#fuckin invading everything and ruining it. fuck off

[victorclays]

I know Hickey's marbles are absolutely scrambled, but the fact that he says the words "what if we're not the heroes of this story." And "our empire's not the only empire."

Like.... he was makin POINTS in that speach. And i mean sure he cut his tongue out and got ripped in half like a couple minutes later but he. Was makin. Points.

[angeliteria]

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒.

pairings — fem!reader and rafe cameron.

summary — after rafe takes your life, he tries to move on, and simply pretends he’s the one who didn’t do so. eventually, hauntings and truths will lay themselves out to remind rafe just how sickening he is.

warning tags — adult language. details of gruesome m*rder & m*rder itself. mentions of DV relationship, (brief) child ab*se & awful parents. talks of religion and god. reader’s pov from heaven (?? just stick w the program). rafe actually going more insane than usual. overall dark content.

author’s note — this is based on and inspired by ethel cain’s song ‘strangers’ and while this song has multiple interpretations to go by, i’m taking mine by the main and common one (just without the c*nnibalism!). this also gets super dark and depressing so if you cannot bear any of it, please click off! this also isn’t revised at all so my apologies for grammar mistakes.

likes, shares & reblogs are very much appreciated ⋆୨୧ ₊ﾟ

you had tears in your eyes, body shaking to point you thought you’d convulse. you tried to be obedient by keeping in rafe’s secret of what he had done on that tarmac. he beat you to make sure you kept your mouth shut for good.

he said, “i’ll kill you if you say one word,” and it took enough fear to believe him, but you didn’t think that day would come.

murder is an evil thing, and everyone can attest to it. rafe murdered sheriff peterkin as if she was nothing, as if she was a problem in the way. bad enough, he let john b. routledge — one of your best friends — take the fall for it.

you continued to keep your mouth shut, but after rafe tried to invade the police, ward killing himself, you didn’t see a reason to keep quiet. ward was the only reason why rafe could stay out of prison, and now that he wasn’t around, you could speak.

your father preached every sunday to live by righteousness and good, to never let evil win.

rafe was that evil. he was the devil himself.

the devil that you danced with, let make love to you, kiss you, but also beat you until stars twinkled in your vision, and your breath kept getting caught in your throat.

your mother would be horrified to know that, your father too. but it was their fault in a way that you accepted this cruelty as love; your father, especially to blame.

if love is not meant to be hit at you, does it even exist? your father showed you that when he’d slap or punch you for falling out of line, but go to church the next day, and preach about being a good servant to god.

you wanted all evil out of your life. it was suffocating, it was drowning you.

rafe had to be eliminated first.

“you killed peterkin, and i’m tired of knowing it,” you said, picking up your car keys. “we are done, and i won’t even show up to your trial when you go down for it.”

rafe just stared at you appalled and puzzled, sitting on the edge of his bed. you were close to being far out enough to your car until strong, violent hand seized you.

you screamed and kicked, not being new to this routine, only knowing that he was going to harm you.

you could never predict that his violence would lead him to murdering you.

“let me go, rafe!” you screamed, being pulled inside, your pleas and cries echoing in the empty home.

expecting to be physically berated, you were being led downwards.

to the wine cellar basement.

and for once in a while, you prayed to god, and hoped he would finally listen to you this time. that he would save his child, and perform a miracle.

but a miracle never came as rafe manhandled you, pinning you down on the cement ground of the basement.

“shut the fuck up! stop crying!” he yelled, a solid punch coming to your cheek, and you yelped, an easy gush of blood rushing out of your mouth. “you’re a fuckin’ backstabber. after everything i’ve done for you, gonna treat me like that?”

you cried, shaking your head. “r—rafe, please! i’ll be good, i’ll stop!”

“don’t trust you, little one. can’t let you ruin everything,” rafe said, reaching for something out of his back pocket.

the more you fought back, the more angry he got; the more you fueled the fire that rested in his hands and body.

before you could let out another plead, a sharp pain was made into your abdomen.

rafe stabbed you — and he wasn’t planning on stopping there.

god wasn’t there. you would show up to his gates in this condition, and ask him why he let it happen. if god is real, why did he bear witness instead of saving you?

rafe doesn’t recall killing you.

he remembers grabbing, and dragging you down into wine cellar basement, but couldn’t be able to tell anyone what happened after that. all he knows your blood was quite literally on his hand, knife shaking in his grip.

your babydoll white dress was now stained with violence and scarlet red blood.

the sight should’ve made him sick, but it didn’t. he just stared at you, breathing heavy, and it didn’t strike him until a while later that he had killed you.

rafe cameron had killed the love of his life.

he only panicked when it came to how to dispose your body, take off any evidence that could trace back to him. he was more than willing to dump your body in the woods, let any gators eat at you for supper.

he tossed your body only hours later in the depths of the woods, and it didn’t take long until you were reported missing.

of course, he was questioned first. it was easy for him to play the concerned boyfriend, crying because he also hadn’t heard from you, saying he had been texting and calling you for hours.

your parents sobbed on the news and asking anyone to come forward with any information, that they’ll give up however much money for their child to come home.

rafe just stared numbly at the television screen, a cup of scotch in his hand.

your best friends, the pogues, sobbed for days, and even started a search party for you. rafe made sure to dig you levels down in those woods when the ground was wet enough to dig up, and cover you up.

sarah cameron had a feeling her brother had something to do with your ‘disappearance’ but it was only just a gut intuition, she couldn’t prove it. she always questioned why you got with her brother, always emphasizing how horrible and violent he was, but you would tell her, “you don’t know him like i do; you don’t know how much he loves me, and takes care of me.”

kiara knew how bad rafe was — for god sake, she momentarily went to the academy around the same time he was a senior. she knew he wasn’t destined to be a boyfriend, let alone even in a fucking relationship.

the boys of the group were beyond furious, the three wanting to round up and take ahold of rafe, beat some information out of him. but they knew you wouldn’t want that, and that rafe would easily get the police to arrest them.

however, months passed, and you slowly became a memory to not only the town, but to rafe himself. he went on with his days like nothing occurred, that he didn’t violently take the life of his girlfriend.

you weren’t on his mind anymore, and he didn’t have to worry about you anymore.

or so he thought.

karma and revenge go hand in hand together; they mingle and burst out, they make sure they arrive at the doorstep of the people who deserve it.

rafe always thought getting rid of you would avoid his downfall, but the murder of you was just the beginning of it all.

he slept peacefully like he had done for a while now, with him about to drown into a deep sleep. he rested with his hands laid atop of his stomach, comfortable and at solitude, a female whisper woke him up.

he peeked around, but saw no one. he assumed he was just sleep deprived and imagining things, his eyes closing again for sleep.

“do you feel sick yet?” the voice that sounded like yours came through, more clearer and visible. he shot up, and turned on his bedside lamp.

nothing. no one. not you.

why would he have to feel sick? you were gone, you were no longer a problem.

rafe shook it off, and was able to go back to sleep.

you were angry in the afterlife. you stared at rafe from heaven, trembling with rage and regret. a man you once loved, had acted as if you never existed. you adored him, and he disposed you like garbage.

you just wanted to be his, wanted him to tell you that you were his only; that he loved you as much as you did to him, that he would change and better himself for you.

that the violence would dissipate, and his rough hands would be nurtured with love and softness.

but no. that never came, and never would.

you were taunted by your murder, burning with the need to remind rafe of how sick he was.

your violent lover let you bleed before him, and without tending to your wounds or simply sitting with immediate regret, he soaked in his actions and dismissed it.

why couldn’t he be gentle? was him painting you blue and purple not enough? did he have to go as far as killing his lover to satisfy the disdain and vexation he held for you?

was that enough? was that enough to make you enough?

rafe’s nights slowly turned interrupted and sleepless. your voice was always there, and time to time, he thought he saw you standing in his bedroom, drenched in blood and with tears streaming down your face as you kept asking him, “do you feel sick yet?”

sick. not regretful. fucking sick.

sleep deprivation was catching up to him, making him more mean and angry than usual, more out of control.

the coke wasn’t even helping either, only making everything worse.

he was at barry’s trailer, snorting endless lines of the white powder, trying to shake off the sight of you from last night.

“country club, you good?” barry asked, and rafe didn’t respond. “you don’t seem well, bro.”

“just need this shit, okay?” rafe mumbled, separating another drop of cocaine. “just… just want to sleep, need it.”

barry didn’t want to push him with more questions, minding his own business as the blond haired boy snorted up excessive amounts of lines.

rafe ended falling asleep on his couch, barry mindlessly scrolling on his own phone as he laid down on his bed.

the cold air from the air conditioner ran around in the basement, making it more freezing and chilling than usual.

rafe could smell strawberry perfume, indicating you were around. he looked around, and saw nothing of you.

“where are you!” he screamed. “you can’t scare me, you bitch!”

“i’m not here to scare you,” you talked, rafe spinning around to find you perched in the corner of the basement. you careened closer, the dim light emphasizing on your mangled body.

rafe stared at your stomach, where immense stab wounds laid on it. he swallowed thickly, his breath shaking and jagged.

“do you feel sick?” you asked, and rafe looked up at you. he couldn’t move in this dream, he was paralyzed and a witness to your lacerated body.

nausea and despair washed over rafe, almost consuming him entirely.

you were finally face to face with him, your hair disheveled and bunched, face stained with tears and runny makeup, all for him to look at.

rafe could feel your physical touch, your soft hand grabbing his, and made his palm touch your abdomen. he almost fucking threw up.

you could see it, you could see he was wanting to vomit everywhere. “am i making you feel sick?” you asked, and rafe shivered, forcing his hand to put more pressure on your stomach, blood rushing out onto it. “am i making you feel sick?”

rafe screamed and lurched up, his eyes opening and alarming barry. “woah, what the fuck, rafe!” barry shouted, and rafe breathed rapidly, his heart thumping against his chest, a need to vomit.

rafe brought his face into his hands, trying to shake everything out of his hand.

your face, your touch, your blood — he felt it all. he was being reminded of you, when he didn’t want to.

barry kept asking him what was wrong, why he was crying, if he was okay, but all rafe could focus on was your voice asking, “am i making you feel sick?”

he was no longer immune to his destruction. he was becoming infected by it. you were a disease that he couldn’t treat, a parasite that ate at his brain.

he would never get rid of you — and you would make sure that he never did.

it was month seven without you, and you became a faded name to the outer banks. the only people who lived on to tell your name was your parents, and your best friends. the pogues carved your name into the chateau’s tree, a ceremonial bench placed at the high school.

your body or you weren’t ever discovered, but the police had listed you as deceased. you weren’t a runaway, you were eighteen, and had nothing to runaway for. when you couldn’t be traced anywhere on the grid, the police pronounced you dead, and that was that.

pictures of you and any sort of evidence remained in a cardboard box somewhere in the police station. you were left to rot in every way.

you were tired of being forgotten, but more exhausted that nobody knew that your boyfriend did this, and you probably weren’t going to be the first girl he killed.

rafe cameron needed to know what he did, and you wanted to do everything you could to make him drag himself to the police station, sit down, and say, “i killed her — and i enjoyed every fucking second of it.”

madness was becoming rafe. he was already an insane, depraved fuck before, but the lack of sleep and memories of the murder were catching up to him for good.

dark circles were around his eyes, hair greasy and messy, his body tired. he felt like he was going to snap any second.

he kept drinking, smoking weed and doing coke back to back, surprised that his heart didn’t give out yet.

a random exhaustion toll pushed over him, laying him down on the floor of his bedroom, and his eyes threatened to snap shut.

he didn’t want to sleep, he was afraid to. he was afraid to see you, with your bloody dress and sad face, making him touch your wounds.

rafe didn’t win the fight of sleeping, and he knocked out cold on his bedroom floor.

he wasn’t in the basement, he was in his bedroom, and he could hear your feet padding away to the front of the house, to your car.

oh, he was reliving the night. and he couldn’t stop. he couldn’t get out of the memory — he was facing everything.

he saw you bloody by his doorframe, and you tilted your head. “why are you doing this?” he asked, his voice sounding as if he was trapped in a void.

you only frowned. “so you know.”

like a reflex, rafe hurriedly rushed over to you outside before you could get away, seizing you away, and taking you to the basement.

he pinned you down to the ground, and screamed at you to stop crying, upset and angry you were willing to betray him when he did everything for you.

you were sobbing, but it became echoes and his ears rang, everything around him becoming silent except his own heavy breathing. he grabbed the knife that sat in his pocket, and he could see your eyes widen with fear to the sight of the object.

“rafe!” you screamed in the first stab. he hit you sharp and right in the abdomen.

he held his knife there for a second, like time was freezing him, and he felt a hot breath at the side of his face.

it was you.

“am i making you feel sick?” you asked, and rafe proceeded to stab you as you sobbed. you cried out his name, trying to fight away the knife, promising to be good and for him to stop.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

rafe couldn’t stop, he couldn’t control himself. he kept stabbing you as you screamed. he was a monster, with the inability to suppress his anger or violence.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

a part you thought you were making him feel sick because of how mutilated your body was; that the body he was once desired, was now filling him with disgust. you wondered if how butchered you looked, was making him uncomfortable and sick. he didn’t deserve your concern, but it happened anyway. was it making him sick?

rafe wanted to cry, but couldn’t. he was revisiting the person he was in this moment, and could see life vanish from your eyes, death taking you away.

he took one last stab, and held it there like the first one. you kneeled in front of him, looking over at your corpse for a moment before your eyes settled into his raging ones.

he held prolonged eye contact with you as you inched your face close to his, but kept a safe distance. you placed your hand on top of his murdering one, and with a blank face, lastly asking him, “am i making you feel sick?”

rafe broke eye contact with you to look at your deceased body, and realized and remembered this murder. your organs could be nearly seen, blood gushed and poured out everywhere, your body cold and still.

he dropped the knife, and eyed you. “i’m sorry.”

you shook your head, and sighed. “you will revisit this everyday as long as you live,” you said, sniffling. “all i wanted was to be yours, and be good enough, rafe. was i no good?”

he didn’t have an answer, and with that, you got up, staring over at your body. “i want you to know,” you chuckled softly to yourself, “i never blamed you for loving me the way that you did. i forgive you, especially since i’m happier where i’m at.”

“heaven?” rafe asked.

you nodded. “you won’t make it here, but i’ll still hope and wait that you do — because i love you too much to let god be angry with you too.”

“he’s an angry man?”

“he’s angry and unfair,” you responded. “like someone i know. i loved god, i loved you; two men who didn’t view me as much, who don’t deserve for me to believe in them.”

rafe went quiet, and enough time went by for you to disappear for good to let rafe cry, and scream. he cried and sobbed, dry heaving as he vomited everywhere to the sight of you.

he killed you, and as long as he kept it to himself, you would drive him mad and insane with the knowing of it.

rafe cameron confessed to your murder only hours later. he drove himself to the police station, and confessed to every detail, telling sheriff shope where your body was.

they found your maimed body in the exact location where rafe told them it was, your body already decomposing into near bones, eaten by critters and bugs.

the earth was consuming you.

he was hated forever, the town wanted him torched or given the death penalty. it would be a while until he got a trial.

your funeral could be proper with your body in a casket, given a rightful way to be down in the ground, protected and secured by a box stuffed with silk fabric.

you could see your mom cry, and you wish she wouldn’t. your father had to give the prayer at your funeral, your best friends sobbing, and hating themselves for not getting you away from rafe sooner.

however, your death was simply inevitable. if rafe didn’t kill you, your love for him would. he was everything to you.

even when he was murdering you — getting a vile satisfaction from it — you were worried about him, if you and your maimed body was making him feel more nauseous and sick than the actual murder was.

rafe would live with the knowing that you truly loved him, and he took your life every single day that he spent in a prison block cell.

and your ghost would continue to linger and haunt him, never letting him know peace and serenity as he never did to you.

[hana-akari]

Sakura slid down the headboard a bit. Slumping a little more. She could see darkness starting to invade her vision. All she wanted to do was embrace it and pass out. Everything hurt so much. She could physically feel her organs being damaged and repaired at the same time. Hurt worse than the three times she gave birth. And all three of her babies had fat heads that nearly tore her in two. Honestly, she would happily give birth ten more times back to back if she never had to experience this level of pain again.

There was a nice layer of sweat that covered her flushed body. It felt like she was burning up from the inside. Sakura wasn’t sure if it was from Sasori’s poison or from whatever she was poisoned from before. Everything in her was begging for her to let the darkness take her but she worried if she passed out, she would either not wake up again, or end up in a coma. Both options would leave Sasori as the single parent, something she didn’t want. She just had to focus on talking.

Tears started to sting the corner of her eyes, more blood bubbled up from her mouth making her cough. She wiped her mouth with the back of her coat. It was already ruined so there was no point worrying about it,

“I fuckin’ hates mah job… I miss outs on ebry thing! Feels like da kids know yous more dan me!” She basically got to see them in the morning and maybe right before they went to bed, the rest of the day they were entirely around Sasori or Ino if she wanted aunty time. It was killing her. Now she was starting to softly cry,

“Whats eben the fuckin’ point? No ones eben respects me!I dos so much for dis god awful village and whats do I gets? Poisoned! Because I wouldn’t fucks somes asshole! Ib aways been in fuckin’ Naruto’s and Sasuke’s shadow!” Sakura choked up more blood as she got worked up, coughing a few times into the sleeve of her coat,

“No ones has evber lets me lib it down that Sasuke fucked mes while I was drunk… Is didn’t eben know he cames in me until I founds out I was pregnant. I was fucking nineteen! I neber gots a chance to lib! Wents straight from war, tos a single moms, and in charge ofs the medical devision! I was workings while I was in labor!” It was miserable. A major reason why she refused to give birth to the twins at work. She just didn’t want to deal with it all,

“I worked withs Swada strapped to my chest… Nows I might miss outs on important moments in the twins’ life!” Sakura coughed into her coat again, then wiped tears and blood off her face,

“I shoulds quit.” She looked serious as she said that, “Watch thems try to survives without me. Coulds just makes and sells drugs to makes moneys. Or maybes kill my parents. Makes is looks like an accident… Their money would be the most useful things they’ve eber done for me.” Sakura’s tired eyes moved over to look at Sasori,

“Theys all thinks I’ma sluts… Mah parents, da village, ebry one. All cuz I’ms unmarried wiff thwee babies. People always ask fors sex froms me… They thinks I’ms easy. Dats why dis happened.” More coughs left her,

“I hopes our babies neber have to deal wit this… I’ll burn dis dump to the grounds. I wants them to lib a happy, normal life. I wants them to be lobed in a way I was neber. I’m so happy Daddy stayed for them.”

Sakura gave him a happy, lopsided grin. To this day, she wasn’t sure why he stayed after the countless other women he pumped and dumped. What made her so special? Surely he’s produced other red headed babies before. She should think so deeply on it. Just be happy he was there and even better, they were getting along now. No longer did he look at her with disgust. Most of the arguments they get in now was more playful banter rather than an actual fight.

Her body slid down the headboard a little more, “Daddy… I hurts so much. I wants to sleeps. Its so hard to fights it.”

"Mmmhmm." Sasori hummed at what Sakura was saying. Though, truth was, he wasn't listening. He was getting her to talk because so long as she was talking, she was conscious, and the second she was no longer conscious, they would have an issue.

"The kids ain't gonna see you." Ino had picked up the twins for an "auntie day" and Sarada was...somewhere. Sasori wasn't too sure. She didn't tell him much of her whereabouts, but Sasori didn't ask since she was a big girl that could take care of herself. He seriously doubted she was getting herself in trouble, either. Girl was as clean as it came and a little oblivious, but she got that from the Uchiha blood in her.

Speaking of the kids, Sasori was glad they weren't here, too, to see their mother, not just puking blood and other bodily fluids, but half-naked as she ripped off her shirt--a fact Sasori would have appreciated more if Sakura wasn't in the middle dying. There was a time and place for dirty thoughts and they weren't now.

"You could use the rest," Sakura worked herself ruggard. Felt like every day, she was coming home late, sometimes as late as midnight, and then was gone by dawn the next morning. A week off of bedrest could do her a lot of good. Plus, it would give him a break--he meant--the babies would love to have their mother all day. Yes, that. "You know how paranoid I've been about the twins takin' their first steps or sayin' their first words without you here?"

It was dumb but true. Saori and Sorell were entering that age range to start walking and talking, and Sasori had basically done everything to prevent them so Sakura could see. She'd be heartbroken to know she missed it. He didn't know how long he could delay them, however. Especially Saori. Every time he told her not to think about getting up or talking, she'd have this evil little smirk to her. Sorell had tried getting up a few times, but nothing a gentle push onto a pillow didn't solve.

[loversdelusions]

Prompt | Bakugou's perspective of his own obsession. |

One-shot - I guess?

♥️ Depravation ♥️

It was really disgusting, the way his skin sizzled hot when his crimson eyes catch sight of you. He could feel every inch of his suddenly uncomfortably tight skin, and the blood boils in his veins when you looked at him. His brow twitches, and his fingers felt ungodly cold, and suddenly all of the heat in his body rushed to his head, and he could feel his mind spin and gaze darken.

He wanted to ruin the stupid look you had on your fucking face.

He avoided you at first. He didn't like how you looked, how you dressed, how you talked, how you smiled how you giggled at stupid jokes and how dumb you were biting the edge of your pencil as if in thought. He hated how your eyes had that dumb glint or how you always fuckin' forgot to close your damn blinds, allowing all the fuckers around to see that skin of yours.

You were disgusting, how you moved like a stupid airhead, clumsy and opposite everything favourable.

He hated you. It was simple like that.

He hated everything you were, and yet, he hated himself just as much when he met you. He hated how his heart speeds when you look at him, how his body feels frozen when you come close, the scent that he can smell when walking next to you...

It made him angry. So fucking angry.

You were invading his mind and driving him insane. It was unfair how deep your poisonous roots had dug into his brain, he could feel the drip of you in his ears all day. He couldn't think about anything but you. He couldn't breathe without thinking of your scent and the disturbingly realistic feeling of what he could only imagine your lips tasted like. It made him bite his tongue so hard it might as well have been cut off.

This fucking sucks.

It all really ended up here. With him staring at you as you walked down the street on your own as if having been to UA made you invisible to the people who wanted to take you the fuck down. You were so fucking stupid you walked home alone and didn't even notice the person tracing your steps from the roof. Neither did you realise his intimidating, burning gaze drilling into you from above, even if you felt squirmy all of the sudden. It didn't seem to matter.

Even when he dropped behind you, and saw you jump and squeal in surprise, only to turn around and give him a nervous laugh. "Oh, It's you Bakugou..I didn't know you lived around here."

He didn't answer. He felt chills run up the length of his body and he couldn't move. He couldn't even breathe.

You waved, trying to make him blink.

It was as if everything changed in a second. When you finally gathered the -well, mostly the confusion- to meet his glowering eyes.

You felt your heart drop. He felt a smile begin to creep onto his face when the terror reached your eyes. You couldn't bite it down, even if you tried. It made him...happy. Excited like he hadn't felt in months. He could feel the villainous intent in what he was going to do. He felt it deep into his bones, trying to stop himself. But he couldn't, he took a step.

You could feel the air change, tension-packed allowing you no place to breathe as you should. You could see something dangerous, face had covered in darkness, shadowed and shaping him into a fucking monster. A monster you could see; Growling and clawing ready to pounce onto you, whose flight or fight response jammed and shortcircuited as it attempted to fathom what was happening, and who it was happening with.

His lips morphed into a grin.

You didn't understand. You couldn't understand. He could only fucking show you how depraved he was-

and what deprivation does to a starving man.

[all-this-panic-still-no-disco]

I heard that you were putting out a new thomastair fic. Do you mind telling me what's it about?

ok lets go lets fuckin do this. bear with me here because it’s complicated as fuck.

so, we begin with alastair carstairs on a bright afternoon. he’s angry. cranky. just lost a case and is pissed at a client. about to smash his coffee mug. (alastair is a barrister, which is just fancy british for lawyer.) so, faced with the possibility of smashing his coffee mug or doing something about his Rage™️, he calls thomas and says, ‘can you get over here and fuck me, please’

spoiler alert! thomas and alastair have been hooking up for eight fucking years after accidentally ending up at the same uni.

thomas comes over, they fuck, it’s very cute and very sexy, but thomas has to leave the next morning as he has a class to teach. (he’s a professor of classics at london college university)

alastair goes back to work, stress and anger freshly fucked out of him, and takes up another case. a young uni student just inherited a fuck-ton of money from his grandfather is having his inheritance sued over the fact that his grandfather was unaware that his grandson was gay and if he did know, he wouldn’t have left him so much money. total bullshit, but the family is rich and they have some serious pull.

so alastair says fuck this, let’s get you your inheritance. he works his fucking ass off and halfway through the case’s first day in court, the prosecution brings up alastair’s ‘impartiality’ on the issue of him having a sexual relationship with another man.

surprise surprise! the daily mail just published an article on alastair’s ‘scandal’ of daring to take a case where a young gay man is targeted for being gay. the case is pretty high profile because of the family’s status. (alastair is also a fucking good lawyer.) pictures are included in the article of him and thomas kissing and getting pretty close to fucking in alastair’s living room. they’re both covered enough in the photos, but they’re a horrible violation of privacy and the whole thing is super shitty.

alastair freaks the fuck out and the trial is adjourned, and he runs home to find thomas in his apartment waiting for him, because years ago alastair gave him a key. (they’re totally just hooking up guys)

alastair’s ‘scandal’ soon becomes vaguely trending. all of their friends find out and it’s fucking chaos. alastair is trying his very best not to loose it but he’s not doing very well.

the worst part isn’t the homophobia of it all or the horrific mess of his private acts being posted online, it’s that his career is pretty much ruined. despite having done nothing wrong, even the slightest rumor of a barrister being not 100% bad rep free means he won’t get hired, or at the very least not as much. people don’t want a scandal-associated lawyer because it might sway the jury against their favor. why contract alastair when there’s plenty of other sex-scandal free options?

so alastair’s freaking out about his job when thomas presents this wonderful idea: fake date.

(i fucking know, right?)

it’s actually pretty smart. fake dating will turn the narrative around; suddenly alastair isn’t the barrister who had some torrid affair, he’s a man who’s private life has been grossly invaded, which is the truth. if they give the story the gloss of a committed relationship and hearts and rainbows, alastair won’t be painted as some overly sexual gay man stereotype. he’ll just be a man in love.

they both acknowledge how shitty it is that they have to do this, but agree. they’ll fake date until the trial ends, which alastair will probably win now that the prosecution has been exposed as cheating, homophobic fucks, and everything will be solved. thomas will also stay at alastair’s apartment through this time for totally ridiculous reasons that aren’t true and it’s just because they want to be near one another.

there’s only one problem.

alastair has been in love with thomas for years and despite knowing his feelings are somewhat reciprocated, (he’s a fucking idiot and thinks thomas’s feelings are a surface level crush and a side effect from fucking), he refuses to do anything about it. he doesn’t think he’s good enough for thomas and doesn’t want to wreck thomas’s life by dating him for real. (yes, he’s being self-sacrificially stupid but this is alastair, guys, what did you expect.)

to make matters worse, thomas, idiot and piner extraordinaire, has been fully in love with alastair since he was eighteen. he kept hooking up with alastair all this time because it was the only way he could be near him.

so we have alastair, in love with thomas but pretending he’s just interested in him for sex, and thomas, who’s fully fucking in love and really bad at hiding it. these two idiots are now fake dating and lying to all their family and friends for the sake of alastair’s career.

bomb, meet lighter. things are about to go boom. i swear, this fic has everything i could cram into it.

angst: angsted.

pining: cranked to eleven.

domestic fluff: sweeter then marshmallows.

sex: hot and dirty as fuck.

welcome to my fucking disaster golden egg.

so far, it has over eighty thousand words and it’s not even fucking done yet.

also, i lowkey think it’s the best thing i’ve ever written and i’m hella excited to share it with you guys. i’m gonna stop typing now bc my thumbs hurt and kudos to you if you read this far. 😚 my current plan is to post the first chapter sometime around august, so get ready!

lots of love,

liza💖

[fanficwrit3r]

#2 fluff for John x reader? 💜

Thank you for being my first request! Hope you enjoy it! :) I am getting back into the swing of things when it comes to writing.

To make a request, you can find prompts here and requesting guidelines here.

Main Masterlist

John Shelby x Reader Fluff Prompt #2

Prompt: “What? I can’t cook you dinner?”

Trigger Warnings: none

Word Count: 765

-------------------

You knew something was different the instant you walked through the front door. There was not a single sound. You had been spending the day out shopping for the family and gathering what everyone would need for the week. John’s children were growing faster than weeds and were usually not too careful when playing outside, so the new fabric was almost always needed for repairs. But, when you entered the house this time, it was silent.

Suspicious, you shrugged off your coat, setting down the bags containing the day's shopping. “Hello?” You called cautiously into the house, making your footsteps light as you moved. It hadn’t happened yet, but it was always a concern that John’s work could attract unfavorable guests into your home.

“Ow- fuckin hell!” John’s voice could be heard shouting from the kitchen. You froze, slowing your pace even more as you heard the sounds of things banging around. “Fuckin- stop doing that!” John exclaimed again, followed by a loud crash. The worst possibilities were running through your mind as to what could possibly be going on. There could be intruders, the children could be hurt or running crazy… the possibilities were endless.

Grabbing a candlestick as a weapon and swallowing your fear, you rushed into the kitchen. You swung the door open, holding the candlestick high, ready to strike at whoever had invaded your home. But, all you found was a mess of food on the floor, the table covered in various ingredients, and John trying to put out a fire in a pan.

“Oh, bloody hell-” You sighed, rushing over and putting out the fire with ease. You nearly slipped on tomato sauce on the floor, your tan-colored shoes now stained red. It took the work of both you and John, but the chaos quickly settled. The kitchen was a complete and utter mess. Nothing had been left untouched it seemed; even the clean spoons hanging above the sink.

“Surprise.” John gave you a large grin, wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you close. He tried to kiss you to distract you from the absolute disaster that was your kitchen. You pulled away before he could plant a kiss on your lips.

“Mind explaining just what happened here?” You asked in near disbelief. Somehow, someway, one of your best cooking pots had a hole burned in it. John laughed nervously, running his hand through his hair.

“What? I can’t cook you dinner?” He smirked, starting to sort through some of the ingredients that had been left on the table. In trying to organize, he just seemed to make a bigger mess.

“Looks like you were trying to burn the house down.” You remark, crossing your arms over your chest. Suddenly, you remembered why everything had seemed so odd to you in the first place. “Where are the kids? It’s unusual for it to be this quiet.”

“I sent them to Aunt Pol’s for the night,” John answered, grabbing the trash can and just throwing away all the burnt and inedible food he had created. “I was going to cook you a romantic dinner, but I see that has failed. Everything just started burnin’ and going to shit.”

You couldn’t help but feel your heart lighten at the gesture. John was usually out late working or drinking, which left all the cooking to you. “Did you manage to create anything that’s edible?” You ask him with a hint of teasing in your voice.

John chuckled at that, surveying the damage he had done. “Well, let’s see… salad still looks good. Didn’t fuck that one up.” He laughed, looking into the salad bowl to make sure nothing had magically appeared to ruin it. “Don’t think anything I actually had to cook is gonna pass the test.”

You shook your head, a smile growing on your lips as you walked back over to John. You placed a gentle kiss on his soft lips, wrapping your arms around him. “We can go out to eat tonight then… but you are cleaning this mess yourself. And buy me new shoes.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, love.” John pulled you close by your waist, a smirk on his lips before he kissed you with some passion. Pulling apart slowly, he rested his forehead against yours, speaking in a whisper. “Or… we could go upstairs and just forget dinner.”

“In your bloody dreams.” You pause before kissing him, moving out of his arms in a slow and teasing manner. You turned your head, giving him a wink. “You’ll at least be buying me dinner first.”

[thoughts-of-a-trying-tree]

marry me

word count: 2712

warning(s): references to fics i've never written, cursing, dialogue heavy, and my brand of self-indulgence (also the word uwu is said. im so sorry)

Read on AO3

-----------------------------------------------

"Peach, toss me the wrench, would you?" Clang! "Thanks, and also the—" Clang! "Oh, yep, that's better actually." Bzzzzzzzt. "Perfect, marry me." Thwack! "I meant thank you!"

'*'*'*'

"Harleyyyy! HAAARLEEEEEYYYY!"

"What? Where's the invasion?" Slap!

"Pick your stupid fuckin' socks up! Tits and their respective gods, I have to do everything around here and there ain't no pay in New York Cit-ay."

"You could always marry me for tax benefits if you're that worried—"

"And pick your stuff up for the rest of my life? I would rather eat my shirt. Better not see anything in the lab!"

"Mhm."

"..."

"…"

Wham! "Harley Fuckin' Keener, why did you leave YOUR socks on MY stuff? Stop laughing!"

'*'*'*'

"Babe. Fox News thinks we're married."

"Fox News? Hell the why?"

"We are, ahem, and this is beautifully written, 'promoting an ideal of relationship that does not prioritize the continuation of the human race nor its wellbeing and,' get this, 'are worse than the aliens invading New York.'"

"I thought they agreed not to call them that, now that we have so many extraterrestrials on Earth? 'Cause it's offensive, right?"

"Is that really the first question you have? Not even the implication that our marriage would be worse than the Chitauri?"

"I mean, I'm down if you're down, peach."

"Down bad? Down under?"

"Why not both? Ahem! Peter Middle Name Parker—"

"Everyone knows my middle name, get off the floor—"

"—will you make me the most horribly selfish man in the world—" Sniff. "—and marry me?"

"Oh my God. You're ridiculous. Get off the floor."

"Is that a yes?"

"I would rather marry DUM-E for their intelligence."

"Hey!"

'*'*'*'

"So I've been thinking—"

"Should I call an ambulance?"

"Omigod, you're so funny aha, marry me uwu—"

"Alright, get on with it."

"I've been thinking—stop it—I was thinking—"

"Spit it out!"

"You won't let me!"

"Fine, I'll shut up."

"I've been. Thinking."

"...And? Go on?"

"…"

"…"

"I forgot!" Snicker.

"No. For real?"

"Yeah! Fuck you!"

"Please, that's the most you thing ever!"

"It's all your fault!" Whack! "If you had just shut up!" Whack! "This wouldn't!" Whack! "Have happened!"

'*'*'*'

"So when are you two getting married?"

"Haha! Can't say we have plans for that, huh Harls?"

"Ha, no, guess we can't! I mean, would you marry me, Peter Parker?"

"Haha, don't be so funny, Harls! Maybe after we've finished all the restoration work we can answer silly questions about our personal lives that no one should have an investment in, right Harley?"

"Yeah. I was expecting a little better, Peter." Click-click-click-click shhhh.

"T-that's a wrap! Thank you Peter Parker and Harley Keener for coming to represent the Stark Relief Fund and Stark Industries! Stay tuned for an interview with Shuri on behalf of King T'Challa of Wakanda after the break!"

'*'*'*'

"The charity ball has us down as Harley and Peter Parker."

"Oh, that's good. One thing off the list. Pass me the fluid, please?" Clink. "Thanks."

"No, they have us down as Harley and Peter Parker."

"Yeah? What's wrong?"

"They have us down as a couple. As in Harley Parker and Peter Parker."

"Your name sounds so weird with mine."

"Rude and not even the point, peach."

"No, I mean like. Different." Whirrrrrrrrr click! "As if you'd take my name anyway."

"Hey! I don't have that big of an ego. Besides, would you take mine?"

"Sure, I guess. It's my first name that matters, right?"

"Nah, because I wouldn't want to ruin your little alliteration. Was that what you were going for when you picked Peter anyway?"

"Shut up."

"Wait, actually? Ow! For real? Ack! Why is that such a transgender and you thing to do, you absolute idiot, OW, marry me!"

"Too late babe, according to the guest list, we've been there, done that."

"Mhm, but if we don't want to ruin the alliteration, we can't do a hyphenated name either, so maybe we could combine them or something? Like... Pareener?"

"Ew. That sounds like a vacuum brand."

"Parkner?"

"Why are we even having this conversation?"

"Uh. Hm. Oh! Charity ball, cross it off the list."

"Right. What else is on the list?"

"Our wedding—"

"Don't annoy a man with a scalpel in his hand!"

"Why the FUCK do you have a scalpel?"

"Tinkerin' the toys, honey."

"Fingerin' the—Ow!"

'*'*'*'

Peter stood like a bird on a branch, shaking and yet, perfectly still. Watching Harley walk towards him had eased the beating of his heart, but now it was swelling and pulling him into the sky with it, though through anxiety or elation, only time would tell. He drew in a breath and willed himself to stay still. Harley took his hands in his and stared into Peter's eyes, beaming.

An excited voice. "Do you, Peter Benjiman Parker—" Ned crashed into Peter from behind.

"Dude! There's this ginormous hologram of you in the middle of the floor!"

"Ned, you fucking stole my thunder!" Harry groaned, throwing an arm over Harley's shoulders. "Pause and rewind. Do you, Peter, have a clue of how big these people think you are? Well, my friend, allow me to show you!" Harry grabbed Peter's elbow and steered everyone through the legs of a white A in the colossal STARK EXPO sign in front of the tower. Peter found Harley's hand again as he ducked through, and immediately tightened his grip as he made eye contact with a giant hologram. Of himself.

"Holy fuckin' shit. I'm huge." Harley snickered.

"For once, you're taller than me." Peter shoved him, laughing.

"I'm not done growing! And FYI, tall people are assholes so—"

"Peter!" Tony Stark jogged towards him, flashes of light trailing behind him.

"Mr. Stark!"

"How are you feeling?"

"Like I just choked on the world. But I think I'm ready."

"Good, because Harley can do the Heimlich, and you're up in ten."

"My cans–?"

"Behind the forehead section of the audience. Get 'em, kid."

"Will do, Mr. Stark." Harley took both of his hands again and Peter turned to face him.

"You got this. You've practiced your ass off and planned out a show like no one's ever seen." Peter resisted the urge to laugh. If only he knew. "You're amazing. You're gonna do amazing."

"Thanks Harls."

"I love you, peach."

"Love you, too."

"Now go show this crowd what they're been missing out on." Peter pressed his lips quickly to Harley's and practically skipped to the backstage area, which was really more underneath the stage.

Time passed like frozen honey until, finally, someone called his name. "Peter Parker, up now." He walked up the coordinator, who smiled down at him. "Good luck, honey."

"Thank you."

He shook out his hands, channeled his inner Tony, and ran up onto the stage, grinning wide like he didn't have a care in the world. His heart raced at the size of the crowd as it cheered for him, and his eyes landed on Harley. He nodded at him, and Peter slid to a stop center stage.

"Hello, New York!" The crowd screamed louder, and Peter took his cue. He pressed a button on his earbud, and small black dots rushed out of the blue cans in the back of the room. The crowd went silent before bursting into confusion. The dots raced between their feet and hopped over their shoes, some breaking off their streams and crawling to the ceiling and covering the chandelier. The dots on the ground gathered around Peter, and then came together and formed a hand.

The chandelier flashed red and blue. The dots fell off like raindrops and connected with the hand on stage, revealing that the chandelier was now in a completely different design, and the crowd gasped. Peter wiggled his fingers at the crowd, and the hand on stage followed suit.

"Hello, New York," he called again. "I'm here today for three different reasons. The first?" He grinned, almost wolf-like. "I think the tower needs some renovating, don't you?" The dots making the hand – microbots, now everyone could tell – fell in a crash and surged to the wall near the stage, forming a black box across it.

Everything went still.

Then they fell through the metal and plaster, revealing empty space, and the microbots moved through seemingly nothing – until they moved farther out and left new floors, ceilings, and walls in their wake.

"Welcome to the new addition to the Stark Tower. Would anyone like a tour?"

It all went perfectly. Rooms Peter described appeared in front of astonished eyes in seconds, before the black mass moved on ahead of them. The separate rooms were furnished, and refurnished as Peter playfully designed them, and he explained on the tour what the bots were.

"3D printers. Armed with magic – although a friend would say that on Asgard, magic and science are one and the same – and Wakandan technology. Combined, they form a future we never thought possible. Skyscrapers built in minutes without error or human endangerment. Imagine a world where your dream house is exactly how you imagine it. Imagine a world where renovations take the time it takes you to have a cup of tea."

By now, the crowd and Peter were near the end of the new wing. The bots were finishing up the last wall, the dead end, and Peter turned his back to it.

"I told you I had three reasons for being here. This is one. A new way to build, with lower cost both monetarily and in a human sense. These little guys will be released within six months, with this wing as their final test." The bots had finished and were now forming different animal shapes and moving through the crowd, delighting them with shapeshifting. A little spider rested on Harley's shoulder. "But what's the point of a new wing with nothing to use it for?"

A few of the bot-animals scrambled back to the dead end and shifted through random letters of the alphabet. "That brings me to my second reason." He hesitated dramatically, enjoying the awe of the audience. "Ladies and gentlemen, you are here to witness the launch of the next generation of Stark Expo." The bots fell back and revealed gleaming letters on the wall.

STARK EXPO: UNRESTRICTED

"The Stark Expo has been limiting to young people, people of color, people who don't have the resources for innovation, and more. That changes today." He paused, giving the audience a moment to take everything in.

"Stark Expo: Unrestricted is a unique mix of a nonprofit scholarship program, internship, and expo for anyone who has something to show. Those in New York can apply online at SEUnrestricted at no cost and with no requirements. No restrictions."

"Those outside of New York have an application process also at no cost, in which an essay, the details of which are on all sites connected to Stark-owned organizations, should be submitted. Those chosen will not have to pay a penny to receive the resources of Stark Industries or, if wanted, to come to New York and work side-by-side with the best."

The bots melted back into streams and formed a cruise ship next to him. "It's an all-expenses-paid trip and we can make it happen. Who wants in?" The crowd burst into a shock of loud applause and Peter grinned wildly, letting it die down as the all the bot creations separated and slowly returned to their cans. All but one. His eyes landed on Tony, who cupped his hands around his mouth.

"What's the third thing, Peter?" He yelled. Peter laughed.

"So glad you asked, random citizen!" He took a deep breath. "I couldn't have done all of this alone. Through breakdowns at three a.m. over miniscule details and hours on end locked in the lab with me as I spent all my time not paying attention to anything but these bots, I've never been alone." He started making his way into the crowd, which parted around him.

"As I enter this next chapter in my life, everything will change. But there are some things I hope never do, and so this last reason may be the scariest of all." Peter stopped in front of Harley, and the spider hopped down from his shoulder and formed a thick, spinning O in Peter's hand.

He sank to one knee and Harley took a step back, eyes wide.

"Harley Keener. I never want you to change. I never want to go anywhere or do anything without you. Through the past few years of my life, you have been the brightest point." Peter had a whole script but he could barely remember the words now. "You've asked me this before as a joke, but I've never asked you, and—" He fumbled, nearly tipping over. "God, this is not easy." A couple in the crowd glanced at each other, and the crowd rustled with mirth.

"Harley Keener, I love you with my whole heart and all of my life." The formerly spider bots stopped spinning and skittered into Peter's sleeves, revealing a ring with blue and red stones set into the top of a band with the tell-tale gleam of vibranium.

"Harley Keener—"

"Yes—"

"Let me finish!" The crowd laughed, but neither boy noticed.

"Harley Keener." He was nodding, tears sliding down his cheeks. "Will you make me the most horribly selfish man in the world– " Harley choked out a wet laugh. "–and marry me?"

Harley fell to his knees and pressed his face into Peter's, planting kisses where his tear-streaked face could reach. "Yes, you absolute idiot, I will, I will, I will—" He broke off to kiss him again, and Peter's eyes sparkled with wetness.

"You didn't even put on the ring, Harls," he whispered through kisses.

"Oh!" Harley pulled back and held his hand out, and Peter slid the ring onto his finger. Harley stared for a moment, then looked up at him.

"Do you... like it? Because I tried to find a normal one but I didn't think you'd like any so I thought I could make it and—" Harley interrupted him with a hard kiss.

"I love it. I love you." Peter laughed wetly.

"Okay."

"Okay." The crowd cheered again behind them, and Tony and a few Avengers all started ushering them away. Once the room had cleared, Harry, Ned, and MJ ran in, Ned squealing.

Harley laughed and got off the floor, pulling Peter up with him and picking him up bridal-style.

"You guys knew?" Harley went ignored through all the excitement.

"Peter!" Ned yelled. "You're engaged! To Harley!"

"Yeah!" Peter laughed and curled up into Harley more. He kissed Peter's forehead.

"No," MJ groaned. "You guys are gonna be even grosser than before!" Harry pretended to flick a tear from his eye.

"It's like watching my babies grow up, so sweet." MJ punched Harry's arm, and Ned awkwardly hugged them both.

"I'm so happy for you guys," he sniffed.

"Ned, are you crying?"

"No, it's just allergies, don't worry!" Everyone laughed, and Peter leaned up to kiss Harley.

"We're engaged," he whispered.

"Hell yeah."

'*'*'*'

In the end, it was a small party. Abby was the maid of honor, and Morgan the flower girl. May sat with Tony and Rhodey, and Bucky and Steve were guardian angels, keeping the reporters away and staying within six feet of the happy couple for anything they needed. Thin strips of peaches decorated the top of the cake and, if you looked carefully, seemed to form a spider web and Hello Kitty whiskers. Coincidence, of course.

May cried her eyes out and pretended she hadn't, and Pepper made sure everything went smoothly. Harry, Ned, and MJ sat first row, and if Ned and May were in a competition over who cried the most, the judge would've started sobbing in sympathy.

Harley and Peter had whispered their vows to each other, low and soft so not even Steve with his super hearing could understand them. They were riddled with inside jokes, cracking the other up, and each word was said with such love that both of their hearts felt full afterwards.

"How are you feeling, peach?" The first dance.

"Like I'm holding the world." Inexplicably new.

"I'm holding my world." Inextricably linked.

"And I'm holding mine."

And that love would last forever.

[timeisacephalopod]

It really pisses me off that if you stacked the amount of time I've spent being forced to watch the 10 000th fucking ad that millisecond I've probably had years of my life wasted on McDonald's ads and Walmart ads and grocery store ads and that fucking god awful Christmas old navy commercial I've seen a billion times already on YouTube that fully misuses #sorrynotsorry to try and shill their soulless fuckin company product and I'm so tired of it.

I hate ads! I'm tired of companies monopolizing my limited time on this earth with "COVID exists buy our product" I'm tired of nature being ruined with disgustingly large billboards, just give me my life back from these god damn companies who invade my everything all the time from tv watching in my own fucking house to social media to just existing in public with another fucking set of ads! Make them stop!! Ban them!! Or force them to limit their ad time severely so I can live my god damn life without constantly being barraged by multimillion dollar companies wasting their money and my precious time with trying to fleece me for MY money too!!

[earthfire-75]

You Send Me Flying

Chapter Seven:

(Author’s notes: co-written with @nature-and-music, beta’d by @lady-jane-revisited. Based on The Dirt movie as I don’t yet own the book. Warnings: language and smut)

We headed down stairs and piled into her car, her driving and myself in the passenger seat with the other guys in the back. My fingers were itching to reach out for her, but I fought off the urge. No reason to give those idiots any more fuel. When we pulled into the place, I prepared myself for their antics, because where of all places does she take us? A sex shop.

They’re whooping and laughing in the back seat when they realize it and even she giggles a bit. “Alright, get it all out now. I expect you to act like adults when we get in there. Got it?” She was trying to be stern, but her unsuccessfully-stifled giggles weren’t helping. It was infectious and I cracked a smile as well.

“Good luck with that,” I commented as I got out of the car.

We went inside and she got the clerk to help us with the boots while she looked out for a few other things to pull the costumes together. It went surprisingly smoothly and we met her at the checkout where she pays for it all. I let the other guys go ahead of me, but I pulled her off to the side.

“Have you been paying for all this?”

“Yeah. I mean, Nikki put me in charge of costuming.”

I must have looked as furious as I felt, because she was suddenly standing up straighter and placed her hands on my cheeks with concern on her face. “Mick, what is it? What’s wrong?”

“You’ve been paying for everything out of your own pocket! I’m guessing without help?!”

“Wait…No. Mick, look at me. Nikki and I pooled some of our savings together. Tommy and Vince threw in some too and we opened a bank account for the band. We didn’t ask you, because you’re paying child support.”

My eyes shot to hers for a second before looking away again. I quietly replied, “They weren’t supposed to tell you about that.”

“Yeah, well they were supposed to tell you about the account. What are we going to do with our children, dad?”

Something stirred in me, hearing her call me that. It surprised me that I would react like that, but I pulled her flush against me, letting her feel how hard I was getting. “Screw the kids, say that again.”

“What? Dad?” She asks, sounding confused at first, but then her eyes lit up as the dots connected in her mind and she leaned her head a little to the side so her lips just grazed my ear. “Or would you prefer “Daddy?” She pulled back, looking up at me with innocent eyes and started to back away.

A low growl escaped me at the game she was playing and I managed to hook my fingers through her belt loops before she could turn around to escape. “Oh, no you don’t, Princess.” I tugged her back to me and she gasped when our hips met but there’s a loud honk from her car before I got the chance to kiss her. The trio of idiots were staring straight through the shop’s glass windows from outside at us.

“Get a room!” came their collective cheer.

“I’m gonna kill them.”

“No, you’re not.”

I grumbled under my breath and she shot me a look that told me it would be better for me if I didn’t. “Fine. I won’t.”

She put the bags in the trunk and we headed back to the apartment. The guys and I practiced some more while she locked herself in her unit again to tirelessly work on putting the costumes together. She came back up a little after lunch with her arms full of red and black pleather, one of the boot boxes and a small sewing kit. She handed the pleather material and boots to Nikki before shooing him off to go try it on.

***

Reader’s POV

Nikki took the pile from my arms so I could take the sewing kit. His face lit up, like a kid being given his first present on Christmas, and he ran off to his bedroom. I paced around the front room of the apartment waiting for the bassist to come out. I almost sighed in relief when he finally did with a serious look on his face.

“How does it fit?” I asked, sounding as nervous as I felt.

“Like a fuckin’ glove, man! This is awesome!” He enthused, now cracking a smile and turning for all to see the outfit, front and back before coming up to me and giving me a bear hug.

I laughed and returned the hug. “Are you sure it fits ok?

“Yes, stop worrying! I promise I love it!”

“Ok…if you’re sure. Do you want to keep it here, or do you want me to hold onto it?”

“It’s probably better if you hang on to the costumes. They might get ruined here.”

“Alright. Go change back.”

“Am I next, dude?” Tommy asked, practically bouncing on his feet.

“No. Yours is last because it’s the easiest.”

“Aww, man! Wait, shouldn’t Mick’s be the easiest? His is all black, dude!”

“It might be all black, but I had to sew a damn jacket! Sounds easy, right? It’s not.”

“Oh…damn, dude.”

I turned to the singer, “Vince you’re up.”

The man jumped up from his seat and happily grabbed the outfit, giving it a look-over before trying it on “Sweet!” He comes out looking just as excited as his fellow bassist, “This is so awesome! Check me out, man.”

“And it feels alright? It’s not too tight or too loose or anything?”

Vince was a little busy running his hands over the material at first, but then answered me nonetheless, “You kidding? It fits great. We’re gonna be so badass! The chicks are gonna love it!”

The rest of the gang could agree on that matter, giving each other high fives. I smiled and let him know that I could hold on to it all for them. I gulped as I gathered the next outfit for Mick, clearly seeing the rest of the guys lurking over him like a group of vultures. The guitarist kept his cool and said nothing, aside from a slight grunt as he got up from the couch. He gave me a quiet expression of thanks and headed over the bedroom once Vince returned with his clothing and placed it on the table. Some minutes passed while he was changing and though so far there were no complaints, l still wondered if he was alright, or if he needed any assistance. After seeing him in pain like that, I was getting a little worried.

“Hey I need a little help here,” Mick notified.

I made my way towards the room, ignoring Tommy’s repeated attempt to get under my skin by commenting not to take too long. I knocked on the door, “Mick, are you decent?”

“Yeah, come in, just shut the door.”

The man was nowhere to be found after I closed the door and looked around. However my heart started to slam against my ribcage when he stepped out of the bathroom wearing his full ensemble, a big smirk across his face. The black on black look was absolutely perfect on him. The pentagram headband, the studded boots with the intertwining chains, the belts across his chest, the pleather, and the collar. Jesus Christ. The pleather and collar were too much for me. Minus the make up, he was so close to looking the way he did in my dream, the sinister and demonic creature that put me over the makeup table and took me for a ride. I wanted him, no I wanted nothing more than to let him have me anywhere]: pressed against the wall, letting him roughly pull down my pants so that I could spread my legs and he could taste me. Then grab me by shoulders, hurl me onto the bed, and beg for him to fuck me until I couldn’t walk. Still, the costume would get ruined and of course we would never hear the end of it from the idiot patrol.

“This is really cool, you really outdid yourself with this,” he remarked, walking closer to me.

It finally hit me, “You didn’t really need any help did you?” I asked, closing in the gap by hooking my finger in the ring of his collar, biting my lip as I stared deeply into those sparkling blue eyes. That must have done something to him, his breathing becoming a little shaken, and his eyes widening when I whispered to him, “Daddy...”

His pupils were suddenly dilated, blackness engulfing the pale irises. The next thing I knew, Mick held me very close to his body, his hands grasping my back. I tried to keep my sighs quiet as he kissed my lips, however I couldn’t help but let a squeal slip out when he deliciously devoured my neck with his mouth. The heat from our bodies only increased when he pressed me against a wall, his kisses becoming hungrier by the second as my own hands tugged at his raven black locks.

“Mick, oh Mick...” I whispered.

However reality had reared its ugly head back into the frame when we heard banging from the other side, “Hey! Quit fucking around you two!” Tommy wailed. “Come on, that’s our room!”

Mick shouted back, “Fuck you, you fucking teenager! Open those legs, Princess. Daddy needs you-”

“No, no Mick. Please not now, it’s not a good time. Not with those three right outside the door.”

He was clearly frustrated but took his hands off of me, groaning ast he backed off. Still, I wanted him just as badly, so I thought of a different alternative as I clicked the door shut, lifted up my shirt, and pulled down my bra, “Mark me then, please Daddy.”

Without hesitation, Mick immediately held my breasts and pressed his lips to my skin. He was gentle at first, looking at me to see if I was enjoying the feeling of his mouth. I could feel the pulsations between my legs increasing as I whispered his name. I gasped when he took a nipple and suckled on it with ease, but I needed more from him. No sooner did I settle my hand onto the back of his head that he increased the speed of his sucking. His lips were wet, creating a very moistened sound that invaded my ears. He switched over to the other side and did the same, biting down a bit and moving his head back until my sensitive bud was released from his ivories. The sounds of Tommy’s knocking had completely drowned out as he pleasured me with his mouth and I moaned loudly. I couldn’t stop watching the way he pleased me, feeling my panties getting soaked, especially when I saw the fresh blemishes and crescent marks that were upon my chest. I was nearly there and so was he, yet he had to stop for both our sakes.

He gave each breast one gentle kiss and one little lick to my nipples, he leaned into my ear and growled, “You took that like a good girl, Princess. But Daddy doesn’t want to ruin all your hard work.”

I was in a trance as I responded back instinctively, “Thank you Daddy.”

@nature-and-music @lady-jane-revisited @mickmarstookmyheart @sophiazeppelinchick

[justasimplesinner]

Please for the love of fuck give me a happy ending to the riddler/scarecrow breaking hcs that may or may not start off with the reader running into them again and being understandably pissed. I just want to throw a vase at Eddie. I can have a mature conversation with Johnathan with some raised voices and some crying from both parties but I want to throttle that green goblin lookin motherfucker. I want to see fear in that man's eyes as I curbstomp his stank ass for living in my head and never paying rent. Cause that shit broke me no pun intended.

I'm a soft bitch I need someone to put a bandaid on the hurtie and kiss is to make it feel better.

ugh, you fuckin' softies. continuation of this post

Arkham Knight!Riddler getting his happy ending hcs:

like i stated in the previous post, you two may have not been together anymore, but that didn't mean he'd leave you alone. you were the last bit of his sanity, at this point, he didn't know how to live without you. he was constantly lying to himself and you about the motives behind his calls and visits, but truth was, he was just trying to cling on. he couldn't let you go, you were his raft in the middle of the fucking ocean, if he let you go, he'd... he wouldn't survive that. he didn't know how

but it doesn't mean that this whole thing sat well with you. fucking bastard, neglects you for years, treats you like the very dirt he walks on and now has the gall to fucking invade your private space? ruin you completely? it's like it didn't matter if you were with him or not, he'd still find a way to fucking destroy you. and you, on one hand, genuinely wanted out. you wanted him out of your life, because you had only one and you didn't want to live it in misery, you didn't want to just suffer and take it like a good puppy. you weren't even sure he realised the extent to which he fucking hurt you, because he was constantly focusing on himself and no one else, because selfishness was his coping mechanism and he wouldn't change

it was only logical that at some point, you'd have enough. you didn't want to fucking live like this. he didn't have a right to just sit there and do nothing and yet simultaneously do damage. he was a grown fucking man and it was time he made a grown fucking choice

– Well, well, well, look who decided to finally show up-... – you didn't give him the chance to finish, your fist connecting hard with his nose, or maybe it was his cheek, though you hoped it was his eye so it'd hurt the most. You didn't really know, you didn't really care, you've had fucking enough. You knew he was there, in your house, before he even opened his yapping mouth, and you didn't fancy being greeted in your only safe (or, apparently, not-so-safe) space by a fucking insult from the man responsible for all your current misery.

You didn't feel a pang of regret, quite the contrary, his stumbling form and widened eyes gave you this weird feeling of satisfaction. You kind of understood why Batman did what he did, beating Ed's ass was just too rewarding.

– I've had fucking enough of you and your stupid charade! – you didn't plan on beating around the bush anymore, it was time he was fucking faced with the consequences of what he did.

He didn't have the time to recover from your last blow before the first thing you could grab collided with his shoulder - a vase, apparently, and it shattered into small pieces upon impact. Great, now he fucking ruined your favourite vase, too, as if your life wasn't enough for him!

– You have no right to fucking invade my house and treat me like shit even after I've dumped you! – with every word, with every step you took forward, he took one back, eyes wide in genuine fear as he tried to back away from you, maintain a safe distance, as if anything could save him from your wrath now.

– If I mean nothing to you, then why the fuck are you even here?! Why the fuck do you insist on getting me all tangled up in your stupid games?! I'm not gonna fucking sit here and take it like an obedient pet just because you can't get over the fact that we're not together anymore! – you raged on, and you had no intention of stopping, you watched him back away, you watched him stupidly bump into the side of your couch and fall on his stupid fucking ass. He deserved to fall on the floor, not on a set of nice, comfy pillows. But he had no way out now. He had nowhere to run, not when you fucking rounded up on his shock-still form.

– I-... – he dared to try and interrupt you and it was truly the last straw, it was all you needed to have angry tears blur your vision and your hands clenched in fists again.

– You never even fucking apologized to me for anything either! Did it ever fucking occur to you that if, instead of tormenting me and calling me an idiot, you just fucking said you're sorry, pushed your idiotic pride aside and genuinely fucking said you're sorry, then I would've taken you back?! That maybe we wouldn't be here, in this fucking situation, if you just weren't selfish for once and apologized for all the shit you did to me, all the pain you've put me through-

– I'm sorry. – it was so quiet you almost didn't hear it. So shaky and breathy, so fucking... guilty. Heartbroken. So utterly pathetic. Just like he was, just like he looked. Just like you wanted him to be, but now that he was, you hated it. You hated his glossed over, wide eyes, the shame in them, the guilt, the pain. You hated his arms, slightly risen in a protective manner because he expected another blow. He deserved another one, but... it's like he was just a child then. Just this small, broken boy that was afraid to admit he was wrong, that was afraid of the punishment that awaited for him. And all over again, he made you want to pull him close to your chest and kiss it all better, make it so he'd never experience this pain again. And you hated yourself for it.

you've destroyed the fucking dam then. you haven't heard this man apologize to you once in your entire life, and suddenly, you were swarmed with sorries, with regrets and sorrows and his tears. suddenly, he remembered every smallest thing he ever did that made you upset, and he apologized over and over, for everything and anything, and you thought he was going to suffocate with how he was crying and rambling on your couch

god, he wasn't fucking worth it, you knew that, but suddenly, he was in your arms again, and you were soothing his shaking form, again. you were back there to ground him, to comfort him, to make him feel loved, even if he didn't deserve it. you were there to listen to his - probably empty - promises to change, even though you knew he most likely didn't have the power to change at this point, and god dammit - you believed it. or wanted to believe it. you wanted to believe that maybe you were important and that maybe he will put the effort in changing for you this time as you kissed him breathless and let him cling onto you for dear life. you wanted to believe that he deserved a(nother) second chance and that there was still hope for him as you clung right back. you missed having him right there, in your embrace. despite everything. and maybe you were just plain out stupid, or maybe he truly made a promise he, for once, intended to keep. and honestly? you weren't sure if you were ready to find out

you also apologized for throwing a vase at him. he wasn't mad. if he was, you'd throw another one. he had no right to be mad

Arkham Knight!Jon getting his happy ending hcs:

Jon genuinely thought about seeking you out, hoping that maybe that would give him some closure, that it would make him able to work and function properly again. but he realised how stupid, how selfish and disgusting that was. he swore to himself he won't even fucking force you to look at his ugly mug again. he had no right to come to you, expecting the person he pushed away in order to work to help him get back to work. he didn't fucking deserve to even breathe the same air as you

he kept tabs on you though. he had to know where you lived now, where you worked, and knowing where you were at all times would be ideal too, but he didn't dare go that far as to have someone stalk you. it's not out of some creepy obsession, it's actually out of... concern. sounds ridiculous, especially since he hadn't expressed any concern for you for the past few months, but he... he really didn't want to ever hurt you again. even accidentally. even if you were to be collateral damage. he needed to know the places he could target and the places he couldn't, he needed to know when, where and on who he could test his freshest batches and when, where and on who he couldn't. he hurt you enough. he destroyed your mind enough. he wasn't about to subject you to your worst fears too

but a reunion was inevitable, it seemed. one way or another, fate was bent on bringing you two back together. and so, he missed the fact that you changed your jobs and started working at Ace Chemicals, front desk actually, passing around exactly the information he needed about the company, it's building and resources

You genuinely couldn't believe your fucking eyes. You couldn't believe his cheek. The gall he had to be standing right here, in front of you, in his tattered, dirty "glory", milky eyes seeming wild behind the mask, as if he didn't expect you to be here. As if he hadn't planned it all.

– What are you doing here? – you didn't even have the strength to get angry at him anymore. You just resigned yourself to the fact that he was going to haunt you every single day for the rest of your life, be it in person or as a fleeting thought in your mind. You weren't allowed to get rid of him. You weren't allowed to forget.

– I could be asking you the same question. – his tone was hard to decipher. As if it was emotionless, but at the same time wasn't. Like there was something behind it, something he didn't want you to see. Something he himself wasn't ready to face.

You were already too exhausted mentally to give a shit.

– I work here. – you sighed, using that mocking tone he always used on you whenever you asked "stupid" questions. Funny, how one day he tells you there are no stupid questions and that you can always ask away, that he will always listen, and then treats you like an idiot when you do.

And yet you still loved his sarcasm, loved his quips and biting remarks. This was who he was, and you did, after all, love him as a whole.

– I didn't know that. – you were actually ready to believe that, what with how he was still standing there, practically in the doorway. He didn't round up on you yet, he didn't corner you like you were his prey. Actually, it seemed he thought you were the predator, like he was... scared to come closer.

Maybe that was better for the two of you. Who know what you'd do if he started to come at you like he owned you and this whole place.

– Oh, didn't you now? – you couldn't allow him to know though. It was his turn to get the cold shoulder for once. Not that he cared enough to be hurt by it. Not that he ever cared. About you, about anything. Anything but his work.

Jesus, fuck, you couldn't break down in front of him. You already did in the past. Way too many times. You weren't going to give him the satisfaction of having the upper hand.

– You shouldn't've gotten a job here. – he seemed to feel as if he had it anyway – I work with chemicals on a daily basis and you know I'm planning to gas the entire city, it is only logical for me to take advantage of having a huge chemical factory right in the middle of it. It was obvious I'd come here sooner or later. – every word he said, he took a step closer to the desk. Every word he said, he beat you down into the ground harder. Obviously, you were in the wrong. Yet again. Always your fault. Why would you distract him from his goal yet again? Why would you meddle? It seemed that even if you didn't want to, you proved to be an inconvenience, a chink in the chain that was his research. It didn't matter what you did, it was never going to be good enough.

You two weren't compatible, after all.

– Yep, I'm stupid, I get it. Go on, psychoanalize me too, tell me how I did it knowingly just because I wanted to see you again. – you couldn't stop yourself from snarling at him. As always, he only came to you to break down what you've so carefully built back together. It was always that way, if you really thought about it. Every time you were starting to get used to his absence, starting to truly live on your own, he suddenly appeared, acted like everything was fine, acted like he loved you, and you believed it like the fool you were. You believed it and then he left you alone again. You believed it and then you woke up to an empty bed again. Every single time.

Maybe you really were a fucking idiot.

– And did you? – or maybe he was one, because this comment only resulted in riling you up more and yet he dared to fucking ask.

– I fucking hate you Jon. – you weren't ready to believe that what he just did at your words was flinching. That it hurt enough for him to physically move away. – If I wanted to look at your face again, I'd just turn on the news.

– I don't want to hurt you. – that was bullshit. He never did anything else. Hurting you was what he was best at, and he prided himself in it. – But I need access to the vast supply of chemicals your workplace has to offer. – even when you two fucking argued, it always came down to his work. Even when you told him you hated him, all he offered back was that he didn't care and came here just to get shit done. He didn't even fucking care enough to at least say he hates you back.

– You don't want to hurt me? That's a new one. – you were really tempted to just roll your eyes and go back to work. To ignore him, like he always did to you. But suddenly, you realised just how close he was. Practically leaning over the desk. His scarred face hooded and covered in a mask, hidden away from you. That face you wanted to stare into every time you woke up, that face you wanted to be the last thing you saw every day you went to sleep. That face that you wanted to kiss better, to make him know. Make him know you didn't mind. Make him know he was still handsome as ever. He never believed you, and you saw that. You saw that very clearly in his milky eyes. It's like they were fogged, like his mind was surrounded with fog and blurred reality with imagination, like there was this barrier between the two of you.

It wasn't there at first. But then he changed, and you didn't really know who he was anymore.

– I'm sorry. – it felt like pity. Like he pitied you. Like he was saying it just so you'd shut the fuck up and move out of his way at last.

And maybe it was better if you did.

– Save it. I won't get in the way of your plans, don't worry. I'm not getting paid enough to sacrifice myself for this place either way. – you were gathering your things, leaving the computer on, the information unguarded. You could use a day off, anyway. To cry in peace or whatever.

No such luck apparently, since Jonathan immediately had you in a grip, his fingers flexing against your arms.

– No, (Y/n). I'm sorry.

you really weren't ready for that conversation. not at all. you would never be ready for that. seeing Jon apologizing, hell, seeing him crying, genuinely crying in front of you, over you, wasn't something you ever expected to see. Jonathan, despite being a skilled psychologist, never really talked about his emotions. he was always hellbent on talking through yours - well, at the beginning he was, until the whole "spiralling into his obsession" thing started. then, he stopped, because he didn't have time for you. or, as he now explained, didn't have the courage to face how much he's hurt you. you really wanted to fucking punch him then, when he told you that he knew. that he knew all the time what he was doing, and yet never stopped, as if he purposefully sabotaged your relationship so you'd leave him. you knew he had his problems and you couldn't blame him for that, but you could blame him for running away from them. you could blame him for treating you like shit since he woke up from his short coma after the incident with Killer Croc. hell, he took the blame full on

you've never heard him so... bare. so raw. so vulnerable. when he apologized to you, thanked you for everything you ever fucking did, for always helping him, for sticking by him for that long, for enduring him and showing him how it feels to be loved, he was but a broken man. for the first time in... assumably ever, Jonathan didn't hide behind any walls and just... let the words flow. both of you knew that wasn't enough to compensate for what he did. nothing will ever be enough. he will never give you back everything that he took from you, and your heart will never fully heal. even if you two got back together, he wouldn't resign from his research either, and more likely than not, it was all going to end exactly the same, with him hiding away from you because apparently, acting like he didn't love you saved you from the heartbreak, and you having to mend your broken heart on your own, alone, knowing you will never get all your lost time back. you will never get back the time you spent crying in your home because you knew he wasn't coming. and yet, you - like the idiot you probably were - dived right back in. because you fucking loved him. and maybe it was stupid, and maybe his arms clinging onto you as you kissed him for the first time in months were stupid too, but if being stupid meant being happy, even for just one moment, you were going to take it

Jonathan still had a lot to make up for. you didn't think he will ever manage, honestly. but you were excited to see him try

[ramp-it-up]

Fresh Squeeze 12

Pairing: Daveed Diggs x OFC Linden Marshall (You)

Set in 2023, post-pandemic

Warnings: Minors DNI, 18 + ONLY, RPF, cursing, SMUT with a bit of plot, Daddy kink, creampie/breeding kink, oral sex (m/f receiving), light BDSM.

Word Count: 5.8 K 

Plot: Time for Lindy to get exactly what she wants for her birthday, and Daveed is more happy to oblige, the little freaks. This is nasty, y’all.

Previous Chapter

Daveed woke up next to you. You were asleep on your stomach, facing him, curls everywhere, and a little smile on your face. The covers were kicked off and you were lying face down your fist clenched under your chin.  

He looked at you and found out that he was in for it. You were fuckin’ adorable.

He lay there on his back, smiling at your sleeping face and reached out and grasped a curl, playing with it for a minute. He smiled wider.

You really said you loved him last night.

When you started to wake up, you opened your eyes, looked at him confusedly for a few seconds, then smiled back at him. 

His heart fluttered and started to beat faster. He wondered if that would ever stop. 

—-

When you woke up and saw that Daveed was there, you knew there was something you should remember. When you did, you didn't want to ruin it.

"Before you speak, don't move, 'cause I don't wanna wake up." 

You kept your voice low, not wanting to destroy the vibe. Your eyes scanned down his torso, along his abs and down to where the covers were partially covering up his happy trail. You grinned and looked back up at him.

“See something you want?” 

Daveed was taking note of everything. What turned you on, how to treat your body, how best to give you pleasure.  He wanted to understand the assignment.

You grunted softly in your throat, which you covered up by saying, “Ummmmhmmmm.” 

You reached out and raked your fingers up his hand to his bicep to his shoulders, collarbone, pecs, and abs to his happy trail.  The hunger in your eyes was unmistakable. 

“I see.” Daveed’s morning voice was everything. He smirked at you and you looked at each other for a long time.

"Excuse me. Um, I love you."

"I love you, too, Baby Girl.” 

Daveed brought his hand up to caress your cheek and moved down to your throat, lightly grasping it to bring you to his own luscious lips. 

His grazed yours, then he peppered light kisses down your neck, stopping at your spot, which he’d found quickly after he noticed the goosebumps pebbling up on your skin and your hardened nipples as he brushed the side of your breast. 

He drew back, breathless with emotion and excitement as you lay next to him moaning and squirming so quickly.  He loved how responsive you were to him.

 “Is this real?" You couldn’t quite believe last night.

"The real deal Holyfield." 

He slid his hand down his shirt and down to your hip, stopping at the hem, teasing you with the pads of his fingers on your thigh.  Then he stopped, arching his eyebrow and turning on his side, closing one eye sleepily. 

"So I’m ‘Daddy’ now?"

“Daveed!” You were antsy and petulant. And a little embarrassed that had come out of your mouth. “I was under the influence of lust, I didn’t know what I was saying.” 

You flushed at the thought of calling Daveed ‘Daddy.’ He probably thought you were more than just a little needy, calling him that in the heat of passion. 

‘Sir’ was a more formal boundary into kink, one that felt more controlled. Daddy was… well more vulnerable.

Daveed looked at you fully again. He could see the beginnings of your panic, and he wanted to put you at ease.  

He’d never encouraged anyone to call him that, but from you, the word took his desire to an entirely different level. But he didn’t want to be too obvious.  

If you didn’t want to do it, that was cool too.

“Oh.”  He licked his lips.  “That’s a shame.” He flexed his arm and put it under his head to distract you.

Oh shit, you thought. You opened and closed your mouth, kind of like a fish. Daveed wanted to be Daddy?  You looked him up and down.

“Well, damn, Daddy. I'll call you anything you want to hear after last night."  

You smiled at him, eyes sparkling, and you put your hand under your head.

Daveed reached out, grabbed your hand and pulled you into the crook of his arm. He took your hand and held it. "I just wanna hear you say those three words again."

You stopped smiling and searched his eyes. You looked at Daveed and knew you'd made the right choice. 

"I love you Daveed."

He grinned and puffed out his chest. He brought your hand to his mouth, kissed it, then shifted to lean up and  kiss all the way up your arm, up your shoulder and down your back, shifting to kneel behind you, straddling your legs.  

You knew what was up. And it gave you the shivers.

"Daveeeeeed. I don’t knowwww. I’m kind of sore." 

That first night with him had almost broken your box. But the ache was a pleasurable reminder of a great time.

He didn't stop, but went down and kissed your cheeks.  "Just let me kiss where it hurts so it will feel better."  

Daveed grabbed and kneaded your ass, using his thumbs to gently invade the space in between your legs. 

"Oh... Daddy!" You couldn't help but arch your back and raise your ass to meet his fingers. You wanted him to fill you up again.

"That's right, arch it for me Baby Girl." He spread you out and watched you glisten for him. 

“I’ve never been obsessed with how a pussy looked before. Damn, girl.” He gently kissed your lower lips.

"Oooohhhh," you breathed.

Daveed stopped. "Does that hurt?" The last thing he wanted to do was to force himself on you.

"Nnnnnnnhhhhh. Feels kinda goodddd."  You moaned softly, wiggling in his grip.

Daveed did it again, and gently used his tongue this time. He licked a soft stripe up your folds and barely invaded your cunt, causing you to moan.

"Ooooooh." That sounded like pleasure, but he had to make sure.

"What’s your word Baby Girl?"

"Isa-fucking- bella. Don’t stop. It's a little sore, but that feels so sweet." Daveed had you caught up.

Daveed grinned at it. "Tastes sweet, too." 

Daveed ate you out from behind, gently at first, then took cues from you and reached his fingers around your thigh to manipulate your clit as he dove deeper inside you with his tongue.

The more insistent you became, the more determined he came to be. He lapped at your folds, thrusting his tongue inside you as far as it could go, then sliding it down to your clit, where he sucked you into another world.

Your hands reached out and gripped the sheets, trying to find something to hold on to while under his assault. He very gently grazed your clit with his teeth, making you yelp and squirm under him.

Daveed took advantage of the brief pause to get you in position. “Up on your knees. Time for your first present.”

“Your first present to me was your love.” You were almost afraid of what he was going to do. Almost.

Daveed was kneeling behind you now, massaging and pulling apart. He chuckled.

“Aww, that’s cute Baby Girl. But you’ve had that for a while.” He smiled at the most hidden part of you. “Nah, your first present is that I’m gonna eat these groceries.”

“Whattttoooohhhhh!” 

Your surprise turned into something else as Daveed dove in, expertly making your brain turn to mush. He clearly knew what he was doing as he made you come apart in minutes with his hands and tongue in forbidden places.

As you writhed under his mouth, inching away from your impending explosion, Daveed looked up, grabbed his shirt with both hands and growled, “Don’t fucking run Linden.” 

He jerked the fabric and pulled you back onto his face.

Being this intimate with you just drove him up the wall. With you Daveed constantly wanted more, so he took his time and feasted on you until you came, tongue fucking you through your orgasm, lapping up all your juices and doing it again. 

You were begging for mercy by the time he was through.

“Please! Sir… I can’t!”  

Daveed slapped your ass after you came the second time and wiped his mouth with his hand. You tried not to hide your face, because a giant smile was plastered on it.  He couldn’t know how much he had you addicted.

"I love doing that." He leaned back and grinned, feeling euphoric.

You laughed.

"I can tell." 

"Making you feel good is the shit.” 

You were grinning at him when you saw something move out of the corner of your eye causing you to glance down. 

You saw that his dick was at attention and that he was rubbing the fat, wet tip that was peeking out of his pajama pants.

"And I think it's time to take care of you, Sir." 

“I didn’t know if  you would want to have do that on your birthday.”

You rose up on your knees and pulled him out of his clothes, running your thumb over his leaking tip and caressing his balls. You were giddy about the fact that you’d done this to him.

“Have to do it? Oh no Sir. I get to do it.  I love this dick.” 

“You wanted the cake? I want the icing. All over me…”

You raised your thumb to your mouth and sucked his syrup-like precum off of it, while Daveed watched you with half-closed lids.

“Damn, Baby Girl.”  

He had to stop talking to keep from panting. You were so fucking hot sitting on your knees in his shirt, sucking him off you.  ”It’s like that today?”  

“Don’t act like you didn’t start it, Daveed. You ate the booty real good. Nasty is the baseline.”

Daveed fought to keep from squealing as you rose up on your knees, spit on it, and started to stroke him off. You had him fucking slipping. And he loved it.

You smiled, feeling your full power over him.

Knowing that Daveed loved you made you feel free to be submissive, dominant, sweet, nasty, adventurous, and maybe even Baby Girl to his Daddy. You could do it all.

He trailed his hand up your thigh again.

“Aht-aht.  It’s my birthday, let me work here.” 

You moved out of his reach, still sensitive.  Daveed allowed it. But only because it was, in fact, your birthday. 

“Take ‘em off, please, and sit on the edge of the bed. Please?.” You looked up at you with those eyes. “I want to get on my knees for you, Sir.” 

You took off his shirt and began putting your hair up so that he could plainly see what you were about to do to him.

“Your birthday wish is my command.” 

In seconds, you were where you wanted to be, kneeling in front of Daveed and handling that pretty dick. 

His firm brown warmth was against your lips and tongue while Daveed’s hand was on your head, alternating holding you down to gag around him and gently massaging your scalp as you stroked him off.

It was sloppy, just like he liked it, and the eye contact you were giving him was making him feel like you were looking into his soul and reading him for the filthy man that he was. 

“That’s that shit Lindy, but you’re making a mess. I should spank you later, Hunh? For being a bad girl?”  It wouldn’t normally be a question, but he was testing the limits.

You smiled and nodded around him, because you happened to be unable to speak at the moment. 

When he let you catch your breath, you said, “Yes, Daddy. I need my birthday licks. I have a feeling I might be bad all day.”

Daveed groaned because you were getting him even harder. He was sprung. And he wanted nothing more than to fulfill any and all of your birthday wishes.

You lowered your eyes and went back to work, sending your power and control. He cooed praises and threats as you worked. You were in heaven.

“That’s it, Baby Girl. Get it. I’m gonna tear you up. Maybe I should take that ass today too.”

His words worked you into a frenzy. You brought him to the brink much sooner than he wanted because you were just that skilled.

“Gotdamn, Linden,” he drew his bottom lip between his teeth. “Ffffuck!” He felt about to burst.

He took over the stroke and started jacking himself off.  You held your mouth open while you palmed your breasts and rolled your nipples.

“Give me that cum, Daddy.” 

You pinched your nipples between your fingers and looked him in the eye; everything about you at that moment triggered a lewd moan and release from Daveed.

‘Ughhhhhh, shit, Lindy.” 

His balls tightened and he started to spurt warm ropes of spend toward you, curling his toes because you looked so fucking hot and keeping his eyes open to witness this seemed to make it last forever.

“Ahhhhhhhhhh,” you said as you opened wide for him, sticking out your tongue. 

He managed to get some of it in your mouth. When he was finished, you swallowed and smiled. He ran his fingers down your face, neck, and breasts, gathering his seed. He placed them in your mouth. 

You smiled around them and happily took what he gave you, licking, sucking, and giggling.

“Damn. You are the headmaster, Linden, I mean, damn.” 

Daveed was completely ruined. He was literally shaking. He got himself together, stood up and stretched, looking down at you. You were fucking perfect.

He watched you playing in his cum and looking up at him innocently, licking him off your fingers. His cock twitched.  Fuck, with you he was always ready. He felt 19 again. 

You noticed him stiffening again and smiled around your own fingers. You felt like it was your world. And it was.

“When are you gonna cum inside me, Daddy? Want this creamy goodness in my holes.” You were pouting and smearing his cum around your nipple. 

You watched his cock rise again at what you were saying and  doing. You felt triumphant. You smirked up at him.

“Stand up.”

Daveed grabbed you by the neck and helped you to your feet. Your wetness dripped down your thighs. 

“You really want this today Lindy?”

You smiled at him. “Yes, Sir.”

“I love this fucking neck. I can wrap my entire hand around it and mark it up good for everyone to see. Fuck, it makes me mad how hot you are.”  

He squeezed again, making you giddy, then let you go, tugging you into the bathroom by your hand.

“Let me give you this birthday icing where you requested it.”

Daveed turned on the shower and got started, bending you over the vanity as he waited for the water to warm up.

He tugged your hair, making you look at him in the mirror. He chuckled, “You know the drill.”

You struggled to keep your eyes open as he slapped your ass and plunged inside you, the deliciousness of the stretch made possible by your slick. Your walls kissed and hugged every ridge on his dick.

“Damn, this shit was made for me, Linden.” He watched your cunt try to suck his cock back in every time he pulled back, then back up at you in the mirror. It made him grunt.

 “Nhnnnh. Can I have it anytime I want?”

Your mouth was open to help you breathe, so you nodded and managed to get out a breathy, “Yes, Sir.”

The look on your face told him you were down.

“Good answer. I’ll give you this dick anytime you need it.” 

He slapped your ass again and pulled your hips so you were standing on tiptoe, a better angle so his tall ass could dig even deeper.

“Oh, Daddy, oh fuck!” You didn’t know what to call him, you were switching back and forth, but you were just riding the feels.  Daveed didn’t care, you would lay some ground rules later, today was your day.

He was rough, hips pumping quickly and deep, because he knew that’s what you wanted. He slapped each cheek a couple of times, causing you to get even wetter. 

When he snaked his long arm around you and his fingers found your clit, you were done, cumming and gushing all around him as he pumped you through your orgasm, seeking his own. 

“Sssshhhhhiiiiitttt!” 

Daveed came inside you, and you could swear you could feel the dense ropes of spunk against your cervix. You spasmed again as Daveed collapsed on your back. His weight was welcoming and grounding as you came back to earth. 

He gingerly pulled out of you and looked down. Something about watching his drip made him start to swell again.  

He thought that if you could get pregnant, you would be by now. He surprised himself by the thought and by the fact that the thought made him fully hard again. Damn.

“Time to get clean, dirty girl.” 

You laughed as Daveed tugged you in the shower, where Daveed got more cake and you more icing.

----

It was 1 pm by the time you and Daveed met the others in the great room for your birthday brunch. 

You had reluctantly separated to get dressed because D’s clothes were in his room, and when you saw each other, you both smiled at your choice of attire. 

Daveed was in an Oakland tank top and shorts, his hair out of the braids, fully moisturized and glowing, with his glasses on. His ripped body was on full display, along with the scratch marks on his biceps and forearms that you’d put there. That shit turned you on. 

He caught your look, and although he was talking and grinning shyly, acting like a low key regular guy, you saw a peek of the sex demon from an hour ago.

Daveed watched you shake your head at him, and he knew that you knew what was up. He was just trying to give you what you wanted for your birthday. But you, on the other hand, were not being fair. 

You were wearing a yellow sundress, which in the light was see through, so that your body was on display in shadow. He wasn’t upset about it, just, heated in a good way that he could vividly imagine what was underneath. 

The fact that your hair was up in a bun, with a few curls loose around your neck which highlighted the marks there made him want to drag you back to bed.  

But here you were looking wide eyed and innocent among your friends and he knew that he couldn’t deprive them of your company.  He had to share. 

You looked carefree and low key, not at all like the vixen who’d let Daveed do whatever he wanted to you just a little while ago. So he sighed and decided to wait. 

Everybody else in the room knew what was up, but didn’t joke about you two getting together, which you were grateful for. 

You all gathered around the table where birthday cake and champagne were the highlights of the brunch, along with your favorite dishes. Jasmine and Anthony had it catered.

“Thanks Martinez peeps, this weekend has been everything! The best birthday ever!”

“No problem, Lindy, you the homie. We love you girl. But the weekend  isn’t over yet. What do you want to do tonight? We gotta turn up!” Anthony was always hyped.

“Well, I do want to go dancing….”

“We don’t dance.” The Bay Boys responded in unison.

You laughed along with everyone else.

“But for you, Linden, I will make an exception.” Daveed kissed your hand, the picture of angelic sweetness, much different from a couple of hours before.

Your fam and friends reacted.

“Awwww.”

“Gross.”

“Take that somewhere else.”

*gagging sounds*

You rolled your eyes at your friends, largely ignoring them.

“And I need to go shopping again! I want something nice to wear tonight.”

You coughed to cover up a yelp as Daveed’s hand went to your thigh, fingers close to your pussy. 

You tensed up, but he squeezed you, giving you a stern warning under the table as he pushed his glasses up and laughed at something Jasmine said above it, his face turned away from you. 

Damn, he was a good actor. You relaxed your legs a little more to give him access.

“Lindy, I saw this cute ass dress in a shop the other day you need to try on!” Jas was almost as excited as you were.

You smiled at Jasmine as Daveed’s right hand went to your panties as his left hand shoveled food in his mouth. No one noticed his debauchery.

“So we’ll all go into town so the Queen can shop for her birthday, come back go to this Club Aguadilla on town. About 8?” 

Rafa was ever directing shit, head in his phone while he checked out the club on their website.

“Cool, I got to get some gear for tonight, too.” Daveed’s fingers were running up and down your slit, and he was still acting innocent.

“What do you need to get that you don't already have in your hand? I mean on hand?” 

Your tone was sardonic as you dared question Daveed. He smiled sweetly at you, laughed his shy laugh and smoothly pulled his hand away. 

Then he brought the offending finger to his mouth and sucked it clean of your juices in front of everyone. They thought he was just eating food, not you. 

“You’re so sweet Lindy.” 

He was looking at you with a glint in his eye as you smirked back at him. No one seemed to notice that he was taunting you.  “But, maybe I need to get you a present?”

You raised your eyebrow at him. “Another one?”

“Yes, ma’am.” You two grinned at Daveed flipping the dynamic on you.. The butterflies came back at the guesses of what he had in mind for you later. You had your own ideas.

Craig cleared his throat.

“I thought that once y’all smashed, the tension would get better, but y’all are too much, honey.“

“Fuck you, Craig” You flipped your cousin off.  

You turned to Jasmine. “Now, Jas, where is this shop?’ 

-----

You spent the afternoon walking the shopping district in town, holding Daveed’s hand or on his arm.  He didn’t seem to want to let you out of his sight. He didn’t even know why himself. He had never been this way before.

“Okay we’re going this way, and Daveed, Anthony, and Rafa are going that way.” Jasmine was pointing up the street. Everyone looked at her sideways.

“Ok, Miss Bossy?” Anthony questioned her. Jasmine gave him a look and went over to him.

“Actually, I’m going this way, Craig pointed in an entirely different direction. “What?” He questioned your raised eyebrow. 

“I’m gonna meet up with this Brian guy I met last night.”  He held up his phone and started walking down the street.

“Be careful, send me his contact and where he is staying!” You called after him.  He was the one that needed looking after, not you.  You shook your head.

“Okay, Mom!” Craig waved at you and kept going.  

Anthony finished conferring with Jasmine, and now he was all about it. He clapped his hands. 

“Ok, let’s go.  Daveed. You said that you needed some gear.”

Daveed looked at him, trying to think of an excuse to stay with you. You just looked at him, amused.

“Yeah, Diggs. You said you were gonna get me a present.” That little brat look on your face made him want to….

“Ummmmm. Yeah. I do.” He looked at you and grinned, leaning down to kiss you goodbye. 

Jasmine grabbed your hand and pulled you away and down the street.  You kept looking back to see if he would too as you got further and further apart.

Daveed walked in between Rafael and Anthony, keenly feeling the distance between you.

“Don’t do it, Diggs. Don’t look back.  If you look back, you’re a goner.” Rafael was imparting wisdom. Soon, he was shaking his head as Daveed stopped and looked back at you.

He was rewarded with a huge grin from you from up the street, so he sprinted to you, grabbed you away from Jasmine, gave you a good kiss, put you down and sprinted back to his boys. 

He was barely out of breath, but the blood was roaring in his ears as Ant and Rafa busted his balls.

----

You next saw Daveed again when you went out to Aguadilla Rooftop bar with the crew. Everyone was turnt. 

The boys still weren’t back by 7:30, having been delayed by something in town, so you and Jasmine left to meet Craig and his man there.

You weren’t stressing it, just having fun with Jasmine and Craig, and Brian who turned out to be a cool dude. You were laughing, drinking and having fun for your birthday. It was a vibe.

You gasped when you saw him come in, looking fine as hell and wearing a white button up short sleeved shirt. Shit, he was fine. And he was yours. 

Jasmine laughed at you as you gaped open mouthed on the dance floor.  She knew her time with you on your birthday was over, so she went over to her own piece of manhood, Anthony.

When she walked away, you sent the pic to Daveed’s phone.

Daveed came in and scanned the place, squinting a bit because he’d left his glasses at home. 

He stopped at the bar and ordered a drink, tipping generously when it came quickly.  He turned to look again and spotted you, a beautiful golden statue.

You were wearing a form fitting gold dress, which, and as he got closer, he saw that it was covered in tiny gold buttons for a texturized effect.  

It made him want to reach out and touch.  And he figured that was the point, because you were mesmerizing as he got closer. 

Damn. You were a sight for sore eyes. Even though it had just been four hours, it seemed like you were apart forever.  This was going to be a problem.  His heart beat impossibly fast at the sight of you. 

Your friends around the room thought you two looked like magic on the dance floor.

"Hey Lindy."

“Hey, Daveed. Hey.”

He scanned the dress and could not see one sign of underwear. He had to know.

“What’s under the dress, Linden?”

You cocked your head and flirted with your man.

"I think you know what's under the dress. I seem to remember your hands everywhere this morning."

Daveed took a sip of his drink, in full pull-her mode. Even though he didn't have to pull her.

"Did you like that?" His eyes were seeing right through you. He knew the answer.

You replied, “Yes, Sir,” and took his drink out of his hand to quench your sudden thirst. Daveed watched his glass's journey to your lips. Damn, you were bad.

"It was aight." You pouted a little as you lied.

You wondered what he had done to deserve you.

"But in answer to your first question. I have no panties, and no bra, but I did add some extra 'jewelry' for the boobies." You stood up straight and pointed your chest at him.

Daveed looked down at your cleavage. He was getting warm and he was intrigued.

You started dancing with him as you held his drink behind his head.  His hand was on your ass and his eyes were on your tits.

"Are you telling me that you got your nipples pierced? That's hot, babe, but I would have loved to have been there." The thought was getting Daveed hard.

You grinned at him. "Oh. Nah. Bought some nipple clamps when I went shopping." You turned around and started wining on him. You could feel it getting hard. “You should see them, they are sooo cute!”

You leaned back and whispered to Daveed, who bent his ear over her shoulder to hear. You raised her arm to bring him closer. You kissed him on the cheek and grinded on his wood a little more. 

"I sent you a pic when you came in."

Daveed hadn't been in his phone all afternnon. But he immediately grabbed it and saw the image you’d sent him, of just your breasts with gold clamps which kind of looked like earrings.

The clamps were gripping your nipples, which were engorged. There was a small rubber tightener connected to a small chain which dangled below the nipples. He really needed his hands on them right now. You and he looked at the picture together.

Daveed was practically panting. “Damn. Is it your birthday, or mine?”

You laughed at him, giddy with your power.

Daveed put his phone in his pocket, and put his hands on your hips, wanting to slide them up your sides to your tits.  But he knew you were being watched.  So instead, he put his right arm across your chest and pressed in gently.

"Oooouuuuuuuch, Daddy. That hurts a little bit.  And makes my pussy ache."

Daveed almost couldn't take it.  He felt your words in the pit of his stomach and down his boner. He leaned his head over and lightly bit your shoulder. His mind whirled at what kind of bathrooms this place had.

"I'm about to fuck the shit out of you. And then later, at your place.  We'll play more with our present."

You chuckled at the word ‘our’ as Daveed grabbed your hand and pulled you  toward the back of the club.  You went into one of the bathrooms, which was a single stall and locked the door. You leaned back against the sink, watching him like he was dangerous.

"Girl, don't be afraid.  Go ahead and pull the top of that dress down.  Let me see that shit."

Daveed was rubbing his hands together like it was in fact his birthday. 

You obeyed, your eyes watching him as you did so.  You pulled the straps down and revealed yourself, and your breasts in the nipple clamps to him. Good Lord you were beautiful.

"Do they really hurt?" Daveed was mesmerized as he came closer. 

As he approached, the electric feeling in the small of your back intensified. 

Daveed wanted to take hold of the chains and pull.  Which he did, gently.  You moaned, aroused beyond belief. You’d been wearing the clamps for over an hour.

"A little bit, but most of all, it just makes me wanna get fucked.  My spot is aching.  I need you to hit it. Please, Daddy.” 

You pouted up at him, making him feel that he could cum in his pants right there. You were turning him back into a teenager. It was a trip.

Daveed took it all in. "Touch your nipples."

You obeyed again, your fingers working gingerly.

"Looks like you need something to ease the ache, Baby Girl. You want Daddy to help you?"

You nodded “Fuck, yes Daddy. Please help me Daddy, I need you so much.”

Daveed grunted, bent his head, and lubricated the clamps on your nipples with his tongue. Your moan did not seem to be one of relief.

"Shit Daddy..."

Daveed grabbed your ass and started working your dress up. The promised land was within reach.  His fingers felt the glorious wetness that was traveling down your thighs.

You furiously unbuckled his jeans and the real sex monster sprung out.  Daveed tapped your thighs and you jumped. 

He hoisted you onboard, strong hands and arms holding you up above his wet, fat tip, and slowly slid you down his pole, and started fucking you hard. He slammed you up against the stall for more leverage as he fucked into you. 

His mouth was on your nipples, lubricating the clamps with his saliva and skimming them with his teeth. This caused electricity to shoot down your body to your clit, which was engorged and sensitive between you, the hair at his happy trail stimulating it. 

It was a good thing the music was loud, because your screams were not quiet.

"Fuck! Yes, Daddy! You're hitting it right. I couldn’t. Take. It. Any. Harder."

Daveed responded to your challenge, stamping his foot to thrust harder and deeper inside you with each bounce of your hips. Daveed grabbed your hair and pulled your head back, the sensations speeding the oncoming crescendo.

“Shit, Such a good girl for me Lindy. I’m about to cum. You want this cum? You want it? Hunh? I love this fucking pussy. Damn, I want you to cream all over my cock in this club.” 

Daveed growling praises in your ear triggered the avalanche of nerve endings from his mouth on the shell of your ear to your pussy.

You screamed and did as he ordered, and it was unlike any other sensation you’d had before.  

Daveed held you up for a few minutes and then gradually let you down, making sure you were steady on your legs as he kissed the top of your head and let you go. You sagged against the wall as you watched him clean up.

He looked at you and winked in the mirror, and you had the nerve to blush. You straightened your dress and moved to the sink to clean up as he moved away and watched you.  

Daveed had to restrain himself to give you some space as you did what you needed to do. He wanted you all to himself, but it was your night.

“I love you.” You turned to Daveed and hugged him, burying your face in his shirt. Your voice was hoarse from all the screaming, so you giggled.

“Love you too, Baby Girl.”

“So… What about my present?”  You looked at him expectantly. You were so spoiled already. He’d done it himself.

Daveed looked up and stroked his beard.  So fucking cute.  “I don’t know.. They’re back at the house, and I don’t know if I want to wait until we get back to the city or give them to you tonight.”

“Oooooh! More than one!?  Tonight, tonight!” You jumped up and down and clapped your hands. “When we get back to New York, it won’t be my birthday.” You were grinning ear to ear.

“Well, I took a picture myself.” 

Daveed got his phone out again, licked his lips at your tit pic, and then swiped to the right to show you his pic of your presents. You looked, and then did a double take. Your heart dropped into your stomach. You looked him in the eye, your mouth open.

“Are those….”

“Yep.” Daveed was nervous you wouldn’t like them.

You looked back at the picture which showed a more elaborate nipple clamp set than what you were wearing with chains connecting in the middle with a “D” link, a butt plug with what looked like a pink jewel on the end, and a brown leather riding crop.

“Well, what do you think?” Daveed was shaking on the inside.

You just looked at him, speechless.

-------

Well, would Lindy like D’s gifts or nah? Let me know by commenting, and also by liking and reblogging.

@braidedchallah  @einfachniemand @sillyteecup  @ohsoverykeri @theselilwonders @theatrenerd86 @sebastianabucknettastan @riiyy @lonelydance  @biafbunny @summerofsnowflakes @delaber @honeysucklechocolatedrippin @elocinnicole @wreakhavoconmacroissantdiggs @janthonystan @anh1020 @curtainremote

[tomorrowxforever]

Dom! Yeonjun A-Z

Fem! Reader

Contains: Cups of smut. Well, not direct smut so, more insanely suggestive.

Warning(s): NSFW!!, dom! Yeonjun, bully! Yeonjun, mentions : cum play, degradation, impact play, bondage, breeding, spit, voyeurism, sir! Yeonjun, sadism, humiliation, exhibitionism

Notes: This is.. oof. I’m sorry bibi😅 I’m actually pretty fuckin proud of this one. Please keep sending in requests, October is the only month I write full fledge smut and not just suggestive.

—

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex):

Yeonjun is the sweetest baby when it comes to aftercare. He can get super rough when y’all are going at it ( especially if he has to punish you ) and he knows it so he makes sure to treat you like the most precious, fragile princess during aftercare.

Need something to drink? He’ll get it. Hungry? He’ll make you a sandwich. Wanna take a bath but can’t get up cause legs = jello? He’ll carry you. He will literally do anything to make sure you’re comfortable and then snuggle you like there’s no tomorrow.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s):

Yeonjun is an ass man all the way. Sorry, but that’s just the truth🤷. So his favorite body part on you is your ass. But he doesn’t discriminate. Big booty, lil booty. It’s all the same to him:)

Yeonjun strikes me as someone who is secretly self conscious so I don’t think he really has a favorite part of his own body. I mean, the only part of himself I can see him being fully confident in is his shlong, and even that’s after being together for awhile. So maybe that??

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically):

Junnie is into cum play so...

Yeah.

He will cum anywhere and absolutely love it.

On your face, he’ll pick it up with his fingers and make you suck it off. On your tummy, get ready for round two while he rubs it around on your skin. On your pussy, he’ll finger you with it. In your pussy, he could sit and watch it drip out of you for hours. In your mouth, you better show it to him on your tongue and either swallow it or kiss him.

And he cums quite a bit...

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs):

He really wants you to dom him. Just once. Cause he doesn’t know what it’s like and he’s curious. But he doesn’t know how to ask you cause he knows your his subby lil baby. And what if he ends up not liking it?

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?):

He’s definitely hooked up a couple times, so he knows what he’s doing and he knows how to please you. However, you are the first person he’s been able really explore all his interests with and his kink list has definitely expanded since he met you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying):

Either missionary or doggy.

Yeonjun likes having complete control over you and everything you do. He also likes having you suffocatingly close while he ruins you.

It changes in the middle of a round a lot too. One second you’re on your back for him, the next he’s flipped you over and is pressing your face into the pillows.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.):

He is goofy in a serious way.

Yeonjun is a bully dom, so he takes every chance he gets to make fun of you. Especially during sex.

He will tease you like there’s no tomorrow. He calls you all sorts of names and makes fun of the things you do and the way you sound, the like. He’s just straight mean.

But if you give him even the foreshadowing of the slightest lip, he’ll switch on a dime and be all jokes aside, serious Yeonjun.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.):

He keeps himself pretty trimmed down there. Not fully shaved but not super wild. I feel likes he’s the only one who actually makes sure to keep up with the up keep.

And he definitely doesn’t expect anything from you.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect):

He can be sickeningly romantic when he wants to. Rose petals, candles, slow sensual sex, the whole shibang. You cannot tell me that this boy isn’t at least a lil bit of a hopeless romantic.

And when y’all are going at it like usual he likes forcing you to look into his eyes, and he’s invading your personal space just a bit, so it’s pretty intimate.

But he can get pretty animalistic pretty fast.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon):

He’ll only really wack off when he’s on tour, and even then he needs your help. Whether it be Skype sex, a phone call or just looking at pictures you sent him for time just as this one, he always has to either see or hear you is some way. Or he just can’t cum.

But other then that, he doesn’t really need to wank it🤷 He’s got you so why would he need to?

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks):

Buckle up kiddos-

Cum play

Degradation

Impact play (he will slap your face)

Bondage

Slight breeding kink

Spit kink

Sir kink

Voyeurism

Sadist

Humiliation kink

Almost exhibitionism

Or in other words, Yeonjun is one big kinky bully and we stan😊

L = Location (favorite places to do the do):

He’ll fuck you literaly any where. Of course, he’s not gonna start going at it in the middle of a family dinner or anything, but he’ll do it in the kitchen just a room away.

At the end of the day, he doesn’t care where or who’s around but ultimately he’s the only one who gets to see you like that.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going):

He gets turned on by the simplest of things, if you blink at him in the wrong tone than he’s pulling you away to privacy.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs):

He won’t do anything that will seriously hurt you. Sure, he’ll slap you around a bit and spank you, but he refuses to do anything that could have long lasting damage. For example, knife play.

He also isn’t 100% against sharing you with someone else, but he is hesitant as fuck.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.):

He doesn’t have a preference. Junnie loves giving and receiving equally.

For the most part, you sucking him off is actually him fucking your mouth as punishment for mouthing off or something. And when he eats you out it’s as a reward. There are some exceptions but those are true for most circumstances.

And he is absolutely fantastic at oral. Like, he just may be the best you’ve ever had. Did you see him with the grapes?

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.):

Really he does both. As most things with Yeonjun, it depends.

He could be absolutely plowing into you one second, moving so fast and being so rough that you’re wondering if he’s even human. Then the next moment he’s grinding into you and being all soft and slow. Though slow usually comes with tons of teasing.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.):

Oh, he’s all for it.

Sex is sex. And he knows how you have you crying and trembling within minutes.

Though he does prefer taking his time and torturing you, he doesn’t mind taking you quickly in a broom closet before a show or something.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.):

Jun will try almost anything once. He’s very open minded when it comes to different kinks and if he sees potential in it, he’ll do it.

And if you haven’t noticed from the previous letters, he had no problem with fucking you in a public place.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?):

He last so long I almost feel sorry for you. He’ll just hold his own orgasm while pounding into you and making you cum over and over again. Sometimes he holds out for so long you start to wonder if he’s actually enjoying it. But then he finally cums. Hard. And you’re like, oh.

He can also go like two or three rounds before he gets tired and needs a break. But they are both long, torturous rounds soo... good luck❤️

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?):

Did someone say toys? Hold up, let’s go through his toy box.

Vibrator, dildo, restraints (many different kinds), gags, blindfolds, whips, and a few paddles.

Yeah, he might have just a few🤷

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease):

I-

Once again, good luck.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.):

He doesn’t really moan a bunch. Mostly it’s just grunts. Oh, and he growls. Like 🥵

But he talks a lot so you get to here him make sound in the few and far between instances where he isn’t yapping your ear off (in a good way).

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character):

He lets you get away with a lot more than the typical dom would let their sub get away with. It’s mostly because he knows he can be kinda rough and mean, but also cause he loves you so much that he can’t find it in himself to actually get annoyed or upset with you sometimes. Also, your absolutely adorable when your acting up and ‘get away with it’.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes):

Let’s all say this together, big dick Yeonjun.

We all been knew. Like, c’mon. He radiates so much big dick energy I think we’d be pretty shook if he didn’t have a third leg situation going on.

So, imma say about six and a half, seven inches.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?):

He goes through fazes of having the highest sex drive in town.

Like, for two or three weeks it seems like he can’t get enough of you. It’s almost every night that y’all are doin somethin. Or he’s playin Wack a Jun.

But the he’s back to normal and has the sex drive of any average dude.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards):

He try’s to stay awake until you fall asleep. But baby is just so worn out🥺

Y’all start cuddling and he’s out like a light.

[fanfiction-inc]

Golden Faced Bastard

Verse: Death Stranding

Characters/Pairings: Higgs Monaghan/Reader

Warnings/Tags: Masturbation, sexual themes, phone sex, sexual tension, enemies, love/hate relationship, m/f, mentions of sex.

Word Count: 2,444

Summary: When a terrorist grows bored, what’s a better pass time then contacting your favorite person to mess with?

Rating: Explicit

Notes: I used this ask from @dirty-higgs-confessions​ as inspiration for this story: "Higgs calling you while you're on a run for Bridges and teasing you as he jerks off. It soon turns into casual phone sex until he finishes then you just hang up on him despite the fact that now you're needy and wish he was there to fuck you."

I of course put a small twist on this but fuck it! :D

Link to Ao3 Version: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22287181

South Knot, lit by the lights of signal post that wavered with each drop of timefall running down and over their initial scanners. Timefall, it had been falling for the past two hours and had no sign of clearing up at any point. The sun was already hidden behind thick and ominous clouds, giving way to darkened blue skies that seemed to shift to black when the smallest but the brightest of stars attempt to peak out of the thick layers and shed light on a damned world. As long as the country was divided, as long as the world went to shit, there was no hope in sight of making it to the end of the year. If it wasn’t the timefall that got ‘ya, or the BT’s that always loomed no matter where you went, it was the Homo Demens. Despite all of this deliveries still had to be made. A distraction was still always in order to avoid the end of life itself to a group that deemed themselves almighty.

A soft sigh of lips flutter in the air as the motorized trike raised from the garage platform, sitting new and ready for the exposure that was sure to knock it out of commission by morning come. Packages bound for Lake Knot and its distribution center loaded up with skilled fingers behind gloved hands that have worked too hard for their years, strapped down and held in place, cases prepared for the intensifying storm. The timefall was growing worse, but nothing would get done if the porter stayed put inside this metal and technology compound labeled a distribution center. In an older life, one may say it was a prison converted into a somewhat functioning distribution center surrounded by a semi-intact city. Others would say its the skeleton of what had once been and is now new. A final breath was given in the form of a sigh and hair tucked up underneath the timefall protective hood was tied back to keep from falling out, legs thrown over to straddle the bikes seat and started with a low rumble that stuck in the gut and fluttered to make the limbs tingle. A single motion to lower goggles that helped protect the eyes from the near toxic rain and the bike was taking off up the ramp and out of the distribution center.

Visibility was growing reduced with the lower in temperature and timefall, fog spreading among the ground and making any sort of travel along rigid rocks and muddy ground grow tough. The first slip of the bike was a fluke, the second sending it off its course a few feet and the third sending it to slide and sputter, mud slinging everywhere among the area before composure was gained once more and the route was continued to Lake Knot. The silence of the water hammering the ground and the low rumble of the bike nearly drowned out the incoming call, the tone that of unknown origin.

“Hello sweetheart.”

The voice brings the bike to finally slide and collapse on its side, sending the rider off to the side into the somewhat enclosed space of a covered cliff side with gathering mud puddle. The timefall hammered the collapsed bike, aching body of the porter jumping up to bring it out of the timefall and protect the contents within the now scratched up and slightly damaged boxes. Rust rubbed off onto the porters gloves and she was quick to remove them, to make sure they couldn't get up onto her skin and let the smear of timefall gather. A check of the comlink and a soft groan of annoyance fluttered from the lips of the porter who threw her hood back and unzipped the top of her jumper, the suit pooling around her waist. It was still active, and the gentle breathing on the other side indicated the presence of the man who simply refused to leave her be. The man who played games and invaded spaces he should never have been in. The one who stands before his men promising the sixth great extinction of the world and yet devotes his free time from the plans to the porter resting against the shallow crevice of an opening in the bottom of the cliff side and Bridges poster boy.

Higgs fucking Monaghan.

“Have a little accident there, darlin’? Did I startled you?” The labor to his breath, the soft flutter of that tone that the porter hated to admit drove her mind to slowly blank. She shakes out of her clouded thoughts, swallowing hard with a hand held to her throbbing head. It it wasn’t the impact that made it hurt, it was the annoyance of the man on the other end of the line who ruined her day and sent her into the wildest of fever dreams that left her body aching for touches she knew she didn’t want to admit she wanted or, being honest with herself, needed. So long without touch, so long without someone finding interest. It was almost gratifying, having that sort of attention, but why must it be him? “Wouldn’t you like to fuckin’ know.”

“Oh honey, one can only assume from the sound. Your little deliveries must be banged up, am I right?” The light hint of a noise and a pause fell over the line. He takes in a somewhat struggled breath and the porter could only confirm what he was doing the moment his hushed tone whispered ‘fuck’.

“Are you calling me just to jack off?”

“What can I say, your voice does it for me, baby.”

A hint of disgust fills her form and yet her body entered a full form of shivers and pin pricks that made everything tingle. The ground soaked in timefall wasn’t the only thing wet right now. His breath kept fluttering over the line and the porter had half the mind to cut it off, to end the call, but what would stop him from calling back and just continuing?

“I’m hanging up, Higgs-”

“Wait! Please don’t hang up (First name). Just...just talk to me and this’ll be over soon. Ya don’t even have to talk dirty or nothin’. Not unless ‘ya want to. Just be a good girl and talk.”

Hesitation met the line and the man on the other end knew damn well he had the other hooked, just by the way he hears a shuffle and a sigh that was a mixture of annoyance and possibly even defeat. She knew as well as he did that he would keep calling back until he was finished and she was annoyed to the point that she would just let it happen. He swallowed when he hears her soft breath, eyes fluttering at the sound of such. If only he could feel it, the hot breath that he imagined to be against his ear or neck, if only he could feel her.

“I’m only doing this so you’ll leave me the fuck alone, you golden faced bastard.”

“Ah, kinky. I didn’t know my honey was into name callin’.”

“I’m not your honey.”

The sound of a chuckle fluttered over the line and the porter was resigned to simply allow her eyes to roll, to ease back against the wall of the crevice and allow her hand to trail. It was no fun for this to be one sided, and she highly doubted any other porters would be coming through this area at such a late hour in the complete downpour of the timefall. Higgs smirked when another sigh sounded. “Is it safe to assume I’m not gonna be the only one enjoyin’ this, darlin’?”

“I don’t give a shit what you assume.”

“Oh come on, sweetheart, you can just lay back, relax and let each of us enjoy the other. One night and one night only. And I won’t tell if you won’t.”

The sound of his tone, as if the smirk could be heard in it. A few low pumps of his hips makes a soft grunt leave his lips and he hears the other try to stifle a noise of her own. Noises did it for each, but it wasn’t enough. They needed each word to grasp onto and allow themselves to melt with. Higgs needed her, and she needed him. She swallowed lightly when there was silence, wondering if he had already left the line, but she hears another shuffle of clothing and the soft sound of skin rubbing against skin. So, this is how it’s gonna be, the two satisfying themselves to pass the time then moving on with their lives. If only it was that easy.

Higgs grasped himself with a bare hand, a shaky breath and airy chuckle falling from his lips. “I wondered for some time what it would be like, ever since I met you in Mountain Knot, to have you just the way I want you. You don’t know how long It’s been, how long its been since I last had a satisfying session alone. It’s never good enough with fantasies. You can dream it but it doesn't get ‘ya anywhere. Do ‘ya know what I mean?”

“Sadly.” The woman begrudgingly admits, fingers simply tracing over the basic fabric covering the single heat patch that deserved her attention. It weeped for stimulation, weeped for the touch of the man, but his voice and her own hand alone would have to suffice. The mental image of him pumping himself would have to do.

“Be honest with me, darlin’, but how long has it been for you? I mean to truly have a good one.”

“A good what?”

“Oh don’t play dumb, baby doll. A good orgasm. Cum. Jerk off or whatever the female equivalent is. How long has it been where your body screamed ‘yes’ in the most delicious?” His pace was beginning to slowly pick up, shivering when he heard the soft wet noises of her fingers moving along her slick core, having moved beyond the fabric. He savored the sound, listened as closely as he could to the soft hitch in her breath and the shaky sigh she gives away.

“Months.” She finally whispered out, eyes fluttering shut as she hears him spit into his hand, or maybe even onto his own member and begins a more leisurely pace that sent a hot shiver up his spine. “You?”

“Maybe a year. They’re never good when rushed. But when ‘ya take your time with ‘em-” A soft flutter of a groan sounding in the air was enough to accent his point, his own head falling back against the headrest of the chair he sat in, legs spreading as much as the material around his knees would allow. Her shaky breath and the soft hint of a wine makes his teeth sink down into his lip, hand working as his imagination worked on what he would be doing to her that would make such a noise come from those perfect lips that enticed him every time he watches her speak.

“What is it about my voice that..Oh fuck...That helps you along?” She asked with a tone that wavered, licking at her lips when he breaths deeply, listening to the increase of skin against skin and the hushed noises leaving his lips. “How soft it is. You’re always talkin’ loud but that softness never leaves it. It’s airy, almost like ‘ya singin’ me a song. I’d like to hear ‘ya sing a different kind of one, my little songbird.”

She speaks before she can even stop herself. “You’d have to be here if you want a song like that.”

This earns a faster pace from each of their respective hands, one working the tip of a weeping member and the other the bundle of nerves that was beginning to make searing pain blossom in her abdomen and inner thighs. More wet noises, more heavy breathing from both parties. They needed more than this. “Then next time I see ‘ya, baby doll, I’ll make sure to make ‘ya sing.”

“You gotta find me first.”

“Oh, I will. I’m a very resourceful man. Though, you may not like what I do when I find ‘ya.”

“Is that a promise?” The barest grace of a smirk in her tone and the man groans at such a comment, hand working him like he would imagine her mouth doing. “I always keep my promises, darlin’. I’m a man of my word.”

“Oh bullshit, Higgs.”

The next groan was a bit more audible and his shivered in delight, savoring the way her voice sounded when she spoke his name.

“Again. Say my name again.”

“Higgs.”

The sound of skin slapping grows.

“Slower. Draw it out.”

He whispered, tone almost like that of a plea.

“Hiiiggs.”

“Oh fuck, just like that.”

He was growing close, just as she was with each noise and word she was able to soak up over the comlink. When he finally spilled, it was the groan of her name that left his lips, that was the tipping point for her and makes her high pitched moan follow and mingle with the groans that left his lips with each overstimulated pump of his leaking member. He wipes his hand on the inside of his pants, hiding the mess from view in case anyone was to check in, though why should he care? He was the man who could send them into the sixth extinction early. When her shaky and soft breath fluttered over the line, he lets his smirk return. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. Now, I'll ask again. When was the last time you had a good one?”

“Today.”

“Mm, be more exact.”

“Just a few seconds ago, maybe a minute.” His chuckle followed her words. “You?”

“About a minute ago or so. Now it’ just a matter of getting into bed with ‘ya.”

A soft scoff from her end and he grins away, loving how she goes right back to the defensive. “When’s the last time ‘ya had a good fuck?”

The line hangs up and Higgs lets out a fit of laughter, a shake of his head following as he props his feet up on the table before him. In due time, he’d have her just the way he wanted her.

A call back, the porter groans in the midst of getting her suit zipped back up. “What?”

“South Knot, meet me there and I’ll keep good on my promise.” He was almost giddy, and the woman sighed. “If it’ll shut ‘ya up once and for all, then fine. South Knot it is.”

“I’ll see ‘ya then, darlin’.”

----------------

Thank you, as always, for reading and let me know what you guys thought about this! If you would like to be tagged in further stories, send me an ask! Remember, request are always open!

Tagging: @dirty-higgs-confessions​​ | @johnlocklover221​​

[m00nlitknight]

Hello. I really like your previous works. Can I make request, please? Reader's been in relationship with whole gang for a couple of months. Everything was ok but Henry got jealous and started to ruin her relationship with rest of the gang distancing her from them.

ofc!! ✨  i don’t know if im really happy where i left off with this, so if you’re interested i could potentially make a part two?  i’m pretty happy with some parts of it ngl, but that might be my 4am brain talking lol;;

warnings:  usages of slurs / degrading terms ( light, but still present ).  mentions of frick fracking.  possessive behavior.  none else to really talk about. pairing:  poly!bowers gang x reader / henry bowers x reader extra ( edit ):  feel free to look through my masterlist for other bower’s gang/reader works, and have a fantastic day!

vindictive.

The relationship with the infamous Bowers’ Gang began in what you could only describe as a fictional scenario.  You’d always been known as one of the kindest individuals in your classes, a large soul and absolutely heart-warming and dazzling smile.  The reputation, though humbling on the darkest of evenings, felt strenuous to keep up.  It was suffocating, sometimes, when you wanted nothing more than to fade in the scenery, or to say no to a request from someone.  Being the school doormat gave you an easy pass to adoration, but a hard road to doing whatever anyone wanted.

That’s what confused you about the sudden interest of the gang.  Sure, you had been paired up once or twice with them for class projects, shouldered the entirety of the workload; but everytime they hardly batted an eye your way.  Except for Vic, but he always seemed to be a bit more socially adept then the other three.  So it was only fitting that the initial interest came from him, one day after your shared class he approached you, and asked if you’d ever want to hang out.

Obviously, you said yes, and reaped the immediate consequences.  Practically the next day after his query, people began to look at and treat you differently.  No longer was there an affectionate warmth in their gaze, reserved exclusively for you, instead replaced with a brief flash of fear before morphing into a bout of confusion for how to tread the situation.  You didn’t mind it, or at least on the surface you didn’t.  The validation found in your peers suddenly being ripped from your grasp was a bit whiplash inducing, not that you could really do anything about it.

The initial hangout, which you look back at fondly as your first actual date, was a casually dressed affair.  He took you to get milkshakes, which you indulged in the city’s center and poked fun at the Paul Bunyan statue, then took you to go thrift shopping.  It was that day you’d found your new favorite sweater, called ‘hideous’ on many occasions by the likes of your mother and peers, and a cute denim skirt.

It didn’t take long for Henry himself to nearly shoehorn himself into your relationship with Vic, apparently prompting Belch to ambush the two of you on your second date.  The Trans-Am’s engine was unbearably loud, coming up behind the two of you holding hands as Henry hollered something you couldn’t quite make out.

Five months down the line, and half-way through Junior year, a heartfelt outpour from the entire gang; and suddenly you’d become the apple of all of their eyes, so to speak.  Most of the time, your interactions were soft with all the boys, cuddled up with them all -- your personal favorite being Belch, he knew just the position for you to be putty in your hands; Patrick on the other hand did everything in his power to make you squirm while in his grasp.  He’d simply cackle at your protests of his wandering hands, then proceed to mock the tone of your voice.

Though, from the sidelines, you were mostly able to ignore the fiery glares thrown by Henry.  No matter how much attention you gave him, how many times you’d let him leave unsolicited hickies on your neck in plain sight to be hidden from your mother, or held him after a rough night.

He’d never said thank you or praised you for anything, which left you devoid of where you stood with him.  If he hated you, would you even be around the other three?  Wouldn’t he have been completely blunt and outright with it?  The creeping worry manifesting itself in your gut grew with time, and with time you began to give him more of your attention to try and sedate it.

Inside the labyrinth of his mind, Henry’s opinion of you began as negative -- the ambushing of your and Vic’s date was a stunt to try and drive you away from the gang in entirety.  But you just came the fuck back.  Loyalty was written all over your features, as was inexperience.  With time, the faint flame of interest that licked the recesses of his mind fanned themselves into a stronger blaze, and suddenly the shared attention you had been giving the gang was like gasoline.

He played himself off as distant, instead replying to the work you put in with brief hand holds or an arm thrown around your shoulders to show possessiveness around school.  Being calculating obviously wasn’t his thing, nor was being patient.

He took your first kiss, and one of his first, one night while alone with you, the second month into the relationship.  Pussyfooting around the more carnal aspects of a relationship wasn’t something he typically found himself doing, but he knew that Vic or Belch would have his head if he rushed things too fast.  In the end, though, it drove him to wanting more.

Physical affection was kept behind closed doors, and he couldn’t be sure that your intimacy was only reserved for him, considering you never sported any other markings or called out the name of any of the other members while you were with him.  It inflated his ego to astronomical levels, and it killed him that he couldn’t flaunt it in his friend’s faces.

Regardless, he wanted you to himself and himself alone.

-----------

“Good morning!” your voice cut through the mid-morning drowsiness of the boys sitting in the parked Trans-Am on the curb in front of your home with steely sharpness, but a welcome smile finds its way onto Belch’s face.

“Morning, gorgeous,” he says from the driver’s seat.  “Hop in.”

“Can do!”  your morning pep leads to a foot on the tire and hauling yourself into the car by means of the roof, and plopping directly in Patrick’s lap - eliciting a hearty grunt and smirk from the boy.

“You’re awfully full of life this morning, feels shameful to waste this energy on something so innocent as breakfast,” he all but purrs as he tugs you further into his grasp while the car lurches forward and en route to the typical Saturday-morning hangout spot.

“Ew, Pat,” Vic cringes over to his friend and you, true malicious intent absent.  “It’s fucking brunch time, let ‘em wake up first, will you?”

His question is answered by a cheeky nip to your neck, causing you to squeal.

In the front seat, Henry broods silently.  On the radio plays one of Belch’s cassettes which goes unlistened, and a favorite of his; ...And Justice for All by Metallica.  The playful tone of your voice and Patrick’s advancements manage to leave a sour taste in his mouth, even though he made the extra effort to brush his teeth this morning.

The meal goes relatively uneventful, though your wandering eyes, half-lidded and vixen-esque, irritate him further.  Vic has an arm around your waist, and Belch holding an unoccupied hand under the table.  If he’d thought any better, Patrick was all but devouring you from across the table.  It was an affection-filled scene, which made the poor diner waitress visibly uncomfortable.

After breakfast, Belch drops both you and Henry off at your home, currently unoccupied by your mother who has work.  “Bye, we’ll be seeing you guys later!”

“Henry, be nice to ‘em, will ya?”  Belch booms from the window, around Patrick climbing into the front seat like an animal.

His request is met with a smirk from Henry, who pulls you into a passionate but short kiss in front of the trio.  “As nice as I can be.”

It leaves you immediately flustered and giggling as you’re pulled into your own home and leaving the other three in a vague state of confusion.  The engine faded away in the distance as you moved toward your house, a mess of giggles, flushed cheeks, and a downcasted gaze.  Henry’s smirk is short-lived as his expression shifts back to neutrality.  He watches you walk through the door and shift to the side to take off your shoes, opting to keep his own on.  The brief and blissful silence is broken by his voice, laced with the undeniable edge of his ire.  “Who’s your favorite?”

The question hangs in the air, souring the atmosphere directly as it leaves his mouth.  You freeze at the words, mid finangling your shoe off as you turn to look at him with a confused, and slightly hurt, expression.  “Huh?”

“Don’t play fuckin’ stupid.  Who’s your favorite?”  He takes a step towards you, which you subconsciously shrink back from.

“I-I don’t have one?”

“God, maybe y’are fuckin’ stupid.  There’s four of us and y’mean t’tell me not ‘a one of us sticks out more than the others?”

A blush spreads across your features, an involuntary testament to your unease and outright lie.  Your eyes dart to look anywhere but him as your body betrays you, petrified in intimidation.  “You,” murmur with a gentle voice and laced with a lack of thinking.

He leans down to your mouth, quickly overtaking your personal space and invading your nostrils with his scent -- cheap body spray and masculinity.  It’s nearly intoxicating.  “What was that?”

“You,” an utterance with little more force, the action of taking a lungful of air simply too strenuous.

“Mind tellin’ me why I feel the least love then?”

You almost want to deflate at it, even if the hands wrapping around your shoulder feel like nothing short of a tender moment.  All the time you’d spent with him, all that you’d given to him, and he still felt overshadowed?

“I…”

“Or, is it jus’ that you’re an attention-seeking slut?”  The words cut deeper then he’s capable of understanding, and the sick smile curling onto his lips and the whispered tone feel vastly different then what he’s actually saying.

You’re rendered speechless as he takes you closer to the couch, dragging you into a straddling position on him.  “Show me what I was missin’ at brunchfast then, huh?”

Wide-eyed and bashful you stare.  What are you even supposed to do?  He leans into you, peppering your throat with kisses while his hands wander up and down your sides.  Instinctively, your hands move to run through his hair and he nearly purrs at the contact and looks up at you with an intense, baby-blue gaze.

“Who’s your favorite?”

“You,” sighed out as he starts sucking on your neck and rubbing at your hips.

“Say it,”  a rough voice reverbs through him from his chest, and he relishes in the affection of your gentle hands.  You’re his.  His.

“You’re my favorite, Henry,” your voice tightens when he starts to suck on your collarbone.

---------

He’d managed to cut your afterglow short in the early evening, badgering you to call Belch and tell him not to drive you to school for the next week.  You did it, albeit with a bit of confusion, and feeling vague sadness when Belch’s tone took a nose-dive into disappointment when the subject of the call was revealed. For the next week, you couldn’t look any of the gang in the eye, instead taking to marinate in your own shame and blatantly avoid them.

[bubblyani]

Deeper Relations: 06

(Freddie Jackson x Reader)

A Freddie Jackson Multi Chapter Series

Chapter 06: The Submission

Rating: Mature (18+)

Requested by : @97freaknik

Summary: Being the youngest sister of Jackie and Maggie, you were quite young when Freddie Jackson went to prison. Upon his return, you cannot help but recall your innocent love you had for him back then. And surprised by your transformation into womanhood, Freddie cannot help but form a desire towards you. Will a dangerously seductive attraction grow between the two of you? What will be the consequences?

Author’s Note: Been waiting for so long to finally get to this part. Hope y’all enjoy 😉

Series Masterlist HERE

Which day was it out there, you did not know. Nor did you even bother to care. When you chose to be stuck in the confines of your room, how could you?

In the midst of sleep, you were a frequent guest. You were always ready to be after all the crying. With your cheeks stained with tears, you were moisturized enough to lay your face on the pillow and drift into a place where nothing had happened and you felt nothing. Eating seemed unnecessary, so you did less of it. Talking had no place in your heart either, thus you barely heard your own voice. For even when you cried, it was silent and soulless. Your mother was worried, so were your sisters, both of them. Every now and then, you’d hear them talk. Through the door in hopeful attempts to cheer you up, but they received no answer. To be frank, this ordeal was not much of an ordeal altogether. But it turned out to be one with the wrong timing. A period of time that left you vulnerable and in need of love and protection.

Four days later, the phone rang loudly for you. It was only informed to you through Maggie’s knocks on the door. After giving in to her insistence, you forced yourself out of bed, to walk out to the living room. 

“Hello?” You answered in a throaty voice.

“Fuckin’ Hell!” Heath, your friend replied, “Y/N, you sound like shit”

You rolled your eyes with annoyance.

“I’m hanging up now” “NO WAIT WAIT!”

Heath was quick to respond with an apologetic tone,“Look…” he sighed, before continuing, “I heard everything from your sister. You can’t just stay locked up in your room forever, Y/N” he said, sounding genuinely concerned, “How about we blow off some steam, eh?”

“And how do you propose we do that exactly?” You asked with snark. “Dancing, my love!”

Although he could not see your reaction, you were not hesitant to shake your head furiously. “Oh no no no, Heath No-” “Come ON! Y/N!” He interrupted, “You always held yourself back when me and the lads from Uni would go…” he added, “Besides, you’re a great dancer, so it’s really a waste!” “I…uh…” you paused, struggling to respond. He does make some convincing points. 


“Please Y/N, say yes. You’ll finally get to meet Liza” 


“Is she the new one?”


“Yeah…” Heath said, “Come on! You know it’s going to be fun. Please, Y/N! I miss my friend”

And there he went, putting the friend card in the conversation. For a second, you could sense a hint of sadness in his voice. As if he really meant those words. As this was the first ever time Heath had gone out of his way to call you. To even check up on you, guilt came over you much faster than expected. You sighed to surrender.

“Alright…I’m in”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

(Friday night)

After feeding your ears to sombre, sad music for five days straight, your body felt reborn when the festive, groovy songs called to you from the distance.

Stepping into the club, the disco lights greeted you, resting on your body, washing all over you. Fully refreshed by the illumination, you felt the depression within you disappear altogether.

Heath picked you up from home that evening. His new girlfriend Liza, was a pleasant girl to be around, so you did not mind the extra company at all. Besides, going as a group felt more comforting than going alone.

Passing through the crowd, you felt many eyes on you, remaining on you until you vanished from their sights. It made you more self aware. But it was also a good sign for looking presentable. You knew you were well groomed, you made sure of that. Today was special. You bathed instead of showering, pampering your skin with bath salts and warm foam instead of attacking it with the hot pressurized shower water. As your body slowly moved and grooved to the music, the soft, shiny curls bounced on your shoulders, complimenting the pink hues on your cheeks and the shiny rouge on your lips.  

With music reuniting with your body after a while, you were certainly ready to dance your troubles away, and to wipe an unwanted slate clean.

“Y/N…”

You froze. It was Marcus’ voice. As you quickly turned to find you standing before you, you felt your heart sink. With the lights flashing behind him, he appeared ethereal. The fact you thought of him as such made your heart sink even further. Seeing that angelic face brought nothing but cruel reminders. Your suffering, your embarrassment. Two weeks of so-called ‘Happiness’ that turned out to be lies.

“What are you doing here?” You asked curtly. The minute you realized Heath stood behind you with a knowing look, made you gasp.

“Wait! Did you know?”  You asked angrily, turning to him. Rubbing his own neck, Heath took a deep breath.

“Y/N…” He began, “You have to understand. You two are my best mates. You can’t expect me to just stand there on the sidelines when this friendship crumbles to the ground. I miss you both” he continued,  “So please! Stop being such fuckin’ cunts and talk it out!” He finished it with frustration. 

Grabbing his girlfriend by the hand, he headed to the bar. Even with the large crowd invading the dance floor, you and Marcus felt completely isolated. All the sudden, you were not relaxed anymore.

“Y/N…” Marcus began with caution, “ I know….You’re furious. And I’m sorry. I really am, you have to know that-”

“I’m not a stranger to people ignoring me, Marcus”

Looking up, you finally had the courage to speak up “But this…this was not what I had in mind. Not when it was my best friend who I…thought I loved ” the more you talked, the more you opened up, “What we had…I treasured it so much. You know I was going through shit when you…But ditching me like that? In front of my family, with no news what so ever…? ” looking at him with genuine sadness, you continued, “You humiliated me…Why?” You scoffed, “Am I not pretty anymore? Did I do something wrong-”

“Y/N, nothing is wrong with you…It’s just-”

“What?”

With hands on one’s hips, you asked him. With a heavy sigh, Marcus pressed his lips tightly.

“My parents…” he began, “They…weren’t the most pleased when they heard I was dating you.They kept using the word ‘unsuitable-”

“Is it because of my family, Marcus?” You asked him in the most straightforward manner possible. It surprised him. When he opened his mouth, nothing came out. “Y/N I-” “IS IT?” “YES! okay?” Your fist clenched as you kept staring at him, “What? Is it cause my sisters are dating gangsters? Is that it?” You asked, “And that suddenly makes me one of them? Suddenly I’m not good enough?” “You know I don’t think that way-” “Oh Piss off!” You said with squinted eyes, “We both clearly know you love your parents, of course you feel that way too…” “Y/N Please understand that I’m really confused here…” “Well, given the fact you didn’t show up that day, I’m happy to inform you that you’re really not…the answer is already there, mate!” You snapped. With his eyes closed, Marcus appeared to be in a difficult position. But it was clearly not your issue.

“Now…” you began, “If you excuse me…I’m off to engage in some unsuitable activities!”

As you said it in an ironic tone, you shot him one last look before you headed over to the bar. You walked over there with much intention. As much as you were offended, you were also very hurt. For this was your reality. No matter what you would do. no matter how hard you would try, you would always be seen as the bad girl. Gangster blood.

Grabbing a barstool, you luckily found yourself next to Heath, who looked quite hopeful.

“So? You had the talk?” He asked eagerly, looking for any trace of Marcus nearby.

“Oh… we talked…” you said through gritted teeth, trying to signal the bartender. 


“You need shots?” Your friend asked as he offered to make the order. You nodded.

“Yeah…A fuck ton!”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The moment when your fingers felt light, that was when you stopped drinking. Pushing yourself away from the bar, your movements felt smoother and you finally felt peace of mind. You were at peace, away from the chaos that you longed to escape from. You just didn’t care anymore. For no one really cared for you.

With alcohol freeing you from your inhibitions, you began to dance. Provocatively, in fact. You felt liberated when your body moved from side to side, when it rolled with much lithe that it appeared more beautiful in your one shoulder dress. Though you danced among the others, with your eyes closed in your own world, you were the only one.

You heard people approve of your dancing, you heard their admiration. Fueling your self confidence, you danced even more. Comments from afar seemed sufficient. Until someone decided to ruin it by intruding your space.

“Well, Hello Beautiful…”

An uninvited hand slithered over your waist. Opening your eyes, you found a young man dancing with you. He was around your age, possibly someone from your university. But you didn’t know him. He was not bad looking, although that did not excuse him from acting this way. Especially when you did not offer any sort of consent. His eyes were filled with lust, predatory to be specific. Bringing you closer, he freely allowed his hand to wander further down, shocking you by grabbing your buttocks.

You felt violated, disgusted. Pushing him away, you shot him a threatening look.

“Stop touching me!” You said, for you were not in the mood to be polite.

“Well look who’s talking now?” The young man drawled, pushing himself against you once again, trying his hardest to rest his hands on your body “Come on, babe…you know you want this-”

“I SAID STOP!” You yelled, hitting him in his chest. Unfortunately, he was stronger than you. Strong, intoxicated and stubborn to the bone, he held your wrists, which made you feel helpless. The music overpowered the entire situation that no one really bothered. What were you to do? Before you could cry out the names of your friends, you saw a hand grab the man by the shoulder to pull him away. Your jaw dropped when you realized who it was.

“Alright alright…What’s with all the commotion, eh?”

Freddie Jackson said, his hand still on the man’s shoulder. Closing your jaw, you stared at him with shock. What was he doing here? And was he watching you this whole time?You were an idiot if you couldn’t admit how relieved you were to see him there.

Chuckling, the young man patted Freddie’s hand in solidarity.

“No it’s all good, mate. We’re all just having a good time” He said, moving closer to Freddie, “Except this one…she's a bit uptight” he said laughing, hoping Freddie would laugh alongside him. And to your surprise, he did.

“Oh yeah? This one?” Freddie asked, pointing at you as if he didn’t know you, “Yeah…She a fine one, innit?” He asked the man. Embarrassed even further, you just wanted to run away.

“Yeah…”the man nodded, “Hehe-ARGHH!!”

Except, he couldn’t keep nodding for he let out a painful scream. Right when Freddie kicked his face with the knee, giving him a bloody nose. As the man stumbled to the side, Freddie pushed him down to the ground, not letting him rest as he began to kick him in the stomach with anger. You’ve never seen his eyes filled with such rage as you did tonight.

“RIGHT HERE…” He said, as he kicked him with each word, “IN MY…FUCKING CLUB !”

His club? He owned this place? Perhaps he received ownership of this from Sid or Ozzy.

“Fucking Pisser!” He muttered, spitting as the man finally lost consciousness. Upon his signal, the two thugs that stood behind him took the young man away. It did not have to end this violently. But it did. And all you could do was to watch with bated breath.

And the moment Freddie laid his eyes on you, it was unknown what your fate was to be. Before you could say anything further, he took you by the hand, dragging you out from the dance floor in an instant.

“Y/N? Where is she?” Marcus cried out, looking for her. Finally meeting with Heath, they both speechlessly watched you disappear into the crowd with Freddie.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Freddie! Where are we going?”

Almost tripping in your heels, you followed him as he dragged you with no answer. Past the dancing crowd ,the both of you went in through a small door that led to a hallway. As relieved as you were to have him there to be your accidental guardian angel, you were equally fearful of what was to come.

“Look, I’m sorry If I embarrassed you…” you said, “I didn’t even know this was your club” you continued, “But please tell me what’s going on?”

Yet, you heard no answer. And you had no choice but to follow him. You followed and followed, until finally he stopped by a door. Most of your intoxication had left your body at this point, leading you closer to sobriety.

Kicking the door open with rage, he entered the room with you. Light and weightless in his grip, you moved so swiftly. Everything happened in a flash, as he closed the door shut, pushing you against it with his hands tightly gripping your shoulders.

“The fuck were you doing?” He spat, “Letting that fucker put his hands all over you?”

“I didn’t! He was coming on to me!” You said defensively, for it was the truth. Freddie may have sounded enraged, but you could tell that rage stemmed from concern.

Silence ruled over the both of you for a few seconds, with just the deep and loud exchanged. Finally synchronizing with the other, you watched as his gazed fixed on yours with intensity. The longer you looked, the less you saw Freddie Jackson the gangster,  instead it was Freddie, the man who looked out for you ever since you were young.

“NEVER…” he began, “… let anyone put their fucking hands on you!” He said. Exhaling with relief, you slowly nodded in acknowledgement. “Except mine…” To which your eyes widened with confusion. “What do you m-” Freddie cut you off completely, simply by cupping your face, and attacking your lips with his very own.

You could not fathom what just happened. For there he was, kissing you. Freddie Jackson was kissing you. Not in your dreams, but in actual reality. Coming to that realization, you quickly pushed him away.

A part of you expected him to be displeased. But it was quite the opposite. You saw a man madly enamored by you. Desperate to have you. And the way his mouth was parted, evidently enslaved to your lips.

Seeing all that, it brought you reminders. Reminding you of that little girl from a long ago, who placed layer after layer of love in her heart for him, wishing he would love her back someday. Reminding of that very same girl, who cried her eyes out when she realized he would never be hers.

Apart from Reminders, it brought you heaps of realizations. Filterless Realizations. Realizing even after all those attempts of avoiding him, of refusing him, he was still the only man to rescue you. The only one mad enough to care for you, to want you, to strike a man down for you. Regardless of what obstacles that got in his way, he still wanted you. Wanted you in every possible way.

You may have thought it to be wrong. But in the end of the day, you realized it did not matter anymore. For right or wrong, it did not exist in your world. For the world will always look at you with just one pair of lenses. So, who were you to deprive yourself of happiness?

Grabbing him by his collar, you finally found the courage to kiss him back.

Kissing Freddie felt like seeing fireworks. Gentle only for a millisecond, followed by passion in heaps and bounds. All that suppressed desire exposed to one another in short but intense outlets. Kissing him was everything you imagined it to be, but even better. With his lips so luscious, you felt like you were spoiled completely.

Your knees grew weak. Because of the alcohol or his kisses? You did not know. But nevertheless, Freddie held you by the waist. As he held you, his own hands traveled down to cup your buttocks, arousing you even more as this simply wiped away the horrid memory you experienced earlier. With his lips moving from your mouth, you felt them latch on to your neck, kissing there with such intensity you threw your head back.

“Freddie…Ah!” You moaned.

Backing away from the door with you in his arms, Freddie moved so skillfully fast, you found yourself falling back on to a sofa. As he climbed on top of you, it felt like you were a prey being captured by the predator. Except he merely attacked you with passionate kisses. You wished you could force time to slow down, given Freddie’s rush, tonight was not the night. While he kissed you, his hands got equally busy, taking hold of the ends of your tight dress, pulling it high enough he could spread your knees open. Extreme sensitivity greeted you, and the door to your deepest fantasy opened when you felt his fingers located your slit over your panties. Stroking it through the thin material, he was gentle at first only to feel his way through, until confidence showed up and his fingers increased in speed. He was impatient, you could tell. Gasping in to the kiss, you realized how wet you were. Like a hungry mouth salivating for food, so was your opening, starving for him. Freddie peeled off your panties with great speed, until he managed to toss it away. To where, he didn’t seem to care. And neither did you. When his lips finally left yours, a groan of frustration exited you. But sitting up with your elbows, you saw that he was in a desperate attempt to unbuckle his trousers.

“Fuck!”

He said, through gritted teeth whilst undoing his belt. Heavy blushes appeared on your face only when you noticed how he kept staring at your exposed, wet slit. Fueled with more desire, you wanted lend a hand, but with experienced he was quickly freed from the constraints. Thus, revealing his manhood.

You inhaled deeply, recalling the first ever time you laid eyes on it, peeping through the shower curtain that fateful night. Only now you were finally free to admit to yourself how much you enjoyed the sight of it. And how you had to suppress that indulgent for you were clouded by your moral compass. But now, nothing was to get in your way as you stared at it.Thick, long, beautiful and very erect, you wished you had time to explore it. But when your eyes were met with his, you knew it was not the time. Especially when you cried out softly as he slowly but finally, inserted himself in you.

Your body welcomed it with ease. He felt so perfect inside you. He watched your blushing face, react with fluttered eyes to each of his thrusts that got more and more intense.

“Freddie…” you cried out, loud enough only for him to hear as he buried his face on your neck while tightly held on to him. That was all you could really do. Except this time, you did not call it out cause of fear nor confusion. For this time, you called it again and again because of the purest of pleasure.

“Freddie…”

______________________________________

Chapter 7 HERE

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[buckyreaderrecs]

So Far Away: Chapter 2/?

Summary:  Bucky Barnes doing what he does best. Saving. Loving. In this particular case, the object of both is you. (Bonus: Bucky Barnes happy, healing, doing really well!) Chapter 1. 

Chapter 2:  He's saved you before. Now he's gotta find you and bring you home.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/reader Characters: Bucky Barnes Additional tags: mostly canon compliant (Infinity War and Endgame didn’t happen, Stark Tower still exists),  possible future smut (who knows, not me), she/her pronouns, more tags/characters to be added with future chapters, hero Bucky Barnes, canon typical violence, warzone/disaster zone setting Warnings: possible triggers for anxiety, PTSD, grief

Tag list (open): @darlingtholland @browngirlmagic @lookalivefrosty

So Far Away Chapter 2/?

Bucky couldn't visit you in the hospital, even if he had wanted to; there was only space for the critically injured in the still-standing healthcare facilities. Others were transported elsewhere in the country. Anywhere that could take people did. That just left the people like you - hurt but able to walk, i.e. not dying.

Along with the thousands of other displaced city dwellers, you were assigned a fold out cot in a repurposed rec centre. It wasn't until you were sitting on it, with only a government issues sleeping bag and water bottle to call your own did reality set in. You'd lost your home. There was no way of contacting finding friends or family. With no connections outside of DC, you could only put your name on the 'registered: to be relocated' list and wait. Eventually you'd be seen by a caseworker, or so you were told.

The rec centre was a battle within itself. Three nights in and it was almost as bad as the moments before Bucky found you. There were crying and hopelessness, and a sense that everything important was happening elsewhere, that all your fates were out of your hands. You were going mad.

…

On the fourth morning, you were sitting on your cot with the girl who'd been sleeping next to you. While her mother went in search of anything resembling warm coffee, you braided the girl's hair. That's when you heard your name.

Behind you stood a man in a crisp black suit. The dark sunglasses sitting on the bridge of his nose were unnecessary in the rec centre. "Y/N?" he repeated when you turned to look at him.

As you stood, you nodded. "Yes,"

"Please follow me,"

"Wait!" you called when he moved too fast. "What's happening? Did you find my family? Do I bring my stuff with me?"

Throwing all you had - drink bottle, toothbrush and paste, protein bar - into your sleeping bag, you bundled it up and jogged after the man.

Nobody had been collected like that. Nobody had heard anything about their family from any official source either. You were very confused and a little sick with anticipation. Trotting along, you did your best to keep up without dropping anything.

Outside in the still dirty and broken street, the door to a sleek black car was held open for you.

"Where-" but you were cut off by a body emerging from the back seat.

"C'mon, man. She's only got one good hand. Could've taken her bag," Bucky said in a tone that was trying to be friendly but made the suited man shift uncomfortably and mumble an apology.

Bucky took the sleeping bag from you and carefully put it in the car. He looked at you then, smiled and nodded. "Sorry, I didn't bring any flowers. Took a little longer to find ya than I thought."

Eyes welling up with tears, you fell into his solid chest. Any embarrassment you could have felt was chased away with a wave of relief. You felt safe.

"Hi," he whispered, knowing you weren't able to reply.

Bundled in the backseat, Bucky gave you space to spread out if you wanted to. You didn't. After two minutes of watching you breathing heavily and trying not to curl into yourself, he undid his seatbelt and slide over.

"Come 'ere," he said, pulling you closer with his right arm. Nestled under him like a baby bird, it was easier to think. Thinking led to questions.

"Where are we going?" you asked. The first words you had spoken since seeing him and they weren't even gracious. Bucky didn't care though.

"New York," he answered. "Bit of a drive, but I reckon driving is safer than flying right now. We'll stay off the radar better too."

At the allusion to threat, your heart rate increased. "Are they still here?" you asked.

A state of emergency had been declared. That's all you'd really heard. You wanted to know if the creatures that had come from the sky were still waging war. It hadn't been an accident that they'd landed in the capital of arguably the most powerful nation in the world.

"I'm a sucker for a pretty face, Y/N, but I can't go around telling state secrets… But the battle's over for now; you're safe. Nothing to worry about."

It wasn't just you, though. There were people to find. Help. Save. However, even thinking about all of that, all of them, was too dangerous of a luxury at that point. You couldn't let yourself think beyond yourself. Instead, you asked, "Where are we going?" again, meaning to inquire about specifics.

Bucky was very used to people's inability to function effectively after pain, trauma. The repetition hardly registered as such; he knew what you meant. "Been staying at Stark Tower since I've been back in America,"

"Wakanda," you mumbled, mostly to yourself.

"Yeah, Wakanda. The Tower is… not exactly a home, but it's safe and it's somewhere to sleep,"

"'Kay." A slight nod was all you could muster.

You closed your eyes and let Bucky gently move his thumb over the exposed skin on your arm. Since it all began, you'd been cold. It was cold outside between the broken homes. It was cold in the rec centre, despite the mass of human movement. But in the back seat of the sleek black car, you were warm. The hoodie you'd been picturing in your mind for days was crossed off the wish list. Suddenly, you were glad to be in a t-shirt, glad to feel skin on skin.

Bucky's hand was warm. You wondered if his other one was, the one made of new vibranium and Wakandan technology. A combination of sleep deprivation and strange comfort led to you briefly opening your eyes and looking across Bucky's lap to where his left hand rested on his thigh. You reached out and took the hand, pulling it closer.

"You can feel everything?" you asked.

It was more than rude, but he forgave you. Usually people were too afraid of him to ask curious questions, so your bluntness was kind of refreshing. "Yeah. Pressure and temperature, at least," he answered, flexing his fingers in demonstration.

"Can you feel this?"

With the lightest touch, you traced patterns over the palm of Bucky's hand. He nodded, letting you trace seams and map his hand like you were charting a course to somewhere important.

"Are-" Bucky went to speak but stopped himself, starting his sentence again. "I know this is a… I don't know, a dumb question, but how are you?"

At first, Bucky tried to not involve anybody else in his search for you. Eventually, he had to explain to Steve and Sam, who kept asking where he was disappearing to. Earth had been invaded - what was more important? He had to talk to F.R.I.D.A.Y. too, so he assumed Stark would find out he'd been on the hunt for one girl. Bucky had half expected people to laugh at him. Or maybe even warn him against ruining an innocent girl's life with his own chaotic one. He was the Winter Soldier after all. Nobody had though. He'd been left with the resources he needed.

On Bucky's way out of New York, Stark had even phoned in, left a voice message. "Yeah, hey, Barnes… Look, if you find… if you find her, you can bring her here… What's one more stray?"

It made him feel like a massive idiot, like he was getting too big for his boots, but Bucky asked the agent to go into each building full of survivors and check for you. He knew going in himself would make a scene, disrupt the peace people so truly needed. The agent complied, of course. The first three times the agent had returned, he shook his head solemnly - "Sorry, Sir." Each time Bucky had reminded the agent that a) it wasn't his fault, no need to apologise, and b) he really didn't need to call Bucky 'Sir.'

Bucky knew you were alive, so you had to be somewhere. And when he watched you trot outside the rec centre, finally knowing where somewhere was, he felt a weight lift off his shoulders he didn't know was there.

Three nights and four days wasn't a long time, especially not by Bucky's standards, but he'd missed you. Even less than four days were the few moments he'd spent carrying you to safety. It wasn't like he'd gotten to know you. It wasn't like you were looking spectacularly beautiful. Honestly, Bucky had no fucking idea why he couldn't stop wondering where you had ended up and if you were okay. He had no idea what was driving that immense pressure coming from inside him to find you.

None of that mattered. You were tucked safely into him, holding his hand like it hadn't been the thing to kill countless people.

"You must have saved so many people," you said suddenly, ignoring his question not out of rudeness or deflection, but out of distraction. You were replaying it all in your head, imagining how Bucky must have swooped in and rescued other people stranded like you.

When Bucky didn't reply, you looked up at him. His expression was almost neutral, but erring on the side of confusion. His head cocked to the side a little, then his eyebrows pulled together.

"You mean, like…"

"Like me," you confirmed.

"Uh, no… not really. I'm more a… frontline combat kind of guy,"

"Thought you were a sniper?"

Bucky smirked. "Yeah… I mean I'm not… They don't send me looking for… civilians, people. The others are better at that," he tried to explain. He could see you didn't understand. "People see Captain America or… fuckin' Thor and know they're saved. Clint's good at it too. They're… people people, you know?"

You were frowning so much it almost looked childish. It was your thinking face, and Bucky didn't want to think it was entirely adorable, but it very much was.

"Then what are you?"

"I'm a… frontline combat, call me when there's a war not a press conference, kind of guy… I guess…" he said, repeated with flair. It was hard to read the tone in his voice; you couldn't tell if he was glad or sad about being that kind of guy.

"What about me?"

Quiet again while he thought, Bucky racked his memory. "You're… You're the only one…"

Bucky had saved hundreds of people during war pre-Howling Commandos and post, and he had saved the literal planet alongside The Avengers, so you were not the first person he had saved by any stretch of the imagination. But he wasn't searching for civilians the day he found you. He was stalking the enemy and killing them. You were not meant to be there. But you were. And if Bucky wasn't, you would have died. It made you the first and only individual person to be 'saved' by Bucky Barnes in the traditional help-me-Superman kind of way. That fact had only just become clear in Bucky's mind.

As Bucky figured it all out, you were watching him carefully, trying to read his mind. His blue eyes were glazed over, but finally came to refocus on you. He smiled softly, and it was very identifiably sad.

Then, unpredictably, he said, "How about we don't talk about the world ending, and we talk about how there's a hot shower waiting for you in New York." And just like that, as quickly as that strange darkness flashed across his face, it was gone. Replaced with a bright expression and casual smile, Bucky's face was reassuring again.

"Shower sounds good," you agreed.

"And food. What do you feel like?"

"Pizza," you replied immediately. Pizza, always.

Bucky laughed. "Probably need something a bit more… nourishing than pizza, darlin'. Vegetables, ya know?" He almost surprised himself with how quickly he seemed to snap into a caring role. He'd not played that part since Steve was small, sick. It felt good. Natural.

It kept going like that for a while. Bucky's constant small talk chatter keeping you on the upside of consciousness. You weren't sure if he was doing it on purpose. If he was worried a nap would ruin future sleep, he was definitely mistaken.

An hour into the trip, you looked up at him again. You'd sunk deeper into him. "Thought you said you don't talk that much,"

"Don't normally… Why? You got a problem, punk? Am I boring you?" he teased, poking your side a little. You tried to swat him away but you used your injured hand. The bandages frayed and dirty moving through the air were a sudden reminder. Warm. Safe. Comfortable. Almost happy, even. But that wasn't the case everywhere. Even if the terror seemed so far away, it was still just out there. You went quiet.

Bucky repositioned you in his arms then, dragging you across the back seat so he could sit on the far left, leaning half on the backrest and partly on the door. He held you so you could fall back on him entirely. His right arm was a secure vibranium seatbelt. His left one was free to move his hand around. He settled on running fingers through your hair. Surely it was full of knots and grit, but he didn't seem to find them. Very quickly, you fell into a shallow nap.

…

Bucky was trying to wake you gently, but you were hard to stir. He laughed as you frowned hard, slowly coming out of a fitful sleep. When you sat up and looked around, you were confused. The car was no longer in motion, and had come to park. It was difficult to see out of the tinted windows. "Where…?" you mumbled, not bothering with the rest of the question.

"We're home," Bucky replied, getting out of the car and closing the door. Inhumanly fast, he was opening the door on your side, offering a hand to help you out.

Shaky on your feet, you let Bucky's hands linger around you as you found your footing. Looking back into the car, you couldn't stop the natural urge to check you had everything - your wallet, phone, keys… But those things didn't exist anymore.

"Do you want any of that?" Bucky asked you, motioning to the sleeping bag.

Your head was shaking no before your mind had really decided, and you closed the car door with slightly too much force. Wincing at the loud thud, Bucky felt bad for you. He often felt bad for people; everything he'd been through somehow made him more empathetic.

"Stark doesn't normally just let people in the back door like this… But it means if you wander off F.R.I.D.A.Y. will probably lock you in a room."

It was easier to nod than ask who 'Friday' was and how they'd locked you in a room.

Bucky took your hand and began to walk. Stark Tower was designed to be somehow both easy to navigate but just as easy to get trapped in - just in case that's what Stark wanted. As Bucky led you down hallways and into multiple elevators, you knew you'd never be able to find your way out without him. It didn't bother you much. The world beyond the Tower was frightening and cold.

The only thing you really took notice of was the distinct lack of people around. Between the car and Bucky's suite, you only passed two others. There was an agent in the first elevator. She greeted Bucky with a monotone, "Sergeant," before hitting the button for twentieth floor, apparently knowing Bucky's path.

The second person was a little more animated, but also addressed Bucky as Sergeant. When he said it though, it felt like a term of respect and endearment. "Serge!" he called as he turned the corner into the hallway you were making your way down. "Heard you'd be here, Sergant." Bucky stopped to shake and pat the back of the man. He was dressed like the driver and elevator agents, but seemed far less robotic in his professionalism.

"Yeah, taking some quick R&R. I'll be back out soon,"

"Take your time. Don't think you owe us overtime or nothing," the agent said, smiling wide.

Bucky shrugged and stepped to continue on his way, his hand still holding yours firmly. "Be safe, yeah?"

"Always, Serge. You get some rest."

In the next elevator, Bucky ran his thumb over the back of your hand. "Figured you're too tired for introductions," he offered quietly. Smiling weakly, you nodded. "Don't worry - he'll go ask someone about you as soon as he can… Bunch of gossips."

At the door to Bucky's suite, he didn't produce a key of any sort. Simply, he said, "Hey, F.R.I.D.A.Y.," out loud. You looked around, confused, then the door made a small clicking sound and Bucky opened it.

Inside, coming simultaneously from everywhere and nowhere a warm voice greeted you both. "Good evening Sergeant Barnes. Welcome Y/N,"

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., I told ya to just call me Bucky,"

"Boss says only your friends call you that," the voice retorted. You could hear the sass in her voice.

It stumped Bucky, and he smirked and looked around, annoyed he couldn't face any one spot to speak to her. "Did Stark tell you not to be my friend?"

You thought maybe… she… had gone, but then, "Boss isn't the boss of me… Bucky."

Bucky laughed, and the sound made you spin to face him. His nose was crinkled up in amusement and he put his hands on his hips. Bucky noticed you watching. "That," he pointed up at the ceiling, "…is F.R.I.D.A.Y. She's Stark's… A.I. Kinda runs the place. If you need anything, just ask her. She can hear you anywhere,"

"But I only come when called," she added, seemingly disapproving of the creepy explanation Bucky offered.

"Thanks, F.R.I.D.A.Y.,"

"You're welcome. Have a good night."

You were still looking around for her when Bucky laughed again as he watched you. "Takes a bit to get used to, but you will. If me and Steve can, you can."

Nodding in response, you glanced around the space. Already it was overwhelming. There were floor to ceiling windows, and you could see all of New York from them, even from the other side of the room. You couldn't regulate your emotions. It was like anything you'd felt in your life had a sudden renaissance, all of them fighting to have their fifteen seconds of control of your mind and body.

Slowly, Bucky approached. It wasn't until he was right in front of you that you even noticed him.

"What do you need?" he asked, reading your expression and each movement of your body very carefully. "Don't answer that… You probably don't know what you need, yeah? How 'bout… Shower first."

He was patient. He could probably stand in the one spot for hours without moving if he needed to - if you wanted him to. But you didn't, of course. The problem was that you didn't really know what you wanted. Logically, you knew you should eat. Sleep. Clean. Facing choice, free will, for the first time in days felt alien.

"I…" you tried, but your voice was shaking and didn't sound familiar. "I… I don't know… Can… Can you just…"

What exactly were you asking for?

"Look after you?" Bucky tried.

Aim. Fire. Bullseye.

You nodded, bursting into tears. Bucky closed the gap between you, wrapping you up in his arms like he'd done before. Your own arms were folded, pressed tightly between your chest and his.

"Here's what we're gonna do, darlin'," Bucky whispered, not trying to hush you. "We're gonna get you in the shower, then put you in bed. Go from there…" He kissed the top of your head. "I got you, Y/N."

Chapter 3.