#echo: cross you can’t say that every time you want a treat

[here-comes-the-moose]

Crosshair: I’m here for a good time, not a long time.

Crosshair: *chugs extra large milkshake*

[kymerawrites]

"You're such a bloody drama queen," Simon grumbled under his breath, smoking a cigarette as he watched her pace back and forth. He didn't move an inch from his spot on the couch, arms crossed over his chest. It was always like this with her; they argue, they make up, they argue again. It was a vicious cycle they couldn't seem to break free from. He took a drag of his cigarette before blowing out a stream of smoke, eyes still locked on her

"Can't you just sit still for a bloody second?" Simon snapped, his irritation getting the better of him. "You're giving me a damn headache with all that walking around." He tapped his fingers impatiently on the armrest, his gaze following her every movement. He couldn't help but feel frustrated by her constant need for motion, like a caged animal.

"I could if you'd stop being such a controlling arsehole," she shot back, stopping in her tracks to glare at him. "Sorry if my pacing bothers you, but I have the right to move around in my own home." She crossed her arms, her defiant stance mirroring his.

"Your home?" Simon echoed, a mocking edge to his voice. He snorted, extinguishing his cigarette in the ash tray. "Last I checked, we share this apartment. And believe me, I didn't ask for a fidgety partner who can't sit still for two seconds."

“God for fuck sakes Simon, you make me pace this way. Can’t you see that?!” I said irritated

He rolled his eyes, clearly unperturbed by her retort. "Oh, and it's all my fault that you're pacing around like a maniac?" He leaned back on the couch, his gaze sharpening. "Maybe, just maybe, you should try taking some responsibility for your own actions instead of blaming everything on me. Ever thought of that?"

I huffed in annoyance, not backing down from his gaze. "And maybe you should stop making me so bloody irritated that I can't stand still! You're always bossing me around, like I'm some sort of property and not a person with my own thoughts and feelings."

He stood up abruptly, his tall frame towering over her. "You know damn well that's not true," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "I don't treat you like a bloody object. I care about you, even if you can't see it. And if I come off as controlling sometimes, it's because I want to bloody protect you."

“Oh no, it’s you and your fucking lieutenant, commander whatever the fuck you are act in my space.” I scoffed

His eyes narrowed at her sarcastic remark. "Watch your bloody tongue," he warned, his tone more menacing than before. "You know damn well what I do for a living, and I don't appreciate your tone. But while we're on the subject, you could learn a thing or two about respecting your partner. Maybe if you weren't such a bloody pain in the arse all the time, I wouldn't have to step in and take charge."

That comment hit me, just a little to make me shift from mad to confused “so, if I’m such a pain to you, such a..liability why not leave me?”

He gritted his teeth, his frustration mounting. "Because goddamn it, I care about you," he snapped. "Despite all your attitude and stubbornness, I can't just walk away. Believe me, I've bloody tried. But deep down, I know I can't let you go. Even if you drive me mad with all your whining and dramatics."

I turned around not to face him “you can also just say you love me.”

He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "Bloody hell," he muttered under his breath. He walked closer to her, his movements slow and deliberate. "I do love you, alright? But love doesn't make this any easier. It complicates everything. Because even though I love you, you still piss me off like no one else can, and it drives me bloody insane."

He grabbed my waist and hugged me from behind I just smirked “and yet I think you love all the sass and drama I give you don’t you?”

He let out a scoff, his fingers digging into her waist. "Bloody hell, you know me too well," he muttered. "Yes, there's something infuriatingly addicting about your damn attitude and all the drama you bring into my life." He buried his face in her neck, inhaling her scent.

He chuckled softly against her skin, his breath warm and tickling. "Bloody hell, you drive me wild with it. Part of me wants to strangle you, and the other part..." He trailed off, his hand roaming higher up her body, tracing her curves.

“Finish that sentence si..” I whispered

He nipped at her earlobe, his voice low and gravelly. "And the other part wants to do things that I can't even say in public." He spun her around to face him, his gaze dark and intense. "You have no idea the effect you have on me, how you make me feel. It's maddening, it's intoxicating and it's all your damn fault."

He pushed her against the wall, his body pressing against hers. His hands gripped her wrists, pinning them above her head. "You know what else is maddening?" he growled, his face mere inches away from hers. "How bloody irresistible you are when you're all defiant and stubborn like this. It's like you're begging for me to put you in your place."

He dipped his head, his lips brushing against her neck, leaving a trail of warm, open-mouthed kisses. "And the worse part is, you know damn well you have me wrapped around your little finger. Even when you're infuriating me, I can't get you out of my head." He nipped at her skin, his teeth grazing her sensitive spots.

He dipped his head, his lips brushing against her neck, leaving a trail of warm, open-mouthed kisses. "And the worse part is, you know damn well you have me wrapped around your little finger. Even when you're infuriating me, I can't get you out of my head." He nipped at her skin, his teeth grazing her sensitive spots.

He shifted his body, pressing his thigh between her legs. "You push my buttons on purpose, just so you can get a reaction out of me. And bloody hell, you always get the reaction you want." He pinned her even tighter against the wall, trapping her in his embrace.

His lips found hers in a hard, possessive kiss. He dominated the kiss, his tongue delving into her mouth, claiming her in a way that was both rough and passionate. He pushed his body flush against hers, his hands roaming down to grip her thighs, lifting her up against the wall.

“You’re too good for me si..” I laughed as he lifted my legs on the wall forcing me to embrace them around his waist

He grunted with the effort, his muscles straining as he pressed her against the wall. "Bloody hell, you're a menace," he growled, his lips finding her neck again, sucking and nibbling on her sensitive skin. "Bloody menace with your damn legs wrapped around me like this. Drives me wild to have you like this, all vulnerable and pliable in my arms."

He ground his hips into hers, his arousal evident against her core. "And you're damn wrong about that. I'm not too good for you. I'm just bloody addicted to the way you make me feel, like you're a poison I can't get enough of."

I rolled my eyes “just kiss me already lovebird.” I smiled

He chuckled at her cheeky remark, his eyes dark and intense. "Bloody smartass," he murmured, before capturing her lips in another fierce kiss. He devoured her, his tongue delving into her mouth and dominating the kiss. The kiss was rough and passionate, full of pent-up desire and frustration.

And ofcourse they kissed and made up just for the cycle to continue

[httpknjoon]

(re)starting over again | kth; 10

plot | Your four-year relationship with Taehyung was going well and strong. Until he was involved in a car accident, resulting to him losing some memories. By some, it means everything that happened five years ago. Things he remember? His friends, his bakeshop, and his ex girlfriend from the past. With that, you tried to keep up, restarting over again.

words | 4.3k+

genres | fluff, angst, amnesia au

pairing | taehyung x reader

warning/s | -

note | oh my god. hi, everyone! i'm still alive haha i apologize for the *long* delay. may wasn't my month 🙃 but now, i'm here and I split this chapter, so expect a 10.5. this is A LOT OF ANGST. no fluff for now. just full-on gloomy. also, i'll be replying to everyone who sent their asks soon! tysm for sending 'em. again, i apologize for the delay! enjoy reading :)

main masterlist | series masterlist

Someone’s a little gloomy today.

The sound of echoing thunder woke you up today, along with the rings of your alarm in your phone. 5:15 AM. You groaned as the brightness from your phone’s screen hit your vision. After five more minutes of just staring at the most uninteresting wall in your room, you get up from your bed to prepare for work.

Unsurprisingly, your head feels heavy and so is your chest and eyes. Every step of your bare foot on the ground strangely felt like you were floating into space. The weather is cozy and cold, but you didn’t even flinch when the cold water hits your skin. You stood under the shower, the heater not even on, just staring at your feet.

I mean, he could have told me.

The sentence popped into your head. There is this part of you that is in between the scale of angry and sad after knowing about Lily visiting the bakeshop and talking to Taehyung. You wondered if Taehyung even had planned on telling you or if he don’t think he should have told you. You are starting to think he was only friendlier with you these past few days because he learned what happened between him and Lily.  You’re beginning to think that he is only nicer to you now after bad their relationship went.

But did he even owe me that? I’m basically a stranger to him.

Another idea, opposite the other one, crossed your mind. You always try to be understanding and put yourself in his shoes in this confusing situation. The fact that your boyfriend doesn’t really have any idea who you are always staying in the back of your head. It’s always there as a reminder that Taehyung doesn’t know you. And his not telling you that he met up with his ex-girlfriend days ago confirmed that you are probably someone in the background for him. Someone… who suddenly lives in this house with him.

And thanks to that confirmation, more questions were formed by your brain.

You shut your eyes close and turned your head up, feeling the waterdrops on your face. Sighing, “Who even am I here?”

Taehyung, what am I even to you here?

The question floats in Taehyung’s head over and over again. The pain and confusion in your voice also play on a loop, adding weight to his shoulders and thorns in his throat. He wished he could answer that question easily, but he can’t. Seeing someone who treated him with care and kindness break down in front of him because of him is a slap on his face.

Because Lily is your girlfriend… right?

More guilt built up in him when he learned that you were aware that he still initially saw Lily as his girlfriend after he woke from the accident. It surprised him to hear you say that you cannot be mad with that. When you said that, he almost instantly wanted you to be angry at him, to let out every emotion you were feeling at the time.

Because you are too considerate and kind… and patient with him and this situation you’ve been put into. You didn’t even have to stay; you could’ve just left him the moment the doctor told you about his amnesia and all. But you stayed… and even looked after him for a whole month. Looking back at everything now, he knew. He should have just told you.

He thought you would be mad at him for reaching out to an ex. He didn’t know how you would react if he asked about Lily. He didn’t know you and he admit that was his fault. He has been working on knowing you these past few days, but now after last night, it felt too late. He should have made an effort earlier than this. As much as he hates it, Taehyung’s list of should haves is getting longer.

Now, a tray of chocolate chip cookies bakes in this oven you two have in your kitchen. He decided to make some after having trouble sleeping. He was shifting and turning on his bed for hours, possibly because of two causes: his head injury and you. Earlier, you were talking about how much you’ve been craving cookies. He knows that his cookies cannot resolve what’s going on right now, but he hoped that they will make you feel better. Even a little.

Taehyung managed to sleep for a couple of hours but still woke up later two hours past midnight. He quietly prepares and bakes the ingredients for the cookies. He was quick as it was the easiest pastry he can make. By the time he was putting the tray in the oven, he heard grumbles of thunder.

Should I put it in the jar? Or…

Almost thirty minutes past three, Taehyung yawned as he waited for the cookies to cool down before he stores them. He looked around your kitchen. In these quiet moments, he is finally starting to notice some details in some corners of this place. Particularly, the kitchen.  He wondered if he picked the color of the walls or what to put in it when you two bought the house. His curiosity begins to grow about what you built together throughout your four-year relationship.

He wondered how great everything was before he lost his memories of the last five years.

You were supposed to leave at six o clock. But you didn’t realize how much you took your time with your thoughts that you ended up leaving twenty minutes late than your plan. Rushing to leave, you didn’t bother for breakfast and ran straight to the front door in your scrubs and jacket with backpack and umbrella in hand. If you still have time to spare when you arrive at the hospital, you’ll just buy something in its cafeteria.

As you get off the bus, you speed-walk to the hospital. You were too in a hurry to recognize who greeted you along the way, but you just greeted them back anyway. By the time you reached the locker room, you were catching your breath with less than ten minutes left to prepare for your shift.

Thank God, Jisoo’s not here. You sighed when you looked at yourself in front of the small mirror in your locker. Your eyes… were puffy. It’s not that bad. But everyone who will look directly at your eyes would tell the difference. You hoped no one else would notice.

“Good morning!”

Your eyebrows raised. Julia’s jolly greeting filled the quiet room when she entered. A couple of nurses who were also there greeted her back while you hid behind your locker door, trying to think of a quick remedy or even an explanation for your eyes. Because next to Jisoo, Julia is your closest friend here. She started working here two years ago. Her kind and sociable nature made her a friend to everyone. You three immediately went friends during a mutual graveyard shift schedule.

“Hey, YN. Good morning.” she opened her locker, which was next to yours.

You gulped, “Good morning, Ju.”

After one last look in the mirror, you closed the door. Julia was busy organizing her things in the locker, while she continues speaking.

“Jisoo’s already on break for her wedding, right?” she asked, still not giving you a glance.

“Ah, yes. For only one week though.” You replied, trying to act normal. You don’t know if you should go or wait for her to time in since you two usually do—with Jisoo if your shift schedule match up.

“You know, my dress for the weekend is still in the— Oh, what happened?”

In a quick glance, she immediately spotted a certain emotion on your face. Concern was written all over her face as she stopped and faced you.

“W-What?” you chuckled awkwardly, looking away.

“Why did you cry? What’s going on?” she asked softly, still worried. “Are you okay?”

Oh, that question. You don’t know what the hell that question has, it always breaks you down. You bit your lower lip as you looked back at Julia. You tried to hold on to the strings that were putting you together.

You sighed shakingly, “Yeah.”

A small, sad smile formed on her lips, “You sure?”

You feel like if you try to say anything again, it will just turn into a sob. So, you just nod. Unexpectedly, she reached out her arms and hugged you. Julia knew something was wrong. Well, she can definitely read through your eyes and the simple quirk of your lips that you probably don’t know you do whenever you’re bothered or tired. She can even feel the weight you’ve been carrying in an embrace.

“How about let’s go out together later? After this shift?” she offered.

 

“Sure.” You agreed, washing down any effort to put a useless mask on your emotions.

The cookies that he left on the kitchen counter for you were left untouched. He left it in a Tupperware, something that can fit in your backpack, along with a small post-it, written: cookies u can bring @ your shift today :)

He likes to think that the Tupperware probably went unnoticed by you instead of thinking that you ignored it. But what if you did? The idea of you being mad at him scares him.

“I swear, whoever will eat those cupcakes would choke on rainbow sprinkles.” Jimin entered the kitchen when Taehyung was just spacing out. He hung his coat behind the door and put on his apron. “What’s up?”

“Hmm?”

Jimin went on, “I arrived twenty minutes late and you already made two batches of blueberry cupcakes, one tray of snickerdoodles, and a lot of banana bread. What’s going on?”

Taehyung stared at him for a second, having battles in his head if he should tell his best friend about what happened. Jimin didn’t fail to remind him about telling you about Lily. And if he learns how you reacted last night—Oh, just sucked it up. Taehyung exhaled.

“YN learned about Lily.”

Jimin raised an eyebrow, “You told her?”

“She found through Lily herself,” Taehyung replied and he can read the confusion on his friend’s face.

“Huh?”

Taehyung went on telling how you and Lily introduced yourselves, how you introduced yourself as his friend, how Lily shared that she visited the bakeshop just last week, and how you remained quiet and bottled up with emotions until you two went home.

“She was so upset, she didn’t want to talk about it,” Taehyung recalled. “But she just broke down and she is still so nice in the middle of telling me how she feels. She told me that she cannot be mad at me for meeting up with Lily or for everything else. Because she understands. She always understands and I’m sure she is a wonderful person– but… But I really didn’t just give us a chance. She reminded me that we also happened after asking me who is she in this whole thing.”

He paused, remembering almost every word you said to him last night. He was too busy chasing what happened five years ago that he ignored someone and something important in his present time. 

“Then, who is she to you?” his best friend asked.

“I… I don’t know.” Taehyung sighed, unsure. “But she’s not a stranger. Calling her a stranger would be an insult. I know she’s much more than that.”

There was a few seconds of silence. Taehyung looked down, resting his hands on his working table. Jimin just pats his shoulder for comfort. He knew saying things like I told you so or anything close to that is just useless. Taehyung already knew what he had done, he don’t need more reminders that he probably fucked up. 

“Well, you need to figure that out.” 

“I know.”

“I don’t know anymore, Ju.”

You wiped off the tears on your cheek as you confessed. Finally, after a whole day shift at the hospital, you get to open up to someone. As soon as you two left the hospital and changed into your casual clothes, Julia drove you two to her apartment since you don’t really feel like going anywhere. She ordered pizza and non-alcoholic drinks, which were delivered just minutes after you two arrived there.

No time was wasted. She didn’t even have to ask again for you to open up. For the last forty minutes, you’ve been telling whatever you feel like sharing to your friend. It did take off some weight on your chest as she listened and nods.

“I mean, I know that he’s just trying to know what happened between him and his ex. But I cannot understand why he didn’t tell me… Or maybe ask me about it. I know something about it. He told me how they broke up years ago. He told me what went wrong. Just like how I shared experiences with my past relationships too. And that’s how it used to be.” You reached for another tissue Julia offered. “We used to tell each other everything. Communication and honesty always mattered to him.”

“And it would have been nice if he let me know about his plans on talking with Lily. It’s perfectly fine by me. But he didn’t and now I’m starting to feel that he sees me as nothing. Just a person around him, who lives in the same house as him—or worse, he sees me as someone who just looks after him… like his nurse.”

The last thought squeezed your heart out. Taehyung even had a hard time introducing you yesterday to Lily. You took the initiative to introduce yourself to his ex as his friend. You don’t know what to feel about it. Should you be mad or sad? But can you blame him? You can never blame Taehyung. You always try to understand what he went through with that accident and what he is going through now. But as much as you hate to admit it…

“I feel like I’m burning out. I’m fucking drained.”

Another tear rolled down your cheeks while you shake your head. Saying that sentence felt like a confession of a crime. You don’t know why. You didn’t follow with another sentence again. Julia gave you a glass of water to help you calm down.

“You can take a break too, you know?” she whispered as you gulped in the liquid down your throat. “You can pause…”

Julia was gentle with her tone and choice of words.

“I think, you've already done enough. You took a month's leave to take care of Taehyung, to at least help him adjust to these big changes happen. You waited for him to ask about you or your relationship, which he did– Well, he tried. You are great. You were nothing caring and understanding for him and your relationship.” She paused and held your hand, preparing you for what she is about to say. “But he… he just has his eyes on people he knew before you.”

You almost hissed with the harsh sentiment of your friend. It felt like someone pulled the band-aid off your fresh, unhealed wound. But still, it felt like you needed to hear that. Julia, on the other hand, saw you flinch and held your palm tighter. 

She continued, “The Taehyung you met before the accident is different from the Taehyung you live together now. As you said, five years ago, he went through a breakup with his ex. That breakup may have caused changes in him that made him into the Taehyung you initially met.”

It’s complicated. But you get what she is trying to say. A lot of things happened in Taehyung’s life before you two crossed paths. He broke up with Lily, and his bakery began to hit success and invest in other stuff in his life. A lot of other changes happened. Then, you two met through mutual friends.

“And please, YN, let yourself feel things.” Julia spoke suddenly, making you meet her gaze, “It’s unhealthy. Be sad, be mad, or be happy. Or simply take a break if you feel like it. Don’t deny yourself of feeling anything. You can be mad.” She said it like a reminder. “You have every right to feel so. I know you’re trying to justify Taehyung reaching out to an ex behind your back as part of this knotty situation. But at least, out of respect to you, he should have at least told you before or after he did so.”

“That’s why you’re so burnout right now, hon. You’ve done nothing but give and give. You forgot about your limits too… Are you even still okay working in the same hospital after everything?”

She asked and almost instantly, you remembered the night of the accident. You were waiting for your boyfriend to pick you up in the same spot you always waited in. Then, you received this call. Next thing you know, you’re seeing him getting pulled out of the ambulance. Bloody and bruised. Your stomach twisted with the recollection of his state that night. Thankfully, Julia called your name, snapping you out of your trance.

“Just know that you’re not alone in any of this. You don’t have to carry everything on your own. Jisoo and I are always here for you.  And I really appreciate you opening up to me now.” She smiled softly before pulling you in for another hug.

After that hug, you two moved on to lighter topics. You asked her about her preparation for Jisoo and Namjoon’s special day at the end of the week. She talked about Chanyeol, her plus-one for the wedding. She shared about how things are going and you’re genuinely happy to see her happy. You ended up leaving at seven. Julia offered to drive you home, but you kindly refused, saying you need to be alone for a short while.

“Okay, just let me know when you got home.” She smiled and of course, was enveloped in the warmest hug you’ve ever received recently.

Just like when you left home earlier, the sky was dark and gloomy as you wait at the bus stop. Raindrops began falling just minutes after you got on the bus. You sat on the farthest empty seat your eyes spotted. Watching the raindrop rolling on the glass window, you thought about Julia and everything she said.

Change.

You wondered if change can help your emotional burnout while leaning your head on the cold surface of the vehicle. Truthfully, working in the same hospital after the accident is difficult. The first day you returned after your month-long leave you found yourself stopping in your tracks at every spot your feet took you that night of the accident. You also don’t enjoy the pity glances or smiles you get from your colleagues who knew about the accident. There were times, someone would approach you and say something nice or motivational. You appreciate the effort but it’s making your work more of a reminder than a distraction for what happened.

You get off the bus with a new idea and even more uncertainties in mind. You still felt like a deflating balloon floating your way to get home. After your breakdown, you wonder how Taehyung would react. He seemed pretty quiet last night. The Taehyung you know would prefer talking with you to at least mend these issues. But now, you’re really just tired and would rather organize your thoughts alone.

And when you walked up your front porch, you stopped as you saw the lights on in the kitchen. He’s home early. You turned the knob, preparing yourself with any awkward tension that is always suffocating. Walking in, a delicious smell of flavor filled your nostrils. You’re not planning to say anything but then, he greeted you.

“Oh, hey…”

It was short but soft. His lips formed a small, tight smile. He was indeed cooking as he holds a wooden spatula and you can hear the crinkling sound in the pan. You noticed he is wearing a familiar apron and a headband, exposing his forehead, to avoid his jet-black hair in sticking on the sweaty corners of his forehead.

“Hey.” you greeted back, forcing a polite smile on your lips. “You’re home?”

Taehyung noted the lack of any emotion in your voice or even eyes. You just looked exhausted. But he replied, “Yeah, we kinda closed early.  Sold out.”

He smiled again, hoping that maybe you would smile back at him. You didn’t. Instead, you zipped your lips. And there it is. The awkward silence took over--not only the kitchen—but the whole house. He looked at you and you looked at him. It didn’t even last a couple of seconds. You looked away again, scratching your eyebrow.  

“I should probably go—”

“I’m making dinner. Maybe—"

You two broke off the silence at the same time. You waited for him to continue but his nod asked you to resume.

“Yeah, uhm, I should go to my room.” You mumbled, not meeting his eyes. You just can’t.

It’s Taehyung’s turn to scratch the back of his neck, “Uhm, I made dinner. I was wondering if we can eat together.”

You timidly shake your head, “I’m kinda full… I had pizza with Julia. But thank you for the offer though.”

You were about to leave, wanting to leave this room since you were having the hardest time breathing with the thick tension. But Taehyung called your name,

“I was hoping we can talk… about everything.”

You turned around, finally looking at him. Suddenly, his heartbeat was louder than anything else for him. He can already see the rejection on your face. Like you’re not in the mood for anything that had to do with him. But he wishes his deduction is wrong. On the flip side, you can see his fingers fiddling with the spatula as he said that.

You exhaled, “I can’t, Taehyung. I really had a long day. I’m sorry—”

“No, it’s okay. Don’t apologize. We can talk whenever you’re ready.” He awkwardly raised his hands for thumbs-up. He saw your worried eyes landing on the dish he cooked. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll store it when it cools down. You can microwave it later if you get hungry.”

A simple, worn-out nod was your only reply before leaving him alone. His smile slowly fades as he turned down his chin.

He waited. Patiently. The morning after that, he waited for you to leave for work before he does. He goes home before you do. He prepared breakfasts and dinners for you, but you always seemed to be running late going to work and exhausted when you get home. And the rainy season didn’t stop. Taehyung once offered to walk you at least to the bus stop when you had a graveyard shift. He’s glad you didn’t decline and walked side by side with him under the umbrella.

“You know, you don’t have to do any of this.” You murmured in the middle of that five-minute walk to the bus stop. You were just looking ahead as you resumed, “You’re not obligated to do anything with me.”

“I wanted to do this.” He replied, glancing at you, hoping that he will meet your eyes. But he didn’t.

You didn’t say anything anymore. Even when you got on the bus and he handed you the extra umbrella he brought. But he really did. Even though you two haven’t really done a lot of activities together, he liked doing things with you or for you.

Now it’s been days since you broke down, you two still haven’t talked about it. Jimin told him to be patient and give you time. But the more time he gives you, the more he felt like you were already slowly drifting away from him.

“Are you sure? We still have space for another passenger.”

Taehyung heard you from the living room as he pulled his small luggage out of his room. He wore a white collared button-down, with the sleeves folded before it reached his elbows, tucked in beige suit pants.

“Okay, Ju. See you there. Take care.”

Your smile fades as you ended the call. With every emotion washed out on your face, you glanced up at him. Your eyes simply scanned him from head to toe before you spoke, “Let’s go?”

Jisoo and Namjoon will be having their rehearsal and the following dinner in the same area as their wedding. It’s in the same event place as their wedding venue. The couple already prepared rooms for a few guests, so that you can stay overnight for the wedding tomorrow. You, Taehyung, and Jimin will be carpooling in a rented car, with Jimin taking the wheel for an almost two-hour drive straight to the dinner event.

“Be careful, it’s fragile.”

You teased Jimin as he helped you carry the wedding gift for your soon-to-be-wedded friends. Taehyung carried yours and his luggage to the car.

“I am careful.” Jimin scoffed.

“Oh, I apologize. I’m just worried. You do have small hands.” You jested that made Taehyung choke and laugh.

“Ha. Ha. Ha.” His best friend laughed dryly, squinting his eyes at you. “You two are bullies! It’s not that small.”

You chuckled once again before stopping when Taehyung opened the backseat door for you.

“Thanks.” You mumbled.

Taehyung sat on the passenger seat while Jimin took the wheel. In the first quarter of the ride, you still managed to join chit-chat. Jimin was the one who sparked up topics, which you were grateful for as you don’t know what would happen if it’s just you and Taehyung in this car. But as time went on, you yawned and slowly lost yourself to take a nap.

a/n: i'm thinking of updating/resetting the taglist for this series. kindly comment below if you still want to be tagged. thank you so much for your support <3

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RESTARTING OVER AGAIN TAGLIST [closed] @halesandy @boohoobabe @hopeonysus  @taffyteffy @pnlpbnl  @arusio @rpkth @cinnamonruts @xyahrinx @betysotelo18 @sugaslittlekookies  @doublebunv @dahliasbouqet @lust-kth @aria-grace-scott  @milkteallday  @hoodalmighty  @kiwuki @http-fayeradise  @daydreamiies @starlight-night0 @chaoticbisous @mageprincess7 @byunniebaekhyunnie @hiimnothing @koreanaestheticc @shin-ie @blancflms​ @jeonkoookiee​ @satorinnie​ @rjsmochii​ @yoonglesdoll​ @somewhereinthestarss​ @turnthepageandbeburnt​ @heyjiminnie​ @bri-mal​ @teddybeartaetae​ @kaal-ee​ @nikkiordonez12​ @motivatedprocastinator​ @butterflieshee @iamkookiesforyou

  PERMANENT TAGLIST

@dunixxd @cixrosie @jksjx @embrace-themagic @buttvi @starbtslove @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @kenqki @miyukihoshi @stopeatread @seolaquotes @greyrain23 @chimchimmarie @petalsofink @jayhope88  @moonchild1

[maccreadysbaby]

WIP Sunday, Apparently!

thanks @sassenashsworld for the tag! I’m in a terrible stage or writers block right now for literally every story but one. so here’s some of that one.

I’m gonna tag @just-another-wasteland-merc, @danses-with-dogmeat, and @amazinglyegg.

warning! emotional and physical abuse below. this is a fanfic of a fandom that literally shouldn’t have ocs in it but I can’t help myself

His father leaned against said desk, his features softening to something almost… sorrowful. His eyes seemed to glimmer more than they usually did. “You know I love you, right?”

Bentley froze. When was the last time he’d heard those words? It had to have been at least four or five years ago… he was nine now and he was sure his father hadn’t said it since he started locking him in the closet.

“You… you what?”

“I love you,” His father repeated. He reached out with a delicate hand, and Bentley flinched out of habit. But his father didn’t seem deterred. He continued to move forward until his knuckles grazed the boy’s cheek, softly and uncharacteristically gentle.

Bentley felt his breath hitch at the contact, and suddenly, tears prickled at the corners of his eyes.

Crying is a sign of weakness, his father’s voice echoed in his head, so he pushed the feeling away.

“The way I treat you, the way I raise you — I do it so you can be successful,” His father didn’t remove his hand from its spot on the boy’s cheek, and hesitantly, he started to lean into the gentle touch.

“I teach you the hard lessons so you don’t have to learn them from someone else,” He stroked Bentley’s face, and he closed his eyes. “Because I want what’s best for you. I always have.”

Bentley’s eyes kept stinging. When was the last time his father touched him without causing pain?

And suddenly, the feeling was ripped away. Bentley hadn’t even realized how heavily he’d been leaning on his father’s hand until he almost toppled over from its absence.

“And that is how you manipulate someone,” The man stated, every hint of gentleness fleeing from his expression and tone. “With your words, your touch, your eyes… you can make people fold in the blink of an eye. People you never thought would fold. You believed me, didn’t you?”

Bentley blinked, suddenly feeling very naked in front of his father. He pulled his knees up in the chair. Why did his cheek feel so cold?

“I… you don’t… you were lying?”

His father sighed heavily, shaking his head. “I’m going to teach you how to do what I just did to you. How to take peoples pasts, their desires, their fears, the tiniest sliver of information they present to you… and twist it into a net they can’t get out of. How to tie strings around the wrists and ankles of every person you meet so they bend to your will. Move when you move.”

His father pulled open a desk drawer and grabbed a stack of files.

“I’ve asked myself for a long time, what’s the most efficient way to get rid of my rivals? To silence them?” The man continued. “Its been right in front of my face for as long as I can remember. Sales people, businessmen, they live, thrive off of pulling the right strings, moving the right parts, saying the right things… they’ve made manipulation, deception, into a career. But us, we’re going to make it into a superpower. And you… into a weapon.”

Bentley brushed some of his deep red hair out of his eyes.

“But first, you need training. Let’s start with this,” 

Bentley yelled out in surprise when his father’s hand thwacked across his face, hard, leaving a stinging red splotch in its wake and jostling the office chair he was sitting in. “You must not allow yourself to be so easily deceived. If you’re going to be using it as a weapon, you must be immune to it yourself.”

Bentley’s hand drifted up to his burning cheek just as it had the night before, and he blinked rapidly, stifling the burn behind his eyes that threatened to intensify. 

“Don’t you dare start crying.”

He didn’t.

“You know who else thrives off of manipulation?” His father stated, crossing his arms. “Children. They cry to get what they want, or to make people feel bad. It’s instilled in you simply for existing as a human being. And while you’ve learned over time that you can not manipulate me with childish antics… you will learn just how far you can take people before they teeter off the edge. We’re going to pull that instinct out of you until it’s all you are. All you know.”

Bentley said nothing. He still couldn’t understand… did his father love him or not?

“I’m going to turn you into a human Puppeteer. One that can twist and weave its way into the unsuspecting consciousnesses of strangers and control them, make them feel and believe things that aren’t really there. A weapon that can’t be found. Do you understand?”

Bentley swallowed. Don’t disobey, don’t cry. “I… understand, father.”

[gatitties]

Motherly

─ Kid Pirates x fem!reader (Platonic)

─ Summary: Just some fluff for the Kid Pirates after someone disrespected you.

─ Warnings: none, bad english I guess.

Your footsteps echoed on the deck, the wood creaking under your weight, it was the only sound heard apart from some silent gasps from one of the rooms. You hurried to open the door, loading your medical resources in a disorderly manner on your chest, with no time to waste you rushed to heal the wounded men of the crew.

“Always the same, can't you spend a day without looking for a fight?”

Kid grunted as the alcohol was poured over his open wound, you received no response, but working in silence made it easier to concentrate, when you were done you let out a sigh of relief, seeing your 'kids' injured, mainly the redhead and Killer, they were always the ones more fighters.

How did you end up in this situation? You were someone who only had some medical knowledge, no combat experience and rather weak, it seemed comical that someone like you had to take care of a bunch of sculpted and powerful men who behaved like children looking for constant trouble. But you got caught up in this situation when Kid reverted to trusting people who betrayed him again, it resulted in a pretty badly injured Killer, and yes Kid got down on his knees for you to help him since none of the other doctors on the island seemed want to help him. He might be cocky ass but he wouldn't let someone like his vice commander die in such a painful way.

So because of his revolt you had to sail with them to treat the blond, you certainly clarified a mutual agreement that you would leave the ship once Killer fully recovered, it took a few weeks and if we count that it was not that fast to arrive to the next island... they ended up getting used to you, so much so that Kid practically forced you to stay with them, also because it was nice to have someone with medical knowledge on board, it's not like they didn't have a doctor on board before but they would end up dying because the crew only knew how to get into trouble and not small.

Although you clarified that you definitely were not going to fight alongside them, your hands were only used to heal not to fight, despite being weak surprisingly the captain did not say anything to you, surely because most of the time you would be on the ship, you would not need to step land unless you wanted to buy more medicine or bandages, and you weren't going to put on a show like them anyway.

Inevitably over time, being the affectionate person you were to some degree, in your eyes they became your own fighting sons, you had become the mother of a violent crew of pirates. Every time you saw them jump from the ship to a new island, your heart sank thinking that something could happen to them, you would not stay calm until you see them return safe and sound.

Of course you'd scold them whenever they got into unnecessary battles or if they came back too late from a binge, but seeing your annoyed face as you crossed your arms impatiently tapping the toe of your shoe just made them laugh more than they were scared, it was adorable to see how you tried to scold them when you could barely hit a good punch.

Returning to the current situation, they had done it again, this time in your presence. The crew was in a bar, for once you decided to go out with them since some alcohol was not unpleasant for your body from time to time, everything was fine, there was another group of pirates but things were calm, the men rather focused on ogling the dancer on stage accompanied by music.

You didn't understand how when you returned from the bathroom you found Kid with a broken lip, Heat with blood on his knuckles, Killer cleaning his scythes and Wire holding the collar of the shirt of one of the pirates from the other gang, who just let go hear how you cleared your throat to get his attention. A frown visible on your face, you let your fists rest on your hips demanding an explanation in silence. The four of them looked at each other as if they could communicate with their eyes, they nodded together and Killer carried you on his shoulder, leaving you more than confused.

“Hey, can you tell what-?”

“We're leaving this dump, those idiots have ruined my night.”

Kid grunted stomping ahead of the others, you twisted on the blonde's shoulder but he seemed to have an iron grip on your body, you demanded explanations that weren't given, not even now that you had finished examining and healing them properly. With a sigh of defeat, knowing that you would not get answers, you decided to leave the room to let them rest, maybe they would be in the mood tomorrow.

As a routine, despite not being in charge of the kitchen, you had a morning schedule, so you helped Killer make breakfast more than once, today was no different. You greeted him with a lazy little side hug, getting down to business with him. It was normal for you to work in silence but you could feel that he wanted to tell you something, call it instinct but you could read them like open books, you really thought it was a power that mothers get. You hummed happily when you heard him falsely cough to get your attention, you looked at him for a second to continue with your task, but noticing your movement he decided that it was okay to speak because you would hear him.

“When you left... they began to speak badly about you.”

“Huh?”

“That group of pirates started laughing at you because you seemed so weak and small...” you stopped your actions looking at his mask, thinking about his words “but what really infuriated us was that they tried to talk as if they could kidnap you and use you”

You opened your eyes to the information, so that's why they started the fight? were they defending you? you wanted to make fun of them in a way, that type comments weren't going to affect you in any way, they didn't have to go as far as hitting them.

“They really said very obscene things about you.”

You almost screamed when you heard Heat's calm and low voice, in addition to his hand on your shoulder, you frowned complaining about the fright, which made them laugh at your expression, you snorted when you heard your captain's shameless laugh and Wire's amused grin seeing your shudder. You looked like a scared cat, how could they not protect from stupid bastards?

“That doesn't matter! It's no reason for you to get into fights.” your hands hit the table as if the sound reaffirmed your words “I also have some tricks to kick men.”

You laughed as their expressions twisted into a frown, imagining your 'foolproof' method of hitting men. From their own experience it was better not to get close to you if you were going to throw a kick, you wouldn't know how to use your fists but you had more mobility with your legs.

Everyone sat down to eat as usual, you occasionally scolded Kid for staining his clothes by eating so messy, also cleaning Killer's mask due to his spaghetti hitting it, leaving tomato stains. At least Heat and Wire weren't so messy, which you appreciated.

[sukunasweetheart]

a sequel to when he falls in love.

warnings; yandere/toxic sukuna, dark content, manipulation, murder, mild nsfw

Sukuna finally catches the pesky journalist who has been on his tail for numerous years.

“You think I’m the only one? He’s going to get rid of you lot as well, once he’s done with me.” He’s tied to a chair, rendering him immobile.

Heavy footsteps make an entrance into the scene, and the men part themselves to reveal none other than the corrupt man himself, standing proudly between. He smiles triumphantly, his shadowed face looking down at the journalist at hand.

“You couldn’t be more incorrect. I treat my people and my belongings reasonably... unlike you.” Sukuna speaks rather quietly, using a low voice, but not a single word goes unheard.

"You’re nothing but scum. A corrupt leader. I’ve seen you throw away people like they’re nothing. Are you gonna do that to her too? Is your wife aware of the things you do? Or is she just one of your belongings, like the rest of them?"

At the mention of his wife, Sukuna’s face sours up a little, and the journalist can’t help but show a little smirk at the reaction. It was his job - to tailor his questions so that they jab at the specific individual.

"As expected of a journalist. You do nothing but seek answers to pointless questions. How annoying." He kicks the chair that he is sitting on, sending him to the floor.

"I'll humour you for a bit, and answer your last one. Since I’m nice," Sukuna crouches down before the journalist who grinds his teeth and scowls at him.

"My wife, did you mention? Whether she's my belonging?" He mocks, gently pushing away the strands of hair that obstruct the man's face with a smile. "You must be mistaken. She doesn't belong to me. She's a part of me." He says this with mellow eyes, as he recalls your pretty face. He stands back up.

"The quintessence of my soul, if you will," Sukuna almost lets out a chuckle at the words that spill out of his own mouth. "And I'm sure you're aware of this by now - but I take very good care of myself."

The journalist grows silent, realising that he's being serious. One of the men standing around comes to lift him back up - adjusting him so that he's sitting again.

"I leniently let you run around for quite a bit, as irritating as you were. But getting in contact with my wife was a line you should’ve never crossed." Sukuna heads off to the exit and turns back slightly. 

"Have a good trip to the afterlife!"

And all the journalist hears as a knife gets plunged into his neck - are the echoes of Sukuna's boisterous cackling as he freely walks away.

-

The moment Sukuna gets home - he's met with you, who greets him with an embrace, like every other day.

"You ended a litte later than usual. Did something happen?" You ask him. "I apologise for that, darling. I had to exterminate a rather frustrating problem today," he tells you, resting his hands on your face. "But don't worry. It's all been taken care of."

Sukuna asks to take a bath with you, claiming that he wants to relax this evening. You laugh at his request, but gladly accompany him in the shower, where things lead to a little more than just bathing.

some additional headcanons for this au;

you’re not aware of this, but sukuna always has protection monitoring you - and he hires only the best who are able to blend in with normal everyday people

these secretive bodyguards give him daily reports

its because he has a lot of enemies and/or journalists trying to get in contact with you

but also in general, he just likes knowing what you’re up to everyday when he’s not glued to your side

has cameras around the house too, but this one you’re aware of because he’d told you that they were for security reasons. don’t wanna have intruders around

but what you don’t know is how they basically follow you around most of the time lmao

so when he’s bored at work, he takes breaks by spying on you through the cameras that only he has access to <3

the only places that don’t have these cameras are the bathrooms

also the protection doubles when he has to go on an overseas business trip (if he doesn’t manage to successfully take you along with him)

sukuna will call you, while he’s looking at you making coffee in the kitchen for breakfast

he’s so warmhearted to you despite the coldhearted things he does to everyone else

maybe you will also eventually start a family with him

sukuna rejoices at the idea of putting a baby into you

also its almost uncanny how... you never get into arguments with him?

he knows you so well that he knows what he needs to avoid in order to not get in conflict with you

people dont seem to believe you when you tell them that you simply never get into arguments w him

and when he finds that you disagree with a decision that he wants to make, he uses his little manipulation skills again

it happens so naturally you don’t even notice

every choice of his is in the best interests of you and his children - and if he needs to mold your little mind into thinking the same, he shall do it

and he sees nothing wrong with it - hes not hurting you or anything, is he?

+ sukuna sucking on ur tiddies after u start producing milk for his children

as a “taste test” he says

Its sweet and the fact that its produced by you turns him on

so once he starts he cant stop, even as you’re quivering beneath him and telling him 'no more'

he’s great as a father, and his genes must be powerful because all of his children have a little bit of his traits embedded within them

cunning, intelligent... though you can’t help but feel concerned when they sometimes have a tendency to be a bit manipulative

i wonder which parent that one came from?

just like their father, they all love you very very much.

feel free to ask more questions on this bc i love this au a lot

[dailyadventureprompts]

do you have any resources or guides for worldbuilding and reimagining the feywild? not looking for adventure prompts or npcs just your thoughts on setting and how to make the feywild feel dangerous and mystical

Planescape: The Feywild

I won’t lie,  the introduction if the feywild is one of the best additions to the default d&d cosmology in a while, not only from a thematic perspective, but gameplay aswell, as it allows any podunk patch of land to act as a doorway to wild adventure. That said, too often this wonderland is treated as a place where things are just wacky, without real attention paid to the narrative possibilities introducing the feywild into a story can have. 

To that end, I’m going propose a few different aspects of the feywild, different visions of how things could be drawn from different mythologies and storytelling conventions:

The feywild has no geography: like the notes of a song or the lines of a play, the reality of faerie is reinterpreted with every visitation, Coloring itself based on the expectations and emotions of those exploring it. This is why a child can stumble into a mushroom ring and have themselves a whimsical romp full of talking animal friends and life lessons, whereas adults tend to find themselves ensnared by echoes of their deepest desires and why adventurers ALWAYS find something to fight.  If you want to go anywhere in the feywild you don’t need a map, you need a thematic structure that will carry you to your destination: whether that be staying on a yellow brick road through a number of distractions and tribulations, or winning a game of riddles against a talking bird who’ll swear to drop you off at your destination. 

The feywild is a place of stories:  When a peasant family leaves out milk and performs small acts of thanks for the brownie, they are unwittingly inviting the primal energies of the feywild to fill the space they have made for it, creating a creature that had always been there, looking out for them. Likewise, when folk tell of wonderous places just beyond the edge of the map, the feywild becomes those places, taking solidity from repeated tellings of the tale and incorporating different interpretations to give themselves depth. This is not to say that the translation is perfect, as one can’t simply make up a story, tell it to an audience, and expect it to suddenly become true as it takes a powerful and engrained sort of lies, embelishment, or folktales to give shape to the otherworld.  When populating your local fairy-realm or those areas near enough to it, consider what sort of stories people tell about that place, whether it be about monsters that gobble up wayward children or treasure hidden there by bandits long ago. 

The feywild responds to your emotions: When your party takes a rest, ask them how they think their characters are feeling. Consider whether they are frightened or foolheardy, adventurous or avricious, and then sketch out some random encounter to spice in along the way as the realm of whimsy responds to the vibes they’re putting out.   A party that’s feeling hungry may encounter a friendly fey teaparty or a dangerous lure disguised as a snack, a group that’s feeling pressed for time may hear the horn of a savage hunter stalking them, or a parable about stopping to help others can actually speed you along your own path.  In this way, the fairyland is in diolog with the party’s desire to press their narrative forward, and will test or reward them according to its whim. 

The feywild is everywhere: one of the underutilized aspects of having the feywild in our games is that a portal to the “shallower” areas of the otherworld can pop up anywhere overtaken by nature, allowing fey beings and other oddities to cross over in a way that creates all manner of adventure hooks. If I’m building a dungeon in the wilderness, I’m personally fond of having a mounting fey presence the deeper in you get, replacing the normal ruin dwelling hazards with troops of hobgoblins, odd enchantments, and various tricksters. For smaller dungeons, the closed off fey portal can be an adventure hook for later, encouraging them to come back when they need to delve into whimsy, whereas for the larger dungeons,  a non contiguous fey realm connecting multiple points can serve as a combination of fast travel AND bonus stage. Even for non dungeon locations, consider how much fun of an adventure it’d be if someone discovered that their cellar had been replaced with a fairy’s larder, or that the vine-covered lot where neighborhood kids play during the day transforms into a vast battlefield for sprites during the night. 

[sashi-ya]

Hii, ok so this is my first time asking for something so I'm a little nervous, could I ask for a Kid or Killer x F! Reader with the prompt "a buffoon for the king" NSFW and with bondage and begging kink, please and thank u <3

Hiii honey!! Here I am with your request! I'm sorry for taking a lot! But I hope you will enjoy it :3 thank u for requesting! 💖💖

👑 Oh, Royal Lust Event ~ Royals AU event.

𝕟𝕤𝕗𝕨 ~ 𝔼𝕦𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕤𝕤 𝕂𝕚𝕕 𝕩 𝔽! ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣 ~ 𝕄𝕪 𝕃𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 ℂ𝕝𝕠𝕨𝕟

tw: bondage ➡ tied to an X Cross. Usage of "instruments" to masturbate reader. creampie. Dom! Kid. Begging for him. In this AU Shanks is Kid's brother, for some reason people think they might be related so I thought it was fun :P

wc: 3k

Want more? visit the masterlist

Prince Eustass has always been a different type of royal. His brother, King Shanks, would scold him every time in the kingdom people would speak of him after the big parties he used to throw. And it’s not that King Shanks didn’t, but he kept them a little more private.

Sitting on the throne, next to his brother, Kid Eustass falls asleep. He is not interested in nothing but partying and music -and frankly spend time with his best friend Killer, his personal knight, building random stuff made out of casted iron-.

“Wake up, Kid” Shanks elbows him, is not that Shanks would be personally interested in politics but the powerful five elders in front of them have to discuss very important things regarding the world functioning.

Kid wakes up, yawning and smearing the black eyeliner he likes to wear. “Whaaat, I don’t get anything of this. I don’t care either, whenever you want me to go fight for this nation I will. I’m off” he says, standing up from his throne and totally disrespecting his brother, and of course, their invitees.

He walks past the five elders, looking at them with reddish eyes, up and down. Kid never liked the Gorosei, nor being the future ruler of a nation that is not affiliated, but still has treats with them. Killer wanted to be the king of everything, conquer the whole world, being free for him meant being the most powerful of them all.

Eustass walks away, his heavy boots steps echoing all around the room. A sound that makes the men there, somehow, shiver. And he knows, so a dark smirk draws on his red tinted lips. “Fuckers” he mumbles while getting out of the room, looking how servers pass next to him with trays full of food.

He carelessly snatches some meat on a bone from one of the trails as he laughs off. The servant blinks at his sudden reaction, but he is not surprised. He always does that, and of course, nobody can’t say anything besides the King.

As Kid devours his meat, he spots someone dressed in fancy clothes getting ready to enter after the servants begin to leave the room with empty trays. He comes closer to her and stands up, still eating, in front of her…

“Hah, are you the buffoon?” he asks you, inspecting your funny looking outfit. You widen your eyes, you knew King Shanks had a brother, but never once you had met him in real person. You nod, making the little sleighbells on your hat jingle at unison.

Kid laughs and comes even closer to your face. The red sponge that decorates your nose, touches the tip of his and his bloody hair strands tickles your cheek. “You are cute to be doing this, but, if this is your job… then, you will come with me” he says, snatching your arm in a non-sweet way but not exactly hurting you.

“B- but, Prince Eustass! I hav-“ you complain as he drags you off your workplace towards the castle. “Shh, they don’t need fun. However, I do”.

Soon, you get to one of the rooms you’ve never been inside. “Come on, follow me” he commands, opening the door. Inside everything does not look like it belongs to a castle, but more of an ironworks place. You get yourself amazed to see that thing could be inside of a royal palace and walk inside.

“Welcome to my cave” he utters, proudly showing you the many instruments over wooden tables. You notice mainly rough prototypes of different prosthetics for his missing arm and other things you cannot really identify. They look like maybe little dolls made out of metallic pieces.

You remain in silence, trying to think what the hell this man wants from you by bringing you here, but you are actually pretty interested. If the king is handsome, his little brother too. And by far, even more attractive.

He walks around you, inspecting you, once again. “Mh… I like your make up, that red around your lips in a heart form looks good. But you are missing something to be a good buffoon, you know?” he says.

“Thanks… but, what am I missing?” you ask, unsure. Kid looks back at you as he gets to work. “You need a jester staff to be a good performer” he says, as he picks a long cane from the table. You agree, in fact, you need one. And even if you were thinking it wasn’t strictly necessary, apparently for the prince it was.

Eustass gets rid of his formal attire in just a matter of seconds. He does not care you are there watching, and his white ruffled t-shirt ends up on the floor. A red fluffy coat now covers his naked torso, and you can tell he has more scars than those you thought he had.

Exuding testosterone reverberating on your mind as his muscles moves while work in something you have no idea what it is. It becomes hotter. How comes he has a whole apparatus to melt the iron inside a room?

Soon he begins to sweat, his reddish hair ends up on his face as you now understand the utility of the goggles he always uses to keep it back. Hitting a piece of burning red metal he moulds it. It’s even amazing for you how the prosthetic metallic arm he built himself works wonderfully for him to be doing such precise work, and you are simply amazed.

Amazed, and probably in love. He looks so incredibly manly working, the little drops of sweat tracing paths from his temples into the crook of his neck, must be the best entertainment you could ever had… even if you were supposed to be the one entertaining the royals…

Well, who knows, maybe you will end up entertaining him after all.

“Done, careful it might be yet a little hot but all in all you can touch it” he says, showing you a cane perfectly forged with the skull of a… dinosaur?! This man is an artist!

“Thank you, Prince Eustass… this is amazing!” you tell him, inspecting the tiny details such a little thing has. “I call him Victoria Punk. Though, you know these things have a price, don’t you?” he utters back, proud of himself but with a rather sadistic smirk on his face.

You blink, what can you offer to a man who probably has everything? “But my Prince, what can I give you that you don’t have? I’m a poor servant of your castle…” you plead, because you know he is as weird as cruel, and you frankly begin to fear for your life.

Eustass laughs, soundly, as if you had just said the stupidest thing in your life. “Are you dumb, woman? Fun! You can entertain me! Aren’t you a buffoon?” he says, making sense.

You breath alleviated, so he only wanted for you to do your funny acts then. “Oh, of course Prince Kid” you tell him, already getting started to perform. And just when you begin jumping and making your usual performance he stops you.

“You… you are funny, yes. But, I think I have another idea. After all I had to make you a jester staff might as well help you improve your routine” he says, snatching your arm and pulling you against him. You gasp, eyes wide open, as your whole body gets pressed against his sweaty torso.

He lets go of you, but soon his hand lands on your face. The make up you are wearing that resembles to a clown gets smeared in just a second by his red painted nails. “There, better…” he says, rubbing your lips with his thumb.

You try to hold your breath, or maybe it’s just the natural reaction to the awe and excitement of being so close to him. He smirks, coming further to your face, slowly, testing your reactions. You are free to go back if you wanted, but you don’t move. You don’t want to.

His ruby lips barely grazed yours, his voice that’s usually loud and raspier, now turns more melodic, almost like a sensual whisper. “Would you entertain me, little clown?”

You nod, looking up as he is considerably taller and the tips of your noses touch.

“Good girl, now follow me…”

You walk behind him to a little room connected to what you could say is his working place. The new space looks different but still keeps the same atmosphere. Everything looks like a dungeon and indeed there is a x cross made out of wood and leather waiting in it.

You examinate the cross, well aware that must be something related to tortures… it ain’t no way that’s for other purposes. The shackles that has attached in every corner confirms it.

“Come here” he says, suddenly snatching you by your waist and lifting you up. You squirm, scared of what may happen next. And it is indeed a matter of it, because you are being now tied against the wooden cross.

Wrists tied. Ankles too. The metallic restraints do not hurt, but certainly feel cold around your body. He picks up the cane that fell into the ground as he lifted you up and shoves it into your face. “How come you are throwing my gifts so quickly?” he asks, caressing rather aggressively your cheek with it.

“I didn’t mea-“ you quickly try to excuse yourself; you didn’t throw it on purpose at all.

“Shh… I know, I know. Plus, we are gonna use it after all” he communicates you, passing the cane up and down your chest. Chest that goes up and down, because you are scared, and excited. Afraid and needy.

And the metallic staff goes down in between your legs, pressing against your core. You gasp, feeling the stimulating motions of his apparently expert hand. He notices how you bite your lower lip to supress at least the whiny little grunts he is producing on you, and smirks devilishly.

“See? We are having fun already!” he says, searching for your entrance with the tip of the cane even over your clothes. You whine, this time loudly. “Hah! You like this, don’t you?” he cackles, coming closer to your face, licking your separated lips with the tip of his tongue.

The touching with the cane stops, but now his hand reach for your still covered sex. He touches your clothes, damped in sexual arousal, and bites your lip. “So wet already, how much you like this little clown?” he urges you to speak, even if you were buried in a pit of shame with clenching eyes.

“I- I like it, Prince Eustass” you whine, and his now fingertips have crawled from the elastic of your funny rhomboidal pattern trousers to the inside of your sex. Labia spreading, big hand that have already located your pleasure button and the squirming motions of your body in response.

He keeps laughing, sexily, manly, testosterone filled. No class, just pure lust. Tracing circles and penetrating your entrance with one and then two fingers. Up and down, violently and in beckoning motions he masturbates you. Corners of your eyes with little salty tears, you are about to reach climax.

Oh, but he wanted to have fun. So, you aren’t coming, not just yet.

“Oops, are you coming?” he asks, cruelly and always with a smirk on his face. “Uh yes yes” you moan those words, thinking perhaps he only wants to rejoice in how good he is with the fingers. But you were wrong, he does want you to beg for it… and you will.

He walks back, leaving your thighs trembling and your clothes messed in pure desire for more, clenching and spasming walls that won’t allow you to think straight until you get your so needed release.

“PLEASE!” you whine. “Not yet, little clown!” he laughs, relishing on your total desperate imagery.

His hand quickly rips your clothes apart, letting you with just rags hanging from your arms. Naked, bumpy skin, tied to a cross as if you were being tortured on a medieval device you wait for his next movement.

Kid takes a time to inspect every aspect of your anatomy, and when he seems pleased the cane is back on his hand. “You want to cum? Huh?” he asks you, taking the metallic shaft to your lips. You nod, panting, making him absolutely satisfied with your instant submission.

“Good… then make it real wet with that tongue of yours” he commands, and you comply by sticking your tongue out and licking the cane thoroughly. You know you are not a little victim, and you can play his game too, so as you do you fix your gaze on his. You show him how good you can be with your mouth, streams of saliva forming from the shiny point of the cane, making Kid’s cheeks even get a little reddish.

You take a quick look at his fancy yellow pants discovering no other thing than the hard bulge begging to be freed from the clothes that are imprisoning it. “Heh…” you laugh, muzzled by the irony hilt being now forced into your mouth.

“Is it funny? Huh?” Kid asks, half aroused and half feeling himself disrespected, making you scared as his blazing eyes fix menacing on yours. “Mmh no” you moan, as he uses now the stick covered in your saliva around your nipples, making them harder and erect.

Your eyes roll back, as he not only stimulates your breasts but also violates your mouth with his own. Red lipstick from both smearing all over your faces, his tongue reaching for your wet cave, his body pressed against your spread limbs body. You can even feel his hard bulge pressed to your lower belly, he is trying to search for a little release while he fights to keep composure and act like a real sadist dom.

And just when you thought he was going to plainly fuck you there, as his desires were making him succumb to you, you were wrong… his will is made of steel, his will and his passion for making women beg for his dick…

“Let me see how good you take my creation inside your cunt” he tells you, tracing a path with the cane towards your sex. Is he planning on using it to fuck you? Indeed, he is.

Cold, hard, and wide the tip opens its path inside your walls, making you tremble and hit your wrists and ankles against the shackles that keep you attached to the cross. You feel the need to close your legs, but you can, and instead you receive his now masturbating device inside you plainly spread.

Up and down, he goes, enjoying the way your fluids drip every time he decides to stick it out completely to penetrate you back again. You moan, and even scream, so ready to come once again, so sure this time he will allow you.

And just when your walls get ready for the final blow, he once again stops it. You feel frustrated, needy, so desperate. “PLEASE NO…” you beg.

“What do you want? Hmm?” he asks, licking the staff with delightful expression. “Tell me, what do you want? By the way, you taste delicious”.

“I wanna cum, prince Eustass, please”

“Beg for it, little whore”

You get even more desperate, as his pants now end up on the floor and his hard shaft flashes before your teary eyes. Huge, large, dripping too, twitching, also so ready to drill holes into anyone.

“I want to cum! I want you to make me cum… please” you whine, with trembling lips. “I want that dick inside of me!” you beg, louder.

He smirks, apparently you have convinced the prince to fuck you. “You wanna milk my dick, little whore? Hmm? Show me how desperate you are for it”. “Please, please… please fuck me, my Prince. I want to feel your hard cock inside of me…” you whimper, with the same look you have given him while licking the cane.

Kid feels pleased with your begging words and walks behind the cross where you are hanging, quickly and surprisingly the wooden x contraption falls back, and you are now as if you were resting over a lifted bed.

“Now, I can fuck you properly” he grunts, coming into your legs, guiding his sex into yours. Once he pierces you, so deeply as if you were bottomless, his hips begin the thrusting torture in and out of you.

Red nails carved on your waist, his expression almost like a beast as he fucks you mercilessly. “Cum now bitch, cum as many times as you want”.

Kid sometimes beds over your body, crushing weight making it hard to breath. Him biting your nipples and never stopping the hammering motions of his hips. Bites there, bites everywhere. Red lipstick stains there and there. Your body reaching orgasm for who knows how many times, on the verge of passing out from overstimulation.

You feel your wrists and ankles sore, but you don’t care, you only care about this huge man breaking you in half ruthlessly and unmerciful of your state. And he wants to fill you up, and he does. “Let me finish this, I’ve stretched your cunt just enough to be able to fill you up with my cum”

Grunts after, and his teeth carving marks on your lips, making you inhale his own manly moans as his orgasmic release floods your womb.

When he is done, and the last drop is into you he sticks his dick out. Kid makes the cross return to vertical position again, with your body feeling like goo, and the dripping cum tracing paths from your entrance, through your inner thighs to the floor.

You thought, you simply thought he was going to release you from there, but he doesn’t and instead he walks away with his pants barely up…

“Good girl, stay here a little longer. I will come back to keep fucking you”

[imthebadguyyy]

maybe something like interviewer asking her sexist questions and the boys stand up for her , after that interview she feels insecure and the boys comfort her . that's just an idea you don't have to write it !! <33

I hope you like it, and I'm so sorry about the delay 😭 I couldn't find my footing with this one, and I hope it's what you wanted ! Have a lovely day 💙

The One Where They're There For Her

Pairing - One Direction x Reader (6thmember!female!reader)

Fandom - One Direction (Directioners)

Summary - A particularly sexist interview decides to reduce you to just a sexual being and makes no effort to hide his misogyny. But the boys are there to support you.

Warnings - sexualization of the lgbt community, sexist comments, swearing, (honestly I hated myself for writing some of the comments here,and I'm so sorry)

Being a part of the biggest band in the world comes with certain responsibilities. Not responsibilities that come along with signing a recording contract, but those that a person deems themselves responsible for. For example, as the only female in a boyband, a female with a fanbase as large as yours, you took it upon yourself to always stand up for what's right, and to be an ally for the causes close to your heart.

That meant that your social media was often flooded with information about important causes, or your opinions on issues like feminism. Was it always well received? Heck no. There were people filled your feed with hate and comments calling you the most horrible names and labelling you a 'man hater' and a 'bitch' But you didn't let it get to you. On most days. On days like today, it was all you could do to keep it together. It had been a tiring few days, touring, recording, performing and doing an endless amount of interviews and photoshoots. It was safe to say you were on the last of your nerves, having battled your way through a makeup artist who had insisted on pointing out your flaws and had used a shit ton of makeup to cover them up. You had battled a photographer who had not hesitated to tell you that if you didn't look more feminine people would think you were turning into a man.

Before you could retaliate, Paul had dragged him away and told management to cancel the photoshoot, and find another photographer before grabbing the six of you some sandwiches and had let you all go back for a quick power nap at the hotel. Then in about half an hour he had woken you up, to get you ready for another interview. That's how you were here, in a white jumpsuit and a black blazer jacket, paired with black heels. Another day, another interviewer that got on your nerves. But this one, this one was different. This interviewer was different, but also the same. Another misogynistic man who thought he was entitled to stare at your ass and cleavage, and eye fuck you as you settled into a seat in between Niall and Zayn.

Settling in, you crossed one knee over the other, plastering a fake smile onto your face, as the man leaned back in his chair, throwing you a sleazy smirk. Noticing the look, Zayn shifted so you were out of view of the interviewer, but in view of the audience. It was in moments like this that you were a 100× more grateful to have your boys. They were well aware of how sleazy some interviewers could be, having had plenty of experience with them, and Zayn and Louis in particular were very protective about the way you were treated. Squeezing your thigh softly, he leaned back a little, lips settling into a thin line as he looked at the interviewer with a cold look. A little behind, Louis threw the interviewer a dirty look.

"So, One Direction! Congratulations on the album, as you all know its out on November the 22nd, with eighteen new songs, including the singles Night Changes and Steal My Girl Speaking of stealing girls, do you think I could steal your number Y/N? And may I mention, you look ver, very hot in that outfit" The interviewer joked, throwing you what he thought was a sexy smirk. (P.S - it wasn't) Answering with an awkward laugh, you shook your head, as Niall tensed up beside you. "Aww come on, your'e a pretty girl, I'm a handsome guy, let's go out sometime" he pressed on, ignoring the growing anger in Harry's eyes. "That's umm, nice. But no thanks, I'm not going to go out with you" was your answer, as you pushed a strand of hair behind your ear. Picking up on your nervous tic, Zayn moved his hand to rest on your knee, stopping it from bouncing up and down.

"Aww come on baby, what is it? You like girls or something? Because I wouldn't mind being a part of that action either" the sleazebag chuckled, ignoring the disgusted look Liam sent his way. "That's rude" Liam said, while Zayn tightened his grip on your knee. "Oh come on lads, are you telling me the idea doesn't appeal to you? Two women together, mm, makes me all excited just thinking about it, especially if one of them's Y/N" That comment was all it took for Louis to stand up, turning to the man and saying in a voice much rougher than his usual voice, "Alright, that's fuckin' enough, what the fuck is actually wrong with you?" he was backed up by Liam, who stood up, going to tower over the interviewer, whose eyes had lost some of the sleazy look in them. "All you've done since we walked in here is make those disgusting comments about Y/N, and it's sickening. Have some fucking respect" he practically spat.

Behind him, Zayn took your hand in his and pulled you to your feet, noticing the slight glossiness in them, leading you back to the dressing rooms, while Niall, Liam, Louis and Harry stayed back to continue to snap at the interviewer. "That is no way to treat a woman, and not only are you disrespecting her, you also made those god awful events about seeing women together. Your'e a shame to every single person in this room by talking like that" Harry continued, glancing over his shoulder to check if you were okay.

"And no, it doesn't excite us, because we are not assholes, and you are, a disgusting sleaze who does not deserve the job he has. Fuckin loser" Niall chimed in, standing up and storming out. Louis stood up as well, turning to directly face the cameras and the cameramen and sound technicians, who had all looked shocked when the man had made his comments towards you. "I sure as hell hope you have that on record, so you can see just how fucking sexist this industry is to women. Y/N does the same job as us, works just as hard and has the same number of awards, nominations, and records and yet you decide to only focus on her body, clothes, love life and sexuality. Get a fucking life" he spat at the camera, before walking away himself, eventually followed by Harry and Liam, who apologized to the outraged fans before leaving themselves. As they made their way to the dressing rooms they could hear the audience telling the interviewer to apologize to you, their anger at the way you were treated echoing through the building.

Walking in, Harry caught sigh of you curled up in one of the armchairs, with Louis sitting beside you, while Niall and Zayn talked to a furious Paul. "He had no damn right to treat her like shite, and you need to make sure that he knows those comments were un-fuckin-acceptable" Niall was saying, looking angrier than Harry had ever seen him. "And to make those sickening comments about wanting to get action? Can't we sue him for something?" Was Zayn's reply, glancing over his shoulder at you to make sure you were still okay. "We can't sue him, atleast I don't think we can, but I'll have someone let the smug bastard know that he needs to learn how to respect a woman" Paul said, before leaving the room to give the six of you some time together before you had to head back to the hotel.

"How're you feeling darling?" Louis said, moving over and patting your knee so you moved. "I'm okay" you mumbled back, letting Louis settle in next to you, leaning back to rest on his chest. "He had no fuckin right to say any of that, and don't you let it trouble you for a second" Zayn added, pouring out a cup of tea for you and for Louis and Harry. "I don't care about what he said, I couldn't care less, but it was just so frustrating, sitting there and listening to him just sexualize a whole community of people. You've got to be in a really sad place to think of shit like that. That's what annoyed me. You think I give a damn about what he said about my clothes or wanting to take me out on a date? It was the way he was talking, like he was sure any woman would be glad to have him that irked me. He's really tiresome" was your reply, as you reached forward for a sip of your tea. "That's the right attitude love. Haters gonna hate" Harry said.

"I know that. But I just wish I could punch him once, which sounds mean, but he does kind of deserve it" Niall said, earning a laugh from you. Niall was never usually aggressive, and even now, he wasn't particularly rude but it was rare to see him wanting to punch someone. "It's okay Niall, you don't have to. I can do it myself, but I won't" you replied, leaning up to squeeze his hand. "Besides, Ni, if you went and punched him, I'd do it too, and then we'd all go to jail" Liam chimed in, scrolling through his twitter. "Twitter isn't happy either babe. #stopsexualization and #Y/Ndeservesbetter is trending already" he added, showing you his phone. "If it means some of these sexist asses get their heads out of the sand, I'm happy. But I dont want to to think about it now" you replied, cuddling closer to the warmth radiating from Louis's body.

"Okay, we won't talk about it. Do you want to go back to the hotel?" Harry asked, standing up and walking to the door "No I want to go to Nando's. Anybody else hungry?" You asked, to nods of assent from the boys. "I'm starving. Those stupid sandwiches didn't fill me up at all" Zayn said, standing up to grab his coat and wallet. "I know and I'm craving some hot Peri Peri chicken with some fries. Do you think they'd let me put the lemon and herb sauce on the fries?" You asked, standing up yourself, earning a laugh from Louis. "Your'e an international superstar babe, I think they'd give you some lemon herb sauce" Liam joked.

Laughing, the six of you made your way to the car, with Harry and Niall squishing you in between them, as Louis sat in the back with Liam, and Zayn sat in the front with Paul (he was driving thank GOD) "I'm proud of you darling" Harry chimed in suddenly. "I am too" Niall added. "You know I am" Louis said, before Liam added "Always babe" and Zayn turned to smile at you before adding, "We are all proud of you, and we always will be, not only because you do a damn good job of not listening to the haters, but because you do what you think is right" "Awh come on, your'e gonna make me cry" you mumbled, leaning into Niall's shoulder. "Almost makes me feel bad for teasing you about having an extremely low spice tolerance the last time we were at Nando's Haz" you smirked, earning a roar of laughter from the boys.

"That chicken was spicy love!" "It was lemon and herb with no peri peri!" "And it was spicy!"

And just like that, you were back to messing around with each other. Sleazy interviewers would come and go, but your boys were always there to support you. Always.

-------

A/N - Thanks for reading ! I'd also like to apologize on the behalf of this fictitious interviewer I made up, I felt so bad while writing some of this 😭 anyways, I hope this is what you wanted! Enjoy !

Tags - @zaynkissbot @gucci-hazza @bxtchboy69

[angelamajiki]

PAIRINGS: Father! Yandere! Enji Todoroki x Daughter! Reader

CW: yandere, incest, soulmate AU, fluff, slight angst, nsfw, kissing, praise kink, virginity kink, size kink, bathroom sex

A BNHarem Collab!

AN: my longest piece to date! the prompt this month was sex work, so i decided to stretch the prompt and do sexual slavery. wanted to go for a softer version of daddy endeavor, so please enjoy <3

5.2k words

The mark on his wrist was one that was shared with yours. Enji had given up on finding his soulmate, deciding that his career and legacy were far more important than some silly marking on another’s body. Love was something he thought he could go without. But when he saw your bright eyes gaze up at him, your chubby hand wrapped around his index finger, his heart had fallen hard—such a sweet, gentle thing. No traces of fear, of disdain, of disgust for him as a human being. Just pure curiosity and unconditional love. His heart leaped for his little girl.

Enji was determined, then and there, that he would never fail you, not like he forgot the others.

Oh, what plans he had for you, his precious princess. He couldn’t wait to spoil you, to marry you and start a new family once you were old enough. Rei realized this as well. Her youngest daughter, her last hope at salvaging her broken family, was to be had by her husband. The thought frightened her, especially after seeing the adoring look in her husband's eyes when she saw him cradle you for the first time. It was so unlike the stoic nature he held for the other children when they were born, only caring to see that they were healthy before leaving off back to his agency, never giving them more than a fleeting touch. It was nothing like when he held you, snarling at any nurse who dared to take his soulmate from the grips of his arms.

Something that had Enji’s conviction more so than his career was something to be feared. Your mother swore to herself that she would not let her husband ruin you.

Once he fell asleep with you tucked in the crook of his arm, a social worker came and collected you to be sent to a foster home and be set up for adoption. It was better than falling into the hands of the monster of a husband.

After the death of Touya, the pair decided to have one more child in hopes of fixing their broken family, but Rei now knew it was for naught. Nothing could save them know, especially now that Enji had nearly burned the building down when he discovered that his little girl was gone, just hours after he had finally found you.

Rei alerted the commission as well for your protection, that utter bitch of a woman. They very well couldn't have the number two hero caught in an incestuous bond with his daughter, now could they. All information of your whereabouts was hidden from him, blacklisting him from working with any foster children, lest he loses his hero license. Enji may have lost you for the time being, but his patience grew as he did. They couldn't keep him from you forever. You'd be reunited one day; he knows it.

The first time he saw you again was when you were fifteen. It was your birthday and the day he had become the number one hero officially, plenty of reason to celebrate. Usually, he would have taken the time to sit near the rose bush he planted in your honor in his courtyard on your birthday, renewing his vows to find and love you to the best of his ability. Enji took great pride in keeping your memory alive with the bush for his beautiful little rose gone too soon from his grasp. But there you were, mere meters from him.

The foster home you stayed at took you out for dinner when he was meeting with Hawks after the billboard awards. Your eyes were unmistakable, a perfect cerulean just like his own. He was so close, yet so far. My, how you had grown since he saw you. Unlike him, you bore your mark proudly on your wrist, not ashamed to admit to the world who your soulmate was. Not like you actually knew who it was anyway.

Enji was prepared to leave Hawks at the table; a new flame lit under his ass, one far more exhilarating than the thought of being the number one hero. He was up and on his way to speak to you before Nomu attacked him. Damn villains, they'd pay for separating the two of you once again. But his conviction only grew stronger. It wasn’t hard to find you after that; he knew what city you were living in. Instincts lashed out at him, demanding that he go sweep you up and hide you away. No, no. That would make you frightened; he can't have that. He’ll watch from the sidelines, waiting until you were of age to make a move. He was curious to see just how life as a foster child was treating you.

Growing up in the foster system had been a nightmare from hell for you. A cursed child is what they saw you as when your skin sprouted flames every time it was touched by the human hand, burning everything and everyone who came in contact with it. From the moment your quirk manifested, you were an outcast, an untouchable, unlovable freak. Someone destined never to feel the touch of their new parents, their lover, their soulmate.

It wasn't long before you realized that you would remain in the foster system until you aged out. Who would adopt a child they couldn't hug when they cried, hold their hand when they crossed the street, snuggle up to when it was chilly outside? Any potential parent was taken aback by your quirk once you reached for the warm touch of mommy and daddy, only to singe their hand or burn a hole in their shirt.

You learned quickly that your touch was something to be feared, that you were something to be feared. You supposed that’s why you looked up to him so much. So much so that you thought about him late at night when the loneliness seemed to drown you in the sea of your insecurities.

Endeavor was the only one who could understand you, understand your quirk. If only your soulmate mark could match him, maybe you feel the warmth of another human being without hurting or mauling them with your power. Abrasive he may be with the media, but there something about him that was so comforting and endearing to you. In your eyes, he was simply misunderstood, a gentle giant amongst the mass personalities of the other pro heroes.

Watching his interviews brought you comfort when you were lonely, his merchandise made you swell with pride and confidence, and his posters on the wall reminded you that you were never alone. It was a silly crush, but it made you feel better about your miserable life.

You even got to see him on your birthday! Well, not exactly. You happened to be in the same restaurant when your foster parents took you out for your birthday. It was apparent that they just felt bad for you, having looked after you for 15 years only to still have custody of your sorry ass. You were almost certain that they were going to kick you to the curb the morning of your 18th birthday.

Too bad they never had the chance. That fate would have been much kinder than the reality you faced now.

Once the Paranormal Liberation Front had effectively ripped society up by the roots and let the tree of life rot for the world to see, your foster parents packed their shit and left the country while you were at school. You’d been alone in the world ever since and were snatched off the streets, ready to be sold into slavery by the villains of the world. Your quirk was the only thing keeping you from being bought like a bitch from the auction floor.

Enji, on the other hand, was more than eager to do just that. After his public smear campaign by his allegedly dead son, he was dead to the world, finally abandoning his family for good in hopes of finding his beloved daughter. His life was dedicated to searching for you, having managed to track you down through his vigilante work. He likes to lie to himself and say that he’s continuing to fight for the greater good, but Enji does it just to have the chance to see your sweet face again. There wasn’t much to go off of, but he’d rather see his fiery end than to give up. That's how he found you at the auction.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Another auction night was approaching, which meant another night of humiliation and being displayed like a slab of meat for a crowd of degenerate wolves. Your quirk was the only thing keeping you from being sold; no one wants a fucktoy they can’t touch. It reduced you to physical labor for your captors, but you were better fed because of it. That didn’t mean they still didn’t try to sell you.

After being stripped down into nothing but a collar, leash, and a muzzle, you were brought to the stage and shoved in front of the ravenous, roaring crowd. You could feel their stares seep into your bones, the grime from the floor on your bare feet only adding to the overwhelming sensation of disgust you couldn’t even begin to describe.

The crowd’s excitement was raucous, jeers and shouts echoing off the halls of the underground auditorium. Masks covered their faces for the sake of privacy lest a vigilante break-in and hunt them all down. Even in the lawlessness of the world, heroes were still crawling everywhere to trail after even the slightest scent of villainy. Doesn't mean they’ll win, but hey, the death of a hero is just the same as the auction was to them.

“Up next, a darling girl with a fiery quirk!”

That was your cue. A handler had a fierce grip on your leash, giving it a few tugs for good measure as the crowd laughed at your stumbling. The auctioneer began to list your qualities and physical attributes, including your quirk.

“And she’s a virgin!”

Added for good measure, the crowd fell silent after listening to the abilities of your quirk. You couldn't hate it anymore; it's what was keeping you from being someone’s onahole until the day you kicked the bucket.

“Can I get $10,000?”

Ah the starting bid. The silence was relieving. Just a few more moments and you'd be off that damn stage.

“No? Going once, going twice, going-”

“One million.”

A booming voice came from the back row, the depths of the shadows to further hide the masked man who just bought your life. Why did it sound so familiar?

“Outstanding! One million dollars for the young lady!”

“Going once.”

It couldn't be.

“Going twice.”

This can't be happening.

“Sold for one million!”

No!

You were supposed to be unwanted, just like you have been your entire life! Yet some mysteriously familiar man outbid the entire auction for little ol’ you.

“Off the stage, bitch.”

The handler snarled, yanking you off the stage and causing you the fall and bruise yourself in the process.

“Watch it!” He spat, picking you up by the roots of your hair. “The merchandise needs to be handled carefully before reaching the customer. Let's hope he doesn't mind some bumps and bruises. For your sake.”

“That won't be necessary; I'll be taking her as is. Immediately, if you will.”

The mysterious man stood had already made his way backstage and behind you, standing formidably over your stark form. Your hair was released, dropping you back to the floor.

“Excellent, sir! I’m more than happy to get this welp off my hands.”

A brief exchange was made while you recovered on the floor, shaking in fear as the situation weighed heavily on your already broken self. The handler took the money and returned to the back room, leaving the two of you alone together.

The stranger crouched down to you and extended a hand to brush the stray hair out of your face, touch remaining tender and gentle when you flinched harshly.

“My poor girl, what has the world done to you?”

His coat enveloped your body as he scooped you up in his arms. The scent of him comforted you more than you would have liked to admit. Teakwood and coffee grounds filled your senses as he held you flush against his chest, leaving the auction house with a renewed sense of vigor.

You were placed in the backseat of a car before he dressed you in simple pajamas.

“Rest. You deserve it.”

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

At some point in the car ride, you let yourself fall asleep only to wake up in a cozy king-size bed wrapped up in a soft blanket next to a warm fireplace. The false sense of comfort lulled you for a few moments before your situation hit you like a ton of bricks. The anxiety you'd had known your whole life had finally kicked back into gear, forcing you out of bed and into the rest of the house.

It was daybreak, the sunlight slowly trickling in through heavily curtained windows as you walked through the halls and into the kitchen. The man was standing over the stove, sans mask, dressed in a wife-beater and his pajama bottoms. It couldn't be-

“Come in; breakfast will be on the table in a moment.”

Now you were certain.

“Who are you?” Your voice barely above a whisper. “Why did you buy me at the auction?”

A deep, rumbling chuckle flowed from the man.

“I think you know the answer to that, little one.”

His focus was retained on the meal in front of him. “I’ll explain myself over breakfast. Now sit.”

You couldn't help but feel compelled to obey him. While sitting, you took the time to honestly look him over for the first time in your life. Never did you think you would be so close to your childhood crush in such a domestic setting.

He had noticeably greyed but still possessed a majority of his red hair. Muscles were still taught and budging, but he had grown a little bit of a belly. Endeavor was as handsome as ever, aged like a fine wine that you couldn't wait to sip on.

The food was placed in front of you as he took the test next to you.

“Eat and have some water. Then we’ll talk.”

Once again, you obeyed him without question and refrained from eating like a rabid animal. It wasn't even a question, so much so that it is evident that you hadn't had a decent meal in a long time. You were still muscular from the labor you did for your handlers, though.

And Enji liked that about you. How resilient you were, he loved that you inherited his strength but still possessed Rei’s gentle nature. Not that he wanted to credit that woman for anything, but he couldn't deny the obvious. You were his strong, beautiful little girl who had to endure so much because his bitch of a wife decided to separate you from him.

But he was here now, ready to give all his love and protection to his only love. It took everything in his power not to swoop you up from your seat and hold you in his arms until his last breath.

Enji watched you eat, pride swelling in his chest at the thought that you liked his cooking. He couldn't help but wonder what your favorite meals were as well. There's certainly all the time in the world to get to know his little girl now that he had you. And he was never going to let you go.

Your breakfast was devoured quickly, both out of desperation for a real meal and answers to your questions.

“Why did you buy me from the auction?”

It was a complicated question, but you wanted a simple answer.

“I’m your soulmate.” His wrist was on display as he reached across the table to hold your hand.

For the first time in your life, you felt safe. Your one, shining hope was meant to yours and he wanted to be yours. You didn't even question how he knew at all.

His touch was warm and slightly rough, but it was welcome all the same. Even though your skin was lit aflame at his flesh against your, he paid it no mind. He was built to take your quirk, to take you.

“Endeavor…”

“Please, call me Enji.” His thumb rubbed over the palm of your hand. “I’m sure you feel better after having something to eat.”

“Why don't you go take a bath? It’ll help you relax, I can take care of your dishes.”

It was strange how insistent he was on taking care of you, but you can't say you don't enjoy the attention. He seemed to care for you in a way that went beyond caring for a partner, or in your case, a soulmate. But who were you to judge? It wasn't like you had a lot of experiences to use as a comparison.

Making your way back to the bedroom, you took the time to study the house you were in. A traditional, well-kept home, it practically looked like it was untouched. And maybe it was; buildings and homes fully intact were hard to come by these days, let alone ones that were clean and warm.

Enji seemed to lull you into an instinctual sense of safety, even though he bought you out of slavery. Just because he was your soulmate didn't mean that he had good intentions for you, but somehow, his presence alone filled a void in your heart that you had forgotten was even there.

Once you made it to the bathroom connected to the master bedroom, you drew yourself a bath just like Enji had instructed you to do. It wasn't the wisest decision to let your guard down like this, but the man already had plenty of opportunities to fuck you up by this point.

The water was warm and inviting when you sank yourself into it; you couldn't remember the last time you had warm water to clean yourself with. It made you feel light and hazy, slipping into a headspace you had long forgotten—a place of safety and comfort.

Three raps on the door pulled you from your haze as Enji entered the bathroom with fresh towels. Despite the fact that he had already seen you naked, the intimacy of the situation only left you feeling more vulnerable than ever.

“Let me help you.”

He kneeled next to you outside of the tub and pulled a lavender chamomile shampoo from the tub’s shelf. There was room to protest, but you couldn't find yourself willing to do so.

Water was poured over your head before he started a lather in your hair, gently scrubbing your scalp for a while. Even this simple touch made you shudder, it was a long time since you last felt the warmth of someone’s touch. And everything about this man was warm, for you at least. His words, his touch, his heart.

Conditioner was added to your hair as well before he moved onto washing your body. The scrub was gentle across your skin, his hand following after it to help keep the suds from rising too much. Strong hands massaged your back and your neck, both of which needed the much-deserved relief.

“So tense.” He murmured, mostly to himself.

There was a comfortable silence shared between the two of you as he massaged out all the knots and kinks that had built up over the years with your handlers. His touch should have made you flinch but you found yourself pressing into it. A small moan escaped your lips as he worked through a particularly tender spot on your neck.

“Are you enjoying this?”

His lips ghosted your ear as warm breath tickled your cheek and neck.

Your face flushed with a fiery warmth from a combination of the steam, your embarrassment, and the man whispering sweet nothings in your ear as his hands worked at your tired skin.

“Let me help you relax, sweet thing.”

Enji picked you up momentarily to slot himself behind you in the tub. Placed on his lap, you gasped when you could feel his erection hard against your back. Fear started to trickle into your veins as you squirmed slightly, attempting to get out of his grasp.

“Shhh, it's alright, you're okay.” His hand made its way to your throat and rested there gently, stroking over your artery with his thumb. “I’m not going to hurt you, sweetheart. Let me show you how much I've missed you.”

His touch made you feel alive, feel wanted for the first time in your life. You couldn't help but whine when his other hand made its way down your body, gently groping your breast as his lips were pressed to your ear.

“Do you trust me to take care of you?”

His fingers toyed with your nipples, obviously skilled.

“Do you trust me to make the sweetest love to you?”

Another whine caught in your throat as his hand went further, cupping your sex in his much larger hand. He kneaded gently, pressing a soft kiss to your temple when you writhed in his grip.

“Please! Enji-”

Shushing you gently, Enji’s thumb made its way to your clit to stroke in small circles.

“How does that feel, sweetheart?”

You were used to touching yourself, but oh God it never felt like this.

“Good!” You managed to choke out in a wanton moan. “So good! Enji, please, I need-”

A warm pair of lips sealed over yours, silencing you once again. Enji knew how wrong this was, to take advantage of you like this without revealing the truth. But he wanted at least to just once to have you in his arms willingly and eagerly. He wanted to kiss you breathless, listen to your cries and feel your nails dig into his skin as he gave you all of himself without a fight from you. He can worry about revealing himself to you later.

The rough pads of his large fingers started to apply pressure to your clit as his middle finger slipped into your tight hole under the water.

“Don't worry, little one. I'll give you what you need.”

Soft kisses were trailed along your cheek and hand that was on his that was still holding your throat tenderly. Finger pumping in and out of you, Enji whispered sweet praises to you as he felt your hole clench around him.

“Doing so well for me, sweetheart.”

Your breathy moans and whines only served to harden his cock. He felt like a teenager all over again, closing to cumming just from the sound of your voice.

Another finger slipped into your tight core, careful not to overwhelm you too fast. It was obvious you'd hadn't been touched before, not even by yourself. You felt full but greedy for more of his touch.

“Deeper, Enji! Please, can you?”

You were babbling at this point, writhing in his lap as he fingered you nice and slow with thick digits. Enji hummed as he pressed further into, curling his fingers into your G-spot.

Your cry was loud as he began to abuse your most sensitive spot, fully squirming in his arms as tears of pleasure breached your eyes. The sensation was too overpowering for you, making you thrash and arch in his arms.

“Shh, you're okay, sweetheart. You're okay; I'm right here.”

His fingers continued to stroke in a curled fashion, thumb still circling over your twitching clit. Enji kissed you again, deeper and more fierce as he began to fuck you earnestly with his fingers.

“Cum for me, darling.”

Squealing, you gripped his forearm and cried helplessly into his mouth. The build was slow and intense, allowing your orgasm to wash over you in waves of pleasure rather than a blinding, quick light.

“E-Enji!” You wailed. “Enji!”

You shook in his arms, holding onto the larger man for dear life as you experienced your first orgasm. It seemed like Enji knew your body better than you did.

No words were exchanged between the pair of you, but you could feel the tension of your desired hanging thick in the air. This man was going to take your virginity, here and now.

Enji removed his hand from your throat and between your legs in order to maneuver you to sit facing forward in his lap.

“Are you ready for me?”

His honesty made you flush even more. Biting your lip nervously, you hesitated to answer. Were you ready? It wasn’t like you had much of choice; the man could very well take you by force if he so chose to. But you felt safe in his arms, safe with him.

“Let me help you, my love.”

Warm, large hands gripped your backside as he held you steady above his cock. Your hand reached down to line yourself up with his throbbing sex, lowering yourself down on it slowly.

It burned in the best way, stretching you out fully as you pressed your forehead against his chin.

“Good girl, taking my cock so well, darling.”

A pitiful whine left your throat at the praise, hands gripping the forearms that held you in place.

“Can...Can you hold me?” You whimpered. “Please?”

Enji’s arms enveloped you and pulled you flush against his, tucking your head into the crook of his neck as you continued to lower yourself onto his cock. Your breath tickled his ears, making him groan lowly once he bottomed out inside of you.

“Such a sweet girl you are, taking all of me on your first try.”

Another whine responded for you as you ground your hips down on his.

“E-Enji.” You whimpered his name over and over again like a prayer. “Enji!”

“Be still, little one.” Hands back on your hips, holding you in place near the tip of his girthy length. “Let me take care of you.”

Hips in place, the man began to thrust up into you slowly, holding you tight as he stood up from the water. You only gripped and nuzzled yourself into him further, letting out sweet whines and whimpers into his ear while he thrust into you.

Your back was placed against the cool tile of the wall when he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze. Even in this position, he was still at least another head taller than you.

“Look at me when I make love to you.”

Through wet eyelashes, you gazed up at his eyes and let your mouth hang open as he rolled his hips into yours. His eyes shut briefly when he moaned, hissing at the feeling of your wet cunt hugging his cock so well.

“You were made to take my cock, little one.”

Arms reached up to wrap around his neck as he thrust into you, taking his time to make his strokes slow and deep. His hips were flush against yours when you asked him, “Kiss me, please? I want all of you Enji.”

Your bold proclamation stunned him for a moment before yielding, placing a deep kiss and a hot tongue against your lips.

His thrusts became faster as he kissed you with more passion and vitality. For an old man, he certainly had his stamina up to par. Your fingers thread through his red and grey tresses, tugging him closer to you gently as you moaned shamelessly into his mouth.

The pleasure in your core was more intense, fiercer this time around as his thrusts became hard and fast. The sounds of both of your moans and skin slapping against skin echoed off the tiled bathroom walls as the both of you felt your orgasms coming.

“Enji, fuck!” You whined, beginning to squirt on his fast-paced cock. “I-I’m cumming; I’m cumming!”

“Cum for me, princess.”

With a choked sob, you creamed yourself all over his cock, which continued to pound into your hole before he groaned your name and came deep inside you.

Nothing but the sounds of the water sloshing and your labored breathing could be heard as you both came down from your highs.

After a moment of rest, Enji pulled out and wrapped you in a towel before laying you gently on the bed. A towel was wrapped around his own waist as he looked at you fondly, brushing stray hairs out of your eye sight as he sat next to you on the bed.

“I must ask, how did you end up at the auction site?”

What a loaded question, but the intimacy you two shared allowed for it.

“I was kidnapped off the streets after my parents abandoned me when the prison break happened.”

He sighed gruffly and took your hand in his.

“What utter fools, tossing aside a beautiful rose such as yourself.”

His thumb traced over your soulmate mark. You still had yet to know how he knew before ever meeting you.

“It's alright; I never considered them my family. I just wish I could have met mine, but at least I met my soulmate.”

A crinkled smile adorned his face.

“You've done more than meet them.”

What could that have meant?

“I’m your father and your soulmate, little one.”

A rock hit the pit of your stomach as you retracted your hand from his.

“That isn't a funny joke, I'm serious.”

“So am I.” His hand was quick to snatch your back. “What could I possibly gain from lying to you?”

“P-Prove it.”

“Our soulmate marks, I saw yours the moment you were born in the Hosu hospital before my wife separated us all those years ago. I can recite your birthday if you'd like me to, for good measure.”

Fuck, he really wasn't lying. A lump formed in your throat as tears sprung in your eyes.

“Why would you do this to me?” You whispered, barely even able to hear yourself.

“Because I love you. I love you so much, sweetheart. Ever since I saw you for the first time in the hospital, my entire life has changed because of you. All I ever wanted was you.”

Enji was quick to shush your cries, using his free hand to wipe your tears away.

“Will you forgive me for being selfish?”

The disgust and horror filled everyone of your senses, especially when you came to a realization that he was everything you've ever wanted.

What came out of your mouth next stunned the both of you.

“You can apologize by begging on your knees and cleaning me up with your tongue, Daddy.”

TAGLIST: @tomurasprincess @bonesoftheimpala @sightoru @cxnicalsweetheart

[arcaneblaine]

FIRST FRET NOT INCLUDED ❘ jake kiszka (18+) ❘ No Strings pt 1

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x fm!reader

Summary: He fights your every move, scrutinizes each of your decisions, and, frankly, can’t seem to keep his hands off you.

Word Count: 2.5k

CW: smut (18+, minors dni), oral sex (m. receiving), unprotected sex, angst, rivals to lovers, crude language, submissive and breedable shit

a/n: please crucify us

make a request ♡

The pieces of Jake’s old guitar pick sat in his hand, making his mouth gape slightly. It was as if the tension between the two of you were finally on the brink of snapping as his eyes turned up to yours, fire lighting behind his bark colored irises. His jaw tensed, brow set in a heightened anger. He looked at you with the eyes of an enemy.

You rolled your eyes, digging into your bag and pulling out a plastic baggie of picks you carried around for Sam as he was often the one to leave them lying around. You brushed the pieces from his palm, ignoring the scoff of disbelief echoing from his chest as you replaced the pick with a new one, tilting your head in a quiet victory. You knew how attached he was to the shitty, worn scrap of colored plastic, you could say he was even superstitious enough not to use it.

Yet as Danny began the beat to Heat Above, now was not the time to lament over Jake’s so-called “lucky pick.”

The heavy silence between the two of you hung in the air like a thick smog as he bit back the words rolling into his mind. Avoiding the conversation as well, you turned his shoulders and nudged him on stage. He pulled out of your grasp, shaking off your hands as if you burned his skin. “You’re fired,” he bit coldly, throwing a glare in your direction.

You nodded flatly as he settled the pick between his teeth, a searing gaze marking a sense of shock in your chest. You were quiet as he tore his eyes from yours, joining the rest of the band on stage as if nothing happened. Your tongue felt like sandpaper in your mouth, your throat white hot from the tension and the mild embarrassment you felt.

The stinging of his words thumped in your temples as your heels clicked down the echoing hallway of the parking garage, your body on autopilot. You were completely numb. You had finally reached the last straw with Jake.

And you had lost your job over a stupid guitar pick.

Your footsteps halted at the realization that you were no longer his employee. Gritting your teeth, you turned on your heel and practically sprinted back in the direction of the venue. Finally, you could rip him a new one without censoring yourself. You had prepared a speech months prior and finally, it was time.

You paced lines in the floor as you let your own anger bubble up within you, thinking about the look on his face as he snapped his guitar pick. You thought about the past few years, how you had given up your time and taken the job as a favor yet this was how you were repaid. You could have ripped your hair out.

The door clicked open, followed by the cheerful conversation between the guys. Jake’s face dropped into an emotionless frown as he saw you standing with your arms crossed and a vengeance on your tongue. Josh looked between the two of you, as if attempting to put together the pieces of your latest brawl.

You cleared your throat, letting your arms drop to your sides as you stood up a bit straighter, the air thinning in the dressing room. “I need to speak with you,” you stated evenly, your gaze locking on Jake’s. As if it were second-nature the other three left, letting silence settle between you and Jake once again as he tilted his head at you. He opened his mouth to speak but you beat him to it. “I don’t work for you anymore, that means I can say whatever I want,” you remarked. He wet his lips, nodding softly as he awaited whatever attack you had prepared.

You continued. “The way you treated me was immature and unprofessional. I’m glad you fired me because I’m sick of being treated like your bitch,” you declared.

He scoffed quietly, running his finger pads along the design on the vanity. “Really? I thought you were into that?” He ragged, voice gruff and exhausted from the show. He took a few steps to stand in front of you. “Keep going, I’m listening,” he stated, the cockiness in his demeanor frustrating you even more as he met your glare.

You could smell the adrenaline still on his body from playing in front of so many people, the slight sheen of sweat against his skin diverting your attention from his hair beginning to wave from the heat. “Frankly, dealing with you was above my pay grade,” your words coming out uneven from the tension hanging between the two of you.

His eyebrows quirked mildly as if his patience was wearing thin. A beat of silence settled over the room, making your heartbeat seem louder as it thumped against your ribcage at his closeness. “Are you finished?” His hand reached towards your face, calloused fingers brushing across your jaw gently to blur whatever thoughts you were struggling to relay to him. He silenced the agitation in your body as his knuckle and thumb caught your chin, bringing your eyes back to his. “You’re right: you don’t work for me anymore.” His gaze jumped from the color of your lips back to your irises. “Take off your shirt.”

“What?” You said breaking from his grip as the scent of sweat and nodes of cedarwood fed into your wildest fantasies. “Repeat that again?”

He reached for you again, knotting his fingers into your hair and tugging you closer to him, your hands pressing into his chest to keep from slamming against him at the force of the action. “Take off your shirt,” he echoed, watching your face contort with mild allure and shock. “I’m not paying you anymore, sweetheart,” he ragged, gripping your locks to pull your chin up to him.

You bit your tongue, squaring up to him despite his upperhand in the situation. “Do it yourself,” you bit back, barely above a whisper, challenging his power.

He chewed the inside of his cheek as he looked down at you. “Always so bossy,” he grumbled, trailing a trained hand down the buttons of your shirt and exposing your chest to himself. His rough palm grazed over your brassiere, skimming his blunt nails down your spine before finally pulling you flush against him.

You leaned forward, closing the gap between the two of you to taste the cigarettes on his breath. His teeth bit into your bottom lip, gripping onto your clothes as if he were holding back from ripping them off of you as if he’d thought about it a million times before. His body was hot against yours, partially from the performance high and also from the intensity of the kiss.

Your fingers dropped to his belt buckle, hurriedly tugging at the leather and gold before dipping your hand into his boxers, making him rut against your palm as he pulled you closer. His tongue pressed into your mouth as if he were hungry to taste the lust in your voice and the moan escaping your lips from the friction.

Jake breathlessly broke the kiss as you hooked your finger through his belt loop, tugging him to stand in front of you as you plopped down on one of the couches. His fingers wove into your hair again as you unzipped his jeans, wrapping your hand around his erection. He hummed in gratification, teeth gnawing at his aggravated lip. You looked up at him through your eyelashes, pumping your hand over his length as he pulled at your hair.

You wet your lips, letting your eyes flash back up to him before pushing his arousal into your mouth, making him groan in satisfaction. Your other hand dug into his thigh, making him buck more of himself past your lips. “Just like that. Fuck,” he groaned through gritted teeth as if he were attempting to keep himself quiet. You moaned at the action, letting the noise vibrate against his erection, making his handle on your hair tighten. He was on the verge of using your mouth for his own relief. You pulled off of him, letting your hand pick up the pace left by your mouth, the wetness of your tongue and his cum coating his cock.

Jake muttered your name gruffly, his voice barely recognizable as he thrust against your hand. You fought not to grin at how easy it was for him to come undone for you. You briefly wondered how long it had been since someone had paid this kind of attention to him.

You slowed your pace slightly, your hand swirling over his arousal. Your eyes were cast up, watching his dominant face as his jaw clenched as his gaze met yours. The heat behind his glare lit a fire in your core; the hunger for friction and the taste of him swelling within you.

His erection tensed under your hold, begging for you to take him back into your mouth. As you obliged, Jake's head tilted back in pleasure, hips riding against your tongue as you took him deeper than before. Your mind was set on letting him bottom out in your throat, letting him use you to his own satisfaction. For some reason you were pleading for his approval, wanting nothing more than to hear his husky voice bellow out your name in praise.

He swore under his breath, tugging his own sweat-matting hair away from his face to watch you struggle around his length. "Good girl, take it," he rasped, flexing his hips a few times to reach the back of your throat. "Such a good girl," he gritted.

You moaned at his praise once again, the action running straight to his arousal as he grunted before pulling out of your mouth. He slipped out of his jacket before pulling you up by the arm and pushing you onto your knees so you were gripping onto the back of the couch, sinking into the cushions.

You heard the buckle of his belt hitting the floor and your mind blurred, skin ultra-sensitive as his finger tips grazed the length of your spin once again, dipping in and out of the divot. "I've always wanted to fuck you stupid," he chided, making you moan from the heat of his body pressed against you. He pulled your hips against his, threatening to push into you.

You rocked back against him—a silent plea for his attention—making him chuckle. "Look at you begging for me," he groaned, letting his cock trace your core. "Say please."

Your mind was blurring at the small stimulation coming from his light touches and harsh words. His promises of ruining you were beginning to muddle your thoughts and sent you drooling. "Please, Jake," you begged, his thumb swirling between your shoulder blades.

"Good girl," he mockingly rewarded. "See, I treat you like my bitch because you like it," he continued to rib.

You groaned. "Shut up, you fucking bastard," you barked back, words almost jumbling as he pushed into you, fingers digging into your hips as he thrust into you a few times before finding his pace.

Your nails bit into the fabric of the couch, moaning around the size of him as he used you as his bitch. His hand clapped over your ass, making you yelp at the sting of his handprint on your already sensitive skin. His fingers knotted in your hair, tugging your head up before his hand slithered down to your throat.

Your eyes could barely stay open, threatening to roll from the pleasure he was inflicting on your body with his rough pace. His hips bruised your flesh and a secret part of you flared with pride at the thought.

His hips stilled a few times, slowing his pace as he leaned over your body, fingers tightening around your throat as he sank deeper into you with each thrust. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder blade. "Look at yourself," he stated, making your eyes flutter open.

You felt exposed as you focused on your figures in the mirror. You'd been so dumb-stricken on Jake that you hadn't realized it was there until he pointed it out. He looked like your own Apollo as his hips moved again, hands pushing your hair from your face so you could see your reflection better. There was a sick look of pleasure painting his features, shifting to a lewd and almost pornographic expression as you met his eyes in the mirror. "I like you like this," he stated, a cocky tone dipping into his voice. You weren't sure if he was serious or just being raunchy.

Your makeup was running, cheeks flushed, hair unkempt. You looked spent as Jake straightened up again, pushing himself deep enough to hit you at the right angle to send your body into a trembling state. Your toes curled, biting your lip as he applied pressure around your throat again, the veins in his hand convulsing with the tension. He looked almost prideful at how pleased you were.

He snapped his hips against you a bit harder, pulling your chin back to kiss him, letting his tongue press into your mouth again. His other hand gripped onto the back of your brassiere, the lacy fabric threading between his practiced fingers.

You breathlessly broke away from him, your hand moving to wrap around his wrist as he controlled your breathing. He uttered your name, cursing as if you were some kind of prayer. He gripped onto your hip harder, driving himself towards a quicker pace as you came around him, whimpering his name. He watched your expression shift to bliss as he rode out his own orgasm, basking in the feeling of you clenching around him.

Your legs felt like jelly as he pulled out of you and pulled you into a standing position, allowing his warm seed to drip down the inside of your thighs. You were a fucking mess, but your brain was putty enough to ignore that fact. Jake pulled his jacket back on as you finished buttoning your top, hoping to hide some of the finger prints and hickeys as you knew you'd have to walk past the boys.

Jake hooked his fingers into the back of your skirt, tugging you against his chest as he pressed his lips to your shoulder. You slipped out of his arms, making him groan as you turned to him. He swiped his thumb beneath your eye to smudge a bit more of your eyeliner. His hand moved to wrap around the back of your neck, pulling you into another kiss. "Don't tell Sammy," he stated, making you raise an eyebrow.

Something about the comment piqued your curiosity, but you felt it was best not to pry, instead, fixating on a bead that was pulling out of place on his decorated jacket. "How about we don't tell any of them?" You responded.

"Fine. You're hired again," he beckoned, pulling away from you. "Try and quit next time. I can’t keep firing you whenever I wanna fuck you."

You rolled your eyes. "You're such an ass."

© arcaneblaine 2021

[wri0thesley]

A Well Rounded Education (1): Suspension (Fem!Reader x Toji Fushiguro, 5k)

series synopsis: You are a teacher’s aid to teacher Gojo Satoru, training to be able to take over your own class next year by shadowing and helping him out. Gojo does not make things easy for anybody.

chapter synopsis: One of your favourite students has been suspended for fighting, and Gojo has palmed off the meeting with his guardian to go through all of the paperwork and facts and conditions on you. “Don’t worry,” Gojo says. “It’ll be Megumi’s sister, she always takes care of this kind of stuff!”. Gojo is wrong.

NSFW. AFAB reader, fem pronouns. dom/sub dynamics, light fearplay and predator/prey elements. piv sex.

(a well rounded education m.list and navigation)

1.

“I’ve got all these other parents to deal with,” Gojo whines at you, pushing the papers into your hands. “And I hate paperwork, and I don’t have time to meet with Megumi’s family today – hell, if it were up to me, the kid wouldn’t even be suspended! Those guys had it coming!”

Gojo is not a very good teacher. Both of you know that – no matter how justified – violence never solves violence. Gojo, you think, would let these kids fight it out in an arena instead of solving things like an adult. You heave a large sigh as you look down at the papers detailing Megumi Fushiguro’s three-day suspension for fighting during school hours.

You’d seen Megumi before he’d gone home. He hadn’t had so much as a scratch on him; his face set in a frown, his arms crossed, his eyes downcast. You’d sighed at him and asked him if he was alright, and he’d shrugged.

He’s not a very talkative boy at the best of times, and you suppose that the suspension and the fight and the mini uproar it had caused in the school aren’t helping be any more verbose. You’d said goodbye to him and said that you hoped he thought about what had transpired today, your heart aching a little bit that you couldn’t be any more help to him.

You’d seen the three boys Megumi had got into a fight with, too. They had not gotten off so scot-free – they were bleeding noses, scraped cheeks, bruised eyes. At the very least, you don’t think any of them will get on Megumi’s wrong side again.

Gojo has to meet with all three of their parents tonight to give them the full story of why their children are so roughed up and what’s being done about it; a position that’s been doled out to him, you’re sure, because Principal Masamichi blames him for the incident and is punishing him. You can’t deny that seeing Gojo actually get punished for something is nice, but--

“Won’t they be mad to see me instead of you?” You ask him, biting your lip. “I mean . . . you’re his teacher. I’m just your aid.”

“Oh,” Gojo’s eyebrows rise behind his glasses. “No, it’ll be Megumi’s sister who’ll come, she’s a sweetheart! She’ll nod at you and say mournfully that she’ll talk to him and you’ll give her the paperwork, and that’s all – job done! Honestly, if I could palm this off on you and talk to Tsumiki instead, I’d do it in a heartbeat--”

“This is your job,” you tell him, exasperated, and he laughs wide and open. You’re not really supposed to get like this with him – if he were any other teacher, you’re sure that the exasperation and sighing and half-snapping you do would have had you thrown out of their class – but Gojo treats your irritation with him as if it’s the funniest thing that has ever happened. “You’re supposed to be good at dealing with this kind of thing!”

He shrugs.

“You’ll be fine!” He tells you, again. “Honestly, this isn’t the first time this has happened with Megumi and it won’t be the last. That kid’s got a right hook that could knock out an elephant!”

You do not ask him how he knows this. Asking too many questions of Gojo is always flirting with danger; you never know when his mouth will flash into a grin and you’ll suddenly be barraged with a flood of words and stories that don’t quite make sense and never seem to have a concrete end. But you can’t resist one last question – just in case it comes up. After all, it seems that Gojo has spoken to Tsumiki enough times for him to at least kind of know her--

“His sister?”

Gojo looks at you, and for a moment the shroud of capricious energy lifts from him, and he seems entirely serious. You’ve noticed this particular change in him only a few times – and often, those times have been about the more difficult backstories of students.

“His father isn’t around very often,” he says, eventually. “He’s some kind of something or other, Megumi never really says, but whatever he does, there’s a lot of travelling involved. Tsumiki’s his older sister – she’s twenty one, and she’s been more of a parent to him than it seems like his dad has.”

No wonder Megumi always seems suspicious and tired of Gojo. Something about his flighty nature probably strokes the back of Megumi’s psyche, where annoyances about an absent father are kept. You sigh, turning away and shaking your head to rid yourself of the idea of psychoanalysing the students.

“Alright,” you say wearily. “I’ll talk to Tsumiki.”

2.

You’re nervous as you set up for the meeting. You know Gojo had said that this would be easy, that Tsumiki was very sweet and would probably apologise to you for Megumi being a problem – but still! This is the first time you’ve ever met any of your students’ guardian figures in any capacity. You feel kind of bad that it had to be for this kind of news, actually – ordinarily, you like Megumi a lot. He’s very intense and serious and clever, and you think that he has a bright future ahead of him when the trials of being a twelve year old boy finally are over – but this meeting isn’t for saying things like that. This meeting is for giving details of the three day suspension that Megumi has gotten for – you check the paperwork again – fighting three boys by himself on one of the sports courts, making them bleed and . . . breaking one of their arms? No wonder Gojo had seemed so miserable at the thought of meeting with the victims’ parents.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair, making sure that it still sits as neatly as you’d arranged it that morning. You check the clock to see you still have two minutes before anyone is due – you discreetly check your lipstick in a compact mirror (yesterday you’d had it on your teeth and you hadn’t realised until Mai had pointed it out with a laugh in her voice), smooth out your pencil skirt, tug at your stockings to make sure they’re pulled up and not wrinkling about your ankles . . .

And then, you wait.

The clock is straight across from you, so you’re able to see as Tsumiki is five minutes late, and then ten minutes late, and then fifteen. The tick-tock echoes in the room as your leg bounces against the floor, anxiety making you want to gnaw all of the carefully applied lipstick off of your mouth. From what Gojo had said, this doesn’t sound like Tsumiki at all – you’re just about to give up and pack all of your things away, figuring maybe she’d called into the office to say she couldn’t make it and telling you had been neglected, when the door slams open.

You rush to your feet, your sensible heels clacking on the ground.

“Miss Fushi--”

Your voice peters away.

The person stood in the doorway is, you’re certain, absolutely not Tsumiki Fushiguro.

For one thing, it’s a man. For another thing . . . well. You’re not entirely sure that a man with that expression on his face would ever be described to anyone as a ‘sweetheart’. Your frightened eyes linger on him for another moment, really taking in the broad shoulders and the muscles and the hair falling over his face, the dark, green eyes that are glaring at you like you’ve interrupted something very important. There’s a scar by his mouth that you also do your best not to stare at, just in the same way you avoid staring at how the form-fitting t-shirt he’s wearing clings to a muscled abdomen.

“It’s Mr, actually,” he says, which seems absurd in the face of him, standing there. He raises one eyebrow at you. “You were expecting my daughter, right?”

(You don’t know it, but Toji Fushiguro has gotten a read on you in less than a moment. He’s seen the wide eyes and the pretty mouth and the neatly appointed outfit, the pencil tucked behind your ear, the slightest tremble faced with his imposing presence – the fear as you’d seen the scar and the smoulder and the body. You’re adorable.)

“I . . . uuh--” Your cheeks are hot. You nod, weakly, and he walks into the room proper, the door swinging shut behind him with a deafening click. There’s danger in every one of this man’s movements, like a wolf who has finally cornered a little rabbit. You are feeling inexorably like prey, at this moment in time.

“I was expecting a man,” he says, shrugging. He sits at the chair in front of Gojo’s desk, pulled up just for him. He looks huge in the classroom; his shoulders too wide, his biceps bulging from the sleeve of the shirt. You don’t think this man was intending to be in a school classroom right now. “I guess you’re not Mr Gojo, huh? Gotta say,” he shoots you a grin that’s dangerous, everything about him is threatening. “I much prefer this development.”

“Oh,” you’re blustering, and it’s so cute. You sit back down in the chair with a quiet displacement of air, agitation in your fingers as you rake through the papers on the desk. Said desk is incredibly messy; Toji doesn’t think it’s yours. He ought to feel mad that they’ve palmed him off on some little assistant who’s probably not even fully qualified yet – instead, he’s watching your hands trembling and your teeth nibbling on your pretty mouth. “Y-yes, G-Gojo’s dealing with the parents of the other party--”

“My kid got into a fight, yeah?” He asks. “Decked ‘em pretty good, from what I heard.” You wince at his words, and that’s cute too.

“Megumi’s a good boy,” you say. “He’s just . . . got his own sense of justice, I think.” You look down at the papers, and your eyes seem to focus, back in a more comforting zone. “He’s been suspended for three days, and when he comes back, he’s on probation.”

“What’s that mean for him?” Toji asks, promptly, though something about the way he says it suggests to you he doesn’t really care. There’s a lightness, an airiness in his tone that sets you all off-kilter.

“It just means we’ll probably keep an especial eye on him. He’ll get a report that’ll need signing off on at the end of every period, someone will check up on it--” You see one of Gojo’s scrawled notes in the margin of the paperwork. You wince. “I’ll be in charge of it, actually. Making sure everyone’s happy with his behaviour for a few weeks--”

“How old are you, sweetheart?”

The question makes you jump. You’re like a doe in headlights, looking up at him. You blink slowly.

“I—I don’t think that’s an appropriate question, Mr Fushiguro,” you say, prim. That’s cute, too. He likes breaking prim and proper things like you. “I’m—I’m doing my training. I’m working as an aid here for a year, and then I’ll be qualified to be in charge of my own class.” There’s a hint of pride in your words, there.

“Toji,” he says. “That’s my name. You haven’t gotta call me ‘Mr Fushiguro’. I’m not tryna’ be pushy,” but he’s inched forward. His elbows are resting on Gojo’s desk, in front of you – he rests his chin on his folded hands, sharp eyes regarding you as if you’re something he wants to devour. “Y’just look tense.”

“This is the first time I’ve met a student’s parent,” you admit, though the minute it’s left your mouth you’re regretting it. Like you’re admitting to some kind of weakness. This close to him, you can see there’s a dark red stain on one of his wrists, like dried blood. Your stomach is tying itself in knots. It’s not helping that his forearms are so big, ridged with muscle.

“That so?” His eyes gleam. “What d’ya think of me?”

You don’t actually need to answer him. He can see it in the way your eyes keep nervously skimming over him. The way your lips are shining in the light. The bob of your throat as you swallow.

“Mr Fushiguro--”

“I told you to call me Toji,” his voice is almost mocking. You watch him lean over the table like you’re somewhere far away from the action – watch his hand reach out and cup your face, calloused thumb brushing your cheek, like you’re a ghost in the corner of the room. His palms feel like they’re burning hot. “You’re tremblin’, little lamb.”

You had thought you’d felt like a rabbit – shy, ready to run at any moment. But the moment his hand is on you, you’re docile – too scared to scamper away. You suppose you are like a lamb, staring a wolf straight on in the face, too stupid or too pliant to use your common sense and run.

“I . . . I shouldn’t,” you say, voice trembling just as much as the rest of you. Toji’s smirk hasn’t left his face. You’re saying you shouldn’t, but he just bets if he reached further down and unbuttoned your blouse, your nipples would pebble for him – he just bets there’s a wet stain on your underwear, right now. He can always tell when someone’s turned on by the idea of playing with fire.

“I wouldn’t mind spendin’ a few weeks with you in charge of me,” he muses, and then chuckles humourlessly, correcting himself. “Sorry. Lemme rephrase that. I’d rather be in charge of you, but--”

Oh, he sees that. The little flash in your eyes, an imperceptible contract of your shoulders. If you weren’t behind the desk, he bets he’d have seen your thighs press together too. Girls like you are just so fucking predictable, and he loves it every single time. There’s just something that’s so much fun about breaking them – making them submit, admit that him being so close with the scent of something-that-might-be-death clinging to him turns them on like nothing else. Your attempts at being haughty and polite and proud have just made the stirring between his thighs harder to ignore. You’re such a cute, neat, demure little thing – by the end of this meeting, he’s going to have his way with you, you bet.

“M-Mr Fushiguro,” you say, trying to wrest back control of yourself – honestly, he’s pissed you aren’t listening to him, but the title’s kind of endearing. You’re trying so hard! Pity you’re going to lose all of your manners when you’re bent over this desk with his cock inside you. You haven’t even moved your face away from his hand. “I-I have to give you these papers.”

He stands up, pulling his own touch away from your cheek. Stretches. Your eyes are drawn to the brief expanse of his stomach, just above his trousers – the dark line of hair leading down to . . . Oh, God. You shouldn’t have thought about that. The grin on his face is cocky, and you know that he knows you were looking.

“I’m just gonna throw ‘em in the trash, sweetheart,” he says to you. “Now. Let’s talk about the elephant in the room, yeah?” He steps closer to you. You totter to your feet, half-unsure, half driven by the low ache between your legs and the thrum of desire that’s been reverberating through you since the moment he’d carelessly thrown out how much happier he was to see you than Gojo. You have to tilt your head up a little when he comes closer. You’d thought you realised how massive he was when he’d walked through the door, but that’s nothing compared to how his size seems to dwarf you. Every unkind thought you’ve ever had about your body or your face seems to have gone out of the window as his heated green gaze hungrily drinks you in. You know it’s the stare of some predator who’s going to devour you, and you still feel transformed. Your breath catches in your throat as his hand idly comes to the top of your blouse buttons, a finger brushing the place in your throat where your pulse is beating its unsteady rhythm.

“Whaddya say, little lamb?” He grins down at you. “Gonna let yourself be caught by the big bad wolf?”

You’re supposed to be telling this man about his son’s misbehaviour, giving him all of the paperwork that Gojo had thrust at you, getting him to say he’ll talk to his kid and try and make sure that it won’t happen again. You shouldn’t be tipping your head back further, letting his fingertips lodge dangerously in the hollow of your throat, flirting with the place where your windpipe is. You shouldn’t be breathing out, all of your pretty prissiness and good morals and pride disappearing where you stand in the face of one of your students’ really hot dad.

“Yes,” you breathe.

And Toji wastes no time.

3.

He doesn’t even bother unbuttoning your blouse; just drags his hand down, and the buttons pop off, scattering on the floor. You gasp at the show of strength, and Toji is still grinning, clearly enjoying that you’re admiring him. His hand pulls at the fabric, until your breasts are fair falling out of it, the blouse wrestles off your skin.

“You’re wearin’ something like this at work?” He asks you, giving a tug to the gore of your bra. You hadn’t done enough washing this week, and the one you’re wearing is all filmy white lace. “Almost like you knew I was comin’ huh?” His grin is crooked. You tremble as you reach behind you, undoing the clasp – and for that, you get a murmur of ‘good girl’ that has your knees turning to jelly.

He whistles as the bra drops from you, his gaze admiring. He takes in the spill of your breasts, the little peaks of your nipples. He takes handfuls of them, squeezing them in his big hands, his fingertips digging in so painfully you can imagine that you’ll have bruises in the shape of his fingers tomorrow. The idea doesn’t disgust you.

He lowers his head to kiss you. He’s not gentle with you for a moment – his teeth immediately nip at your bottom lip, kissing you hungrily like you’re the first taste of sugar for a man who’s lived on nothing but bread for months. His tongue licks at your lips, begging entrance – dancing against your own when you helplessly open those same lips, demanding in the exact same way Toji is.

He pinches your nipple between thumb and forefinger, delighting in how quickly the bud hardens. He rolls it between them, toying with it, enjoying the soft noises you make that get caught in his mouth. If he wasn’t kissing you, he thinks, you’d be bleating like a lamb right now. Huffing and whimpering. When he finally gets his cock in you, he’ll have to remember to clap a hand over your mouth so you don’t attract too much attention.

Your other nipple is given the same treatment, hot lightning bolts of pleasure ricocheting from the touch of Toji’s calloused fingers to the spot between your legs. You’re grateful for how solid Toji is – if he were any less so, you’re sure you’d be buckling over where you stand.

He pulls back with a final, marking nip to your lower lip, almost hard enough to make you bleed. You whine, and a dark chuckle spills out of his lips in response.

“Toji,” you whimper as he pulls away. You miss the feel of his body pressed against yours like a physical ache. His hands encircle your thighs, pushing you up onto the edge of Gojo’s desk, clever fingers already pushing your tight pencil skirt up so it’s bunched around your waist.

He kind of misses ‘Mr Fushiguro’ now it’s gone, but the sight of your stockings digging into your thighs soon chases the thought from his mind. He guesses your skirt is more than long and tight enough to make sure nobody gets a glimpse, but oh . . . that you’d be walking around all day, like that, with nobody to fuck you silly--

He can’t help but let his hands knead the soft skin, the flesh, his thumbs imprinting so hard in the plush that you squirm. He’s pressing your thighs apart, now – revealing the modest underwear, the soaking wet patch where he can see the outline of your plump labia lips.

With your legs spread, he can smell how turned on you are. Oh, yeah – he knows your type, alright.

“Ain’t you cute?” He says, chuckling. “You really want me to do you over this desk?”

“You can’t leave me like this--” Your voice is reedy, breathy, almost petulant – at another time, he’d make you beg for it. He’d take his time over you. But although the idea of being caught fucking the cute little teacher’s aid is briefly appealing, he doesn’t really want to make a whole load of trouble for himself when his cock is practically begging to be sheathed inside your wet holes. “Please--”

It’s the please that does it. It’s always the ‘please’ that does it for Toji. He chuckles, smirks, crooked grin – all of it feels like it’s mixing together in your mind, your throat very dry as nothing seems to matter right now except the fact that your sex is practically pulsing with how empty it is, and you think that the hot hard stiffness pressing against your thighs would really help alleviate some of that.

“Aww,” he says, fiddling with his zip and underwear, grabbing his cock and giving it a cursory pump just so you can admire the sheer size of him. “Don’t worry, little lamb. I’ll give ya what you need.”

He gets what he wants. Your eyes, as big and dark as the eyes of a doe – the soft choke of breath as you get to see the size of it, so big his own fingertips don’t quite meet. It’s the kind of cock that could ruin you for somebody else – and you’ve had sex before, of course, but you’ve never taken anything quite like that--

“That’s cute,” Toji murmurs, pressing forward, nestling his slick cock-head between your soaking wet thighs. “Wish you could have seen what a picture your face made just then. Afraid I’m gonna tear you in two?”

He might – he might, you think. But you pout at him and Toji’s cock throbs, as he glides the slick glans through the mess of your arousal, wetting himself even further. Your breath hitches, your hips doing a cute little jerk as it brushes your swollen clit. He can’t help himself but swirl the head over it some more, making your breath catch and whine, bleating like a little lamb--

He sinks his hips forward, and your fingers flex on the edge of the desk, knuckles white, at the relentless sear of his cock driving you open. You feel so stretched out, and he’s barely a third of the way in – he can’t help but watch your expression. He always likes to see someone the first time they’re impaled on his cock – the glassy eyes, slack jaw, the pleasure-cum-pain in their faces. He wants to take a picture of you and keep it in his wallet so he can pump one out to the sight of you when he’s on business trips and too busy to go out and find himself a hole to fuck.

“How’s that feel?” He asks you, so soft and low that you barely catch it. Another slow inch. He lets you feel every ridge, every vein, every bump of his shaft. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears.

“F-full—” you gasp.

“I bet,” Toji replies – and then, he bottoms out inside you. His eyes look down to where the two of you are joined; the slick fluid leaking out of you, all heat and needy. “You fit me like a glove.”

Your cheeks heat at the compliment, at the lewd way he’s looking at your spread open cunt – the way your hole is fluttering around him, the peeking pearl of your clit. He’s studying you like he wants to learn you by heart.

“Head’s up,” he says. “I’m gonna fuck you now.”

You’re about to open your mouth, and ask him what he’s doing right at that moment if he hasn’t started fucking you yet – but then, he’s dragged almost the entire length of his cock out of you in one savage thrust and is immediately spearing it back into you, his pace brutal. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, your back hitting the solid, flat surface of Gojo’s desk so that you’re flat out with your thighs wrapped around Toji’s hips.

If he weren’t so entranced by the feel of your walls fluttering around him, trying to suck him in further and deeper, so tight that you’re basically a vice, he’d grab you by your hair and force you to stay seated whilst he fucked you. But right now, you feel so good that all he can think about is his own release. The wet sounds of his cock gliding in and out of you, the squelch of your arousal and slick making every pump easier and easier. You feel so good. You’re tighter than he even imagined you could be, so good that he kind of wants to take you home and have you take up permanent residence in his bed.

You’re moaning, your back arching with every one of his thrusts – taking it admirably. There’s pain in your moans, yes – he supposes he could have prepared you better, had you come on his fingers a couple of times, if time were not of the essence – but they’re the pained moans of someone who likes to be hurt a little bit.

With every rock of his cock inside of you, he hits some new spot that you’ve never had stoked before, makes the heat and need inside of you swim just a little bit closer to the forefront. You don’t even notice you’re moaning and whining until a big hand slaps over your mouth, rough, hot palm against your lips, smearing your lipstick.

“You’re gonna be a good girl and stay quiet,” Toji says to you, through those savage thrusts of his cock inside of you. “You don’t want your . . . your fuckin’ . . . anyone walkin’ in on you being railed by your student’s dad, do you?” You shake your head, but he feels the throb of your cunt around his cock, the way your walls contract, and he adds it to the store of things he’s learning about you. Always the quiet ones, right? Always the proper ones who look as though they’ve never even seen a cock--

The feel of him inside you is absolutely dizzying, so much and so full that you can no longer think. His cock batters against a certain place in your channel, a textured wall – and before you know it, everything is going dizzy and black and white like exploding fireworks, your chest bursting into heat, your inner walls getting so tight around Toji as you come that he thinks you’ll be the one to fucking break him.

Oh, you’re adorable, creaming on his cock – the slick gush of your arousal around him, the dreamy cast in your eye, the fact he can feel you drooling against his palm. He increases the speed of his own thrusts, chasing his release through the weak aftershocks and smaller pulses of you around him, through the over-sensitive squirming of your cute little cunt, the fact that tears are pooling in your eyes at how much everything is suddenly feeling--

He groans and the hand still clinging to your thigh is suddenly pressing so hard you think he’ll snap your bone, ragged breath;

“Fu—fuuuck, sweetheart, you’re gonna take it all, that’s right, good girl--” in between belaboured, ragged pumps, his cock twitching as he manages to pull out at the last moment and his release spills all over your thighs, luridly glistening wet in the overhead fluorescent lights.

That’s another moment he’d take a picture of, if he could.

He’s not the kind of man who waits around. He gives himself ten seconds, to catch his breath, to admire your plush thighs painted with his come, before he’s tucking himself back into his trousers and zipping zippers and doing buttons. He shoves his hands into his pockets, bouncing on the balls of his feet for a second – double checking he’s left nothing of his in the classroom.

Yep. All clear.

He turns to leave, air of cocky confidence back – you only just see the shifting muscles in his back as he turns to go, leaving you where you are. You’re lucky he’s so tall, or you’d probably barely have seen him in front of the door frame (you didn’t even lock the door, anyone could have walked in at any time! You don’t even want to know what Gojo would say if he’d walked in to his aid being fucked like a slut across his desk).

“W-wait,” you say, weakly, still sprawled over the desk with his come cooling on your thighs. You manage to prop yourself up on your elbows, but your entire body feels like it’s just taken a battering. He takes a look back at you from the door, dragging a big hand through his hair, his crooked grin still on his face. You look so pretty like that – all fucked out and messy, the shine taken off of you. “T-the paperwork--”

You’re not sure where said paperwork is. Underneath you, maybe? You hope it didn’t get soaked.

“Told ya’,” he says, dismissively. “I’m just gonna throw it in the trash. Thanks for the fun, sweetheart. See y’around, huh? I should do stuff for the kid’s academic career more often.”

The door slams shut behind him.

[neon-junkie]

MORE panty snatching shenanigans! its your turn to do laundry so you go to strip the beds— including pillow cases. you end up finding your panties tucked away into the crevice between the mattress and surface it rests on and stashed in their pillow cases. its not an obnoxious number, but you could tell they were underwear you had just thrown into the dirty hamper the previous day— each one had a freshly dirty pair for themselves. how the hell do you move on from tjat?? just put the bedding back on and leave it alone? how would they even react when they get back to the ship to stripped bed. they know you saw them, there’s no way you didn’t. now you have five sheepish men (that includes cross) who don’t know how to approach you or look you in the face. you pretend to not have seen anything, go on like nothing happened just to see them squirm but also how the hell do you approach a situation where you catch five extremely handsome men stealing your panties, panties you wore the night prior when you touched yourself to the thought of them, and then slipped them back on when you were done…. 😳🥴

Part 1 is here.

I think Echo is the only person who wouldn't get caught. He partakes in pantie snatching shenanigans, but he constantly feels so guilty about it, so much to the point that he physically cannot forget to return them. But you've just caught four of the five men doing it, and given Echo's panicked expression when he returns to find that you've changed his bedding, despite not finding anything, you assume that he's just as guilty as the rest.

The men are silent. They know. You know. They know you know. You know they know. Tension is so thick in the air that you could slice through it with a knife and eat it up for dinner. What the kriff do they do now? Are you going to mention it? Should they mention it?

It doesn't really bother you, if anything, you have the opposite reaction; you're glad that they see you in that way, considering you touch yourself to the thought of them every night. If anything, they deserve to enjoy your panties, since you're often cumming in them to the thought of these men.

You're uncertain how to move forward that you leave it, at first. Your panties stop going missing, and suddenly your underwear draw is overflowing. Ugh. You want things to return to previous ways, so you chalk up a plan to encourage them to use them again.

Minor adjustments are made to your wardrobe. You begin to wear tighter fitting clothes, ensuring that your pantie line is visibly pressed against your ass beneath the clothing. Sometimes you wear a thong, and settle the bands over your hips, peeking out from beneath your pants, as if to remind them that you're wearing underwear today.

You bend over more often. Tech is the perfect victim for your crime; he's always dropping tools whenever he's working away, and that's your opportunity to flaunt what you have whilst 'helping him.' Tech doesn't notice at first, not until you're shoving the tool back into his hand, and he jumps at your sudden appearance, dropping another tool yet again.

"Careful, Tech," you tut as you pick the tool up. "If you treat your tools carelessly, then that makes me question how you'd treat a woman." Tech is attempting to stutter a reply as you smile and walk off, leaving him with a hazy mind.

Crosshair is another victim to your bending over shenanigans. It's part of his routine to clean his rifle, and you're lucky one day, lucky in the sense that you overhear Crosshair grumbling to himself because he's just sat down and forgot something from his kit. You offer to retrieve it, and Crosshair watches hungrily as you band over and begin rummaging through the box, taking your time to retrieve said item.

"For you, Sir," you playfully announce as you hand over the missing item, and Crosshair accidentally drops the toothpick from between his lips at your bold name. You're gone before he can even think of a reply, and he makes a mental note to get you back for it.

You ask the boys if any of them want to come clothes shopping with you. Wrecker says yes, and you enjoy dragging him through the underwear isle specifically, asking for his opinion on every single frilly, lacy, bright pair of undies that you pick out. He tells you that they all look "nice," and the poor man looks like he's about to pass out at any given moment.

Hunter is a hard one to catch slipping, so you create an opportunity to rile him up. Whilst he's alone, you strike up a conversation, and eventually ask, "have you ever misused that knife of yours?"

"What do you mean?" Hunter quirks a brow.

"Oh, I dunno.... Used it during sex, maybe to help undress someone? Cut off their panties, maybe?" you shrug. Hunter can't even attempt to string together a reply, too flustered at those thoughts that you've put into his head. "I'll take that as a no," you laugh, and as you begin to walk off, you turn over your shoulder and state, "let me know if you ever want to practise."

Echo has managed to act the most normal around you. He always politely averts his gaze whenever you're flaunting yourself in front of the boys, and you can't deny that his politeness isn't winding you up, just a little. One day, Echo's going through his usual routine of oiling his joints, a task that you sometimes help him with. You offer a hand, as always, and he accepts it.

Usually, you'll work on his legs whilst he works on his arm, but since he's already started, he decided to do his arm first. You settle between Echo's thighs, looking up at him innocently as you begin working on his legs. Echo has nothing to distract himself, and struggles to keep eye contact as you slowly work the oil into each crevice, slicking the mechanical compartments up. All colour that Echo had managed to gain drains from his complexion, and once you've finished and left, he has to remain seated for a while, concerned that he's going to pass out.

Your shenanigans have been going on for a few weeks, and you decide that it's time to finally inform them that you know.

"I'm going to bed," you announce one evening. The Batch say goodnight, and you find your way into your room, quickly stripping off and changing into pyjamas. "Oh," you sigh as you exit your room, turning to face them. "I don't know whos turn it is tonight. You can fight amongst yourselves," you say with a smirk, and toss todays pair of panties at them.

"Goodnight!" you sweetly smile once your panties land within their crowd. You don't linger around, you've seen more than enough of their ghost-white expressions as they figure out what's happening between them. You enter your room, the door shutting behind you, and grin to yourself as you get into bed.

The Batch is frozen. Every single one of them has their own shocked and embarrassed expression plastered across their face, unable to move, until Echo finally breaks the tension by letting out a cough (he forgot to breathe.) They decide to speak about things, and two questions swiftly rise up in conversation:

1. You're clearly aware of what's going on, so how should they approach the matter?

2. Who gets your panties for tonight?

---

Part 3 is here.

[jacobsnsfw]

half time, dream

NSFW! MINORS DNI ISTG

PAIRING  football!dream x fem!reader

PRONOUNS she/her

WARNINGS unprotected ( wrap b4 u tap! ) hate sex, choking spitting, degradation, hair pulling,

SONG REC girls need love, summer walker

WORD COUNT 2.28k

NOTE  this is fully inspired by @/slapnap , @/whoranges , & their wonderful anons.  football!dream my love </3 it's been months since i've written smut bare with me pls😩. it’s written kind of weird, i wrote it almost in past tense? they’re both 18 and seniors

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     HALF TIME HAD FINALLY BEGAN all the players from each team had went to hydrate and talk amongst themselves, (y/n) watched clay's cocky smirk form on his face as the other cheerleaders on her cheer squad surrounded that gorgeous bastard, and showered him with compliments about how good he looked or how well he played.

she hated everything about him, the way he obnoxiously flirted with every girl to ever enter the school's front doors, hell he's even tried on multiple teachers. he made her skin crawl but yet, he was unimaginably attractive. clay's green eyes gazed pasted the heads of the girls in front of him, the smirk on his face grew as his eyes raked down (y/n)'s a beautiful figure in her uniform that fit her body perfectly, her hips and tits on full display only covered by the short skirt and tight top.

once their eyes met the cheerleader was quick to break eye contact praying he didn't get the wrong idea, but his long legs carried him quickly to where she was leaning against the metal pole holding up the stands, "staring isn't very nice y'know" she hated the way he spoke and the effect he had on her.

"why don't you go fuck yourself" she more-so told him then asked, "oh come on.." he trailed off a faux pout pulling at his lips that (y/n) rolled her eyes at.

"why don't you and i take a trip to the locker rooms, hm?" he asked. something that damn near no one knew, was the fact that they had gotten together at clay's friend karl's house, in his bed, but they never talked about it, and if niki, one of (y/n)'s close friends, were to bring it up, (y/n) would say it was some mistake, but she never forgot the things clay made her feel that night, maybe it was the adrenaline she was feeling that made her overly sensitive, but he was.. different.

her eyebrows raised and her thighs clenched at the memory, "what are you thinking about?" clay asked his voice huskier than before. he placed his index finger under her chin, making her look him in the eyes. how the hell are you supposed to tell someone you're daydreaming about the sex you had with them, maybe if he wasn't so full of himself now, she would've told him, but no.

"thinking about how you're on my last nerve" she snapped putting on her best angry look, as if she wasn't soaked from his voice and her thoughts alone, pulling her head away from him quickly. "feisty... i like it" he tutted running his thumb over her bottom lip. he pulled her into him by her waist, "come on, you had fun last time.." he continued, he wasn't wrong but, (y/n) would never admit that.

his lips met hers as shock crossed her brain, but when his teeth sunk into her bottom lip and slipped his tongue inside her mouth, she moaned, as if there were parents and their peer's siblings just above them on the bleachers, but that didn't matter at the time. their mouths slotted together euphorically, teeth and tongue clashing.

clay's muscular thigh lifted to meet her pussy that was covered by a thin, skimpy pair of panties and short spandex, and he pressed into it so she could feel him through the clothing.

(y/n) quietly protested when his lips left her own, "come on" he mumbled pulling her behind him to what looked to be the boys' locker room, "i can't go in there" she stopped in her tracks, standing just outside the door, clay rolled his eyes and grabbed her wrist pulling her in.

"as if you coming in the locker room's a big deal. no one's here to snitch and no one will find out" he mumbled like they weren't about to have sex where any of his teammates or coaches could walk in.

he pushed her up against the cold lockers, the cold metal and clay's mouth back on hers sent chills up her whole body. god, the thought of someone walking into his hands gliding down her body, and gripping her ass under the inappropriately short skirt, made her brain fog.

(y/n) reached down and tugged the clothing on her lower half off, leaving a pair of black panties thin enough to not see through the spandex that pooled at her ankles that she had on only so no one could see what she didn't want them to.

they pulled away from each other, clay palmed his erection through his pants, (y/n) grabbed him by his shirt, and pulled him back into her by his shoulder pads, "are these staying on?" she asked quietly and clay nodded in response, they only had around fifteen minutes left of their thirty

the football player's hands trailed from where they sat on her waist, to her throat, he wrapped them tight but not too tight, just enough so she could breathe, "what do you want me to do" clay teased, he knew what she wanted, but he wasn't going to just fuck her, he wanted her to beg.

"fuck you, i'm not doing it." (y/n) said, it's almost like she could read his mind if she did beg he would brag about it for the remainder of the time they fucked around together.

"oh.. okay" he replied nonchalantly pulling away from where he had her pressed against the lockers, and heading towards the door, "wait, clay!" she walked quickly after him, grabbing his wrist pulling him into her.

their chest colliding just before she reached up and pulled his head- more specifically his left ear, whispering, "clay, please fuck me~" she moaned loudly and obnoxiously squeaky into it and he almost lost it.

his hands that were at his side, came back to her waist and her throat, "listen, we both know how much of a slut for me you are, and don't pretend any different, got it?" he asked his tone was serious and that's what made it even hotter, c'mon if a greek god were to be in your face telling you how much of a slut you were, how would you act?

she hummed, acknowledging what he said. his grip on her throat tightened ever so slightly, "words, whore" he hummed his calloused hand left her hip and trailed teasingly down her thigh, and slapping it roughly.

"yes," she gasped when his hand met her flesh soothing the stop he hit, "i'm.. a slut for you" her hands met his broad shoulders, her nails digging into the clothing that covered them.

a deep grunt left his agape mouth, and he pulled the top off the cheer uniform up enough to expose her tits to him. his mouth as quick to attach to the left one, her hands tangled in his dusty, blond locks, when his teeth barely grazed over her nipple, her breath caught in her throat and her hands tugged at his hair.

(y/n)'s head tipped back and met the lockers, with a so much force a small clang bounced off the walls of the large room, "careful doll, don't wanna hurt that pretty little head of yours." clay spoke up his mouth releasing her breast with an audible 'pop'.

his hands reached to pull the pants from upon his hips, but before he did, he glanced up at (y/n) for permission, she nodded with a dopey smile on her face. the bare minimum just hits different when he's with her.

"ya'sure you wanna do this?" he asked, he didn't want to force her into anything she was uncomfortable with, i'm sure if she had an issue she would've said or done something sooner, but just in case she didn't.

"m'sure" she mumbled out, her dainty, slender fingers tugged at his hair again trying her best to make him hurry and fuck her before time ran out, to say she was eager would be an understatement.

clay laughed at her neediness, "for someone who hates me, you sure don't act like it. all needy for me, hm?" he was so painfully conceited he knew how hot he was and he knew how to treat someone mentally and physically.

the pants he wore for the game, were quick to be tugged down his hips, and his boxers as well, fully exposing himself to (y/n) and anyone who could walk in at any time.

he wrapped his hands around his cock, stroking it slowly almost like he was teasing himself, a grunt passed his lips and his hips pressed more into his hand, though (y/n) didn't want him to get to into it and grabbed his wrist causing his hand to almost halt and his eyes locked with (y/n)'s.

"use me not your hand, please" she cooed under her breath wiggling in his tight hold. he laughed once again at her neediness.

"you want me to fuck you? use you like a toy?" teasing, teasing, and more teasing, he enjoyed watching her struggle and rub aimlessly against him, it was hot to him at least.

she continued nodding, like that was the only thing she could do, "please. pl-please" the high-pitched moan that followed her stumbled words made clay almost want to edge her until she was crying in his arms, but then he remembered the time crunch.

he grabbed her chin making eye contact with her as he rubbed his cock against her slit trying his best to get a reaction and pushed slowly into her.

"clay~ hngg" she moaned, her plan to keep at least a little bit quiet was crushed when he slowly started thrusting into her, his pace speeding every time he pushed back in

his thumb rubbed against her bottom lip, opening her mouth slightly, clays brows raised expectantly waiting for her to open it the rest of the way, when she did, the spit that pooled on his tongue transferred to hers, "swallow it, bitch" he spoke through gritted teeth.

his cock nudged that spot deep inside her, and her back arched from the locker and her moans stuttered, "right there- fuck!" (y/n) gasped as her legs wrapped impossibly tighter around his hips pulling him closer, just to make him hit it again. 

his thrusts were almost animalistic at this point, and the words that streamed from (y/n)'s gorgeous lips were echoed throughout the room, her mind ran so fast she could barely keep up, maybe this is why they called him dream, ‘cause fuck was this is like a erotic fantasy. it was almost embarrassing how fast he could make her cum.

her brain became more foggy than when this started, her thigh started to quiver ever so slightly, “you g’na come?” clay taunted, his hips slowing. she didn’t even reply her legs wrapped tighter around his hips, pulling him into her, as she ground herself against his cock. 

her velvety walls enveloped around him tightly, pulling a strangled gasp from clay, his left hand reached to tug the ends of her hair exposing her neck to him. his lips attached to her neck, “no marks, someone’ll see” (y/n) mumbled threading her fingers through his hair.

“ ‘ts baffling how you think i give a fuck.” he muttered continuing his harsh thrusts and his mouth sucking red marks that would be soon become a deep purple color. (y/n)’s vision blurred slightly and she swore she could see stars, the ahegao-like expression present on her features reminded clay of the hentai he’d seen that sapnap had sent him, drool dripped from her tongue and down her chin, like a child. 

a white ring could be seen every time clay pulled out to thrust back in, he fucked her through her orgasm, attempting to chase his that was so close he could practically taste it, his hips stuttered and his pace slowed quite a bit.

his body slumped against hers, and his head fell into her shoulder as he breathed in the overly expensive perfume and matching lotion she wore all the time, it was her go, kind of fruity and coconut-y, not too sweet but sweet enough to get the point across. 

the afterglow they were basking in was cut short by the banging on the door from someone, “clay? are you in there” what sounded like clay’s good friend alex on the other side of the door, “yeah, i’ll be out in a sec” he yelled back pushing off of where he was leaning against (y/n). 

a dopey smile pulled at her lips as she pulled her skirt up from on the floor, "what's so fuckin' funny?" clay asked with his brows furrowed. "nothing, just had sex with a hot guy in his locker room at a football game" she mumbled pulling her top over her boobs and walking past him making sure their shoulders brushed when she did. clay stared at the door, dumbfounded, she just walked away as if he didn't just ruin her, if she didn't feel it now she definitely would later.

[leahblackk]

I have not sent in a request jn like 6 years but okay -

something maybe a lil big angsty but like spencer is being over the top sarcastic with reader. maybe they’re in an argument over his job or something some argument and Spencer is just being very rude and sarcastic to the point where reader can’t tell if it’s a joke or not, and in the midst of their argument spencer is called away on a case, and comes home to see reader has left. (if u wanna fluff it up at the end he can apologize profusely and they can cuddle it out but up to you leah bc your mind is genius)

Hurtful words

(Not my gif)

Summary: a little blurb by my local amazing ideas giver, Alex. Let’s all say thank you Alex for this idea.

Couple: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Warnings: Spencer being a little shit. And mentions of being injured because of gunshot. And many mistakes I’m sorry :)

Oh my god yes! I feel like I haven’t done a blurb in years. Your blurb ideas are the ones that keep me going. And you are the genius!! Your ideas are extremely amazing and I’m happy I can make them true <3

Spencer Reid.

What a mystery that man was.

Y/n met Spencer as a sweet young man with glasses and cute jumpers. A man who didn't catch certain social things. He didn’t understood sarcasm in certain occasions or indirect messages or double intentions. Of course, he knew what it was, but he didn’t know how to act with it or how to use it.

Until he learned how to be passive-aggressive.

The first time Y/n ever saw Spencer being passive-aggressive with someone was with JJ when the Lauren/Emily thing happened. Spencer, of course, was very mad about it. JJ was his best friend, the person he most trusted besides his girlfriend. He couldn’t understand why he couldn’t know. It wasn’t like he was going to tell anyone! He had the right to know that his friend whom he loved so much wasn’t buried five feet underground! He cried on his girlfriend floor for hours, and when he was too embarrassed by her looking at him, he went to JJ’s house. She saw him, she saw him crying his eyes out for her and she didn’t say a damn thing! Of course he was going to be mad.

Y/n never thought she had to worry about him being like that with her.

Spencer always has been a sweet man. But he isn’t when he’s under stress, mad or sad. The pressure over him made his IQ of 187 slashed to 63. He couldn’t think straight. And Spencer never worried about him being like that with his girlfriend. He didn’t had any reasons to be. She was all nice to him and cared about him.

But now, things changed while they were fighting in their shared apartment.

Y/n has been injured on a case after being reckless, or that was the way his boyfriend thought, but to be honest she saved a life, even if that got her hurt. She didn’t care. She would do it again. And that petrified Spencer.

Even if her doctor told her she could go back to the field. Spencer wasn’t going to have any of it. That was why they were fighting. Neither of them liked to deal with strong emotions. He wanted to say he didn’t want her to be there because he was scared he was going to lose her. He couldn’t lose her. She was his everything. His glue putting him together when the world tried to bring him down and shatter his heart. She was the thing that keeps him going. But instead of saying that, he was treating her badly and Y/n on her side wasn’t going to have any of it.

“Why can’t you understand, Spencer? I’m not a child. I can perfectly take care of myself.” She said putting her clothes on her go-bag while Spencer took them out.

He chuckled, “Perfectly take care of yourself? Yeah of course I believe you. When did you take care of yourself? When you put yourself in front of the unsub and he shot you? Yeah, Y/n, that’s taking care of yourself.”

She frowned.

That hurt.

“Excuse Spencer but you’re not no one to tell me what to do.”

“I’m your boyfriend!” He said, hurt.

“And? That doesn’t give you any right to tell me what to do. I’m a grown-up, Reid. If you didn’t notice. I’m not a child you can take care of.”

“Sometimes I think you are, you know?” He then looked at her, “You act worse than a child sometimes. Being so reckless and putting yourself in danger.”

“Like you haven’t done that yourself either.”

“I have! But I knew what I was doing. You weren’t thinking!”

“When is gonna be the day you understand you can’t tell me what to do?”

“When you stop being so reckless and actually take care of yourself,” He crossed his arms over his chest, “But apparently that’s not happening.”

She sighed with anger and looked at him. Throwing a shirt over his face and going downstairs to the kitchen to drink water and calm herself. Spencer followed her and entered the kitchen taking a glass of water as well.

She didn’t even look at him. He wanted her looking at him. He wanted to feel those eyes on him even if they were full of anger.

So he made it in the wrong way.

“And you said you’re not a child,” he murmured referring to her throwing the shirt on his face.

“What was that?” She turned around and look at him.

“You perfectly heard it, Y/n.”

“I can’t believe you’re the one calling me a child. Look at you,” she moved her hands up and down in front of him to make a point, “I’m going to that case you like it or not.”

“I wouldn’t risk the team to be with you on the case. They might end it up injured with your recklessness.”

Silence.

The words Spencer throw made echo in both lovers ears.

Reid bit his bottom lip regretting the words as soon as they came out of his mouth. Trying to take them back but the damage was already done.

Y/n looked at him without any emotion. Until her eyes start to burn and the tears came out. She lifted her hand with anger and wiped them off feeling her cheeks getting warmer and warmer.

Spencer looked at her and his heart ached. Why did he said that? She was a great agent. He was just scared of losing her and if by telling her that stuff, she would stay home safe, he would do it. But he regretted it now. He regretted it so much.

She chuckled without any humour and licked her bottom lip, tears coming down her face again.

But she let them now. Too tired.

Spencer’s first instinct was to step forward to her, but she stayed back putting her hands in front of him, to stop him.

She didn’t want to be touched by him.

He looked down.

He spends his life touching her. Loving her and worshipping her body. Touching her soft skin with soft moves, carefully not wanting to break her as she was a porcelain doll. But now, she didn’t want to be touched by him.

And Spencer understood.

He did.

It was all his fault at the end of the day. He made her stayed back when he wanted to pull her in. It was his fault. “I don’t want you to touch me,” she murmured and passed him taking her arms close to her so they wouldn’t brush his skin.

Spencer’s tears came down now.

I don’t want you to touch me.

She didn’t want him to touch her.

But all he wanted to do was touch her and let her know he didn’t mean those words. How could he? She was perfect in everything she did, her job included. Mostly her job.

Spencer didn’t notice how much time had passed while he stood frozen in the middle of their kitchen until he felt his phone buzzed. He took it out of his pocket. It was Morgan.

Hey Spencer. I know you love your girlfriend so much but we have to hurry! People are dying you know? Not everything is vanilla and roses like you two.

Spencer chuckled. Only if he knew.

He went upstairs with careful moves while he pressed his palms together trying to stop the trembling. He mostly did.

All her clothes were now in the closet, her go-bag as well. She wasn’t going to the case. It wasn’t a surprise. He knew he would achieve what he wanted after saying that. But now it didn’t felt right.

He moved closer to where she was. On their shared bed. He sat down. He was about to open his mouth to say something but she did it first. “Please don’t say anything. You have said enough and I think your thoughts are very clear,” her voice sounds broken. And was all his fault, “Just go. Tell the team I haven’t made full recovery yet.”

He nodded even if she couldn’t see him because she was hiding under the blankets.

What Spencer didn’t notice was the way after saying those words, her hands end it up on her mouth trying the sobs not to come out. She knew if Spencer heard those he would stay with her, even if they just argued. It was Spencer at the end of the day.

He would do anything for her.

Spencer full of guilty took his go-bag and walked directly to the door, looking at her once more.

He wanted to ask.

He needed to know.

You’re gonna be here when I come back?

You’re gonna still be here when I come back?

But the words never left his mouth. They got stuck on his throat. The pain and the tears as well. He needs to say he still loved her. That no matter what he still loved her. He loves her.

He-

He loves her.

But he couldn’t. So he turned around, and left.

When the front door closed Y/n finally let the sobs out.

…

The young doctor tried to avoid all the questions on why he was so grumpy and distracted.

The answer to those questions was “I just had a huge fight with the love of my life and I’m worried she leaves while I’m here. Even if she have every right to I’m still scared because she’s the only thing that keeps me going.”

But of course, he didn’t said it.

He just dismissed everything saying he didn’t have good sleep which didn’t make things better because later on, he was going to be teased by Emily and Morgan.

And when the case was finally closed, he ran to the closest flower shop to buy her favourite flowers and then he went to her favourite restaurant to get her favourite food to then ran to the metro all the way to their shared apartment.

He tried to manage to open the door with all the things in his hand but he couldn’t so he put his satchel and the flowers on the wooden floor, and he was about to put the food as well but then he thought about the germs even if the food was protected, so he put it above his satchel and he was finally able to open the door.

The lights were off which wasn’t weird of her. She wasn’t a lover of the lights of the apartment, always reminding Spencer that they needed to change them as they were too bright, but they never had time to do so, but that was exactly what Spencer was going to do tomorrow.

He then took off his shoes and put them next to the others, but her shoes weren’t there which was weird but he didn’t think too much about it. Maybe she forgot to take them off.

Spencer, then, open the door, even more, to put all the things inside of the house. He put his satchel on the little table next to the shoes and his keys as well.

Her keys weren’t there.

Spencer’s heart stopped.

Her keys weren’t there.

He breathed in and out softly trying to calm his desperate heart beating faster and faster on his chest wanting to get out. He put his palms together trying to stop the trembling but this time was impossible.

He took the flowers with him and went upstairs closing the front door behind him and he open the door of their shared bedroom.

She wasn’t there.

She-

She wasn’t there.

Where did she go?

Did she leave?

No.

No.

“No,” Spencer whispered the tears coming down his eyes.

She wouldn’t. Even if she was mad. She wouldn’t do that as everyone else did without any more explanation than a letter or a note.

A letter.

He needed to find the letter.

He searched on their bed and the tables beside their side of the bed. He didn’t look in their closet or bathroom because she wouldn’t leave that there.

Spencer went downstairs to the kitchen looking for the letter on the dining table and outside of the refrigerator. But there was none.

He, then walked to the living room looking and moving things making a mess.

He needed to read the letter.

She must have left a letter.

Everyone else left a letter.

And the door open but he didn’t heard it because of his desperation and the sound of his heartbeat making echo in his hears

He needed to find the letter.

He turned around and she saw her. Standing there with a sundress and her hair tied. She looked beautiful. She always looked beautiful, but she had a frown on her face looking with confusion at her surroundings, the mess he just made and then back to Spencer repeatedly.

And then he understood he needed to explain himself. “I-I,” he looked down and closed his eyes full of tears for a few seconds. She saw the trembling on his hands. She made a step forward from instinct but then she stopped as she remembers what happened between them. He looked up at her. He couldn’t get the words out of his mouth but she waited for him to talk, patiently while he tried to find the correct words. “I came here right away. Well not right away because I went first to the flower shop and then to your favourite restaurant,” he rambled looking at her. She didn’t stop him. She didn’t have any intention to stop him. Instead, she listens carefully. She always listens, “you weren’t at home and I’ve been nervous all these past days because I thought you would leave, and you had every right to and then I came back here and you weren’t and I looked for a-a note or letter.”

Her heart shattered.

People that left his life always left a note or a letter. She remembers when he told her that.

“I didn’t leave,” he nodded. She didn’t. She stayed. “Penelope called me and she needed help with something and then she asked me if I knew why you were acting so weird and I talked to her for a while and I didn’t realize how late it was. I’m sorry.”

He shocked his head. Stepping forward to her. “You don’t have to apologize. I’m the one who needs to apologize. I shouldn’t have treated you so badly and I want you to understand that I didn’t mean a single word because you are so great and so amazing in everything you do. I would never mean those words,” now was her turn to nodded, “I just said that because after you being injured, I didn’t want you to hurt yourself or even get killed. I’m selfish, yeah I know that. But you’re my everything, Y/n. Without you, I don’t know what will I do, you’re the only one who keeps me together and the one who brings light to my darkness. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he took her hands looking for permission first, “I said those things because I knew you would stay home, but I didn’t mean them I swear I didn’t.”

She nodded again and hugged him. He sobbed while he hugged her as his life depends on it. “I know. It’s okay love. I won't leave you I promise,” she sobbed too. “I love you.”

“I love you more, so so much.”

And they held each other while they sobbed and repeat those three little words back and forth.

They were home now.

They were okay now.

[kashimos-hajime]

pretty face on a pretty neck | b.b.

summary: they aren’t fucking dating. not fucking friends, either. no, bucky just fucks romanoff’s best friend until she’s fucking stupid, begging for it, and leaves in the morning because that’s how the universe fucking works. and sometimes, he wishes it didn’t work that way.

WARNINGS: a tiny bit of smut (18+), fingering, choking, swearing, drinking, brief mentions of cheating, bucky’s just really fucking jealous, mentions of a shitty relationship and self-doubt from it, the dark knight spoilers, fluffy end!! pairing: modern!bucky barnes x fem!reader, brief steve rogers x fem!reader lmaoo  word count: 5.5k

a/n: this is a cute lil piece written for @sourpatchkidsandacokecan​​​​​​! my prompt was “you called me, remember?” inspired by kiwi by harry styles. 

For a moment, Bucky wonders how the fuck he got into this situation.

Then again, he’s not complaining.

The view is fucking stellar.

You weave through the crowd, glistening like some glazed dessert that he can’t wait to get his mouth on. Your lips are shining with a swipe of that sweet lipgloss he loves to suck off and you’re wearing that black dress.

The black dress. Shorter than short, showing every inch of skin yet not enough.

You toss your head back, exposing that neck that he loves to bite to Steve who grins, glad his joke landed. Stifling a scowl, Bucky grabs his scotch and throws it back, desperate not to grab you and throw you into a stall just to mark you up as his.

You had made him promise, after all. No socialization outside their little nightcap sessions that often lead to… well, Bucky’s game for anything really.

A cigarette is pinched between your lips and Steve helps you light it with a flick of his lighter, the burning embers glowing in the dark, seedy bar. Leaning on the bar counter, you talk to Sam wiping down his station and he nods, eyes dragging over your face and Bucky cannot tear his gaze away as Sam pours you three shots of vodka. You blow out a lungful of smoke, cigarette pinched between two fingers before glancing at Steve and making some sort of bet, based on the way your lips curl.

They go down like water, dripping down your chin and you laugh when Steve wipes it off your collarbones before he grabs your chin and smashes his lips against yours. You immediately reciprocate, mouth opening as he bends you over the bar, his hair golden and his hand trailing up your thigh.

“Fucker,” Bucky mutters, finally managing to rip his gaze away. A heat blazes through his stomach.

Stupid fucking party for damn Romanoff’s birthday. Sometimes he hates being some of the oldest friends that redhead knows. It makes him feel creepy, wading through a sea of college students that are only one or two years younger than him. Steve himself is finishing his last year, so he’s sure he doesn’t share Bucky’s plight of feeling old.

He wishes he could just approach you and ask to leave, pin you against the wall of his apartment, take you like he knows Steve’s going to later, but he can’t.

You aren’t fucking dating. Not fucking friends, either.

No, Bucky just fucks Romanoff’s best friend until she’s fucking stupid, begging for it, and leaves in the morning because that’s how the universe fucking works.

And sometimes, he wishes it didn’t work that way.

“Not enjoying yourself, James?” Birthday Girl Romanoff asks, appearing at his shoulder and he turns to her, shifting in his seat.

“Steve’s too busy chatting up your friend for me to do anything,” he replies, keeping his tone light and Romanoff glances at where Steve’s made his way to kissing up your neck, your fingers carded through his hair.

“Give him a break,” Romanoff says. “They both need to get laid.”

“You don’t think she’s getting laid?” Bucky asks incredulously. “Every fucking guy I’ve met has said they wanted to get with her at least once.”

“Sounding a bit jealous over someone you claim to hate, James,” the redhead teases, sipping on her mojito with raised eyebrows.

“I’m just saying. All the boys were saying they were into it.”

“And you?”

“She’s… a brat.”

“Seems to me that you’re into that,” she hums, leaning on his shoulder. “Honestly, it would’ve been better if you two met before her and her stupid boyfriend did. Ever since she moved in with Rumlow…” The woman trails off and Bucky absently fills in the blanks, she’s faked every single orgasm she’s had with him. “I don’t know. He’s a fucking prick. Doesn’t treat her like she deserves.”

“Does he—“

“No. Just… never a priority, is she? Why else is she here alone?” Natasha pauses, as if debating how much to tell him, then adds, “Then he gets all pissy about where she’s been. On his beck and call, isn’t she?”

“Asshole,” Bucky replies distantly. Steve has his hand basically up your dress and he watches as your legs pull him closer, your lips running along the shell of his ear. “You’re endorsing your best friend cheating on her boyfriend, you know, when we could just be beating him up”

“Hey. She said she was going to break up with him. I can’t make those choices up for her and I’m not about to land any of my friends in jail trying to be my ride or dies.” Romanoff shrugs, glancing at her friend. “Besides, she doesn’t have anywhere else to go, does she? It’s not like she can move into my dorm or move back into her parents across the country.” Bucky watches as you hook your legs around Steve’s waist and he hoists you into his arms, disappearing into the crowd.

By the direction, Bucky can guess the destination and some distant part of his head whispers, She could move in with me.

“Might want to avoid the bathrooms for a while,” he comments and Romanoff snorts, the ice crackling by her straw as she stirs her drained glass.

“I’m going to go get laid, too,” she replies frankly. “Don’t stay brooding in the corner, Barnesy-bear. Your face is one worthy of being sat on.”

“Thank you.”

With that, the redhead slips into the crowd and Bucky gets up, plucking his jacket and leaving the bar. His pants are tight with the thought of your mouth and the sound of your gasping breaths echoing in his ear. The feeling of your fingers scratching down his back makes him roll his shoulders back as he flags a cab.

So what if you’re fucking Steve?

It’s not like he’s exclusive with you.

He can’t fault his best friend for having excellent fucking taste.

As he enters the cab and tells the driver his address, he wonders how the fuck someone like Rumlow snagged the title as your boyfriend when there are so many other options.

Steve being one, but he’s still living on-campus.

Bucky doesn’t want to say it, but maybe he, with his own apartment and steady job and intimate knowledge of your desires and interests and needs, is the other.

.

It’s two weeks later when he finally sees you again, at Romanoff’s birthday function at the beach. Something with closer friends, in broad daylight at a beach house Romanoff’s parents own. She and Sam are already there by the time Bucky gets there, unpacking in rooms for a weekend stay.

“Take any room you like,” Romanoff calls from upstairs and Bucky does so, choosing one of the few rooms on the main floor just as another figure walks in.

“I’m here, Nat!” Your voice echoes against wooden walls as Bucky pokes his head out of his room to see you there. He doesn’t know whether he should feel guilty or not that he’s glad Steve hasn’t sated your hunger when you show up alone, shorts riding up your thighs and a t-shirt that is so sheer it does nothing to conceal the bikini top you wear beneath it. “I’m taking my usual room.”

“Fine with me!”

With that, you walk down the hall, eyes meandering over the living room and kitchen. Bucky’s throat closes up when you walk past the stairs to stop at his room and you smirk all saccharine at him.

“Hey, Barnes.”

He scans your face for a moment. “You came. Thought you’d still be sucking Steve’s face off like you were back at the bar. Or… sucking his dick. Whatever floats your boat.”

“Well, that was a one-off thing. Heat of the moment,” you dismiss, leaning against his door frame and he hates the way you look against the wood. Makes something in him stir, makes the blood run hot and his mind focus on one image in particular.

“What’d your boyfriend say when he saw your neck fucking marked up?” he asks, uncaring of the thin ice he stands upon. You frown, arms crossing.

“I was careful,” you reply tightly, “and I didn’t let him leave any marks.”

Bucky can’t help the small flash of satisfaction at hearing that. “You’re not careful with me. I like seeing your neck tatted up with it,” he comments, his hand twitching to wrap around your throat as he lifts his finger to trace the soft, pulsing vein along your neck. You tilt your chin up, eyes narrowing with amusement.

“I’m not yours, Barnes.”

“What you say tells me differently, princess.” Dropping his hand to grab your wrist, he pulls you into his room and slams the door shut, pinning you against it with a harsh push. You exhale sharply, the breath pushing out of your lungs as your bags drop with a disant thump. His senses zero in on everything about you, the light scent of the sunblock smeared into your skin, the cotton twisting beneath his fist as his other hand finds your neck on its own accord. “You’ve been distant lately, kitten.”

He can feel your racing pulse against his palm as you smirk, hands wrapping around his waist and pulling him flush against you. Every inch of his skin is pressed against yours as you hike a leg up onto his hip. His hand at your waist immediately goes to cup it and you loop your arms around his neck innocently.

“I’ve had a lot of work to do. Brock and I…” You let out a soft hum as if to ponder but he knows it’s just to piss him off, “spent some time alone. Romantic trip out of town. Then, I had other things to do.”

“Did you?” It’s not a question Bucky wants answered as you nod demurely, lips twisted into a smirk. He wants nothing more than to yank your shorts down, spin you around, and have you screaming his name as he takes you again and again. He’s been blue balled for two weeks and you haven’t answered any of his calls.

Now, he knows why.

“So, that stupid boyfriend of yours was with you, huh?” he asks, not waiting for an answer as he leans in close. He can taste the vodka in your mouth still, the vodka he never got to taste two weeks before in a bar, along with something fruity. Your gum, maybe, or an orange that you sucked clean off its peel. “And then what? Did you hop off after you faked your way through a few nights with him and head for Steve’s? Hm?”

“Temper, temper, James,” you whisper, lips barely brushing his. His entire body is alight, every nerve shooting sensations through his limbs as your fingers curl against the nap of his neck. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous.”

“Jealous, yeah.��� His hand on your thigh trails up and inward, sneaking past the hem of your shorts as you lower your leg to hook on his calf, pulling him infinitely closer. His dick is pressing against his swim shorts, completely obvious and painfully hard against your navel as he shifts his hips just enough to let his hand sneak further up your shorts. “Why would I be jealous?”

His fingers find the silky slip of your bikini bottom and brush over the junction of your hip, smirking at the tremble he can feel course through your body.

“You wanted me that night at the bar,” you whisper as he slowly trails deeper inward. “Tell me that isn’t true.”

“Who didn’t, hm?” He smirks when you turn your face away, biting your lip at his fingers dancing around a spot already slickening with anticipation. “C’mon, princess. You telling me you didn’t wear that black dress for me? Look at me.”

You refuse and he rubs his thumb into the side of your neck, dipping his head to bite at your collarbones.

“Look at me, princess,” he whispers, lifting his head to see your defiant gaze meeting his. “Tell me the truth about the black dress.”

“I didn’t wear it for you,” you bite back softly, “to fuck me in.” His hand tightens, just barely around your neck and your eyes flutter shut. Oh, how badly he wants to ravage your lips, lock you in this room and just take you in every way you want…

“Trying to make me jealous, kitten?” he rasps as your hips roll against his dick and you bite your lip, chin tilting up as your nails dig into his skin. Because it worked.

“So what if I was?”

“Then, you’re going to have to pay for it.” He spins you around and moves to shove his shorts just past his hips. You let out a sharp exhale at the pressure of his hand against the back of his neck, your hands pressed flat against the door. “You got anything to say for yourself, princess?”

His swim shorts fall and he tugs your shorts down just past your ass, tracing the smooth curve of it with an arrogant curve to his lip. His lips find your neck, nipping lightly before raising to your ear.

“I asked you a question.” His hand lands on your ass, kneading it with warm, familiar fingers and his words are a warning. In the silence, he can almost hear you rolling your eyes, struggling not to moan when he feathers smooth skin, tempts you with tiny brushes between the legs.

“You gonna keep talking, Barnes, or you gonna prove a point?”

His fingers hook on your bikini bottom, pulling the elastic away with an amused grin before letting it snap back against your skin.

“I don’t know. Are you gonna continue being a fucking brat?” He squeezes your neck, fingers digging into the soft flesh and you almost seem to melt against the door before he drags those bikini bottoms down too. Rolling his hips flush against your ass, he smirks when you shudder and try to thrust him in with a messy jerk back. “Aw, did you miss this?”

“Wouldn’t miss a thing about you,” you reply but it comes out strangled as his other hand wraps around your hip, travels down your navel. It wraps around your waist, keeps you tight against him as you smother his wrist between the door and your hips. When his fingers find your bud, you let out a soft sigh at the pressure he begins to rub into you and he smirks, biting the shell of your ear.

“C’mon, princess. You can admit it if you like,” he murmurs. Your fingers dig into the wood as you try to push yourself—in what direction, away from his hand, towards it, Bucky doesn’t know. He reaches farther down, fingers tracing through slick heat and he chuckles huskily against your skin, biting lightly into the junction of your neck and shoulder. “‘S that all for me?”

“Shut up,” you growl. Your eyes flash to him and he pushes you flush against the door, your head falling back against his shoulder as cock nestles itself between your cheeks. So close, not quite there. His hand on your neck travels forward, crooking inward and his fingers wrap around a silky neck from the front. He can feel every beat of your heart, the raspy whistle of your breathing. Lips falling to your exposed neck, Bucky sucks marks he knows are going to last if he doesn’t stop himself soon but two weeks has been two weeks too long— “Barnes.”

“Relax… it’s been a while since you’ve had a proper fuck.”

“Cocky bastard.”

“Needy brat.”

Your eyes flutter shut as his fingers work at a languid pace inside you. He knows every nook and cranny, every angle that brings you euphoria and he grinds his palm against your clit with every thrust, arrogant smile growing when you melt back onto his shoulder, lips slightly parted.

“Don’t have time for foreplay,” you finally manage to croak and you turn to look at him, eyes surprisingly clear for having his fingers in your soaking heat and working you up a steady incline.

“It’s the fucking beach, kitten. They won’t be in a rush to get anywhere.” Your lips are tantalizing up close and he chuckles, fingers pressing gently into your pulse. “How quiet can you be?”

“Try me,” you breathe, chest heavy and eyes filling with assured focus, “bitch.”

Challenge accepted.

Nudging your legs ever so lightly apart, he is about to push in. He can feel your heart beating through your back, a quick, racing drum and your breasts heave with every anticipating breath.

“James! Y/N! Wanna meet Steve at the beach?”

Natasha’s voice breaks the humid tension like a hot knife through butter, and your eyes fly open as if you’ve risen from a trance and he growls, not quite moving yet.

To say nothing raises suspicion.

He hates it here.

“Sure!” Bucky yells back right into your ear, much to your displeasure and he shrugs, trying to repress the smirk as his hand drops and playfully squeezes your breast. You return with a subtle nip to his jaw and he steps back. Your shoulders drop and you turn around, leaning against the door with a soft, condescending smile. Your eyes are blown with a mistiness and your thighs press together as he sucks his fingers clean. Your gaze narrows, he smirks with glee.

“What was that about not being in a rush to get anywhere?” you ask, dismissively sweeping your gaze up and down his body before grabbing your pants and pulling them up. His eyes follow the slow trail of the fabric and he sighs softly between parted lips. “Play one of those audios I know you’ve got on your phone. Can’t ever get enough of me, can you, soldier boy?”

“Don’t put yourself on a pedestal, princess.”

“I’m not.” You pick up your bags and open the door, letting cool sea wind sweep into the room that was cloudy with heat and lust. He can’t help the smile that digs into his cheeks despite how disappointed he is as you shrug innocently. You play the part so well. “It’s just the facts.”

Not for the first time, Bucky is left with the thought that Rumlow doesn’t deserve a second of your time.

.

It’s near the end of the month, the very last day. The thirty-first of May.

You broke up with your stupid boyfriend three days ago. He knows because he looked at your Instagram only to find all the pictures with him gone.

But he wasn’t stalking. He was just…

Curious.

Also, Natasha FaceTimed him and Steve, ranting all about it. So, he came upon this naturally.

Not stalking at all.

“Hey.” Bucky’s lying flat on his bed, naked and the sheets are too warm as he hears you pick up with a disgruntled sigh. “You awake?”

“Am now.” You don’t sound too heartbroken but your voice is a bit thicker than he remembers as you sniff. “What do you want?”

“Are you sick?”

“No, I was crying.”

He arches an eyebrow at your blunt response but doesn’t continue that line of interrogation. “Where are you staying?”

“Why does it matter to you? What do you want?”

“I was going to ask if you wanted to come over, princess,” he replied dryly. “But if you’re on the streets, I can come pick you up.”

“I’m not on the streets,” you reply sharply in a way that makes Bucky doubt your words. “But fine. I’ll be there in a moment.”

“Princess,” he begins but you cut him off.

“I just needa pack some things. See you in twenty.”

You hang up without another word. He lets his cellphone drop with a heavy sigh, sitting up and pulling on some boxers and some ratty old university hoodie.

It’s another fifteen minutes before there’s a knock on the door and he moves from the kitchen to the door, abandoning the orange juice he poured to pass the time. Swinging open the door to reveal that pretty face, he smirks to hide the concerned expression threatening to overtake his face. You look like hell, heavy eye bags and a wariness that he’s not used to seeing on your bold face. You’ve got luggage by your legs and a backpack is strapped to you as you regard him.

“Look what the cat dragged in.”

“You called me, remember?” you reply dryly. He steps aside, inviting you in. Walking in, toeing off your sneakers, and shedding your jacket, you let your backpack drop as Bucky pulls your luggage in. “Woke me up and everything.”

“Yeah, I bet I woke you up from your beauty sleep,” he snorts and you roll your eyes as his eyes trail over the dull skin of your shoulders, the limpness of your hair. He closes the door behind him, an unfamiliar tug pulling at his stomach. “Your boyfriend didn’t even give you time to find a new place?”

“No. And he’s not my boyfriend anymore.”

“Just a guy you used to fuck on occassion who couldn’t even make you come,” he says sagely and you sigh, rolling your eyes again.

“Are you describing yourself?” The words make blue eyes flash to meet yours and you smirk at the dangerous warning glimmering in his irises. Cocking your head, you shrug and lean against his dining table. “So, what do you want?”

“Why do I ever call you here if it isn’t for fucking you, huh, princess?” he muses, but even he can’t find the reason anymore. Whatever libido he was housing had melted in the time between you hanging up and you arriving at his apartment. As you stand before him, his blue eyes flicker from your exhausted face to the way your body seems strung out and on high alert. He sighs, too. “I didn’t want you in some seedy motel where the locks don’t work and the concierge is probably on the registered sex offender’s list. That sound good enough for you?”

You smile, the only thing familiar about you, and it sends a wave of relief through him. “Being nice isn’t your colour, Barnes.”

“Go take a shower,” he retorts, plucking your bag from the floor by your feet and he notices you don’t protest when he grabs your jacket and throws it in the hamper. “Then, we’ll talk.”

“Fine.” You’re unnaturally obedient as you head silently for the bathroom and he brings your luggage to the living room, setting it by the couch and laying it flat. Unzipping it quickly, he grabs the clean clothes he can find right off the bat and goes into his room to put them on his bed so you can grab them as soon as you come out. You’re standing in his bathroom, shedding your tank top and he grabs some clean towels.

It’s a strangely intimate silence as he offers you the towels and you dip your head in thanks. He can see the beginnings of a bruise on your bicep and he reaches tenderly for it, fingers barely brushing your skin.

“Did he—” The anger comes unbridled, hot and heavy and dark, in his voice and you don’t even jerk out of his touch. You’re completely relaxed in his presence as you look at your reflection in the mirror, so unlike a few minutes before when you’d been a ball of tension and you shake your head. His thumb gently digs into your skin and he can feel the pulsing heat of it. It’s fresh. Not even a day old, probably.

“No. I was walking and it was dark. Guy was coming out of a cab and didn’t see me standing there. Got whacked by the door,” you assure, pulling your arm out of his loose hold. Unbuttoning your pants, you continue to undress as he stands there, eyebrows knitting together. The air is wrought with an energy he’s unfamiliar with and he withdraws but your hand reaches for his wrist. Wide eyes dart to your face and he’s shocked by the surprisingly soft smile pulling at your lips. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, uh, sure. Hungry?”

You let go of his wrist and his skin is tingling. He rubs at it absently as you nod, your strange smile ever present. “Starving.”

“I’ll whip you something to eat.”

As he’s stirring Kraft Dinner around in a bowl, he listens to the shower run and thinks.

Or doesn’t think.

Time seems to pass in such a strange way. He’s cooking for you and you’re in his shower and nothing about this is normal or something he’s used to, but it’s not something he hates.

The shower turns off just as he’s sliding the mac into a bowl and he pours you a glass of water before finishing his own abandoned cup of orange juice.

Your footfalls are light and you smell like his shampoo as you sit down at his kitchen island, clad in the clothes he laid out for you.

“It’s just some Kraft I had lying around,” he says uneasily, pushing the bowl towards you but you take it anyway with a shrug and a easygoing smile. You look more awake after the shower and colour has worked its way back into your lips. There’s new life in your eyes as you eat and Bucky, satisfied, heads for the couch just to watch whatever’s on until you’re done.

Everything seems so strange, mundane, almost… domestic as you eat, scroll your phone, and he watches The Dark Knight just because it’s on. He watches the movie blindly, his mind still going a mile a minute and his body unintentionally becoming attune to yours in a way he only knows with when he’s fucking you.

But now, he knows how you move, knows when you’re putting your bowl in the sink and knows when you’re walking towards him by the way his heart starts beating just a millisecond quicker, the gentle give of his couch as you sit down beside him. Your eyes burn into his cheek and he glances at you out of the corner of your eye.

“Come here,” he allows, lifting his arm from the pillow and you scoot closer, pulling the pillow into your lap and hugging it tight. He rests his arm along the back of the couch. “You didn’t die of food poisoning. Pity.”

“You’d have to be truly something to fuck up Kraft Dinner, Barnes,” you reply dryly, smirking at him and he suppresses a snort as you tuck your knees up. “It was good. Although, I hope you’re not living off of that stuff.”

“I do take out every once in a while,” he says with a shrug and you roll your eyes.

“I’m a college student and I can cook better than you.”

“You’re one year younger than me. We’re not so different.”

“Whatever you say.”

Bucky can’t help the amused smile edging its way onto his face as you fall into silence, watching the movie, too. One thing Bucky’s always liked about you, even if he didn’t like anything else, is that you share a lot of the same interests as him. They had whole rants on how terrible some movies were, or the disappointment that was some TV finales. It always made pillow talk a fun time, if they ever made it to that stage. 

It was more often than not either of them would wake up before the other and just head out without a single word.

Bucky finds he likes your companionable silence more than he thought he would. Maybe he should’ve indulged pillowtalk a bit more. By the small, sated smile on your lips, he wonders if you’re thinking the same thing.

“You know,” you say after a while, “when I said at the beach house that you wanted me…” Your voice rouses Bucky from his trance of staring at the TV. The credits are rolling and he hadn’t even realized. So lost in his thoughts he was near the end, thinking about Rachel’s letter to Bruce and hyper aware of your every shift in your seat beside him, the movie seemed to pass by in a blink.

Something about the long lost melancholy of lost chances…

Bucky’s never been fucking sentimental, but even he can see the chance that Bruce Wayne really… really missed out on, and the blue-eyed man doesn’t want to be in that position ever. To do the right thing only to find out it’s too late. Because she died in the end, didn’t she? She died and he was alone even though he tried…

“What?”

“At the beach house,” you repeat. “When I basically told you that you wanted me…” you say with a roll of your eyes, “it was just teasing, foreplay.” Then, more seriously: “But I guess I was being like Two-Face. Double entendres, innuendos, all that.”

“You’re going to become a vengeful, homicidal DA?” he quips wryly and you huff in faux irritation, poking him lightly in the chest.

“No. God, use that brain inside that pretty little head of yours for once.”

“Aw, you called me pretty.”

“Barnes.”

“Fine. Continue.”

“Well, what I was saying… When I said you wanted me… God, this is stupid. Feel free to just punch me in the face after, but…”

“But?” Eyebrows knitting together, he looks at you and you pull the blanket up to your face, embarrassment telltale in the way you avert your eyes. He gently pushes the blanket down, muting the TV and waiting patiently. You look more alive that you did the first minute you walked into your apartment and you look like you want to bury yourself in the blankets but he’s not going anywhere and you stare at him, lips pressed into a flustered line. “I’m not going to punch you in the face. You can just tell me.”

“I guess… I just... I wanted to believe that you wanted me,” you state, shaking your head, “for me. Like some affirmation that there’s a possibility you could ever want me like that, and… I’m being dumb. I swear I’m not usually like this, all sentimental and shit, but it’s just I feel like shit and you don’t care about any of that and Brock… I broke up with him because I know he doesn’t love me even if he says he does and that I deserve better but I just… it gets to me, you know? It fucking gets to me when I’m all alone and now I am alone and if he didn’t put me first... maybe it’s because I’m not wanted.”

“Hey, princess,” he murmurs, reaching for your hands and you surrender to him easily as he cranes his head to keep your eye contact despite you ducking your head. “I don’t judge you for any of that shit and that’s wrong. He’s a fucking prick, and people want you here. Romanoff, Steve, Sam…” Me.

“I know. I know and I just… I’m scared because I have nowhere to go. And, you’re always honest with me, and just slap me in the face because… I can’t believe I’m asking you this what if… what if everyone’s gonna treat me like Brock did? What if no one will ever really want me?

There’s a beat.

Then, two.

He’s squeezing your hands so hard he’s surprised you haven’t drawn away but then he realizes your fingers are clutching onto him even tighter, his bones wincing as you crush his digits.

“It’s stupid. I’m stupid—”

“No, you’re not.” Bucky shakes his head and you—fourth year college student and someone he shouldn’t be attached to because you two are so different but he is because you two are so alike—are something else. No one has gotten under his skin like you have.

You’re not fucking stupid. Because I do want you. In a way. In more than one way. And you are irritating and burn so fucking bright and you’re fucking bold, but—

I want you.

He doesn’t say any of that.

And it’s complicated, but that’s how the universe fucking works.

“You’re free to stay here for however long you need to,” he tells you quietly, seriously. “I don’t care how long it is, and there are no catches. Just… just don’t give that fucker another chance, yeah? ‘Cause there’s always gonna be someone who wants you, kitten. Someone who’ll treat you right.”

You smile faintly, knees tucked to your chest and hair still a bit damp from your shower. You’re warm, soft, with no cigarette smoke clouding your silhouette and no glossy sheen of alcohol. You look like you in a way Bucky’s never known before.

He thinks this beats you in any kind of black dress.

“Okay,” you accept and you lean over first to kiss him. It’s a soft peck to the corner of his mouth, an innocent, flitting thing, but Bucky doesn’t mind. He eases against the couch and you lean against his chest, cuddling close against him. His arm falls around your shoulders, holding you tight to him and you melt against him just like he does around you.

For a moment, Bucky wonders how the fuck he got into this situation.

Then again, he’s not complaining.

The view is fucking stellar.