quiet during class, yet you can see how his eyes shone curiously as he eavesdropped on conversations, acting like he didn't care. or how he would engage in the silly activities your classmates did, like fake a protest when the teacher was biased, or twisting the top off a confetti canon as people walked in during your christmas party. most students always thought he was cold, mean and uninterested. you could tell how that affected him too in the long run, your classmates not conversing with him enough or being too scared too. though as the school year went on, more people realized he just wasn't good at expressing so much. and that he was in fact, just really dense. the only one he was ever mean to was his dad, understandably.

and so you spent class throwing pieces of paper on his desk, written in small characters random questions you had about him. when's your birthday? who's your favorite classmate? favorite subject? what manga do you read? it was simple at first. general question to please the curiosity you both held. until the questions turned into late night invitations hang out in his room, playing on his switch at 2am. he was fun to be around, he became sassy and full of snarky remarks as you grew comfortable with each other. his personality seemed much more brighter to you. and you told him a plethora of things, a bunch of tiny secrets you kept to yourself. throughout each time you saw each other, you grew to understand each other more and more.

“i dont know if i like him or if i just think hes cute..” you hummed, face squished on his silk pillows as you laid on your side. he sat on the floor, back questionably straight as he played on his switch. a piece of cookie stuck out of his mouth, “you and ochaco both like midoriya? isnt that.. against girl code, or whatever you told me?” blue and grey orbs flicker across your face through his bangs, a hidden emotion dwelling in the depths. cookie crumbs lingered on the corners of his lip, moving his attention back to the mini screen in his lap. you laughed naively, hand reaching out to wipe his face.

“oh, she doesnt like him! she said she only sees him as a friend,” the softest shades on pink touched the tips of his cheeks, his face heating up unbeknownst to you. nimble fingers stopped fidgeting at the buttons, peeking once more to look at you, though to his dismay your eyes remained elsewhere, distant. “and you? is it true you have a thing for yaoyaorozu?” your eyebrows wiggled, giggling like a child finding out these simple secrets. everyone in 2-a knew yaoyaorozu had the mushy-gushy for your bi-colored friend, it was a topic always brought up during parties when the two sexes were separated in their respective rooms, desperately seeking gossip. todoroki remained silent for a minute, a soft huff puffing out his chest. “yeah, i like her.” sure, he liked her. she was smart, intuitive, intelligent, diligent, a great leader. anyone would like yaoyaorozu. she came from money yet never expressed that she was better than anyone else, she was generous and humble, kind. everyone liked her. but in todoroki’s eyes, you can see he longed for something else

tag list @c0sm1cstqrsx @aliceblossoms @0b1wan @obeythehuman @whippedbyikemen @faimmm @sagejin @gummy-toes @seobstarr

[dilemmaontwolegs]

The Aftermath || LN4 {1}

Pairing: Lando Norris x widow!reader Summary: A year after losing your husband to an F1 crash, his teammate comes by and regrets never coming to check in on you. Warnings: 18+ only, grief and loss, depression, mentions of blood, alcohol WC: 2.2k

F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten || Eleven || Twelve || Thirteen || Epilogue

It doesn’t matter how long the night may seem, dawn will find a way to fight the darkness and break in a new day. Another day without him. 

365. It had been 365 days since he left this world for an eternity among the stars. Even now, a year later, you struggled to say his name without spiraling into the abyss where you wished you could join him. 

“Racing is my oxygen, I need it to survive.” That is what he had said whenever someone asked him if he was thinking about retiring.

“I hate you,” you murmured to the picture of your wedding day, the bright smiles something that hadn’t been seen inside these four walls for a year. 

You could almost hear his mocking laugh and you sighed at the truth, you could never hate him. He was your other half, he completed you. You hated that he had left you and the emptiness that had remained in his absence.

“I miss you.”

A knock sounded at your door and you dragged yourself through the silent house to see what had been delivered. You didn’t want to have to interact with anyone, let alone on a day like this one. “Just leave it on the step.”

“Y/N?”

You stumbled at the voice and froze, wondering if it was too late to climb back into bed and pull the covers up over your head and hide from the world. 

“Please, Y/N, open the door,” Lando called out.

They had been teammates. They had been friends. The three of you had spent so much time together the media joked Lando wasn’t third wheeling but a part of a throuple. 

Your hand trembled as you reached for the stiff deadbolt, the harsh scrape evidence of how long it had been since it was last opened for a grocery delivery almost two weeks ago. 

After the funeral, everyone else moved on with their lives while you were left with dozens of decaying bouquets and sympathy cards that could never replace your husband. For a while there were phone calls and invitations but leaving the house had become daunting and eventually those had stopped entirely. You couldn’t blame them.

“Jesus,” Lando muttered as you opened the door. “Are you alright?”

“What are you doing here?” you asked as you pointedly ignored his question. 

He shuffled on the doorstep as he shifted his balance about. “It’s the memorial unveiling today, I thought you might want someone to drive you.”

If you could feel anything, you might have felt angry. “I didn’t know there was an unveiling.”

“Shit, seriously?” He ran a hand through his curls that had grown longer than he used to keep them. “You should be there.”

He carefully stepped around you and into the house, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled the stale air before he frowned. You couldn’t remember when you last opened the curtains, preferring the dark where you could sit in his shirt and pretend he was still with you even after his scent faded from the material.

Lando stepped into the kitchen next, opening the fridge and cupboards to find them almost empty before slamming them closed. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” you said lamely as he stormed across the room to grab your shoulders. “I’m fine. I was going to order groceries today.”

“This isn’t fine, Y/N!” He sighed and released his grip so he could pull you into his arms. “I should have come by sooner.”

You froze as you felt the first human contact in months and felt his heartbeat against you, the rhythmic thump enough to jolt you back into control and you pulled away, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively.

“I’m not your problem, Lando.” You turned to the door that was still open, his comical Fiat Jolly parked in the drive. “You should go.”

His head dropped as he slowly walked past, pausing only a moment to say something before he thought better of it and shook his head, closing the door behind him. 

The road noise in the retro pastel blue car was too loud to hear anything when Lando’s phone rang so he pulled over into the next parking lot off the busy streets and found Oscar’s name on the caller ID. 

“Hey mate, what’s up?” 

“Where are you?” his teammate asked in a hushed tone. “The ceremony starts in five minutes and you’re the one who actually drove with the guy.”

Lando stared out ahead at the shop space he had pulled into and saw it was a food mart. “I’m not going to make it.”

“What could possibly be more important than this?”

“I’ll talk to you later, tell them to start without me.” Lando hung up without a goodbye and rushed out of his car, an apology sent to his friend in heaven. 

There was no knock at your door this time, there was just the quiet scratch of the pot plant moving across the concrete step before it was unlocked and swinging open. 

You didn’t even have the energy to rise from the bed you had crawled back into, there was only one person who knew where the spare key was hidden. He pottered around in the kitchen and you heard the doors opening and closing before his bare feet padded softly down the hallway. 

“Coming in,” Lando warned as the door creaked open and he stepped into your room. “I hope you’re wearing something.”

Before you could ask why he gave you the answer and ripped the blankets off the bed. Cold air rushed in and you shivered as you pulled the hem of your husband’s shirt further down your thighs. The orange and grey pattern on the shirt caught Lando’s attention and his eyes turned down before he turned away and opened the closet.

You weren’t sure if he was expecting to see one half empty but you hadn’t been able to box up a single item. You were clinging onto them, and the memory they represented, for dear life. 

He grabbed a casual dress he had seen you wear before and tossed it over, the soft cotton covering your legs. “Get dressed.”

“Lando!” He had already disappeared back down the hall and you groaned as you rolled off the bed and onto your feet. The material hung loose around your body in a way it hadn't before and the dress was no longer flattering as you stood in front of the mirror. 

It was the first real time you had looked in the mirror and you barely recognised yourself. Your skin no longer glowed, your hair was knotted and unkempt and your eyes held no life where they were sunken into your face.

Needing to try salvage something of your dignity, you tried to brush out the knots but the handle snapped and you stared at it in disbelief. Sudden rage hit you as you failed at such a simple task and you threw what remained of the brush at the mirror, shattering the image but somehow making your reflection more true to how you were feeling.

“Y/N?” Lando skidded to a stop, barely missing the shards of glass on the carpet. “Are you alright?”

“No,” you admitted aloud for the first time and your legs gave out as reality crashed into you. “I miss him so much.”

You didn’t feel the glass slash your legs or the sharp pain as they stabbed your knees. You didn’t feel the warm blood seeping into the carpet or Lando’s arms as he picked you up. You didn’t feel anything but the overwhelming sense of loss like a fist squeezing your heart from inside your chest.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you,” Lando murmured as he sat you on the kitchen side and cupped your face. “I’m sorry I wasn't here.”

“I’m not your problem,” you reminded him as you shook his hands off your face. “You were his friend and I’m not an inheritance.��

“I’m your friend too. A shitty friend, but I’m going to fix that,” he said as he looked down at your bleeding knees, “starting with this.”

He went to the cupboard above the fridge to find nothing had changed and the first aid kit was still on the shelf you struggled to reach, but he easily did. You tried to get a bandaid from it as he placed it on the benchtop beside you but he moved your hands back and gave you a warning look.

“This might hurt,” he apologised as he broke the top off a saline bottle and started to rinse the blood away. “There’s some glass stuck in there - maybe we should go to the hospital.”

“I’m not going back there, especially not today,” you said with a lick of venom and a shake of your head. “There’s whiskey in the back of the pantry, just give me some of that.”

He seemed dubious about the idea but knew how stubborn you could be and exhaled a resigned sigh before getting the half empty bottle. He looked at you through the clear glass, above the sloshing amber, and you could feel the judgement in that stare.

“I have trouble sleeping.”

He didn’t give you a response as he handed it over before getting a chair to sit on, placing your foot on his knee so he could try to get the glass out with a pair of tweezers. To be honest, you were numb to everything and didn’t even need the alcohol but you gulped greedily at the spiced whiskey. 

“What’s that?” you asked as you noticed a pot on the stove, steam softly billowing up, and then you noticed the mouthwatering scent. 

“Vegetable soup. You need to eat.”

“When did you get so mature?” The joke fell flat as he looked up and you saw the depth of his own grief that he let escape from where he had buried it.

“A lot has changed in a year.”

There was no appropriate response to be said so you took another swig and felt the warmth of the alcohol hitting your empty stomach while he continued to pull shards of glass out.

“All done,” he said as he gathered the rubbish and left you to inspect the bandaids plastered all over your knees and skins too.

“If you ever look for a change in career, nursing isn't the answer.”

His lips curled up with a small laugh as he checked the pot and gave the soup a stir. “You’re meant to say thank you.”

“Thank you, Nurse Norris.”

Lando returned to where you were sitting after lowering the heat on the stove and tapped his finger on the stack of mail beside you. He picked up an envelope with the F1 symbol beside the return address and flipped it over before seeing almost a dozen others just like it. 

“Your invitation is probably in one of these.”

“Did you know there’s a clause in the contracts for ‘surviving spouses’?” You laughed bitterly and tipped the bottle back, no longer feeling the burn of the alcohol rushing down your throat. “They send a cheque every month, the very people who killed him and I want nothing to do with, and if it wasn’t already bad enough, they send it in his name.”

Lando looked at the envelopes and frowned. “Seriously?”

You took the top one and ripped through the seal to show him the cheque address to René Gauthier. On and on, you tore them all open and Lando swallowed deeply as the mess grew.

“Do they think €10,000 a month is going to make everything better? Nothing they do can bring back my husband.”

“Nothing can fix what happened,” he said as he wiped your cheeks that you hadn’t noticed were damp with tears. “I know it doesn’t make it any easier but they brought in new regulations this year, so it doesn’t happen again.”

“Sometimes I wish he hit those officials,” your voice broke at the whispered confession. “He would have had to live with that guilt, but at least he would be alive. Oh god, I’m a terrible person.”

René had been labelled a hero for the manoeuvre he had done to save the lives of the officials that were in the wrong place. He had put himself into a wall swerving away from them and while they had walked away unscathed for their mistake, your husband had died for his. It wasn’t fair.

“You’re not a terrible person, Y/N,” Lando reassured you as he pulled your hands away from where you had hidden your face in shame. 

The alcohol had hit your system and you closed your eyes as the room swayed, your words falling unfiltered as your head spun. “Racing was his life, Lando, but he was mine. I don’t know how to live without him.”

The bottle disappeared from your fingers and you lifted your heavy eyelids to see Lando putting it on top of the cupboards out of your reach. 

“You find a way to live because it's what he would want.” He scooped you up off the counter and your head fell into the crook of his neck without resistance. “You find a way to live because we’ve already lost too much. I’m not going to lose you too.”

Click here for part two.

[koolades-world]

Helloooo it's me again back with another obey me request :)

Could I get the Demon bros with a depressed MC? I'm having a rough time rn and I just need some comfort but ofc feel free to ignore if u don't do requests like these!!

Have a nice day/night!! ♡☆♡☆♡

hi! of course! sorry I'm so late on this!!! also love your pfp (huge pjsekai fan)

Part of the reason I took so long is because I just didn’t know where to start

I love the demon bro I wanna squeeze them like a squishmellow and they’ve gotten me thorough some tough stuff

it's hard for me to articulate anything relating to depression just because I struggle to open up about it especially after my diagnosis. I don’t think anyone except my mom knows only because she was in the room at the time, and all you guys now of course haha

sorry if that was worded so weird and if anything below is worded weird but it’s just hard for me to find words to put together how I’m feeling but writing is my therapy so thank you for this request :)

Brothers with a depressed Mc

Lucifer

would def notice something was up right away from the first meeting, not because of how you acted, but just because it's Luci

once he officially found out, he made all arrangements needed right away

you need a few days off school? you got it, he's already talking to diavolo

you need a break from chores? you got it, he distributed the work among the rest of the family

there's only one thing you feel like eating? you got it, it's what everyone is eating for dinner

supportive in a quiet way, and does all sorts of little things to lighten the load

Mammon

as your first and best man, he acts as your knight and is willing to do anything to help you out

he tries his best to correct his own bad habits so you can work together on yourself

like, for example, if you struggle to get out of bed in the morning, he will get up and moving earlier so you can be up at the same time

nobody is perfect! he tells you this all the time because he knows how dark everything might seem sometimes

he partially understands how you feel since being the family punching bag for hundreds of years takes a toll on someone

he’s with you in every step of your journey, ups and downs, no matter what

Levi

he often has his own self deprecating thoughts, so he knows what you’re dealing with

everyone copes in their own ways but he hopes by sharing all the things he loves, he can bring some happiness

he shared everything with you, both his physical possessions and his thoughts

if you prefer to just sit together, he can do that, but if you want to talk about it, he will do his best to also share how he’s feeling

he wants you to be able to use him as a support system and as someone to fall back on

he always tries to bring a smile to your face and to be someone you trust, despite his own flaws

Satan

he shows you the little joys in life, the ones you might struggle or forget to see like sunsets and how the clouds change color with the sky, or how soft flower petals can be, or how a smile can change someone’s entire day

often he invites you out to places, for no reason at all so you can enjoy everything, especially the sun

he takes you on trips to the human world to visit your favorite places and occasionally see your favorite people if he’s allowed

he helps you with school work and takes the load when ever he can

if you asked him, he would do anything for you <3

Asmo

he always helps you out with your personal hygiene since often, that's what goes first

it's much easier to keep a routine if someone is doing it with you, and Asmo would never forget, so he help keep you on track

but, he's also not pushy about it. if you'll let him, he'll do some of the tasks for you, no strings attached

he's with you at your worst and best. he's not going anywhere

he's determined to be your personal cheerleader and will celebrate all the small things with you

Beel

at first, he's a little shocked at the changes in eating patterns, but supports you when ever and where ever you need it

if he knows there's only one food you will eat, he will physically restrain himself from eating it because he knows how much it means to you

exercise helps but he knows it's probably the last thing you want to do, so he helps you though little bits at a time and takes you out to get a reward afterwards

spending time with you makes him happy, so he figures it must be the same the other way around so he makes an effort to just be with you, even if its just sitting together while you do different things

often finds himself seeking you out just to ask how you are by instinct, proving what a sweetheart he is

Belphie

an interrupted or strange sleep cycle is something he would for sure notice

he becomes the biggest cuddle bug and will often give you sleepy kisses

when you're resting, he'll give you sweet dreams that will leave you feeling warm and fuzzy afterwards

he makes an effort to make the bed just how you like it, and before long makes it a habit to join you in your room for naps and bedtime

he doesn't mind if you wake up at weird time and will wait with you as long as you need to get up

thank you again for such the long wait! hope you enjoyed and hope you're feeling better now <333

[written-in-flowers]

Red Satin and Pink Leather: YunSangGi x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x Kang Yeosang x Song Mingi x fem!Reader

Genre: SMUT MINORS DNI

Word count: 9k

Summary: Catching Yunho on a special video call with you and Mingi, Yeosang is pulled into the party and couldn't be happier for it.

Tags: sub!yeosang, sub!mingi, femdom, dom!reader, dom!yunho, facials, titty-fucking, nipple play, breast worship, voyeurism, filming sex, sex over video calls, phone sex, overstimulation, hand jobs, masturbation, pet names (pretty, baby, baby boy, etc.), anal sex, anal fingering, sex toys, cock rings, orgasm denial, edging, multiple positions, multiple orgasms, dom/sub themes, dom/sub relationships, poly relationships, polyamorous, cum swallowing, cum play, shower sex (brief).

Previously on Idol Companion

*****

He found you where he’d expected: by your mirror, half-dressed, doing your makeup routine. Yeosang leaned against your doorframe, seeing you at your desk applying blush. He liked watching you do your makeup. You always put so much concentration and thought into your appearance regardless of where or who you’ll be with. Tonight, you’d put on your usual routine with an added winged eyeliner and dark lip color. Sexy. Seductive. Yeosang liked the look on you. 

“You know,” he coughed, “You don’t need to put on makeup if you’re staying indoors.”

His voice made you jump, and you turned to him, startled for a moment. Seeing him, you laughed softly. “Yeah,” you said, going back to your mirror, “I know. I just like feeling pretty.”

He walked further into the room. Yeosang noticed the outfit you’d laid out on your bed. A satin halter top in red-wine color with a pair of black denim jeans. His heart nearly stopped at the sight of it. The Top. The Shirt. The Blouse of Death. Yeosang’s blood already pumped thinking of you in the flimsy blouse. Mingi mentioned a night-in rather than going out, but this outfit seemed too formal for an at-home date. Perhaps you’d both changed your minds and picked a destination. Perhaps you’re wearing this to ensnare Mingi into a night of rough, wild, sex. Yeosang pitied Mingi. He’d be helpless against you in a low-cut blouse that sometimes showed flashes of whatever bra you wore underneath. Every Ateez member knew this shirt by sight, and knew what it meant. 

You wanted sex. 

“You’re going to wear this?” Yeosang asked, more amused than anything. He felt the smooth fabric between his fingers, “I hope Mingi’s prepared.”

You looked at him in the mirror, liquid eyeliner in your hand, “I have no idea what you mean.”

“Don’t act so coy,” he replied, “You know what this top does to us.”

“Not my fault a simple piece of clothing turns you all into animals,” you said, trying not to smirk as you applied the black liner. “It’s one of my favorites, and I wanted to wear it tonight.”

“But Mingi…” he frowned, “Is so innocent. Please, have mercy upon him, YN!” He changed to a pleading, desperate tone. “Wear it for me. Wear it for me instead! He's only a boy!”

“Oh hush,” you laughed. Wadding up tissue, you threw in his direction. “Mingi’s been feeling down lately and I want to cheer him up. You know, uplift his spirits a bit.”

“It'll definitely uplift something alright,” he snorted, coming to sit beside you on the bed. 

“Ugh, you're such a guy” you groaned, rolling your eyes. “I mean it. He's been upset lately, so I wanted to be there for him.”

Yeosang quieted. Neither of you wanted to think about Mingi’s depressive stages. They did not happen often, but when they did, they could be terrible. 

“Are you going to be coming back or staying there?” He asked curiously, picking up a cotton swab to gingerly wipe off a stray streak of eyeliner. 

“I might stay there,” you said, smiling gratefully. “What do you think?” 

“Beautiful,” he said, admiring how your hair framed your face. “You could've called me. I would've helped you get ready.”

“I didn't want to bother you after you had a long practice day. Besides, I can dress myself, Yeosang.”

“But I like helping. I want you to look your best all the time.”

You pouted, “Aw, my sweet Yeosang. You can help me get dressed then.” 

So accustomed to seeing you in your underwear, Yeosang didn't mind when you disrobed. A dark red lingerie set covered your intimate areas, mesh and lace showing enough skin to arouse a man. He gazed over your legs, thighs and hips before landing on your chest. The mesh material in the middle thinly covered your breasts, and Yeosang gulped thickly. Yet, he still took up the top to slide over your body before clasping the back behind your neck. 

“Mingi’s going to be a very happy man,” he said as he fixed the draping neckline. Straightening out your small heart necklace, he said, “I don't know how he's going to resist you.”

“Who said I wanted him to?” You grinned at him taking up your jeans. 

He put them at your feet and you stepped into them. Yeosang slowly slid the fabric up your legs and thighs, feeling your smooth skin under his knuckles as he went upwards. At your hips, he couldn't stop himself from leaving a kiss on a spot of skin before covering it. When he stood at eye level, you pecked his lips. 

“You're so helpful,” you said in an alluring voice. “I'm lucky to have a sweet prince who treats me so well.”

Your ‘dom voice’. He loved that voice. It sent tingles that made him shudder. “I only want to take care of you,” he then squeaked out, “Mistress. Your happiness means a lot to me.”

You cupped his cheek and kissed him. “It's too bad I can't reward your behavior right now.”

“Getting to help you is good enough for me.” 

He guided you to your bed where he slipped on your sandals for you. Yeosang wished you'd worn tights again. He liked helping you put them on; it gave him an excuse to touch you further. He placed a gentle kiss on your exposed ankle, buckling the sandal enough to keep it on you all night. You looked down at him lovingly, the way an owner looked at their favorite pet. Yeosang took you aback when he mentioned his submissive tendencies to you. He didn't mind being dominant from time to time, but he liked being babied by you. Something about your dominant personality felt comforting and warm. It made him feel safe. When you first dominated him, he worried it might not work out but you'd gone above and beyond to please him. 

And he'd do just about anything to please you back. 

“There,” he said with finality, standing up from the floor. “You look spectacular.” You tilted your head expectantly, and he added, “Mistress.”

He helped you off the bed onto your feet. “I wish you were coming back,” he pouted, “Then I could help you get ready for bed too.”

You giggled, “You can help me tomorrow night.”

He didn't tell anyone why he really liked living with him and Yunho. Living with you gave him opportunities to serve you in subtle ways: preparing your favorite meals, helping you with morning and night routines, and overall taking care of you. You did not expect it of him every day and he honestly did not do it often, but he liked caring for you. You are not only the princess to his prince or the Yorkie to his Maltese, but you're the mistress to his servant. After the struggles you've had in life, and juggling eight boyfriends, he wished to make your life as easy as possible. If that meant helping you put on shoes or cook you a cup of ramen, he’d do it. 

You went with him into the living room where Yunho sat eating dinner. Cross legged on the couch, he stopped halfway eating noodles when he saw you. 

“Wow,” he said, slurping up the rest and wiping his mouth, “You look amazing.” 

“Thank you,” you grinned, sitting next to him.

“You guys are staying in, right?” He asked, stirring the soup with his chopsticks, “Because otherwise Mingi better learn how to control his boners quick.”

“We might go get coffee or something small,” you shrugged, taking out your phone. 

“I should tell him to put on a big hoodie,” Yunho reached for his phone nearby, “He can hide it that way.”

“Oh my god, you’re all so ridiculous,” you chuckled, scrolling through your phone as you idly played with Yeosang’s hair. He’d grown it out for this exact reason. “It’s just a top.”

“Yeah, the top,” said Yunho, who quickly typed a message to Mingi. “You know how weak Mingi is for you. He’s going to crumble right away.”

“I told her it was cruel of her to wear it,” Yeosang joked. 

He shut his eyes as your fingers gently ran through his scalp. Being this close to you felt comforting. He’d fallen asleep so many times this way, engulfed by your warmth and scent as you pet him. You and Yunho continued talking about your plans for the night as he relaxed into your lap. He didn’t want you to go yet, not when he’s enjoying your body so much. He thought of asking if you and Mingi might stay with them, but he refrained. Every member deserved alone time with you, and Mingi needed it a bit more than the others. Another “baby boy” who needed lots of love, praise and attention from his Mistress. He watched the television before he realized he’d missed something. 

“Mistr-YN,” he quickly corrected him, “You didn’t get your bag.”

“I can just get it when Mingi comes. He won’t be here for a while,” you assured him. “I don’t need it at this moment.”

“I don’t want you to forget it and then have to come back,” he sat up from your lap, already feeling the cold, and said, “You tend to forget stuff.” 

“I do not,” you retorted. 

“No, no, Yeosang’s right,” Yunho intervened, “Yeosang, go get your mistress’s purse before Mingi shows up.” 

His cheeks warmed at his words. He walked back to your room, finding your bag on your bed still, and came back. Yeosang noticed Yunho sat closer, trapping you on the couch with his arm, and talking low. He only made out Yunho’s deep voice and your sweet one but nothing you said. Yeosang did not blame Yunho for trying. The red blouse is every Ateez member’s kryptonite. 

“Here you go,” Yeosang came over, handing you your bag and returning to his spot on the sofa. 

“So sweet,” you cooed, bending to kiss his temple. 

He could be like this forever. The doorbell sounded throughout the house, and Yunho went to answer it. “Mingi’s here,” you said to him, smiling softly at Yeosang’s relaxed position. “I gotta go now.”

Yeosang grumbled and sat up. “Hope you have a good time,” he said, already feeling cold without you, “Kiss?”

“Kiss.”

You let your lips linger on his a few seconds before pulling away. Mingi walked in right as you reached the living room threshold. He didn’t wear the hoodie, but seeing his amazed expression, he likely regretted not taking the advice. Yeosang watched you and Mingi kiss, then say goodbye as you went out the door. The silence built back up once you’d left, your scent and warmth going with you. 

“Atinys are always saying I’m her puppy,” Yunho stood nearby with a teasing smile on his face, “But you’re more of a puppy than me.”

“Shut up,” he laughed softly, throwing a small pillow at him before getting up from the bed. “It’s been a while for me, that’s all.”

“You can always ask her the next time you two go out,” Yunho said, walking to his room with Yeosang behind him. “She’d never say no to her prince.”

Yeosang’s blush crept from his cheeks to his ears, “It’s what I like, okay?”

“I wasn’t dissing you,” he turned when he reached his bedroom door, the smile gone once he saw Yeosang’s face. “We all have different kinks. I mean, I like CNC which isn’t everybody’s thing.”

“You do? When have you done it?”

“When you went to visit your parents’,” he answered as Yeosang passed him. “She wanted to do it, so we did. YN doesn’t mind experimenting,” he smirked, “She loves trying new things. You should ask her to go full dom with you next time; she might do it.”

“You think she would?” he asked meekly. “We kind of do it in bed sometimes, but not all the way. I don’t know if she really does like it.”

“Just ask, Yeosangie. You won’t know until you do. It’s what Wooyoung told me.”

Yes, Yeosang heard all about Wooyoung’s free-use fantasy and how you’d tried it for him. “It’s not really only the sex,” he said. “It’s things outside of the bedroom too. I like taking care of her, and doing things for her.” He snorted a laugh, “I know she likes to be independent so I don’t push it on her.”

Yunho’s eyes darkened with lust, and moved towards Yeosang. For a moment, all the breath in his body came out at the close proximity. “If she doesn’t want a cute submissive to serve her,” he lifted Yeosang’s chin so he looked up at him, “I wouldn’t mind taking her place. I personally think you’d look pretty with one of my collars around your neck…”

“Hyung…”

“I prefer my subs to call me ‘Sir’, but if you like ‘Hyung’ we can use that.”

“Hyung,” he giggled at his forwardness. “I’m gonna go game for a bit before bed,” he said, body flushed in heat when he met Yunho’s eyes, his words sending more warmth to his crotch. “We have a free day tomorrow, but I need to go to the practice room early.”

“Alright,” he accepted, “But if you change your mind, I’ll let you pick your collar.” 

He brushed Yeosang’s lips with his thumb before kissing him softly. The kiss alone flared up the fires kindling inside. Yeosang thought of joining him in bed. He used to do it all the time when they lived in the dorm. On nights where sleep was impossible or stress of debut life became a struggle, the members slipped into each other’s beds. Yeosang remembered falling asleep to Wooyoung and San’s heavy breathing or Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s low whining and whimpering. He particularly enjoyed the nights where he woke up to Yunho stroking him slowly, wanting intimacy and release. 

“Night, pretty,” Yunho said, kissing him one more time before retreating into his bedroom. 

The pet name shook him. Alone in the hallway, he knew he should go before he did something stupid. Yunho is only teasing. He doesn’t actually want to. He probably has a big game session planned anyways. Yeosang walked away from the doorway, taking deep breaths. 

And trying not to think of the old days. 

****

He’d heard your voice. He swore he did. Walking by Yunho’s room, your voice caught his ear and he’ll admit it piqued his curiosity. Yeosang wondered how you’d gotten back in without anyone noticing before he heard another voice, a deeper voice. Mingi. How could you both be here? Why were you in Yunho’s room? Yeosang pictured the three of you entangled in each other on Yunho’s large bed. He remembered the satin top and tight dark jeans; no way any man could resist you in it. He thought Mingi might take you to his dorm, but he’d brought you home instead. He wouldn’t be the first member you brought home.

Curiosity got the better of him, and Yeosang quietly cracked open Yunho’s bedroom. He expected you there, half naked and laying between the two tall men. A surge of arousal burst through him thinking about it, yet when he looked inside, he only saw Yunho. In the bright lighting of his bedroom, Yunho sat against the headboard, legs parted and hand rubbing his crotch. He spotted a miniature tripod at the foot of the bed, his phone attached and facing him. A myriad of dirty thoughts went through Yeosang’s mind. His eyes remained fixated on the screen in front of him, and Yeosang immediately knew what he was doing. Yeosang knew because he did it multiple times himself when you weren’t nearby: Yunho put on a video of you. He shivered hearing your low, seductive voice come from the TV speakers.

“-Oh, is that what you want, huh? And here I thought you only wanted to watch a movie with me.”

“I’d prefer to shoot a movie with you instead.”

Yunho licked his lips as you giggled at Mingi’s response. Yeosang pictured you in Mingi’s arms, likely in his bedroom, about to be ravaged. He thought about your outfit again, and the lacey underwear you wore underneath. You’d look spectacular. He swallowed thickly thinking about your nipples poking the mesh and lace fabric, ready to be licked and sucked. Yeosang is the first to admit his fondness for your tits. He loved kissing, sucking and licking them whenever given the chance. The sounds it drew out made him hard instantly. Soft moans muffled by kisses broke him from his trance, a mixture of your voice with Mingi’s low tone as he undressed you. Would he slide his dick between those tits of yours? Would you suck the tip while he tit-fucked you? Yeosang remembered when you poured oil on them, making them shiny and slippery, as you then let him fuck them. He’d oiled up the rest of you after that.

A deep groan cut off his reminiscence, and he saw Yunho biting his lower lip. He still teased himself outside his boxers. Yeosang himself enjoyed drawing it out. He never immediately jumped to jerking when he watched videos of you by yourself or with the other members. He’d lightly brush his hand over his bulge, much like he was tempted to do now. Yunho traced his outline down to the hem of his shorts, which had ridden up in his sitting position. Yeosang’s jaw dropped seeing him lightly graze the head with his fingers, then pull back the pant leg to reveal it. Nobody outside of ATEEZ and you knew about Yeosang’s sexuality; that he enjoyed both men and women. How could he not when his members had such nice cocks? He was lucky the other members also liked men, otherwise he’d be screwed. 

Yunho trailing his fingers up and down his length made Yeosang’s mouth water. His own dick started pushing the fabric of his sweatpants; he felt it throb at the sight of Yunho sliding a hand up his shirt. When the man started pinching his own nipple, Yeosang did it to himself through his shirt. He saw Yunho’s soft lips, and envisioned them latched around his nipple. His hot tongue would slowly roll around them before giving a gentle suck. Yunho loved to tease. 

He recalled the first time he and Yunho slept together. It’d been in their old dorm room when Yunho walked in on him masturbating. Being comfortable with one another, the confident Yunho carefully unraveled a blushing Yeosang by removing his shorts to grab his dick. He’d eventually returned the favor by licking Yunho’s nipples and stroking him to climax. The same dick that was feet from him now, being teased while Yunho watched you and Mingi on his TV screen.

“God, I love it when you play with my tits like that. It turns me on so much.”

An odd thing for you to say out loud. They all knew you enjoyed that. Wooyoung once made you come by teasing them with toys and his mouth. Yeosang knew this because he’d been there helping him.

“Turn this way, baby. Let him see them.”

‘Let him see them?’ Who? Who else was there?

“Do you like them, Yuyu?”

“Especially in my hands?”

Were they video chatting? He got his answer when Yunho spoke up.

“Yes,” he breathed, “Yes, I do. Keep going just like that.”

Oh god, they were. Yeosang gulped back more saliva as he listened to Mingi continuing to play with your breasts. He wished he had a better view, but he enjoyed watching Yunho in the moment. Yeosang nearly let out an audible whimper when Yunho pulled his pant leg up more. Even just half the shaft had Yeosang drooling. Using one hand to continue teasing his tip, Yunho started palming the balls underneath. The moan he released sounded absolutely erotic. Yeosang wanted to suck those balls, lick and rub them while stroking that cock. You could join too; he never minded sharing.

Yeosang continued rubbing his nipple while his dick started making a tent in his pants. He gave it a gentle tug to relieve pressure, but this tug led to a sudden moan. One loud enough for Yunho to stop and look at the door. He saw Yunho. Yunho saw him. He stood there like a deer in headlights, not sure how to proceed. Should he pretend he saw nothing? This was meant to be a private moment between him, you and Mingi.

“Yeosangie?” Yunho called out to him, still touching himself. “Is that you? Don’t be shy. Come over here. The party’s just getting started.”

Timidly, Yeosang opened the door. Finally exposed, he couldn’t help himself from blushing at being caught. He kept himself a good distance from the bed, not meaning to intrude or interrupt.

“Come,” Yunho beckoned him over, spreading his legs further apart and patting the space, “Sit here and watch with me.”

“Yeosang is there?”

Yeosang looked at the TV, where you’d leaned into the camera to see him more closely. 

“Um, uh…”

“He is,” Yunho grinned, “He was watching me. Little pervert.”

Yeosang blushed at the words, meant to be affectionate instead of insulting.

"I’m sorry,” he said, flustered. “I didn’t mean to…I only heard YN and thought she was home…Don’t let me-”

“-Yeosang, shut up and get over here,” Yunho leaned to the edge and brought Yeosang closer.

Yeosang walked to the edge of the bed but didn’t sit down right away. He took in the young man laying on the bed. His nipples hardened from teasing, his dick already started blushing red as it grew harder. Need filled his round brown eyes, his pink tongue licking his lips at Yeosang. How could anyone resist such a sight? His long legs and thighs remained spread out on the bed so Yeosang could sit between them. 

“Do you want to wear your collar, baby?” Yunho asked him, reaching forward to touch the bulge forming in Yeosang’s pants. “You can pick whichever one you want.” Yeosang nodded shyly, and he grinned, “They’re in the top drawer.” 

Reaching the dresser drawer, he opened it to find a box labeled ‘necklaces’ across the side. Yunho carried collars of every shade and fabric available. He recognized a few right away, and picked out the one he liked the most: a pink leather collar with a heart shaped bell hanging from a hook. Yeosang knew it jingled each time Yunho’s thrusted into him. This only excited him more. Yunho chuckled at Yeosang’s choice, taking it from him when he brought it back. 

“A pretty collar for a pretty boy,” he smiled, clasping it on when Yeosang bent down. 

Wearing the collar boosted his excitement to the roof. 

“Which one did he pick?”

“The pink one with the bell,” answered Yunho. “Sit here and get comfy.” 

Yeosang absentmindedly sat between Yunho’s thighs. He could feel a distinct warmth pressed to his lower back, and resting against Yunho’s hard form built up the anticipation. He stared at the screen to see you and Mingi smirking.

“I wonder what Atinys would say if they knew how perverted Yeosang really is,” said Mingi. “Those YNteez episodes are nothing compared to what we’ve done together. Right, Yeosang?”

"Ye-yes,” he breathed.

“They’d love it,” you giggled, kneeling up to show your torso. “I think secretive perverts are hotter than obvious ones. They’re always so kinky and dirty-minded.”

You brought Mingi’s hands back to your chest where he grabbed them right away. His face buried in your neck, Mingi rolled your nipples between his fingers until you moaned. Yunho’s hands started slowly sliding up his thighs, starting on the outer sides before moving inwards towards the top. He continued doing this, his mouth close to Yeosang’s ear as he spoke.

“She looks good, huh? I told her to wear that top. It’s so sexy and Mingi really likes it on her,” he circled around Yeosang’s pulsing tip, “Her cleavage just barely shows and if she’s wearing that deep red bra, you can see more of it.”

“She’s so fucking hot…” 

“She is,” he said. “It’s why we all want to fuck her when she wears it out in public. At least, I know I do,” he went further up, lifting Yeosang’s shirt to see his nipples. “Last time she wore it, I fucked her in the train station bathroom. She was already wet from me touching her on the train.”

“Fuck…”

Yunho licked the pad of his thumb and brushed it over Yeosang’s nipple. A trickle of sensitivity shot down to his center, making him squirm slightly. On the screen, he saw Mingi carefully unbuttoning your jeans. Laying longways across the bed, you lifted your hips to help him remove them, leaving you in the bra and panties. You’d pulled it down underneath your breasts, so Mingi squeezed one of them as you felt up his back on top of you. He pictured the sensations you must be feeling and how wet they made you. Yeosang imagined Mingi’s dick, only three layers apart from you, growing harder and harder. The first time they touched one another had been with you and Jongho. Not the biggest of the group, it still made Yeosang cum hard at the end. He loved sitting on it just to hear Mingi’s drawn out groan of relief.

“Who knew we’d get so lucky?” Yunho asked him, one hand toying with his nipple while the other stroked him through his sweats. “Having two big sluts in this relationship of ours? We have YN, who will open her legs whenever we like, and we have Yeosang, who bends over whenever we want. The both of you are so dirty apart,” he licked the edge of Yeosang’s ear, “But even dirtier when you’re together.”

When he looked back at the screen, Yeosang saw your back facing the camera. You’d worn the g-string thong tonight, instead of the regular panties. Your ass cheeks sticking out, the string threaded between them, you bent over the bed so Mingi could spank and grab your ass. Yeosang’s mouth dropped open when he rubbed his fingers in the middle of those cheeks, outlining the thong string that went down to your pussy. A ring light behind the camera made the scene much brighter, so he saw everything. Your soft whimpers matched his own soon enough.

“Think he’ll fuck her in the ass tonight?” asked Yunho. “I leant him a few toys to use on her if they did anal. You know how much she likes her holes being filled. I mean, what’s the point in sex if we’re not gangbanging her with toys?”

Yeosang moaned, imagining the sight. “She…She…”

“‘She’ what?”

“She always looks so good with toys inside her,” he breathed, wriggling around as Yunho finally pulled out his cock. Flushed red, the veins continued pumping blood through it so it hardened. “I hope he does use them. Her ass is even nicer with a-with a plug in it.”

“Don’t worry, Yeosang,” said Mingi from the screen. “She’ll get a toy in there soon.”

“Oh god, yes!”

Mingi placed a few well timed spanks on either cheek. Yeosang did not know who he’d rather be: you or Mingi?

“Do you want a plug in you too?” asked Yunho in his ear. “Or do you want that vibrating sleeve you like so much?”

Lord, the sleeve. A single band of two vibrating bullets that Yunho straps to his shaft then turns on always leaves Yeosang drooling. Yunho chuckled hearing Yeosang’s whiny groan. “How about we start off slow?” he emphasized this with a gradual tug of his dick. “Hm? I want to see how hard you can get before I use my toys. Like I told YN once,” he pressed his lips to Yeosang’s ear, drowning out any other sound, “I like to make sweet, pretty things cum all over my toys.”

This nearly took the breath out of Yeosang. But, then the sound of you moaning caught his attention again. Mingi and you mirrored his and Yunho’s position against the headboard. Mingi had finally stuck his hand in your panties, and the touch alone had you grabbing his arms. His other hand massaged your breast, grazing a thumb over your nipple repeatedly. Yeosang would give anything to be there with you, lapping at your soaked cunt while stroking Mingi’s hardon. He’d pleasure both of you until you could barely comprehend anything else. Yunho could even film it before joining in himself. Yeosang’s arousal brought on a slew of dirty images, and Yunho’s dirty talk added to them.

“Isn’t she beautiful like that?” Yunho asked him, thumb swirling over the head. “Her pussy so wet it's seeping through her panties and her nipples hard to the touch? Oh, look what Mingi’s pulled out.”

Yeosang noticed Mingi quickly reach into a drawer and withdraw a short body wand. He couldn’t really hear the low vibrations, but he heard your high-pitched whining. Thighs and legs shaking, you remained still as Mingi slipped the toy in your underwear. The waistband keeping it in place, Mingi started rapidly rolling your nipples.

“God, that’s so fucking hot,” Yunho moaned. Yeosang felt him start grinding into his back, his full length nestled between the both of them. “But, I know someone who’s equally hot.”

Yeosang helped remove his pants and boxers, leaving his bottom half naked and exposed. Yunho moaned as he felt up and down Yeosang’s thighs again to see his cock twitch up to his stomach. He placed soft kisses along Yeosang’s shoulder as the other man gripped the knees on either side of him. Yeosang couldn’t help but push back into the cock against his tailbone. He did not protest when Yunho took out a bottle of lubricant, and coated his entire length in it.

“So pretty and shiny,” he moaned in his ear again, observing the cock glistening in the half light. “Just like when your mistress drools and spits all over it.”

“Oh god…Sir…”

The title made Yunho breathe deeply. “I’m your dom tonight, hm? Because your mistress isn’t home?” 

“If you…If you want to be.”

“I very much do,” he answered. “I told you as much before you went to bed.”

Your whimpering moan caught their attention. You started trembling, holding Mingi’s hand tightly as he slid the wand up and down your pussy rapidly. However, you then broke away from Mingi and grabbed the camera. Clearly a phone on a tripod now, you placed it in front of your pussy. Yeosang groaned at the close up shot, saliva building up when Mingi finally pulled the thong aside. He put the toy aside, and used both hands to rub the wet lips.

“Fuck,” Yunho panted, “Look at how wet she is already. I’d love to have that sitting on my face, don’t you?”

“Ye-y-ye-yes.”

“Remember the time we shared a room, and she sat on my face while you rode my dick?” he asked, adding more lubricant to Yeosang’s balls below. “How you both made out on top of me? I’d love to do that again. I love having the two biggest sluts in our group in my dorm…ready to be fucked and used at my whims.”

“Oh my god…” Yeosang held onto Yunho’s thighs and continued grinding into him. “That was so hot,” he answered, “I’d love to do it again.”

“Oh yeah?” he chuckled, “I’m going to hold you to that, pretty baby. When that woman comes home tomorrow, you two better clear your schedules,” he kissed his ear once more, giving his dick a squeeze, “Because I’m going to fuck you both like the whores you are.”

“Yes,” Yeosang breathed, “Yes, please, fuck me.”

“I will, baby boy,” he cooed. “I will. I just want to play with your body for a little longer. Can you hold it off for me until then?”

“Yes.”

“Good boy.”

Yunho finally reached over to his bedside table where he’d been keeping the vibrating sleeve. Yeosang watched with bated breath as Mingi spread your lips apart and used a single digit to tease your clit. He’d suck those fingers just to get a taste of you. He’d eat that pussy for a taste of your sweetness. Yunho grabbed a silicone connected cock ring.

“Sit on your hands for me,” Yunho directed, pleased when Yeosang immediately did it. “I’m going to put this cock ring on you first, so you don’t cum too quickly.”

He watched Yunho slip his dick and then his balls through the two rings. He gave Yeosang’s length a few more strokes before finally pulling the vibrating sleeve over it. He slid the tube right to the middle of his shaft, leaving his tip for Yunho to tease and squeeze at his leisure. Mingi started fingering you, his long fingers filling your heat slowly. He occasionally circled them around your clit before pushing them deep inside you again. The mewls and moans you let out made Yeosang’s cock stand up all the way. The pleasure heightened once Yunho turned the toy on a low setting. The vibrations sent down to his cock rings, adding more pleasure to it.

“Yes, just like that,” he heard you say, “Finger me just like that.”

“Am I making you feel good, Mistress?”

“You are.” You then said, “Are you using a toy on our Yeosangie, Yunho?”

“I am, YN,” he answered, “You should see him.”

You pulled the camera from your pussy to you and Mingi. Seeing Yeosang half naked, succumbing to the sleeve on his dick, the both of you melted at the sight of him. Mingi clearly began fingering you quicker as you watched Yeosang and Yunho.

“He looks so pretty,” you whined, “My sweet prince leaking and moaning like that. Does it feel good, baby boy?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he moaned, spreading his legs farther to make room for Yunho’s hands. Adding even more lubricant, Yunho massaged both testicles and sack. “It feels so good, Mistress. It feels so fucking good.”

“Do you wish we were there?” asked Mingi, kissing your shoulder.

“Yes,” he whimpered.

“I told him I’m going to fuck you both tomorrow, YN,” Yunho said.

“Really?” you asked hopefully, “Can Mingi come too?”

“Of course. We’ll tell the group, and anyone who wants to join can come over.” He kissed the spot beneath Yeosang’s ear and said, “Have a little Yeosang-centric gangbang. You always looked so pretty whenever one of us came all over you. I remember the pictures,” he breathed deeply, using Yeosang’s precum to coat his tip. “Seonghwa-hyung’s fat cock splitting you open or San sticking his tongue inside. I saved the one of Jongho fucking both you and Wooyoung, and you moaning like a bitch in heat. Our slutty baby boy is always so eager to fuck us. You were YN before there was a YN.”

Mingi laid you on your back, straddling your chest and sliding his dick between your tits. He’d added lubricant or oil at some point, but Yeosang caught sight of a particular shine on them. Yeosang nearly came, but held himself back. You suckled the head just like you did with him, keeping your eyes on the camera.

“Titty fucking,” Yunho said, “Your favorite. You think he’ll cum on them?”

“I hope so…”

“I will if you’re a good boy,” you said, having heard him. “You sit there and do whatever Yunho says, and if you don’t cum,” you sucked Mingi’s tip hard enough to make him moan, “Then Mingi will cum on my titties for you, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You’re going to be good and not cum?”

“Yes.”

“You promise?” you buried Mingi between your breasts as much as possible, and Yeosang imagined you doing it to him.

“I prom-m-mise.”

“Suck my dick,” Yunho ordered, “I want those lips on my dick now.”

Yeosang trembled as he crawled from Yunho, who removed his shirt and shorts. He helped Yeosang out of his shirt, but not before landing several passionate kisses on him. Once he removed Yeosang’s hoodie and shirt, he bent down to suck and nibble his nipples. Kneeling on the bed, profiles facing the camera, you could watch them make out and continue teasing each other. Yeosang clenched his jaw as he reached down to Yunho’s heavy, throbbing dick. When he pressed his toy to Yunho, the other groaned loudly and began rocking into it.

“I want you to suck it, baby,” Yunho told him, laying back against the headboard and stroking himself. "And don’t take it out.” 

He never said it out loud, but Yeosang thought his dick looked delicious. Red, underside vein standing out against the smooth flesh, and leaking precum, Yeosang immediately licked right up to the slit. Yunho’s groan matched Mingi’s on TV. Laying right at Yunho’s hips, Yeosang began hungrily sucking Yunho’s cock. Salty precum spilled onto his tongue at the first touch, and he eagerly swallowed it. 

“Don’t take it out of your mouth, sweetie,” you instructed. “You keep that in there for me.”

Yeosang did as you asked. No matter how much drool and spit it made, Yeosang’s head continued bobbing up and down. The bell on his collar clinked lightly in each bob of his head, adding to the arousal in the room. He couldn’t stop himself now. The suppressed desires finally broke through the surface, and all he wanted to do was serve Yunho. His moans became louder when Yunho spread his ass cheeks apart. He breathed heavily once cool lubricant trickled over his hole, and a warm finger started circling the entrance. Yeosang quivered at the light touch, large hands grabbing and smacking his ass cheeks every so often before returning to his hole. The teasing finger and the vibrator on his dick had Yeosang desperate for an orgasm. 

“Keep watching, baby,” Yunho said, cupping Yeosang’s balls for a tender feeling. “I think things are starting to get interesting.” 

He then angled himself so Yunho remained in his mouth while he watched the TV. 

“I need you to relax for me, okay?” you asked Mingi, gradually stroking him as your fingers rubbed further down. “It won’t hurt if you stay still.”

“O-Okay…”

He realized what you were doing, and whimpered. You gave Mingi a few more slow strokes before reaching for a toy nearby. He recognized the black prostate massager you often used on him. You held the camera at an angle where they both saw the toy slide easily into Mingi, who immediately became a whining mess. Yeosang groaned at the finger sliding around his entrance threatened to slide inside. He wanted it so badly. He went far too long without a proper orgasm, and he knew Yunho could give him one. He always did. 

“There we go, good boy,” you praised Mingi, who did his best to remain spread out and not touch himself. That was when Yeosang realized something: you’d cuffed Mingi to the bed. He’d kill to be Mingi. “Doesn’t that feel good?”

“Yes,” he whined, stomach tensing each time the toy pressed to his g-spot. A very faint buzzing told Yeosang you’d turned on the vibrating function. He cried when you continued stroking him. 

You placed the tripod on the bedside where he got a sideways view of you both. Mingi tied to the bed, a toy vibrating inside him, he was helpless to stop you from sitting on his face. Your reversed position had your ass right on him as you rocked back and forward. 

“Lick it for me,” you moaned, pinching your nipple and keeping your hand on his cock. “Be a good boy and start using that tongue on me.”

And Mingi did. Yeosang sucked Yunho firmly in his moaning, hips bucking as the sleeve continued vibrating softly in well-timed pulsations. He started using his hand in a twisting motion as he greedily sucked the tip. 

“Fuck yes,” Yunho breathed, head tilting back. “Like that. Like that, baby.”

Yunho then slid two fingers into his ass. The sudden plunge made Yeosang yelp around the shaft in his mouth, but he soon settled into it as Yunho started at a slow pace. Using one hand, Yeosang stroked Yunho in a twisting motion while he kept sucking in tandem. He was so close. He could feel his orgasm approaching, tightening his abdomen yet stuck right between dick and balls. His quivering thighs clued Yunho into what was going on. To avoid it happening, Yunho turned off the vibrator which was absolute torture. He whined his displeasure around Yunho, who started pushing his fingers right to Yeosang’s prostate.

“Look at the screen, baby,” Yunho moaned, thrusting up into Yeosang’s mouth. “Look at what they’re doing.”

You still sat on Mingi’s face, but this time you’d bent forward to start pulling and pushing the plug inside him. Mingi shuddered each time you pushed inwards, moaning against your pussy as he sucked it. Enthralled by desire, Yeosang nearly came at the picture of your ass bouncing against Mingi’s face. He wished he could be there pleasuring you too. He loved bringing you to orgasm every time with just his mouth and fingers. 

“Do you like what you see, Yeosangie?”

He nodded, moaning when you started sucking Mingi’s red, leaking tip. Eyes heavy with lust, you laid there using Mingi’s face and cock to pleasure yourself. He is only a toy right now. A toy meant to please his mistress, just like Yeosang is meant for Yunho’s pleasure. 

“Do you want to be filled too?” Yunho asked gently, putting his fingers in knuckle deep. “With something bigger?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Yeosang finally pulled his mouth away, cheeks and jaw slightly burning. Yunho turned so his head faced the foot of the bed to give the couple on the screen a perfect view of Yeosang. He couldn’t wait. The desperation left Yeosang with very little care. Yunho aligned himself with Yeosang’s body, and let him slide down on it. While the stretch did take him by surprise, it brought a bout of relief that also pushed his arousal. Hands on Yunho’s chest, he began rubbing his thumb over Yunho’s nipples as he slowly rocked on top of him. Your own raspy, needy moans started coming through the speakers, Mingi’s muffled groans following soon after. When Yunho flicked the switch back on, the vibrating sleeve drove Yeosang senseless. All he could focus on was the pleasure pulsing inside him. 

He could hardly move, instead letting Yunho take control and push up into him.

“Aw, what’s wrong, baby?” Yunho awed, sliding the sleeve up and down Yeosang’s length until his eyes rolled back, “Is my dick that good?”

Yeosang let out several whiny moans as Yunho pumped in and out quickly.

“Answer his question,” you encouraged him. You took up the body wand to slide up and down Mingi’s shaft. He saw Mingi’s thighs and legs tremble each time you circled his head. “Is his dick so good you can barely speak?”

“Yes,” he panted, starting to bounce on top of Yunho, “Yes, yes, yes.”

That's all he could say as Yunho settled himself into a lower position, grabbed Yeosang’s hips, and guided him. Yeosang saw him reach out for the small phone tripod and place it on his lower stomach. Now, you and Mingi had a perfect view of Yeosang’s leaking member wagging up and down in every thrust. He held it upwards, using the sleeve to add more pressure, and your mouth fell open.

“My special boys are leaking so much,” you moaned, licking up fluids sliding down Mingi’s cock. “I wonder how much longer they can last before they’re making big messes of themselves.”

“Mistress, please,” Yeosang caught Mingi’s pleading words. “Please fuck me. Please.” 

“Fuck you, Mingi?” you asked in a fake surprised tone. “But I’m having so much fun teasing you like this. Your dick is so nice all hard and twitching. It’d be a shame to stop all of that now.”

“Please!”

Your giggle must’ve filled Mingi with desperation. No. He wouldn’t be getting his orgasm any time soon. He’d have to earn it, and he knew that. Hearing your moan suddenly grow louder, and seeing Mingi’s bury his face between your thighs, he knew Mingi planned on earning it the only way he knew how. 

“You’re doing such a good job, pet,” Yunho smiled, sitting up to let Yeosang hold onto him as he rode. Arms wrapped around his waist, Yunho cupped both ass cheeks and spread them apart. “Your tight little hole feels so good squeezing my dick. Are you making it extra tight just for me?”

“Yes,” he said, squeezing his cheeks so his walls hugged the cock inside him. “I want to make you feel…feel good, Sir.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“If you keep going just like this,” he tugged Yeosang’s head back by pulling on the back of the collar, “I might just cum inside you. I know how much you like being cummed in…just like your mistress.” 

The yank of the collar cut off a bit of air, nearly choking him, and Yeosang loved the restriction. His moans struggled to get through the collar, but they came in an endless loop of curses and mumbled words. 

“Mingi, Mingi, Mingi,” your voice caught his attention and he looked over Yunho’s shoulder. “You wanted to fuck me so bad, go ahead. My pussy’s right there. Why aren’t you putting it in?” 

Yeosang saw you’d knelt just high enough that Mingi’s tip touched only your folds. When Mingi desperately pushed his hips upwards, only his head went inside you. This clearly drove Mingi wild. His arousal took over all sense and he’d do anything to be sheathed inside you. Even with a condom on him-as expected-Mingi shuddered when you slid your clit over the throbbing tip. 

‘Mingi…Baby, I thought you wanted to fuck me. You need to put it in me to do that.” 

“I bet you wanna fuck her really badly, huh?” Yunho asked, squeezing the vibrator against Yeosang’s cock until he screamed. “Like the way I’m fucking you?”

Yeosang muttered a reply, dazed and drooling now. Not getting a real response, Yunho lifted Yeosang and flipped him onto his back. “Do you want to fuck your mistress like this,” he said, pounding into Yeosang so their hips snapped together, “And make her cum all over your dick?”

“Mmm-hmmm.”

“Answer me properly,” he slowed down, keeping himself hilt-deep inside.

“I wan…I wan-want to fu…fuck her like thi-is-s,” he managed to reply, eyes fully shut and body turned into putty in Yunho’s hands.

“Good,” he bent down over Yeosang, kissing and sucking his neck as he talked. “Your mistress deserves only the best dick,” he turned off the sleeve again and gently thrusted into him, “Just like you do.” He captured Yeosang’s lips with him, and kissed him deeply. Sloppy with tongue, the kiss alone made Yeosang mewl pathetically. “I meant what I said,” he hooked his fingers on the collar to keep him still as they kissed, “I’m going to fuck you tomorrow. Mingi is going to fuck you. YN is going to fuck you. Our prince is going to get as much dick as he wants.”

The thought had Yeosang drooling. He pushed himself into Yunho to get him further inside, pressing on the g-spot over and over again. “Ye-y-yes-s oh god!”

“Oooh, look at you go,” he chuckled, “So cock drunk you can barely talk.”

He turned on the vibrator a third time on a higher setting, and Yeosang let out high-pitched wails. His fingers dug into the covers underneath him, trying to keep himself grounded as Yunho fucked him. Yeosang didn’t know how much longer he could go on before he broke completely. He wanted to cum, but it felt too good to stop.

“I wan-want to-to cum,” he cried, eyes watering from the pressure. “Ple-please.”

“Then go ahead, baby,” Yunho said, pushing the vibrator right against his tip. “Go ahead and cum for me.”

Yeosang felt himself finally reaching orgasm. He could almost taste the sensation rolling up to his balls. He parted his legs wider, giving Yunho full permission to go as deep as possible, and moaned louder.

“Come on,” Yunho urged, “You wanted to cum, right? Go on.”

But it never came. The cock ring kept it from happening. It was even worse when Yunho turned off the sleeve and pulled out at the last second. He laughed watching Yeosang writhe and cry underneath him.

“Aw, what happened, baby?” he pouted, pulling out to rub himself against Yeosang’s groin, “I thought you were going to cum for me?”

“I can-can’t.”

“Why not?”

He knew why not. “I ha-a-av-ve…”

“Have what?”

“The-t-the rings!”

“Oh, that’s right!” he smacked his forehead, “You have cock rings on. I totally forgot,” he smirked, giving a low chuckle as he slipped back inside. “You can’t cum with those on, can you?”

“No!”

Meanwhile, on the screen, you held the mini tripod to where you and Mingi met. You’d finally given in and let him fully fill you. All the bravado from before slowly peeled away as Mingi pushed in and out of you quickly. Yeosang wanted to bring you pleasure like that, and he planned on it.

“I don’t know if your mistress wants you to finish before she does,” Yunho said, sliding the toy up and down his shaft without turning it on. “It’s not right to cum before your partner. Maybe we should ask.” He grabbed the tripod on the table at the end, and raised it above Yeosang, who stared into it pleadingly. “YN, should I let Yeosang cum?”

“Hm, I don’t know. What do you think, Mingi?”

“Nobody should cum before you do, Mistress,” Mingi answered, panting and whining as he continued thrusting. Yeosang watched you bend down to unhook his bindings and lay on your back. Mingi’s hands ended up back on your breasts, which you held there as he raised your legs and went back into you. “Not before you.”

You didn’t say anything back. Impaled on his dick, your eyes fell shut as you savored the sensations.

“You heard them,” Yunho said to Yeosang, withdrawing once more to roll him onto his stomach. He rested on top, hand reaching around to turn on the vibrator again. “Only when your mistress comes.”

Yunho slipped back inside him, keeping one leg up for access to the vibrator on Yeosang’s cock. His pace matched Mingi’s on screen, the both of them almost moaning together as they fucked their respective partners. He'd never done anything so erotic before. The smuttiness alone had him reaching to the end again, but he knew he'd only be denied again. Yeosang’s fingers curled into the bed spread, balling it up to keep himself from succumbing as pleasure numbed him to every other sense. Soon enough, he heard your breathy moans grow louder, being sounded through gritted teeth as your orgasm hit you hard. He looked to see you in a similar position to him, hunched and frozen in place as Mingi helped your climax along to the end. That was when Yunho gingerly removed a ring and massaged Yeosang’s balls once more.

He then let go. 

All over Yunho’s sheets. 

Hard, paralyzing, and desensitizing orgasms rocked Yeosang’s body. If any of the other members heard him, they’d know exactly what Yunho was doing to him. Heat rose up around his neck and ears, eyes squeezing shut as streams of white shot from his tip. Yunho halfway rolled him onto his side so everyone could see the thick, white strings dripping from Yeosang’s cock. The sleeve suddenly became too much against the sensitive muscle, and Yeosang wriggled as Yunho kept stroking him even once his orgasm subsided. Just because he’d finished didn’t mean Yunho was done. 

Mingi and Yunho finished almost in perfect unison. Both men charged faster and harder, only withdrawing once they’d gotten right to the edge. Yeosang laid on his back, elbows propping him up, as he opened his mouth to stick out his tongue. Yunho, kneeling over him, quickly jerked himself over him until he finally came. He kept his eyes locked on him the entire time, not moving or daring to turn away. Yunho, sweaty and panting, aimed right for Yeosang’s tongue and got it nearly every time. The streaks that fell onto Yeosang’s chin or cheeks were eagerly licked up and swallowed. 

“Yummy…” Yeosang smirked, licking some he’d swiped off his cheek. 

“There’s plenty more where that came from,” he said, breathing heavily and pushing his tip to Yeosang’s mouth. The low groan he gave once Yeosang started sucking again would’ve been enough to make him want a second round. “Plenty….Plenty more…But, let me clean you up. I didn’t get a taste before.”

Yeosang laid back as Yunho removed the sleeve and started licking up his shaft. Little twinges of pleasure followed the bundles of nerves his tongue sparked. Clearly, you had a similar idea since Yeosang turned to see you stroking and sucking Mingi dry…on your back…your breasts still in view. He held his breath when he saw translucent streaks on your breasts and chest. He whimpered seeing droplets of cum squirt out when you pressed the head to your nipples. Mingi, clearly being overstimulated, did nothing but moan as you played with his cock. With Yunho’s warm mouth sucking him slowly, he laid there watching Mingi’s dick be buried between your breasts. God, you really knew how to keep him going. He knew he’d be a dead man if you did that to him, especially right now. 

“Feel better, Yeosangie?” Yunho asked, still near his crotch, and smiling. “Or do you want to go again?”

“I…” he breathed deeply and realized how sticky he must be. He grabbed a towel Yunho kept in a cabinet next to his bed, and sat up to wipe his face. “I feel great,” he finally sighed, “So much better.”

“Me too.”

Yunho helped him clean up, occasionally breaking it to kiss him, and they looked at the couple on the screen. Yeosang’s legs felt like jelly, so he was more than sure yours felt the same way. Yet, somehow, you were standing and wiping your chest with a wet towel. Your eyes locked with his and you both smiled. Mingi came into the shot, putting his arms around you and kissing you deeply. He only broke away to mutter a question, and when you nodded, he picked up the tripod and brought you to the bathroom. 

“I guess we’re taking this party to our bathroom,” Yunho grinned at him, picking up their mini tripod as well. 

Yeosang, standing on wobbly legs, followed him to their bathroom. As Yunho and Mingi set up their showers, you and Yeosang sat on the toilets with the tripods in hand. 

“How was your date, babe?” Yeosang asked casually, resting his head in his hand as he waited. 

“It was nice,” you replied. He could tell by your hazy eyes you’re slowly surrendering to your exhaustion. “We didn’t do anything particularly crazy. We watched movies, ate snacks, ordered take-out and got coffee. Ooh, he did buy this new game he wanted to play with me, so we did that too.”

“What game?”

The two of you idly chatted. Yeosang loved talking to you after sex. You always acted as if the rigorous sex did not tire you out, but he knew it did. He wished he could cuddle you. Falling asleep between your soft body and Yunho’s hard one sounded like heaven. Both of your showers ready, Yeosang stepped into his with Yunho and you stepped into yours with Mingi. What started off as simple scrubbing became much more when Yunho brought Yeosang to his chest. Lips on his neck, Yunho started lathering the body wash up and down Yeosang’s petite body. 

“Still want more, pretty?” Yunho asked him, using both hands to stroke Yeosang’s cock. Waves of pleasure pinched the sensitive nerves there, which aroused Yeosang more. “I’ll be more than happy to give it to you here.”

“Sir…”

The slippery bubbles made it easy for Yunho’s thumbs to circle his nipples. Yeosang pushed his ass against the cock pressing on him. 

“Again, Yeosangie?” you laughed in your own shower, against the wall as Mingi trailed kisses up your neck. “You boys are insatiable.”

“Only because our owners are so beautiful,” he heard Mingi say. “May I at least keep kissing and touching you? I want to be close to you.” 

“Of course you can.”

You soaped Mingi up as he kissed and touched your body. Yeosang imagined you must be very slippery. Holding him close, Yunho and Yeosang gently washed one another. Bath poufs grazing over nipples or hands sliding up and over ass cheeks, both men gradually became hard again. Yeosang heard your soft moans over the running water and saw Mingi charging into you from behind once more. Both Yeosang and Yunho started stroking one another in earnest, Yunho slipping two fingers back into Yeosang’s bottom. They stayed in this position, squeezing and jerking, before they came once more. Each of them pointed the other upwards to shoot all over their stomachs. This second orgasm came harder, their orgasms bouncing off the tiled walls in the enclosed space. 

“Yeosang…” Yunho breathed, forehead pressed to his as he came down from his high, “You’re so…”

“Arousing? Desirable? Horny?” Yeosang suggested, unable to stop himself from touching the tender Yunho still. “I only want to make my owner happy.”

“You make me very, very, very happy, pretty,” he said, briefly kissing his lips a few times. “Let’s get to bed. We have a busy day tomorrow.” 

After a warm shower in Yunho’s gentle embrace, Yeosang was on cloud nine. “Tired, honey?” you asked him when you were all in your beds. 

“So tired.”

“Now, you’ll sleep like a baby,” said Yunho, bringing him close and kissing his cheek. 

“Me too,” you yawned as Mingi encompassed you, snuggling close as he nuzzled your neck again. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” you said, already drifting to sleep. 

Saying your farewells, Yunho ended the call and put his phone aside. Yeosang knew he should attempt to clean the bed, but he fell so deep into his relaxation, he didn’t want to do anything. Thankfully, Yunho didn’t say anything about it. He only turned off the lights, and shut his eyes. 

He wondered who he'd be waking up to tomorrow. 

*****

A/N: another steamy installment! I really let my self-indulgence get the better of me with this one. I hope y'all still like it <3 More coming soon!

[ash5monster01]

Glass Houses

Chapter Seven - Through The Long Night 🎶

Pairing: Steve Harrington x FemReader

Warnings: depression, ptsd, minor angst, mentions of evil, mentions of trauma, fluff

Summary: Pregnant with your first child you find the nightmares of Hawkins creeping back in. The only thing Steve can do is comfort you.

word count: 2.2k

Six ←→ Eight

Masterlist

Summer 1991

You're broken hearted from a long, long time ago

It's late when Steve rolls into the driveway, already dark out after a long and warm summer day. What confuses him is the pitch black house in front of him, not even a flicker of life shining from inside. You knew he'd be back from his business trip late tonight, had even expressed your excitement over the phone. He had expected to see you waiting up for him on the couch, smiling with anticipation after the long three days you spent without each other. He had been dying to see you but the coldness of the house in front of him makes him think you weren't the same.

The house is just as it seems on the outside. Cold and dark, each room lacking a sign of life. It briefly reminds Steve of a time in his life when it was only him who lived in this home, dreading his return to it each night. It isn’t until he reaches the top of the stairs he hears the faint noise of music coming from your shared bedroom. He recognizes the tune as Billy Joel’s album Glass Houses. The beginning notes of I Don't Want to Be Alone beginning to play softly into the room. Carefully he turns the knob on the door just to find the bedroom is just as dark as the rest of the house, your form curled under the covers, but he can tell you're not asleep.

"Rosy, I'm home" he calles out, navigating the dark room carefully as he moves to your side of the bed. You shift lightly as he sits on the edge, arm automatically reaching and caging you onto the bed. His free hand reaches for the lmap, flicking it on to finally reveal you in some warm light.

"Everything okay?" he inquires, smiling softly at you. The hand propping him up by your hip glides up slowly to brush across the expanse of your stomach, a small bump jutting out and ruining your chance of wearing any of your favorite jeans. You try to smile up at him, but as his hand rests against the very thing making you this anxious, you can't bring yourself to do it. Steve notices this as you set your hand on top of his own. It hits him, the cold hands, sad eyes, the dark silence, something was upsetting you. Upsetting you enough to hideaway so you don't have to face it.

"How was your trip?" you ask, avoiding the question as best you could but Steve doesn't care about if his trip was good or not. The whole time he only thought about coming back home to you and your soon to be little one. He didn't want to think about that trip ever again, he just wanted to spend time with you. When he doesnt respond to the question and instead calls your real name softly into the room, you realize he won't let this go.

"You're scaring me, what's going on?" he beckons, reaching to brush some hair out of your face and due to the hormones you are unable to stop the tears from rushing to your eyes, seeping down the sides of your face and into the pillows.

"The other day Mrs. Wheeler invited me to dinner since I was here all alone. She said she missed having us kids and wanted to have us all together for a night, especially while the kids were home from college. Nancy convinced me to go and I was excited. We laughed and had fun, even played a board game in the basement. Just like old times" you smile softly at him, eyes glimmering with tears and his eyebrows draw together in confusion, still not understanding where this had all taken a turn.

"Okay, that sounds fine. Actually a bit sad I missed out" Steve says witht he shake of his head, trying to find the detail that would cause such a sadness out of you.

"It got late and some of the kids started to drift to sleep. I realized I hadn't been in that basement since Max..." you dont need to finish as you get choked up on tears because Steve finally understands what happened. You sigh, hating how you tremble with tears shed for something that hasn't even happened.

"I'm terrified those things are going to come back one day and we wont be able to stop it. I'm terrified our kid will be unable to escape them just as us. I nearly lost you so many times, I faced injuries I still never fully recovered from. I remembered all the bad and I hate that in just a few short months my heart will be on the outside of my chest and I won't have any way to protect it" you cry, holding your stomach that held the child you already loved more than anything on this earth. You knew the minute he or she was born, they'd carry your heart with them forever and in a place like Hawkins, the risk was higher.

"Baby, the monsters are gone. Its been a long time since we've had to fight any of them. We can't worry too much, there will be things other than monsters our kid will have to face in life and we'll be here for every single one of them. The best we can do is teach our kids how to defend themselves and to trust us when things as scary as a demogorgon faces them" Steve reassures, pulling you closer to him. His words calm you only slightly but you had been left alone with these thoughts for far too long for them to go away that easily.

“I know, I just don’t think I’m ready to face that just yet” you whisper into the dark room and Steve sighs, loosening his grip on you so he can stand.

“What do you need from me?” he asks, wanting to be there for you while you work through this. He knows it’s normal and probably 50% hormones. A first time mother is meant to worry and if his words weren’t enough to reassure you he would do whatever else it was that could comfort you.

“Just, wait through the night with me” you tell him and he nods, toeing off his shoes and making quick work of unhooking the buckle of his belt. You watch him, in a much less shameless way, but more with admiration. You’re beautiful husband who somehow always looked more handsome than ever.

Once he’s stripped down to his boxers he crawls into his side of the bed, eyes catching the clock as he does. It’s so late but he’ll wait through the long night with you, wanting you to work through whatever these emotions were. When he settles behind you he feels the familiar shudder of your back that indicates warm tears and the start of bad dreams. The soft trembling of your shoulders against his chest as you relive old fears. He wished he could make you realize he was here, for all of it. Not just for tonight but for every moment after. That was half of him in there too and that terrified him every day. Being responsible for a kid when he never had any experience with good parents of his own.

"It's okay" he reassures, voice a soothing hush as he tries to coo you to sleep. It's comforting to have him back but those nightmares that you once pushed so deep down were at the surface again and no matter what Steve did, he couldn’t coax it out of you.

As Steve lays there, smelling the florals of your shampoo and feeling the warmth of your skin, he wonders what dating him had cost you. If you had never been together you wouldn't know about the darkness that lurks in Hawkins and had seen all of those horrible things. He had almost lost you, once a long time ago when fighting that very evil. That was the last time he ever wondered if his happiness was worth the nightmare. He wished you would have told him how bad it was, how deeply it affected you, but he also knew the exact position you were in. You had to bleed to know and all those sins are since past.

"You should be sleeping. It’s alright, sleep tight through the long night with me" he whispers, hand tucking your hair down against the pillow and pulling you tight against him. You relax into the comfort of his arms, enjoying the pressure his hold gives you. Like an anchor at sea.

"It's not your fault you know, I think I would've ended up finding out about the upside down even if I didn't know you. You didn’t start it" you tell him, eyes cast on the stereo on the other side of the room that glows as it plays the comforting music. Billy Joel who had now been both of your favorites. Steve loves how you know exactly what he's thinking even as you are fighting your own demons. This was the very reason he fell for you. No one on this earth understood him more than you. Becoming new parents already came with its own set of fears but knowing where you live adds so much more to that. Steve knows you're broken hearted from a long time ago and there is nothing he can do now to fix it but sit here and hold you.

"The way you hold me is all I need to know" Steve tells you and you offer up a soft smile, rolling to face him and wrap your arms around him as well. Hugging each other in the comfort of your home where you are soon to raise your kid. It’s late but you'll both wait through the long night with each other. Until the sun comes up and the demons from the past seem much less scary. When Steve's presence in the home has returned and you feel a layer of safety around the bubble you managed to pop in just three days. Your pregnant belly nudges against his own stomach and he grins, dropping a hand to cup gently over the bump.

"Did the work trip go okay?" you ask again, this time not as a distraction but as an actual investment into your husbands life.

"It was fine, lots of paperwork and a few drunk co-workers but we managed to sign off on a few deals. I just couldn’t wait to get back to you two" Steve says and your heart soars over the idea of there being more than just the two of you. In fact you couldn't wait for the day there was even more. Despite your fears the idea of a full home, kids as sweet as the ones you've protected over the years, was the real dream.

"We couldn't wait for you to get back either" you smile softly at him, leaning forward to press your lips against his in a sweet kiss. He sighs gently at the feeling, hand leaving your bump to tuck into your hair as he kisses you slowly. The very reunion kiss he had been desperately waiting on. You hum in delight, imagining a day your child is actually here to wait with you and be curled up in both of your arms. If someone had told you all those years ago when you met Steve in a record store, that you'd be having his kid, you would've begged for a time machine.

"You give any thoughts to a name yet?" he curiously asked, face so close now that you could admire the soft curve of his eyelashes. You don't even realize he has already distracted you from the sadness within. Mind moving further and further away.

"Possibly" you tease him with a cheeky grin and he laughs, squeezing softly at the dough of your waist before pulling you even closer. Your legs instantly tangle with his own.

"Care to share with the class?" he asks and you smile, moving your hands to brush the soft locks of hair out of his face. He watches you closely, admiring the extra glow you’ve had through this entire pregnancy. Happy you've taken the bait and have slowly started to calm in his arms. If only he knew how much you had spiraled throughout the entirety of this past weekend.

"If it’s a girl, I was thinking Clara" you tell him, hand mindlessly brushing down your tummy and yearning to actually touch the baby inside.

"And for a boy?" he asks and you smile, eyes shining into his own.

"What do you think of Johnny?" and just as you predicted, a look of shock paints his features as you mention his Grandfather's name. John Harrington, the very man who made Steve the kind and caring human he was today and the very man that introduced him to Billy Joel. In a sense you never would have met if it wasn't for that.

"It's perfect" he says and you smile, leaning forward and kissing him again. This time the kiss is less savory, more eagerness behind it due to the excitment of a baby boy or girl coming in just a few months.

"I knew you'd like it"

Taglist: @slvtforstve @keerygal @goosy-goose @livsters @blckburd @loveshotzz @ohwauwdoritos @superblysubpar @southereads @amataadriana @violet2022 @mxrcjqckspnchqsc @madaboutjoe @thunderstomp-and-tequila @justdamnpeachy @micheledawn1975 @fangfatale @kingstevesgf @notlilyyyy @eddiesguitarskills @palmtreesx3 @momospeaches47 @pbs-theundeadmaggot @xuimhao @lianna75 @lvjmel @sadbitchfangirl @halflifejess @starkleila @ellharrington @avobabe87

Comment if you want to be added to the taglist :))

[crazyinlovewithbucky]

"Who would've thought I'd get you?"

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x avenger!witch!Reader

Summary: You and Bucky were both in Wakanda at the same time. He was getting the winter soldier out of his head and trying to find his peace and his old self there and you were getting rid of your demons and fighting your dark self who consumed you after reading the dark hold. You both found peace and familiarity in each other's company and got really close to each other. After healing and leaving Wakanda, you lived in Brooklyn and got closer to each other until your relationship escalated and took a very interesting turn.

Warnings: angst, fluff, infinity war, and endgame events, living in Wakanda, mentions of the blip, mentions of therapy, friends to lovers, smut, oral (f receiving), p in v, making out, use of sergeant and doll, sub to dom to sub reader, dom to sub to dom Bucky, creampie, breeding kink, magic used on Bucky, magic handcuffs, overstimulation, orgasm denial, edging, manipulating(?), very horny Bucky, very very horny reader, sexting, sending nudes, mentions of oral (m receiving), soft!dom Bucky, aftercare.

This smut was inspired by the song Get You by Daniel Caeser (feat. Kali Uchis)

AU/N: Hey guys, I just want to confess that I can't stop thinking about this fan art of Bucky so I decided to write a smut inspired by it. I found the picture on Pinterest so credit to the artist @daxramires on twitter and tumblr. Anyway, hope you enjoy it and I'd like to remind you that English isn't my first language so excuse me if I misspell or mispronounce anything. Enjoy <3.

"I don't know how I could've survived this time without you by my side," Bucky whispered in your ears while you were sitting by the bonfire, surrounded by trees and fields in Wakanda. It was very late in the night, and everyone was asleep, even the goats and cows. It was just you and him, eating roasted corn and talking under the full-of-stars sky of the night. You looked at him and smiled. He was very beautiful with that thick beard of his and his grown, long, and silky hair. And oh, his gazing, shiny blue eyes.

"I don't know how I could've survived without you too, Bucky. You are stronger than you think you are. Always the guy I could lean on and trust blindly." He smiled at your words, took your hands in his, and kissed you deeply. Kissing each other was nothing new to you both, as you got so much closer to each other during this dark time you both are having when you're trying to heal and fight off your demons.

His demons were his past, the winter soldier and all of those years spent locked and frozen, missing out on everything in life. Your demons were actual demons you accidentally summoned while your soul, heart, and mind were being consumed by the dark-hold. That book taught you everything about dark magic, and as a result, you became the most powerful witch of all time, or as you thought you were until you met the Scarlet Witch herself one day and had one of the deadliest fights ever. Lucky for you, she pitied you and wanted to help, so she talked to her team, the very famous Avengers, savers, and protectors of the earth. They decided to help you, and there was no better place to get rid of your demons than the place of peace, happiness, and kind people. Wakanda.

Shauri introduced you to Bucky and told you he was here too to heal, just like you. Your rooms or your huts were next to each other. He was the first one you saw when you woke up and the last one you saw before you went to sleep. You shared everything together. Food, clothes, water, treats, and even the same chores, and when your therapeutic healing sessions got tough on both of you, you always found comfort in each other's arms. That's how you both started kissing and hugging each other, as a way to ground one another and remind yourselves that you have each other.

But kissing each other didn't just occur after bad news or feeling depressed. It occurred after good news and after feeling happy. You didn't know back then in Wakanda what kind of relationship you both had, but it was a beautiful one, and you didn't want to ruin it if you labeled it or asked him if you were just friends or more. You thought to yourself that maybe you were just a part of his healing path, and you were nothing more than a person who helps him get on his feet again, and as soon as he does, he'll leave and start living his life. You wouldn't hate him if he did, and as much as you loved him, you learned how to keep a distance sometimes, just not to get too attached and have high expectations. You kept reminding yourself that you were here to heal and not break your heart more than you should.

After the whole healing journey, you both couldn't make your dreams come true of going to New York and having an apartment there together and for you to start writing again and achieving your dream of becoming a published writer, and he took an interest in photography, especially when you got him a film camera for his birthday and he started taking very beautiful photos of the nature there, of the kids running and helping their fathers in the fields, and of course he took various photos of you, making food, taking care of the goats, lying next to the lake, smiling and trying to push the camera away, washing your hair, and using your magic to lift a very big pile of hay.

Steve came and told you about the fight with Thanos and how you all need to defend Earth, and there might be a chance of no one coming back. You and Bucky were in disbelief; maybe you were more than him and felt anxious. He pulled you away from the team and everyone and took you to your favorite apple tree. He talked and calmed you down, told you everything was going to be okay, and he would never leave your side. And if everything goes downhill, you'll forever remain in his heart, whether he's dead or alive. You both kind of said goodbye to each other, embraced each other, shared a very deep and passionate kiss, cried a little, and said I love you for the first time to each other.

During the fight, you were still protecting each other. You were fighting with each other as a team; he was killing and shooting any alien who got a little bit closer to you, and with your magic, you were dodging their arrows and weapons that got thrown at him. Until the moment in which Thanos killed Vision and you saw Wanda crying and mourning him. You sat by her side, hugged her tightly, and cried with her. Until you felt total silence and everyone started fading away. In a panic, you ran and searched for Bucky. You found Steve, and you were in the middle of asking him if he saw Bucky or not. Bucky came from behind some bushes and said yours and Steve's names. You blinked, and he wasn't there anymore. Just dust flying away. You felt strange. You looked at Steve with burning teary eyes, and his eyes were filled with horror and confusion as he looked at you. You couldn't understand why. He held you and shouted your name as you looked at your hand and found yourself turning into dust and fading away too. You whispered his name in concern, and then everything went black.

After you woke up, you found King T'Challa getting you up on your feet and telling you, Let's go; they're waiting for us to fight. You didn't understand anything. One second later, Steve was shouting your name, and your hands were turning into dust. The other, King T'Challa, was holding you up and guiding you into a gold ring portal to another place. You couldn't find Bucky anywhere until you felt someone hugging you from behind and whispering in your ear, "I'm here doll. Let's get this over with so that we can get that apartment in Brooklyn as we promised." You cried, turned to him, and kissed him deeply.

"I thought I'd lost you," you cried, and you hugged him tightly.

"Never." He hugged you back and whispered in your ear, "I promised you, I'd never leave you." He pulled back again and kissed you. "Now, be a good girl for me and kill those sons of bitches. Make me proud." You giggled at him with teary eyes and nodded.

Of course, after a huge and deadly fight, you won. It took you both more time to heal from that, especially after knowing it's been 5 years since the fight in Wakanda and that Wakanda suffered a big loss, so they cannot take you both in at the moment and they need to rebuild their country again. So you both got back to New York and started seeing therapists. You both were shaken up by what had happened and decided it'd be a big step for you both to live with each other now, so you wanted to take one step at a time.

You were there for each other still, you lived very close to one another and even shared each other's apartment keys. Most of the time you were at each other's places, hanging out, cooking, and watching TV. But there always was a big sexual tension between you both. From him more because he didn't have sex for almost 80 years now and he was dying every time he saw because he just wanted to rip all of your clothes off and fuck you till you both can't breathe anymore. He was very attracted to you in ways, you can't even imagine. There was this one time he came by to your house, opened the door with the extra key you gave him and he saw you in the kitchen wearing an apron while washing the dishes and he almost came in his pants from this sight alone. Later that evening, he fucked his fist at the thought of you being his housewife, wearing that same apron, and he's fucking his cum into your cunt on the countertop.

You both were watching Scarface in your apartment, cuddling on your couch. Bucky was trying his hardest to focus on the movie, not the way your arms were wrapped around him and your left leg was resting on his leg with your head on his shoulder. He was having a fight with himself, as he didn't want his erection to be visible from under his pants so that you wouldn't get disgusted or creeped out by him. Then the line, "The eyes, chico. They never lie." came on.

You mumbled, "I guess this is true." then looked at him deeply.

He smiled and asked, "Why?"

"I believe that eyes can speak all the words and say all the things we bury in our hearts." Your gaze kept going from his eyes to his mouth, and vice versa. You found his pupils dilating until there was only a sin blue round line of his iris. You bit your lips at him, hinting that you need him too, hoping that he shares the same feelings as you, and you were almost certain he does as you noticed the tent forming in his pants and thought that maybe he does need you as much as you need him.

You were right because you found yourself suddenly underneath him as he started devouring your mouth and neck. You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him closer. Your tongues were fighting each other for dominance, and he was kissing you like there was no tomorrow. You'd die if he stopped. He started humping his hardened erection into your clothed cunt, and both of you were moaning at the movement and friction happening. He took off your t-shirt and found you not wearing a bra. "Fuck, doll. Are you trying to kill me?" He groaned before attacking your boobs with bites and kisses. He kept sucking and kissing your nipples, making all sorts of sounds and groans. His hips never stopped humping you.

You were cut out of your trance by a phone ringing. You both panted, and he took the phone out of his back pocket, it was Sam with a 911 next to his name. This was Sam's number for emergencies; if he called from this number, then it was an emergency. "Fuck, it's Sam from his 911 number." He said it out of breath, then pulled away from you and sat back on the couch, trying to calm himself and steady his breath. You sat next to him, covered your exposed chest with your arm, and tried to breathe normally too. He looked at you with a smirk, leaned his head forward toward yours, and kissed you deeply.

He answered the call, and Sam started talking right away. While Bucky was listening to Sam, you decided to tease him a little and sat on his lap, pushed him back to lean on the couch, and started grinding on him while kissing his cheek and neck. He groaned and held your hip with his left arm as he was holding the phone to his ear with the other and kept moving you on his crotch. His eyes widened a bit as Sam heard his groans and asked Bucky what he was doing. "Ahhh, nothing. It's just a headache. Go on." He smirked at you. You giggled and kept grinding yourself slowly on him as he took your right boob in his hand and started massaging it and pinching your nipple. You tried your best to hide and muffle your moans, but some were getting out involuntarily.

"Okay. Got it. See you in 10." He said this before hanging up the phone with Sam, and as soon as he did, he flipped you both over and kissed you hungrily.

"Excuse me? "See you in 10"? Please tell me it's in 10 hours," you whined, wrapping your legs and arms around him, not wanting him to leave.

"Sorry, doll. It's urgent. Some Hydra scientists were caught in Prague, and they need me to make them confess where their headquarters are now. It won't take long, I swear. I'll make sure to get back as soon as possible to finish what we started here." He mumbled against your mouth and kept pecking your lips and kissing you between his words. You found it extremely difficult now to say goodbye to him after what you both just shared and had. But he had to go, and you understood that, so you let him go, and he promised to get back to you as soon as possible and in one piece.

While he was away, you couldn't stop texting each other all the time, and your conversation and texts got more sexual. It started out simple: I need you so bad right now. I imagine you lying naked on my bed. I want to kiss you. Then, step by step, you found yourself taking naked pictures of yourself and sending them to him, and he was finding any excuse to go to the bathroom and fuck his fist while looking at your pictures and texting you how much he wants to bury his cock in your cunt and how badly he wants to taste you. Your texts, video calls, and pictures you sent to each other were what made you able to endure the pain of him being away.

You woke up one day and whined when you realized he was not here yet, and you didn't know when he was coming back. He said it wouldn't take long, but it's been a week, and you were going crazy. You had a meeting with the rest of the team in the Avengers Tower, so you took a shower to cool yourself down, got dressed, and went there. Throughout the whole meeting, you couldn't stop thinking about Bucky and the various positions and places you'd make love and fuck on. You've never wanted anyone like that before. You couldn't stop thinking about his eyes, his lips, his collarbones, his strong muscular arms, his thick thighs, and his hard cock. You've been humping your pillow, imagining it was his cock. You miss him. You miss his touches, his kisses, his hugs, his bites, and his smile. You found yourself distracted and closing your legs tightly, trying to ease some of the pain and need growing between your legs. Unfortunately, the day was very long and tiring. Tony and Fury had the whole team training and researching for the new big mission in Europe, as during those 5 years, Hydra built itself again and was planning to cause World War 3. So it was in your hands to stop them before they even began. Of course, you were highly distracted that day and couldn't focus on training or researching. You had your butt kicked multiple times by Yelena as she was screaming at you to focus. You were finally able to breathe when you left and got into a cab, taking you home.

In the cab, you texted Bucky, "I've had a bad day, and I'd like to suck your dick to feel better." You smiled to yourself at the vulgar text you just sent, but you both were used to this way of talking now. You hid your feelings and need for each other for too long now, so you felt like you had to make up for all this time of repressed feelings.

He replied instantly, "Trust me, sucking my dick would just make it worse," with a winky emoji next to it. You giggled and texted him that you miss him so much and can't wait to see him. The ride from Manhattan to Brooklyn took too long, obviously, so Bucky and his usual teasing nature asked you to tell him what you wanted him to do to you when he got back. You smirked and told him everything you'd been daydreaming about today and how you wanted him to touch you and fuck you on every surface in your apartment. How much did you want to feel his tongue and mouth on your clit. How much you wanted to ride his face. How much you wanted to cockwarm him and feel his cock so deep inside you while he buries his tongue in your throat.

You found yourself closing your legs tighter and rubbing your thighs together. You were desperate for any friction, but more desperate for his touch. You got a notification that he sent you a picture. You opened it quickly and found a live photo of him stroking his cock while the head leaked on his lower stomach. You could hear him grunting in the background. You bit your lip, closed your eyes, and tried to breathe normally. You couldn't wait till you get home and play with your favorite toy after facetiming him and seeing him fuck his fist at the thought of you.

Eventually, you arrived at your apartment building. You paid the cab driver and rushed upstairs to your place. You opened the door quickly and headed inside. You started to rip and take all your clothes off while heading to your bedroom; you were only in your underwear now, and as soon as you opened your bedroom door and entered it, you were faced with a very naked Bucky on the bed that's now full of red rose petals. You gasped at the sight before you.

He smirked. "Welcome home, doll." You couldn't believe your eyes—you had to blink twice to make sure this was real and actually happening. "I missed you so much. Come here." He sat himself up on his elbows and gave you a devilish smirk. You noticed his phone on the pillow next to him. This motherfucker has been texting me and sending me pictures of his dick while he was naked on my bed all this goddamn time, you thought to yourself. I'm going to fucking kill him.

You ran and jumped on the bed, on him. He caught you and held you by the waist and pulled you down to him. He pressed his lips against yours harshly while he was tearing and ripping off your bra and panties. Your bare, soaked cunt was touching his hardened cock. This feeling of him making contact with you down there made you pull away and moan loudly. You craved more of this feeling so you started rubbing yourself on him and grinding down. He held your hips and made you move faster. "Fuck. I miss you so much" He panted and lifted his head up and started sucking and kissing your boobs. He buried his face between them and started leaving kisses and marks in the space between them.

"No, Sergeant." Using your magic, you pulled his hands away and handcuffed him with bright red magical strings to the bedpost. He was very confused. "You didn't tell me that you were coming today or that you're here, in my bed, playing with yourself like some horny teenager while I was having a shitty day full of meetings and training which I could've not attended if you told me you were coming."

"I'm sorry, baby. I wanted to surprise you." He pouted his lips in an attempt to make you forgive him.

"Nope. Not working on me, Barnes." You raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Now, what's going to happen is that you'll watch me fuck myself on your cock and you won't get to come." He gasped and was about to start protesting but you muffled him with makeshift tape on his mouth that you created with your magic. "Tap on the bed twice with your leg if you want me to stop at any time, okay baby?" You said before kissing his cheek and he nodded. You smiled at him and at how he was okay with you being in control.

You lifted your hips up, grabbed his cock, and started rubbing and moving it between your folds, then lined it up with your entrance. You sat down on it slightly, taking it inch by inch. You cried out at the burning sensation you felt from being stretched out like that. Bucky was big. The biggest you've ever had, but you just wanted him badly enough to even think about him not fitting, so you took your time to adjust. You sat down until he was fully buried in you. You can hear his muffled groans and see how his chest is rising up and down. His eyes were locked on where your bodies were connected. You lifted yourself slowly to make him see the base of his cock soaked with your juices, and his muffled groans became louder and his hips started lifting upwards involuntarily. He wanted to keep it buried inside of you and wanted to feel your hot, soaking walls being wrapped around his achy, hard length. He kept fucking and thrusting his hips upwards, fucking into you, and you let him. You started lifting yourself up and down on him and riding him. Until you both found a steady, fast pace and kept going.

Your moans and screams were uncontrollable at this moment, and you could see he was suffering with these restraints you had on him and how he was squirming his hands and arms, trying to get loose and touch you. You removed that makeshift tape from his mouth, and he was a groaning mess. "Fuck, dolly. Let me kiss you, please. I want to taste you." He whined, and his eyes were very hazy, with dilated pupils and nothing but pure lust in them. You leaned in and kissed him passionately. It was like he had been waiting for this moment, and he started to devour your lips and tongue with his like a man starving. All of that while fucking up into you harder and faster than before. You choked on a gasp, and he never stopped any of his movements or his kissing. You knew that he was trying to distract you from your decision to not let him come. You pulled away quickly, pushed his hips down, and sat on him, not moving while he was still buried deep.

"You sneaky motherfucker." You said, out of breath.

He leaned his head back, and his cheeks were burning red while he was breathing hard, almost panting. "Baby, please. I can't take it anymore. It hurts so bad down there." He looked at you with teary eyes.

"Fuck it, are you crying now, Barnes? It's been only 10 minutes, and you're crying? I haven't even come yet." You felt like you took it too far with him, but he didn't tap his leg as you told him, so you decided to take it easier on him a little and removed the handcuffs.

As soon as you removed them, everything turned around, and you found yourself in a millisecond underneath him with your legs spread out and lifted all the way to your shoulders as he split you in half while his cock was still nestled deep down in your hole.

"Remember when I told you I'm such a good actor? I wasn't lying." He smirked at you before pulling his cock all the way out and thrusting so hard inside you again that you were pushed back into the bed from how hard it was. He kept fucking you with very long, deep, hard strokes like that. You forget all about your dominance over him and your promise to not let him come. Little did you know that he would let you decide when he could come because he didn't want to make you break your promise, knowing that if he granted you that, you'd grant him whatever he wanted. And boy, did he want a lot!

From how deep and good he was thrusting and fucking into you, your mind was filled with white noise. Your mouth was in an O shape, and nothing but silent screams and gasps came out. He leaned in and rested his forehead on yours as he was looking down at the way his cock was disappearing inside of you. "Look at that, dolly. Look how good you're taking me! You're meant for me, baby. Meant to take my dick like that. You fit me so well." You gasped and moaned at his words, and as you were very close to coming, he snaked his hand down and started rubbing quick circles on your clit. Everything turned white for you as you found yourself gushing your orgasm around his cock. You were crying out so loudly as he kept fucking you through your orgasm; you swore you almost went blind from the pleasure he was giving you.

He stopped and flipped you over on your stomach, he put a pillow beneath your hips to give more access to your holes. You whined at the loss of stuffiness in your hole, he moved down and mumbled against your cunt, "Need to clean this beauty up, dolly. You made a big mess." He started eating you out like you were his last meal. Sucking your clit between his lips, licking you in long strokes from your clit up to your puckered back hole, spreading your folds with his tongue and lapping on the new juices gushing from your hole. You were squirming already from the overstimulation so he held your hips tightly and pushed you down again, making sure his mouth never left your sweet cunt. He kept moaning and mumbling words you couldn't hear but it was sending a lot of vibrations and that made you come again all over his mouth. You were panting and a moaning mess. He didn't stop until he cleaned your fresh wave of white liquid then he pulled away, ran his thumb between your folds, "Wish you could see how swollen and red this pussy is, dolly. It's my pussy, now." He pushed his thumb inside your hole while his fingers circled and rubbed your clit. You were crying out loud and squirming again from the overstimulation, you can sense your pulse in your clit, and with his finger, he could sense it too. "So sensitive for me, right doll? So sensitive, sweet, and all mine." He pulled his thumb out of your hole and kissed it, leaving kisses and kitten licks all over your cunt till he reached your clit and sucked it roughly. "I think this is my new hobby now." He licked your clit and moved his head from side to side while doing so.

You screamed from the overstimulation he was causing you, "E-Enough Bucky. C-Can't take it anymore." You whimpered and squirmed again.

"It's never enough with you, doll." He kneeled behind you and noticed that wet and sticky spot his cock made from all the precum leaking from him. He slowly pushed his cock inside you again and started to fuck you slowly. You were in another universe by now. Feeling so high and dizzy from all the pleasure and stimulation. He picked up a pace and started thrusting faster and harder, making sure he hit all your sweet spots. He felt how heavy his balls were and just wanted to empty them all out inside you. He was desperate to come at this point.

"Dolly, please, can I come? It really hurts, baby. I need to fill you up, pretty please." leaned down and whimpered in your ears. And you were so glad he still gave you the upper hand and didn't let you break your promise. His thrusts were getting sloppier and messier. "Please, baby, I can't hold it any longer." He grunted and bit your shoulder.

"Come for me, Bucky. Fill me up." You whimpered and could feel yourself on the edge of another orgasm.

"Only if you came with me too." He groaned and started rubbing and slapping your clit roughly to throw you off the edge faster. His stimulation not only threw you off the edge, but you found yourself squirting your orgasm out and clenching your walls on his cock like crazy. He cried out loudly and spurted his orgasm so deeply inside you. You could feel his hot white liquid filling you up to the max, and you thought he would stop and be still inside now, but he was fucking everything back inside. You almost forgot that he was a super soldier, and that's why he had this much stamina.

You both lay still on the bed, catching your breaths. You felt him pulling out slowly and then lying next to you. He turned to face you, ran his fingers through your hair, and played with it softly. "A bath or a shower?" He asked you with a smile. You smiled back and told him you'd like to have a bath. He got up, went to the bathroom, got a wet small towel, and cleaned you both up first. Then he went to the bathroom again and prepared the bath. You went through your closet and prepared fresh and clean clothes for you and Bucky. Even though you were very close friends before, you always kept each other's clothes in both of your houses, just in case. He called out for you from the bathroom, and you went to find him in the tub waiting for you. You smiled, went in, and sat in front of him, leaning yourself on his chest as he hugged you tightly.

In the rest of the evening, you both discussed your relationship and decided that you should start dating for real now. You wondered why you both didn't take that step a long time ago since both of you share the same feelings for each other. Little did you know, that would be the start of an amazing relationship after an amazing friendship. And that would be the man you spent the rest of your life with. He was your soulmate.

fin

[wintersoldiersoul]

Hold Me

TW: Depression, weight loss, mention of suicidal thoughts

You heard the chatter from the living room when you stepped off the elevator at the tower. A chorus of laughter could be heard, laughter that typically you’d be itching to join in with. But recently, you couldn’t. You just needed to go to your room and curl up in bed. 

The depression hit you out of nowhere. One bad day turned into two which turned into weeks where you couldn’t stop your thoughts from spiraling to dark places. Places that terrified you. It was hard being an Avenger and a college student and battling depression definitely didn’t make it any easier. You didn’t wanna do anything. You didn’t wanna exist anymore. 

You passed by Thor, Steve, Tony, and Bucky all seated with beers in hand. “Hey, baby,” Bucky greeted you cheerfully. “Come join us!”

You gave them all a small smile. “I’m pretty tired,” you answered. “I think I’m gonna go lie down for a bit.” You didn’t want anyone, especially Bucky, to know how dark it was in your head. You were always the “nice” one. The “helpful” one. But it was so exhausting especially when every day you were battling the heaviness inside of your chest. You never got to snap. You always had to just be nice.

“Alright, sweetheart,” your boyfriend said with a smile. 

No, you thought. Come with me. Come hold me. It was like you had two different people in your brain. One terrified of Bucky finding out how miserable you were and one wanting to spill it all to him. For him to hold you and make the pain go away. But somehow that first voice always ended up being a little stronger.

You trudged to the oasis of your bedroom, quickly throwing off the clothes you had on in favor of pajamas. As far as you were concerned, you weren’t getting out of bed for the rest of the day. You never really felt hungry anymore, so you didn’t worry about skipping dinner.

You thought Bucky didn’t notice. You thought he was oblivious to the way your smile never reached your eyes anymore, or the weight you had lost. You thought he didn’t hear when you cried softly at night. But he did. He noticed it all.

“I’m worried about her,” he sighed out in the living room. “Something’s wrong.”

“What do you mean?” Steve asked. “She seems fine to me. You heard her, she’s just tired.” 

Bucky shook his head and took a sip of his beer. “It’s more than that. She-she doesn’t smile anymore. Not real smiles. She’s losing weight and she hardly eats anything. I’ve been waiting for her to come to me, I mean I never wanna push her but I don’t know how much longer I can just ignore it.”

“You should talk to her about it. Maybe you’re just overthinking and nothing’s wrong,” Tony suggested.

“No,” Bucky rubbed his face. “I know my girl. This isn’t her.”

Back in the bedroom, silent tears fell from your eyes. You didn’t even know what you were crying about. It was just a part of your daily routine at this point. You cried because you were frustrated that you felt this way. Because you just wanted it to stop.

The door creaked open, shining a streak of light into the dark room. You quickly turned your head and pretended to be asleep, hoping that Bucky wouldn’t catch on. But you were too late to hide it from your boyfriend and his supersoldier senses.

He sat down on the bed next to you and began to rub your back. “Y/N,” he whispered calmly. Seeing you cry broke his heart in pieces. He couldn’t just stand back anymore and watch you in so much pain. “Baby, you gotta talk to me. What’s going on with you, love?”

You didn’t speak at first. You just began to cry harder into the pillow at his words. The way he touched you like you were so fragile, the gentle tone of his voice, it was all too much. You didn’t deserve his sympathy.

“Oh angel…” he whispered, hearing your cries get more intense. “Let it out. It’s okay.” He continued rubbing your back as you cried for a little longer. “Can you sit up for me?” He asked, once you had calmed down. You did as he asked, positioning yourself upright and looking at him. Your eyes were red and puffy and the sight of you broke Bucky’s heart. “What’s going on, honey?” 

“I…” you tried to tell him, but you couldn’t find the words. You didn’t even have a reason to be depressed. Nothing happened that had triggered it. Who were you to complain when Bucky had been through so much? “I’m okay. Just a long day. I’m really tired.”

“Don’t lie to me,” he said, taking your hand. “You think I haven’t noticed you’ve been off? Baby, all you do whenever you get home from class is lie in bed. You don’t care about grades like you used to. You don’t eat anything and you’ve lost so much weight. I’m really scared.” His eyes held the kind of sincerity you could only imagine. No one had ever looked at you with so much love and care. 

“I can’t explain it,” you whispered so quietly that it was barely audible.

“Can’t explain what?” “I don’t know why I feel this way,” you continued, a few more tears spilling out. “I just feel like everything is hopeless. It’s like I have a bag of rocks sitting on my chest all the time and it hurts so much. And I don’t know why! Nothing changed. Nothing happened. One day it just came and it never left.”

Bucky inched a little closer to you. “Are you feeling depressed, honey?”

You looked down at your hands and nodded slowly. “Yeah,” you breathed. “I think I’m really depressed, Buck. And I feel so stupid because I don’t know why! I’m supposed to be the happy one who’s there for everyone. I wanna be there for you! You have actual shit that you’ve been through. What’s my excuse?”

He pulled you tightly into a hug. He had suspected that you were battling depression but hearing you say it outloud terrified him. “Oh baby…” he whispered, stroking your hair. “You know depression doesn’t always have a reason. You don’t have to experience something big or traumatic to feel depressed. Sometimes it just happens. It’s just the chemicals in your brain. And that doesn’t make your experience any less valid or important. The fact that I’ve been through something doesn’t mean that you have to be my glue. It doesn't mean that you can’t fall apart too.” 

His words made you begin sobbing again. How was it possible that he still wanted you when he knew the truth now? He was seeing how much of a mess you were yet he was still here comforting you. “I feel like everything is so out of control,” you cried. “I wanna do my homework but I just can’t find the energy to get out of bed. I don’t have the energy to even care anymore. I just want it all to be over.” Your last sentence made Bucky’s veins go ice cold. “Y/N, I need you to tell me the truth right now, okay? A-are you thinking about hurting yourself? Do you wanna die?” He spoke, voice shaking.

“I don’t know,” you said quietly, avoiding his gaze. “I don’t really think I wanna die but… I just don’t really wanna live. I know that makes no sense.”

“I understand. It’s like you’re not thinking about killing yourself but right now it’s hard to be alive and fight. Is that why you just come home and sleep all day?”

You nodded. “Yeah. It’s easier to just sleep the pain away. Being conscious in my head has been really tiring. And I’m afraid that if this continues that I might want to hurt myself. I don’t right now but what if it gets to that point?” You looked up at him with big eyes.

Bucky squeezed you tighter like he was terrified you would disappear from his arms. “I’m not gonna let you get there. Never, okay? You’re gonna get help. And you’re gonna feel so much better. Baby you have so much life left to live and enjoy. You and me, we have a whole life together to live. So you can’t let yourself fall into this hole, okay? It’s gonna be hard but I’m gonna help you through it.”

“Y-yeah. Okay,” You sniffled. “You can go back out with the guys. I didn’t mean to ruin your time.”

He kissed the top of your head. “Oh shh. You know I was only with them to distract myself from missing you til you got here,” he laughed. “You’re my favorite person on the entire planet, baby. And I’m really happy you opened up to me because I’ve been worried sick these past few weeks. It’s like I’ve been watching you turn into a ghost of yourself.”

“I-I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I thought you didn’t notice. I thought I was hiding it well.”

He looked into your eyes and touched your cheek. “I notice every single thing about you. I know when your smiles are real or fake, okay? I know when you don’t actually eat anything and you just shove food around your plate to make it look like you are.” he paused. “Speaking of, I’m really worried about that, too. Is that part of the depression?” 

You nodded. “I just never really feel hungry anymore.”

“We’re gonna work on that too. Okay honey girl?”

“Okay.”

“Good. Now can I make you something small to eat, just to start? I’m so scared for you, baby.” His eyes were full of genuine fear at the size you were.

“Something small and simple, okay? I-I’ll try to eat it.” 

“That’s my girl.” Bucky left the room, returning a few minutes later with a bowl of fruit in his hand. “Here, just try to eat even a little bit, okay? Then I tell you what. I’m gonna run you a nice bath and light your favorite candles. Then we can spend the rest of the night cuddled up together watching a movie. Tomorrow we’ll start to put in the hard work but for tonight just let me comfort my girl.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his words. “That sounds perfect.” 

So that’s what you did. He ran a bath and lit cinnamon scented candles and you both sat in there for a while enjoying the relaxation of each other’s presence. You spent the rest of the night marathoning halloween movies before falling asleep in his arms. The hard work was about to begin. It was gonna suck, you knew that. But maybe there really was a light to look forward to.

[lovexjoe]

In Love With A Stripper Part 2

warning: alcohol, mention of death and language

Armando pulls the car to the back, taking in her attire: he smiles on the inside. She looks beautiful like this, not that bullshit she’s forced to wear. He gets out and opens the door for her. Thanking him, she mentally gives out one more prayer that this man isn’t going to kill her and hops in.

She was shocked cause she could never imagine being in a car like this, it would take her a lifetime to even buy this. The ride was silent, as she looks out the window taking in the scenery of Mexicos city lights. She’s been here on this side of town before with Andres, but she just couldn’t remember exactly. His right hand reaches for hers, she could have sworn her heart skipped a beat. His hand much larger than hers, engulfed her small one with warmth. She intertwine their fingers together and he rubs her hand with his thumb.

She’s really in the car with a drug dealer who could potentially make her disappear off the face of the earth. Yet she felt the most safest in his presence. The car pulls into a gated mansion, he spoke to the gate to confirm his ID and they headed inside.

“Do you trust me?” He looks over at her and she looks back not saying a word. Just looking at him with those doe eyes. She gives his hand a squeeze confirm that she’s okay but he knew he wouldn’t get an answer so easily. He hands his key off to a guard, opening her door for her and leading the way up the stairs. This is where he lives?! Why not just stop drug dealing and retire? He is set for fucking life. This could have potentially been her life with Andres if he was connected with the right people. She pushes the thought away cause it’ll only sour the mood.

They entered his bedroom and it was exactly the way she thought it was gonna be. Crispy clean and all black. There wasn’t a single spect of color in this room: dark and depressing. They sit outside on his balcony enjoying the city lights as they pour up a drink. He breaks the silence first.

“What’s your name?”

“You know my name…..Luna.” She takes a sip of her drink. The mixture of rum and coke easing her nerves.

“Nah that’s not you mami. The real you.” He turns his body to her, giving her all his attention. Her eyes could easily captivate someone yet here she was feeling hot and shy under his gaze.

“Xiomara…” she sips her drink again, numbing her nerves.

“Es bonita, mami” he says giving her a smile, first one of the night and it took all her suspicions away.

“He smiles! So you’re not gonna kill me, thank god!” She puts her hand on her heart and lets out a joking breath. For the first time in a long time he lets out an honest laugh. He’s never brought anyone back home, he’s always had his fun outside and returned to his empty room. But her, for some reason he wants to do things to her but he wanted more. But he can’t want more. This was for one night he reminded himself.

“Tell me about yourself” She takes in his question, wondering if she should be an open book or pick out things that were true and fill the rest in with white lies. She probably wasn’t going to see him ever again so why not?

“I came here two years ago with my boyfriend, he was a drug dealer. I didn’t know much but he had food on the table and we were gonna build a life here. He got killed during a deal gone bad and I-I had to verify the body at the scene because his mom couldn’t go….” She takes another sip. The alcohol causing her mouth to vent all the feelings she’s been holding in for a year now.

“A month after Andres passing I found out I was pregnant. It would have probably been smarter to just not continue with the pregnancy but he’s the last thing I have letting me know that Andres was real. Things have been hard so I strip to save pay the bills and my day job helps me save” Armando’s jaw clenched at the mention of her late boyfriend’s name.

“I’m sorry that you’re going through this.”

“Don’t do that….dont pity me. It sucks but there’s someone out there having it much worse than me.” He nods his head raising his glass to cheers to that.

“Tell me about you….or whatever you’re comfortable with.”

Just one night right? He wasn’t going to see her again and it’s not like anyone would believe her anyway.

“My mom’s in prison right now. She gave birth to me in prison, I was raised there till I was 6 and then they sent me off with someone to the cartel. Here I am….” He sighs and gulps the rest of his drink.

“See? I told you somebody else has it worse than me. Thank you for that.” Laughter filled the room, she notices the crinkle in his eyes when he smiles. He looked much younger when he let some happiness enter his empty heart.

“Armando? Why am I here? If you wanted to have sex…we cou-“

She stops talking when he stands up pulling her close, his hand caressing her cheek. She doesn’t know what he wants. He knows what he wants but he’s not going to admit because it’s insane. They just met.

“I can tell that this isn’t something you do. And after hearing what you been through…I want you but I’m not touching you until you beg me to….” The way he’s looking at her like he wants to devour her, she so badly wants to give in. He picks her up and carries her to his bed. She sits at the edge of his bed while he picks out some clothes for her.

Yes Armando Aretas a fucking cartel is picking out clothes for a stripper he’s beyond fond of. Boy would his mom be having a fit if she could see this. She changes in the bathroom, looking at herself in the mirror and smiling. He’s definitely not what she thought he would be. She leans her head down to the black shirt, taking in his divine scent. Once she reenters the room, Tom and Jerry reruns were on the tv and he looked too cute under the covers.

Shirtless…..

How was she going to control herself? She had to or else she would look to easy. She can’t and she won’t!

She got in bed, keeping a certain distance between them. His hand trailing across her exposed skin on her inner thigh. She looked better in his clothing than he did.

“I don’t bite mami, come here” he pulls her close, his hand slipping under the shirt and resting on her stomach. He places a kiss on her temple as they both watched the tv till they fell asleep.

~~~~~~~

The sun creeps through his window, causing Xio to walk up in bed alone. The tv still running some outdated cartoons. Her bedside had roses and a letter.

“I had some business to take care of. There’s a driver and duffel bag waiting for you. I will see you soon - Love Armando”

She heads into the restroom and where she had a brand new toothbrush and a toiletry bag filled with products: expensive ones too waiting for her. This man really had everything accessible for him. She started to wonder how many girls he did this for. Looking at her phone, she realizes she doesn’t have time to wait around as she needs to grab Ricky from his grandma’s. She hurries up changing into her clothes from last night and heading downstairs. Did she keep his shirt? Yup, something to remember him in case she doesn’t hear from him again.

The driver hands her the small duffel bag and she gets into the car and giving him directions to her house. Reminiscing about the little commentary they had while watching looney tunes. How it felt being held by him all night. This was it for them. She doesn’t think he’ll reach out. He knows where she works but….maybe she’s just overthinking.

Andres’ mom sent her a message letting her know that she will stay with Ricky today if she wanted some time to herself. She sighs with relief, she could use a few hours to rejuvenate since she’s teaching again tomorrow. As the driver drops her off, she strolls inside and setting the bag down. She took a look inside and

Wow….she had enough money to stop stripping for a while….

The bag had a small pocket on the side so she decided to open it and what she noticed wasn’t something she was happy about.

She lets out a cry….

She pulls out Andres cross necklace …..

Taglist: @yeahnohoneybye @cardi-bre91 @onlysarang @romanreignsluver1 @minwn

@armandosbabymama @dyttomori @bbyplutosblog @vergilnelosparda @believeinthefireflies95 @cardi-bre91

[lunarw0rks]

hi! im not sure if you do any requests like this but if you wouldn't mind, with ghost or konig, where the reader is depressed and has suicidal ideations and ghost/konig save them before it's too late? ive gone through somewhat similar things and it would be comforting reading someone be there for them!

A/N: I don't mind requests like this, just read with caution, please! To anon, or anyone reading that has gone through this, you deserve happiness and are loved!! "988" is the nationwide hotline ♡

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° I hope you don't mind, but I chose Ghost since I haven't written for Kӧnig (YET) Italics are Simon's perspective when it's happening at the same time as reader.

Summary: You feel swallowed by depression, but Simon saves you just in time.

Warning(s): depression, talk of suicide, PTSD themes - DO NOT READ IF THIS TRIGGERS YOU!!, established relationship, GN!Reader, no use of y/n, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff at the end

Word Count: 1.5k

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GHOST MASTERLIST // have a request? ♡¸.•*' | ao3 ver.

In Your Arms // Drabble

The world's weight had been on your shoulders; the constriction on your chest gave you a constant state of crisis, the strain on your heart soon to break it to pieces, and most of all the strain on your mind.

Each waking moment was a gamble of numbness or overdrive. In the instances of numbness, you were withdrawn, coasting your way through meals, laying awake at night with a blank stare. When you were in overdrive, it was like each bad thought physically pilled itself atop you, increasing your irritability and defensiveness.

It was as if the real you were trapped inside somewhere, but you were being overruled by an enclosure of gloom.

Chores, conversations, and the people you loved dearly became a melancholy hassle. You hated every second of it, and most of all hated yourself for behaving like this. At first, you were begging for an out—some savior to snap you out of it.

But now, you felt hopeless—and were making plans to give yourself that out.

You finally had an opportunity, a few hours where you’d have the house to yourself, with Simon out for a few hours. The problem was, gathering the courage. Even though you had the thoughts raining down on you, it was a decision you would never be able to take back.

You were sat in the shared bedroom, on top of the bed you’d just remade. It had been God knows how long by now, and all you could do was stare blankly at the wall ahead, choking back sobs. You looked at his side of the room, seeing the stark contrast between his and yours.

When you thought of him, how he’d be better off this way, it nudged you toward your answer.

Simon noticed your off-balance behavior the day he arrived home. Despite telling you how lovely you looked, he could tell the isolation of his deployment had taken its toll. The bags under your eyes, the dark circles worsening, your sudden change in eating habits—something he greeted like an old friend.

He, of all people, understood the feeling. He just didn’t know how to confront it.

He was never good with his words, or his ability to provide comfort physically; he relied on his crisis training, and most of all, how much he loved you.

When he said he was going out with friends, he was. At first. He found himself sitting in the driveway with a pit in his stomach, his anxieties swallowing him. He was protective, to begin with, but paired with the behavior changes, he was practically trembling at the thought of something horrible happening.

He was white-knuckling the steering wheel, debating on spending his night inside with you. Guilt consumed him for even considering going out anywhere when you’d waited months for him.

His stomach was in knots, twisting and turning, begging him to give in to nausea overtaking him any second. Something was wrong, something was going to happen.

You were fighting yourself again. The thoughts were racing so hard you could swear you heard them buzzing around your head like an angry swarm of wasps, each of them a stinger in your skin.

You reached for the nearest object—the remote—then stood to your feet, sending it plummeting towards the wall in front of you. It shattered the hanging picture frame on impact, sending shards of glass around the bedroom.

It did nothing to silence the thoughts. The sudden rush of fury only fueled them, begging for you to do something more to stop them—the only option you felt you had left.

He had his car door open, gathering his things before he was on his way inside. He’d made his decision, he would rather spend the night with you.

Simon’s trained ear heard the faint shatter of glass, seeing that the upstairs bedroom was the only one lit. There was no hesitation; no second thought to make sure it wasn’t a critter in the garbage can or another household.

He unlocked the door swiftly, a hand hovering over the holster underneath his jacket. The downstairs was clear, nothing askew. He next went up the stairs, leaning in the direction of the bedroom to pick up any sound coming from it.

In his mind, he was fearing the worst, paired with the anxiety he was already having in the car. He’d been here before, with too many people. It couldn’t, no, wouldn’t happen again, not with you.

When the door creaked open, it revealed you, shriveled against the wall with your head in your hands. Beside you, was a broken picture frame, sent flying into pieces around the room. His mind put the pieces together—the irritability, the insomnia, the withdrawn behavior, his gut feeling—all coming together now.

But his worst fears hadn’t come true. You were alive. Alive, and in need of his help. His gut feeling, that painful ache in his stomach when he left, it was right.

His knees dropped to the ground beside you, ignoring the slices forming through his clothes. His entire focus was on you, nothing else.

“Love…” He whispered, grabbing ahold of your knee to make you look his way. When your pooled eyes met him again, he felt like his heart had been ripped in two.

The sight of you, the pain written in your expression. Not physical pain, not heartache, but hopelessness. A specific, known too well by him, expression.

Simon could barely stand it, the person he practically breathed for, fought for, succumbing to their sorry—and he could’ve been too late. The warmth of your flesh under his fingertips, how it shivered, he knew you were still here, still breathing.

He was at a loss for words, even for a man who spoke very little. Angry at himself, not you, for not saying something earlier on. His withdrawal was both a blessing and a curse—a lesson well learned, now that his life with you had flashed before him.

Without a second thought, he scooped you up, setting you gently on the neat bed. He remained standing in front of you, staring down at you with a foggy expression.

“I’m sorry,” You muttered, blinded by the tears.

Simon visibly shook his head, forcing yours into his chest. It wasn’t your fault, and if he could force you to believe that, he would. He didn’t have words to give you, only the comfort of his presence. He just held you; held onto your frame as you wept into his abdomen, soaking through the fabric of his tee.

Tears only teased at his own eyes, but never made it past them. Though internally, he was weeping for you, nearly inconsolable.

It was his job to follow orders, to do his duty. His duty now, was you. He had to be strong for you, always, otherwise he had no purpose left on this Earth.

When the sobs had turned into defeated sniffles, he dropped to his knees to meet your eye level. Him, never one for eye contact, but he couldn’t take his eye off you now.

“I’m here now, I promise.” His deep voice echoed through the room, bouncing off your repines for his comfort.

You were still in shock, how one minute ago you were so close to the edge, but the next he was by your side. The sorrow only subsided for the moment, but with him as a distraction, you knew you had at least one person there for you. One person who understood what you were going through, no doubt about it.

His large hands, the ones stained with the blood of his hands, gently cradling your face until you were lucid enough to give him your full attention. He was there for you, no matter how hard the stubborn thoughts tried to convince you he wasn’t.

They moved from your face, to your neck and arms, then your fingers, searching for any sign of physical injury.

“Let me help you, please…” Simon placed a small kiss on one of the tear droplets streaming down, wiping away the rest with his thumb. His hand went down again, clasping around yours tenderly as he routed you to the shared bathroom.

He grabbed a spare cloth off the rack, wetting it slightly in the sink as he traced it along each tear stain, his other hand on your waist the entire time. He was focused and stiff, but his eyes were gentle.

When he finished, he cupped your face again, touching his lips to yours, then your temple. “You are everything to me, got it?” He whispers against your forehead, eyes still wide, reeling with the shock of nearly losing you.

Your head was in his chest again as one hand remained on your waist, the other holding your head in place. He was savoring this, not taking you for granted for a second.

Deep inside, he was picturing all those months he’d left you alone to feel like this.

How each tear he wiped was a lash of regret. He was going to make up for it from now on. Whether he could help you one on one, or you talk to a professional, he would back you every step of the way.

That was his duty.

[sensitive-neuvi-enthusiast]

You Promised..

♡♡-Request: Poly!Satosugu x reader. Reader and Satoru helped Suguru from spiraling down a dark path. Adopting the two girls, Megumi and his sister. Everything will be fine now, right?

Content: Death, possession, reader is in a relationship w/ gojo and geto, angst, crying, depressive themes

Wc: 1.3k

There was darkness. Thick black fog, hanging over his head, covering his eyes everywhere he went. Which direction should he take? Choices. Decisions. The roaring sound of the clapping mixed with the stream of shower water. His eyes blown wide, over and over and over. He couldn't get it out of his head. When did it end? Would it end? 

"Suguru?" He blinked, eyes slowly coming into focus when he heard Satoru's voice. "You've been in there a while, you good?" 

Was he? "Yeah…just thinking." Silence. Followed by more silence until Satoru spoke again. "Well, we're going to get lunch and hang out in her room today. Do you want to come?" Should he? Would they notice the dark swirling thoughts inside him? He shouldn't. He should. Decisions. What should he choose? "Yeah..I'll meet you guys there." 

That night, he found out they knew; you and Satoru knew. The darkness that plagued his mind, you two knew and brought him out of it. There were tears, hugs, kisses…though it probably wasn't the time, everyone confessed that night. More tears were shed as you shared a bed, huddled together. And for once, Suguru didn't feel alone. Or lost. Drowning in that repetitive clapping. As time went on, he got better. The heavy bags under his eyes ceased, his smile came back again. You all became a couple; shared kisses and late night snuggles. 

And when Suguru found the two girls in the village, he took them in. Appeasing the villagers. You and Satoru didn't mind, he'd taken in Megumi and his sister too. Everything was falling into place. He had a purpose again, something to strive for. 

Years went by and he's in his early 20s, the kids had grown. Attending their regular school until they were old enough to join Jujutsu High. 

You sighed, "I got an assignment. Said it's supposed to take four days." He listened to you say, placing a salty chip into your mouth. "Alone?" He questioned. A feeling of dread settled in his stomach. You gave him a smile. "Yes. Satoru is off on his own and you need to be here for the kids." Your hand gestured to the two girls huddled at the table, doing their homework. "What if-" "It won't." You reassured him, pressing your warm palm to his cheek. Which he gladly leaned into. He nodded, moving to press a kiss. "Okay, but call us if you need help. I'm serious." You nodded. He should've felt at ease but his stomach still nursed dread. 

Four days had gone by. The kids had made a welcome home sign for you; even if Megumi was reluctant. 

Him and Satoru held it; a wide smile on Satoru's face and a small gentle one on his. It was cheesy. But the girls had insisted, saying they missed their mom. Suguru felt his heart clench when they said that you truly were good to them. And him, Satoru. "Any minute now!" Satoru practically vibrated, his sunglasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. "Careful. She might mistake you for a puppy with those movements." He just stuck his tongue out, making Suguru laugh. The sound of his laughter was interrupted by the sound of the door opening. 

"Mom!" The girls yelled, running immediately to the door. "We missed you!" You stood there, eyeing them before tilting your head. "I missed you too…little ones (?)" There was a hesitancy in your voice that Suguru caught. Maybe you were tired? Bad mission? Many reasons, so he tried to push down his worry and greeted you with a smile. "Welcome home," Already, Satoru was the next to run over. Throwing his arms around your neck but you didn't immediately hug back. Or giggle, like you usually do. Was the mission that bad? He made a mental note to ask you later.  

Days went by and you didn't change. Your usual perky and upbeat self was nonexistent. And he didn't mention it, with fear of coming off as rude, but…there was a smell. That only came from you. Like you haven't bathed. And he was sure he'd seen you go into the bathroom, claiming to go shower. Were you lying to keep him from being worried? 

"Somethings off, Satoru." He sighed, resting his head on his back. Arms wrapped tightly around him. "I've been there, I think something really bad happened on her mission. I think she might be spiraling, like I did." The white haired man took what he said, nodding his head. 

"Maybe we should go for a walk? Some fresh air? Maybe it'd do her some good. We could all go, as a family."

Suguru's heart fluttered at the word, he nodded. "I think that's a good idea." Satoru turned in his hold, pressing a kiss to his head. "Don't worry, everything will be okay. We're the strongest, remember?" Suguru nodded, placing his head on his chest. Basking in his comfort for a few moments before they sought you out. 

"Hey…we're going to go for a walk. As a family, I think you should come."

You looked at him. He couldn't read your expression but you accepted. And that was enough to ease his worry, temporarily, offering you his hand. Even though you hesitated, he felt good about this. That this would be what you needed. That his silly, caring, loving girlfriend would come back to him. And he'd be the one to pull you from your despair like you had for him. 

The air was chilly, nipping at his cheeks as you all walked. Your hand in his and Satoru holding his other. The girls tagging along behind, kicking rocks to one another. It was peaceful. Perfect. Suguru looked up to the sky, eyes closed slightly as he basked in the moment. Giving a tentative squeeze to both hands. And to think, he almost gave this all up. To go down a darker path.

"Oh! Kento!" He heard Satoru announce, and he slowly opened his eyes. He felt your hand twitch. Immediately, he looked at you. You were staring directly at Nanami, a blank look on your face. 

Then slowly, your head turned to him. His eyes were slow to widen as he looked at you. This wasn't you. How didn't he notice? This was..

Snap.

Blood sounded in his ears as he heard the girls scream. Crying. And a pair of feet running towards him. Towards your now crumbled body. You'd broken your own neck-no, the thing inside you had. Leaving a wide, too wide, smirk on your face. Satoru held the girls, who kicked and screamed. "What happened to Mom?!" He was frozen in place. His hand is still in yours–now limp. 

"-guru, -uguru, Suguru!" He blinked. His hand came up to press at his cheeks; tears lingered there. And he turned to Satoru. He was crying too. Arms wrapped tightly around the screaming, blubbering girls. Tiny hands reaching for their mom, for you. What was this? What happened? What? What? What? What? 

His mind spiraled. He wasn't strong enough for this. He couldn't do this. Couldn't..couldn't…couldn't..

"Master Geto?" He blinked. "Yes, what is it?"

The curse user shook, pointing at the papers laid out on the table. "The plan?" He hummed, "Right. Got lost in my thoughts." He folded his hands under his chin. After you died, Suguru steamrolled down that dark path you and Satoru tried so desperately to keep him from. Apparently, you'd been dead the whole time, a curse taking over your body. Posing as you. Acting like you. But your body couldn't hold it. Starting to decompose, to rot. And when you'd run into Nanami that day, the curse decided it was no longer worth the trouble. Snapping your body's neck in front of everyone. It didn't matter that you'd been dead for weeks already. That day, to Suguru, everyone–you died.

Fate has a funny way of making sure its rules are followed.

A/N: This actually hurt to write, I could just be extremely attached, but. Hope you enjoy pain?

[nanivinsmoke]

❥ 1000 Years Too Late

❥ heian!era sukuna x fem!reader

warnings: TRIGGERING & HEAVY spoils for the recent jjk chapter, if you don’t wanna be spoiled nor triggered, please don’t read.!

❥ trigger warnings & tags: mentions of death, suicidal thoughts & attempt, struggles with grief, reincarnation of sukuna’s deceased lover, unwanted pregnancy, depression, (sukuna inhabited a different body when he was with you) etc...

note: punishment for all my hunnibuns, since yall didn’t submit for the summer event. also i added a lil twist on the jjk plotline to fit this

it was over. they won, but you lost. lost the one thing that mattered to you.

you knew this was going to happen, but nobody can prepare you for death. how could they? especially for this one. they would judge you and shun you away from the academy, if they knew how you felt.

you watched as they rejoiced, reuniting and celebrating the end of sukuna, while you stood there sulking—trying so hard not to wallow in your sorrows.

he was the love of your life and now he is gone.

you stood at the spot where he died, trying so hard to feel his spirit or his energy, but there was nothing. he was truly gone. the two of you had fallen in love by accident, you couldn’t remember how it began, but you could remember how much the two of you loved each other. despite you both being on opposite sides, you couldn’t hate each other.

it was unfortunate how the world turned out for the two of you.

you entered your apartment and you immediately tensed up—immediately being hit with the cologne he used to wear. should you even be here? everything reminded you of him, the last plate in the sink that he used, the smell of the aftershave he used this morning, his crimson red slippers by the bed and his side of the bed that had grew cold.

you were alone, left alone once again. you lied down on his side of the bed, cuddling under the plush blanket, staring up at the ceiling—darkness clouding the room. ‘why’d you have to leave me? how am I supposed to move on?’ a tear trickled out of your eyes and then the flood gates opened.

you spent the whole night crying your eyes out, heart yearning for him once again.

the following days had gotten worse for you, you felt like you were decaying—mentally. you hadn’t left your place, ignoring the calls from your coworkers and your parents, you hadn’t showered, you had no motivation to nor have you eaten anything. his death took everything out of you, all you could do was drink. drink the pain away.

you sat in your bed tossing back the bottle of jack daniels that was sitting inside one of the kitchen’s cabinets. you had been drinking so much that the burn that accompanied the liquor had faded and it started to taste like juice. the vibrating sounds of your phone made you tense up, irritating you by the second while you ignored it; making you pick up—ready to drunkenly curse out the person on the other side.

that is until you heard their voice, the voice of your boyfriend's killer, the only one who knew of your relationship with the king of curses. yuuji itadori.

“hello? y/n–sensei?” you cringed, swallowing back your anger as you answered him back.

“hello yuuji, what’s up?” there was a pause on the other end and you took the opportunity to take another swig of the dark beverage.

“we haven’t seen you in a while….i just wanted to see how you were doing….” you had to stop yourself from chuckling, swallowing more and more of the bronze drink.

“im fine. is that all?” your words came out harsher than you intended, but that would’ve been a problem if you were in the right state of mind. “i'm not buying that. im coming to check on you, sensei. I’ll be there soon.” he said, hanging up on you—making you curse in frustration. you threw the bottle at the nearby wall, the glass shattering into a thousand tiny pieces and staining it with its contents.

you knew you shouldn’t be mad at him, he was a kid after all—being pulled into this mess, having to deal with everything as well. but, you didn’t know what else to do? who else to blame?

you got up from your bed, sulking on the way to the bathroom; stripping off your clothes and stepping to into the shower—turning on the water to boiling hot; the water burning away your thoughts. this was the only time you hadn’t thought about sukuna, the shower freed your mind. all you could think about was the pleasing feeling of the scalding water piercing your thoughts.

after a good ten minutes in the shower, you got out and put on something comfortable, waiting for the teen to come to your place. and a few more minutes, he was there, staring at you—like he could see right through you. “you miss him, don’t you?” the pink haired boy spoke, not wasting anytime. you looked at him and chuckled, before going into your favorite cabinet; the liquor cabinet. opening the strong bottle of vodka, you quick downed some; ignoring yuuji.

“before i killed him—,” he paused, seeing the look on your face after he said that before continued, ignoring your eyes. “he told me to go to this place, must’ve been his castle years ago, and told me to find this crate with your name on it.” he went out into the hallway and grabbed the crate, bringing it in to show you. it was filled with a bunch of letters, all signed to you.

“i never read any of them, y/n–sensei, i figured it was something special for you. help you get closure.”

“closure?” you stifled a laugh, raising any eyebrow at the boy. you burped, picking up the bottle of alcohol and shoving some more of its liquid down your throat. he could see that you were drunk, but you were also hurting.

“how the hell would you know what i need? hm?”

“because it’s not good to carry everything on your shoulders. trust me i know.” he put his hand onto of yours, eyes holding sincerity, but you couldn’t see that; heart wouldnt let you. you pulled away from him and stood a few feet back—face contorted into a scowl. “you should go.” yuuji opened his mouth to protest, but he knew shouldn’t. instead, he turned on his heels and head for the door, before saying one last thing.

“sensei, if you ever need help, im one call away.”

you avoided those letters like the plague. walking past them each time you went to retrieve a new bottle of your liquid medicine. you didn’t have the strength to, you feared that it might push you over the edge.

sukuna was on your mind heavily as you sat on the couch, flipping through the channels on the television—with a bottle in the other hand. you decided on a channel, a romantic movie playing on the big screen. you laughed in disgust at the main character, so helplessly in love—stupidly in love. you cringed when the character experienced her first heart break, rolling your tired eyes at her dramatics, that is until she received a letter. a letter from her lover.

it was like you were watching a movie about yourself. like someone was controlling you life in a way. you looked at the letter’s sitting on the island before looking back at the tv, before you got up and went over to the crate. You swallowed thickly and rummaged through them, pulling out one that had caught your eye. you ran your hand over the black ink, his handwriting thick and neat, envelope smelling just like him.

carefully tearing it open, you stared at the contents, finding a seat at the island.

‘ a thousand years ago, i ruled the world. i was nefarious, everyone bowed down to me—they respected me. i was king and then there was you, my queen. ’ you paused, taking a minute to process what the hell he was talking about. you took another swig from your personal mini bar before looking at the letter once more.

‘ i know you’re confused, i can see your face scrunching up in my mind. cute. ’ you giggled, heart swelling at you imagining him, imagining you.

‘ you were born a thousand years ago. you were everything i was not. you completed me, even though you were just a human, you made me feel more than just a curse. you made me, me. ’ your lips were trembling and you had to bite them to stop yourself from crying. he always had a way with words.

‘ you were fearsome, a little cruel at times (my kind of lady), but you were respected. however, some people didn’t feel the same and they had it out for you. you were cursed, one that would ultimately end up taking your life. after a passionate night of love making between you and i, we shared a kiss and that was the last one we ever shared. you died in my arms that night ’

plip. plip. plip.

your tears stained the letter, heart breaking into a thousand pieces. you knew that he was crying as he wrote this letter, words smudged where he was writing—that was rare for him. he was heartbroken just like you were.

' I watched the light go out of your eyes. i had to bury you. i was filled with emotions, one that i know a bit too well. rage. i killed everything and everyone in sight, trying to find a way to get you back…..it took me forever to find one. until, i met you again. the day that I saw you, i knew i had to keep you safe. you were fighting against me and i had to act like i didn’t know you, it was all part of my plan. i fell for you ten times harder and you slowly did as well. however, i found out that the curse reincarnated with you and how to break it. ’

you sipped the last of the burning booze, wiping your eyes that continuously watered with sadness. you pinched the letter, no longer wanting to read the rest of the letter, but you knew you had to. you had to know why, why the love of your life had to die.

‘ i found out the way to break it about a week ago and by the time you’re reading this, im probably already gone. the only way to break this curse was for me to die and i didn’t, you would die and be reincarnated over and over again if you continued to fall in love me. i couldn’t do it, I couldn’t see you die another thousand years later. i couldn’t lose you. so im doing what i gotta do. im sorry. ’

oh. the paper got wet.

the black ink smudged with your rainfall of tears. you couldn’t stop, your heart aching, breaking into a thousand pieces. why did the universe hate you? what did you ever do to deserve this? why did you have to live?

the bottle of bacardi fell to the floor, as you stumbled getting up—vision blurred with your sadness. you stepped on the clear shards, pricking your feet as you walked, not caring about the stinging sensation coursing through them. you staggered towards the bathroom, gripping the sink’s cool porcelain, & opening the medicine cabinet that lied behind the mirror. you picked up a random pill bottle, whipping the cap off and pouring a small handful into your mouth.

swallowing it with the help of the water from the sink’s faucet, you slid down to the tiled floor—sitting there until the drugs took full affect.

your eyes were getting weaker and weaker by the second, heart beating crazily in your chest and all you could do was lay back and smile. you were finally at peace, ready to be reunited with your love. until you felt a buzzing in your pants pocket. you weakly reached in and pulled out your phone, seeing the missed notification from itadori. oh. you smiled and opened the device, going to your text messages and pushing the little microphone icon.

“goodbye, yuuji.”

the effects of the pills consumed your body, putting you in a comatose state—a white light taking over your mind.

the sounds of medical machinery caused you to stir, eyes lids heavy as you tried to open them. the brightness of the lights above you, made you cringe, until you relaxed and was able to open them completely—taking around your surroundings. you were in fact, still alive.

you noticed there was tube inside of you mouth and you started to panic, that is until who hand came over and unplugged it for you, allowing you to gasp for air. “you’re lucky to be alive, y/n. thank yuuji for that.” shoko’s raspy voice rang in your ears and you met her eyes, tears welling in them.

“and did you know that you’re pregnant?” shoko asked and your eyes widened, there was no fucking way. after all that drinking you did, how can something like that survive in you?

almost like she could hear your thoughts, the brown haired woman spoke once more, “there seems to be some cursed energy in there. i don’t want to or need to know how, but i do need to know what do you plan on doing with it?” your mind was running a million miles per minute, a kid? a fucking fetus? you couldn’t, you couldn’t raise it—not now, not ever. not until you got help.

just as you were about to respond, there was a knock on your door and in came the pink haired teen. he smiled and looked at shoko, whom nodded her head and exited the room—leaving you two to have a mini staring contest. until, he decided to speak first, “I’ve got your text last night…I nearly raced over there—scooping you up and bringing you over here, auntie.” the name he called you made you raise an eyebrow.

“i went back to get a few things for you and I found the letter. it’s not your fault, you couldn’t control the past more can you control the future. it’s not his fault either. my uncle did what anyone would do in his situation, he might’ve dragged it a couple of times, but he lost the love of his life.” yuuji said with a little eye roll, causing you to chuckle.

“i know about your situation too…whatever you decide, im here every step of the way. you don’t need to do this on your own. he broke the curse so you could live, so live. “

you took those words to heart as you laid in the hospital bed, recovering. there was no doubt that you missed him and needed ryomen—but you know that dying now would make his death a waste. he died so you wouldn’t have to suffer, he was man; a cursed man yes—but he was the bravest man ever and you would forever love him.

“i got the last bag yuuji! tell fushiguro to help you with that one!” you shouted to the pink haired boy, grabbing the last bag from your empty apartment. you had recovered fully in shoko’s care a few weeks ago, you also signed up for therapy—to help you understand your feelings and better your mental health. you decided on getting rid of the unborn fetus, you were in no shape to carry such a thing. you weren’t strong enough and you knew sukuna would understand.

you sighed, looking around once more, taking in the memories before you moved to your new place. however, just as you were about to go, a white envelope caught your eye. you thought you shredded them all, but it seems that one was forgotten. setting down the bag of clothes, you leaned against the island and quickly opened it—heart thumping in anticipation.

‘ my love for you will never die. don’t fret my queen, ive might’ve been a thousand years too late, but i will forever love you a thousand years more. until we meet again. — ryomen . ’

you smiled, tears pouring out of your eyes while you kissed the letter, before bringing it over to the stove and lighting it on fire; burning it to a nice crisp.

that was the end of your story, but the beginning of a new one. take care, sukuna. and see you in hell.