#genuinely feels like there’s nothing there in my chest

[starrbishops]

⟡Touch⟡

John Walker x Reader

Part 1 - This is Part 2 to Crush but can be read as a standalone!

Summary: After confessing your feelings for each other, you and John finally act on those feelings.

Notes: Idiots in love, SMUT!!! oral sex (fem rec) fingering, p in v sex, protected sex (that man does NOT need another child to neglect) silly sex idk they're both goofy.

Word Count: 1.8k (??how??)

a/n: So the day I wrote Crush I couldn't sleep and typed like 85% of this out deliours in a google doc and um here it is. I think a horny spirit possessed me or smthn man. Can be read as a sequel or standalone!

When John claimed he was “exceptional” at sex, you took it with a grain of salt.

You were undeniably attracted to him, and he’d already exceeded your expectations kissing, but could you really trust a man, let alone a blond one, let alone John Walker to accurately estimate himself in the bedroom?

As it turned out, you could.

John practically ran to his room with you in his arms, the two of you laughing quietly as you tried not to draw the attention of the others. Most of them were out grabbing lunch, although you vaguely remembered Bob and Alexei planning on watching some old Russian comedy.

Any thoughts of the others left you mind as John pressed another kiss to your lips as he pushed his door open with his hip, not breaking the kiss to close it with foot before gently laying you down on the bed.

“God, I’ve fucking dreamed about this.” He all but groaned as he pressed kisses to your jaw, trailing down your neck and to your collarbone.

You grabbed at the hem of that damn t-shirt that drove you so insane, a hint which John took as he wrestled it over his head.

You paused to admire him; he was well-built, not in an overly showy way, but hard and taut in the right places and blond hair smattered across his chest. Your eyes trail down to his abs-you’d seen them before, when he’d structured once and his shirt had gone up just a bit. It stayed with you for weeks, but that glimpse was nothing to having him bare on top of you now.

“I think it’s only fair you take yours off, now.” His cocky grin make a reappearance, although the usual smugness in it was replaced with a sense of genuine joy and isbeleif, like he was in a dream praying to never wake up.

You chuckle nonetheless and reach down to the bottom of your own shirt. John beats you to it as he yanks the fabric off of you, eliciting a gasp as he tosses it away somewhere.

His eyes take over you, landing on your breasts. You prop yourself up on your elbows to provide better reach as he reaches around to the glass, giving you small nod and a look of is this okay? You nod fervently, and he unclips your bra with a practiced ease, all but ripping it off you as he stares down at your chest.

“Rusty my ass.” You smile.

The joke goes in one ear and out as his lust-addled brain is fixated on your body. “You’re perfect,” he mutters as he leans down to kiss each of your breasts, his hand kneading the other as he takes one of your nipples in his mouth.

You gasp at the sensation, his tongue running around the sensitive bud, pebbling beneath his touch. He moves to the other and you can feel his smile on your tit as he ravishes it just the same.

He pauses to look back up at you, a pensive look on his face. “Can I go down on you?”

You’re a little taken aback to be honest, but you nod vigorously. “Yes. God yes, John-“

Then he’s sitting up and reaching for your jeans, pulling the zipper as you unbutton them before wiggling them off. 

He’s got a single-minded focus now, the look in his eyes turning a little feral as he grabs at your panties, running a thumb over the wet spot where your arousal pools.

“That's all for me?” He asks, part of him stroking his ego, another still insecure in your feelings for him.

“All for you John, all yours-“

Your breathy moans make something snap in him then. He grabs the sides of your panties and rips them from your body, with an ease you suspect is not Al serum strength.

Your mind races but You’re too shocked to make a joke, as John lowers himself between your thighs; planting a kiss to your inner thigh. 

“Sorry.” He mumbles as he peppers your legs with soft kisses before moving towards your dripping cunt. He noses your clit, eliciting a gasp as electric shocks run through you at his feather-light touch.

“So fucking beautiful,” he groans as he moves to lick a long, wet stripe up you, hands moving to grip your hips into place as you writhe under his touch. His beard is rough against your skin, contrasting his soft, passionate touch.

His tongue licks into you, spreading your srousal all over you as he devours you like a man starved. You never took John for a fan of oral, but God you are not complaining as you feel the pleasure build in your stomach.

“John, fuck, so good, Jesus…”

“That’s right, baby,” he grumbles against your skin, “that’s my girl.”

He moves to your swollen clit, latching on as you grip the sheets beneath you. You try and fail to push your hips towards him, to get more of his mouth on you, but his grip is firm and holds you back.

He smiles as he looks up. “Greedy.”

“Asshole,” you manage to breathe out.

“You love it.”

“Are you going to get back to- ohhhh!” Your tease is interrupted by him inserting a finger into you, the sudden intrusion sending shockwaves through your body. His fingers are just as good as you’d dreamed.

“Hey, eyes on me.” he pauses until you swiftly open your eyes once more, seeing his blue eyes stare you down as he adds another thick finger.

He pumps the two of them inside you as you swiftly approach your climax. His mouth returns to you clit, alternating between flicking and sucking in a way that makes you crazy with lust. 

“John, I’m gonna, gonna cum-“

“That’s right baby, come for me.” John presses a kiss to your clit as he adds a third finger, creating a delicious stretch within you before he crooks them just so, in a way that sends you over the edge.

You’re seeing stars, as you come, John not letting up with both his fingers and his mouth as you writhe with pleasure beneath him. 

He slowed with you as you caught your breath, gazing down at him, his beard wet with you. 

“You look so pretty when you come.”

“Should do it again sometime, then.”

He smiles as he removes his fingers, prompting a whine at the empty feeling. You don’t have much time to think about it as you watch him suck the fluid off of them, relishing the taste as if it were a five star meal.

“You taste incredible.” He positions himself ove you once again, kissing you so you can taste yourself in his lips. You grab the nape of his neck as your desperation for him only increases.

“Please John, inside me now.”

He nods, a soldier receiving his orders. He quickly unbuttons and pulls down his jeans as you reach for his boxers, ogling the tent beneath them. 

You yank them down, exposing his cock to you, red and needy, perfume beading on the tip. It matches the rest of him-thick, veiny, not inset long but enough to make your mouth water.

“You like?” He jabs as you nod fervently.

“You’re perfect.” You wrap a hand around the base, getting hiss from the man above you as you slowly pump him.

He grabs your wrist, pausing you. “I’m not gonna last if you keep that up.” He groans, his eyes scrunched up in an attempt to hold it together. You reluctantly relinquish him, as he stands to dig through his nightstand.

He grumbles something, before triumphantly displaying a condom in a bright blue wrapper, with the Avengers logo front and center.

“Where the hell-“

“Alexei.” Ah. The Red Guardian did have a penchant for purchasing any Avengers related merch he could get his hands on, even if it was dollar store condoms.

“Please never bring up Alexei during sex again.” You chuckle as he tears the wrapper and rolls the condom on.

“I get a next time?” He grins, with the face more suited to a lovesick teenager than a grown man.

“We’ll see how you do here.” You lay back on the pillow as he returns to his lace above you, gently running his cock against your folds.

“You ready.” you nod at hinm, as he begins to push into you, the stretch already palpable as just the head enters you. 

“Fuck me, John, Christ…”

“That’s what I’m doing.” he mutters with a grin as he slowly inches into you, the concentration visible on his face. “So fuckng tight, God.”

You both gasp in sync as he bottoms out, your nails digging into his broad shoulders as you wrap your legs around him, drawing him just that much deeper.

“Jesus fucking christ, John…” you mumble, drunk on the feeling of him, inside of you, on top of you, all over you. You don’t think you could ever get enough of him.

John is silent, his deep concentration nd effort to hold it together apparent as he squeezes his eyes shut.

“What happened to eyes on me, huh?”

“Shut up.” he jokes as he hangs in his head in the crook of your shoulder, enabling you to place a kiss to the top of his head. 

“You can move.” you whisper, him responding with a nod as begins to pull out, before thrusting right back into you.

You gasp at the sensation, the breath turning into long moans as he sets his pace, verging on fast but not rough, reverent and cautious to not hurt you.

“More, please, John.” you hear an almost animalistic grunt emerge from him, and you imagine if you could see his face he’d bear the same near feral expression he had earlier.

Sure enough, he lifts his head, his bright eyes dakrned with lust as his thrusts go faster, letting himself go.

And it’s perfect. The feeling of his thick cock rubbing asint you, the way you feel so full, the feel of him, of John. You imagine he’s feeling pretty good too, based on the dirty nothings he’s muttering nonstop.

The room is quiet save the wet sound from where your bodies meet, and the sounds of pleasure the two of you make. You’re too blissed out as you feel another rorgasm approaching to care if the others hear you.

And then John is shifting, reaching a hand down between you, his thumb pressing gently against your clit in a way that makes you almost dizzy with pleasure.

“God, you’re everything.” he groans, “so fucking perfect, and all mine. My girl.”

You try to say something but your thoughts are all too jumbled and incoherent to convey. You’re on the brink again, and from the way his thrusts are beocmong more and more frantic you can tell John is too.

With a final curse, John plunges himself deep inside you as he cums, with you following soon after. He stills as you both come down from your highs, panting from exertion.

“Told you I was good.” he grins down at you.

“Fuck you.”

“Just did.”

a/n: So. I've never actually had sex so this is more of a research based fic (the research being other fics) but um hope you like it! I do this for the people 🫡

[odoraful]

𝑰𝑰: 𝑳-𝑶-𝑽-𝑬𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑵𝑨𝑳𝑳𝒀

xiao follows through with baizhu's advice and realises a lot more about his own feelings for you

⟡ part I: doctor, doctor!

⟡ content — xiao x gn!reader ; first love/confession ; perhaps a tad bit sad at the start but it gets better i swear!! ; zhongli and hu tao appearance ; xiao was oblivious in the first part, but he definitely isn't in this one hehe ; both of you are yearners for each other ; 4.3k words

⟡ a/n — finally finished!! i posted doctor, doctor in february and it's now may... omg i'm so sorry my lovelies for the wait 💔 i was a little sleepy when editing but anyway i really hope it's a good continuation :')

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In the past, Xiao would have never thought being bad at talking to be a disadvantage. He was once taught that it was a slower way of resolving things compared to the pointy end of his spear. Now, he silently wished he could speak with ease. Like the honeyed tales Zhongli could weave, or the precise lectures of Cloud Retainer. Xiao’s words were always blunt and rather clunky. And it didn’t help his speech if you were in his presence too.

Speak to Y/N about how they’ve been feeling, Baizhu had recommended. He had agreed so quickly in the moment because it sounded easy. Of course he could ask you, he had spoken to you dozens of times before. This time was no different, in fact, this was right in his repertoire: making sure you were in good health. Yet, with you standing beside him by the balcony at Wangshu Inn, his tongue became all tied up. Maybe it was the way the breeze toyed with your hair, your eyes glittered, or skin glowed in the morning light. The sight of you made all his words fizzle out.  

Archons, what has come over me? he wondered.

You turned to face him. He quickly tore his gaze away.

“What did you want to talk about, Xiao?”

Your question was to be expected. He was the one who had mentioned he needed to speak to you about something (which was the exact reason the two of you were standing out here). Yet, it still left him somewhat flustered.  

He kept his gaze on the vast landscape of Liyue—a brilliant canvas of yellows and greens.  “I wanted to tell you that you needn’t hide secrets from me,” he said.

You cocked your head to the side. “Secrets?” he was met with the sound of your light chuckle. “Do you think I’m living a double life or something?”

Xiao glanced to his side at you. It was enough to see you wiggling your fingers at him as you continued to tease, “Maybe I’ve secretly been a Fatui agent this whole time.”

He shook his head. “What I mean to say is… you can speak to me about anything. I know well that emotions can be confusing, but I will always try to understand them.”

Though Xiao seldom followed along with your joking remarks, he always replied to them in his own dry manner that you enjoyed. However, this time there was a seriousness to his words that caught your attention. Emotions? Confusing? Your chest grew tight as you straightened your back.

“Xiao, I wouldn’t hide anything from you,” you answered, genuinely.

Sensing your own concern, he faced you fully. “I know, but something has been different recently.”

Shouldn’t such trust and closeness between people mean being able to talk to them about anything? Both the good and the bad? Xiao was prepared to shoulder any of that weight for you. He reached for your hand that wrapped the railing of the balcony, encasing your fingers beneath his.

“Tell me what has been troubling you, please.”

It came out as a plea. Small and anguished. You had never heard Xiao sound like this before. And it was because of you.

There was only one thing you had been keeping from him. Something (or someone) that had been on your mind for a longer time that you cared to admit.

“Nothing’s been wrong,” you still denied, ignoring the open warmth that radiated from his hand into yours. A silent invitation from him to you. 

“I won’t accept that,” he responded gruffly. “It is bad to keep your emotions… bottled up.”

Xiao echoed the metaphor Baizhu used when they met. The mortal expression had sounded unusual when he first heard it, but now he understood—corking up emotions for too long can lead to spoiling.

“When you’re with me, you appear tense. If I am the one causing your trouble—”

“No!” you exclaimed, leaning in towards him. “W-well, yes, maybe. I-it’s complicated.”

What am I doing!? you thought. His touch was too hot. You pulled your hand back, fidgeting with your fingers, not knowing what else to do in your embarrassment. If Xiao had been offended, there was no hint of it on his face, only worry as he let his empty hand fall to his side.  

“Complicated? If there is a reason why, I will listen.”

You tilted your head upwards, staring off into the endless blue above, as if calling upon the Heavenly Principles themselves to give you strength and confidence.

You exhaled a breath.

This was it. The time to confess and be done with it.

“Xiao, I like you.”

The words you spoke felt foreign on your tongue. To be fair, you never thought they would ever come to light.

Every miniscule sound became too loud in the silence between you two. Your thrumming heart in your ears. The chatter of people echoing from below. The wind rustling through the golden leaves above.

Anticipating a greater reaction, you were surprised to see Xiao’s face remained neutral. Only a slight frow in his brows.

“I like you as well...” he said, carefully though obviously confused.

“No, no,” you shook your head, sighing deeply, “for me, it’s in a different way. I like you as more than just friends.”  

At your clarification of the distinction, Xiao’s eyes widened.

He had spent enough time observing people to know of romantic affiliations. Though, he never realised it could be directed at himself. Strangely, something within him stirred hearing you. A tether. A want. However, it seemed locked away in an unfamiliar space of his heart, collecting dust. Whether he intentionally cast such desires aside himself long ago, he could not say. Reciprocate, whatever inside him seemed to call out. But his old habits stifled such new feelings, knowing the hardship of entwining yourself too closely with others. His own karmic debt tainting all those who came near.

You saw the change in his reaction—knowing that he understood what you meant now—and hurried before he could say anything else.

“I can’t pinpoint when it started, but I know I’ve liked you for a long time, and that’s the reason I’ve been so jittery lately.”

You recalled his strong grip when he caught you from falling and his words of concern in your home accompanied by his gentle touch. You decided not to divulge too much of the private thoughts you had in those moments.

For all your previous hesitations, the words now seemed to uncork and flow freely out of you. “And I know people may see you as abrasive or unfriendly, but you have shown me just how caring you are so, so many times and every time I can’t help but like you more and more.”

Xiao remained motionless, processing everything. He was locked with parted lips and wide eyes staring into your avoidant gaze. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to reply to you. He just didn’t know how. The tether in his heart begged him to speak, but his lips might as well have been glued together.

“Please don’t answer me yet,” you spluttered. “I know what you’re going to respond with…”

There was a sad finality in your tone that struck him. You knew Xiao did not like you in the same way. He had expressed before his affections towards you as only friends. All the little gestures he did, no matter how fluttering, could not be interpreted as anything else, you believed.

You looked at him properly for the first time since your confession. “I want some time to prepare myself before I hear from you. Is that okay?”

Xiao nodded, finding the strength to move his body when his mouth failed him. “I-I would like some time to think, as well,” was all he could reply, his voice ragged.

He also needed to sort through his own tangled mess of thoughts. Figure out whatever in Celestia he was feeling inside. Emotions truly were confusing.

You gave a small smile. Meant to be a sign of reassurance for him that you were not so troubled anymore, but the wobbled corners of your lips perhaps betrayed that. “Alright, we’ll speak soon.”

You turned away from the balcony’s edge. Xiao watched as your figure disappeared down the steps and out of his sight.

One question had been answered, but it had left many, many more for him to understand.

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The consultant of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlour had experienced much of life (and had an eclectic set of memories to show for it). He did not shy away from unknowns as they would eventually become facts to him through reading a scroll passed down through a family’s generations, listening to the slightly drunken tales of a wizened sailor, or any other method of storytelling that he had the honour of encountering. And because of his wealth of knowledge, Xiao decided to meet with him.

Zhongli was inside Funeral Parlour. Not at the front desk, which the Ferrylady was currently standing behind, sorting through a ledger, but to the side in a waiting area. There were shelves filled with all manner of books and oddities, and comfortable seats for clients who generally needed to seek relief. Zhongli was drawing a finger against the spines of each book, wondering whether the collection needed updating, when the door to the Parlour creaked opened.

“Xiao! It’s lovely to see you,” Zhongli welcomed, surprise filling his face.

Xiao closed the door behind him gently, his eyes landing on Zhongli by the shelves. Recognising who the adeptus was, the Ferrylady simply nodded in acknowledgement, leaving the pair to catch up.

“Had I expected you, I would have provided more fitting refreshments,” Zhongli commented. “Here. Have some tea, if you wish.”

Xiao nodded in thanks as he was poured a cup of jasmine tea. He waited for Zhongli to be seated down first before he followed.

It had never been difficult for Zhongli to read Xiao. The distracted gaze, shoulders somewhat bowed, hands clasped in his lap. It was like Xiao was just another book on the Funeral Parlour’s shelves. Zhongli raised the cup of tea to his mouth, peering at the young adeptus from the rim before taking a sip.

“You seem... troubled. Is something the matter?”

Xiao watched the steam rise lazily from his teacup. Of course, Zhongli could easily pinpoint what was happening with him. Lingering emotions from the conversation Xiao had with you three days before bubbled up. It still felt surreal to him that it all happened.

“Yes, there has been something troublesome,” he admitted. “Y/N... told me that they liked me.”

Zhongli stilled his movements. You were no stranger to him. Naturally, he knew of many residents in Liyue, and he had also assisted you with his expertise in the past for commissions with the Guild. Now, he would never go so far as to say spying, but he also wouldn’t deny that he kept a special eye on you. Your close relationship with the young adeptus was something he was pleased to see blossom. Which was why it was confusing to see Xiao so unsettled in telling him the news of your confession.

Zhongli gave a comforting smile, placing his cup back on the table. “Y/N has confessed to you? I scarcely believe that that would be troublesome, but rather exciting.”

Xiao could only give a grunt in response.

Detecting this internal conflict, Zhongli lowered his voice, “Well, how do you feel about them?”

“I-I don’t know, which is the root of my problem.” A frustrated sigh escaped the yaksha. His mind was in all manner of disarray. “How do you know if your feelings for someone are different?”

Your words echoed in his head—as more than just friends.

“By different, are you perhaps referring to love?”

Zhongli’s pointed emphasis on the final word made Xiao redden. Again, he was not unfamiliar with the idea of romance. He had seen it in the streets of Liyue Harbour, from the young, sheepish sweethearts to the old, contented couples. Xiao had believed himself unworthy of it. But now, hearing the word spoken aloud, that wanting tether within him pulled again.

At Xiao’s sudden shyness at love being brought up, Zhongli had to stifle a chuckle. Still so new to the world, he thought.

“You know I cannot speak for your feelings, Xiao, but judging from how you came to me, it does seem there is more to your affections than what you first believed,” he observed.

Xiao ruffled his hair with his gloved hand. Zhongli was right. There was something more with you. There always had been.

“At rest, I have always sensed my karmic debt,” Xiao said. “But, since meeting them, the pain has lessened. I feel peaceful.”

The endurer of eons knowing peace. It felt foolish for Xiao to say, but it was the truth. He had never known safety and warmth to be with another person until you. His past had locked away these comforts from him, but the dust collected from forgotten emotions now seemed to blow away.

“Is this truly...” the word choked up in his throat. Zhongli had said it so easily before (even with the tiniest hint of amusement), but the word had not yet found its rightful place in his vocabulary yet.

“Why must this be so difficult...” Xiao instead groaned.

Zhongli gazed fondly at the young adeptus. “It is your first time. Do not be so harsh on yourself.”

He began to muse aloud. Xiao watched on, letting the sentences Zhongli weaved take hold. “Love enters each of our lives in many ways. Someone’s presence can come swinging like a sledgehammer, unexpectedly knocking us off our feet.”

With a knowing smile, Zhongli continued, “Or... it can be more subtle, like a pebble dropped into a still pool of water, rippling the surface from the centre outward.”

Xiao looked down at his filled cup of tea. Ripples. That was exactly it. Unassuming how you entered his life, and how impactful your stay had been. Finally, he took a sip of his tea, finding it less bitter than he would usually taste.

“Thank you for your guidance, as always.”

Zhongli laughed, “You needn’t be so formal, Xiao. I’m pleased you sought me out. Though, I do hope you come visit me again with some good news.”

Xiao nodded, albeit bashfully.

The old companions continued with the conversation. Largely, Zhongli tried to get Xiao to speak more about you. He knew full well that chance to be young and hopeless in love had been robbed from Xiao for centuries. So, with each short response Xiao gave about you between stutters, the redness never leaving his face, Zhongli was left more than satisfied.

After a short while, Xiao said goodbye, going back out to fulfil his duties with a newfound lightness. As he closed the door behind him, a shrill voice exclaimed from the stairs leading to the second floor of the Funeral Parlor.

“Was that the Conqueror of Demons?!”

Hu Tao had her hands on her hips, looking expectantly at her consultant.

“It was. You’ve just missed him, unfortunately,” Zhongli replied, leaning back in his chair.

The funeral director hurried down the steps, standing directly in front of his seat. “Oh, come on, you could have totally interrupted my meeting to have me say a quick hello!”

Zhongli gave a disagreeing hum. “We both know that you don’t enjoy funeral business being interrupted.”

Hu Tao puckered her lips and blew air out, creating a trill sound. Of course, Mr Zhongli was correct in saying that, but she was just making a joke! She slipped in the chair Xiao was just in, crossing her legs.

“So, why did Xiao swing by anyway?” she then gasped, “Is there new clientele?”

Zhongli shook his head, a smile playing at his lips.

“I’m not sure you would believe me if I told you.”

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You had always left the invitation open for Xiao to visit your home if he wished for a change of scenery. Though Wangshu Inn was gorgeous (and you would do anything to wake up to a view like that every day) there was still some charm to the quaint housing on the outskirts of the Harbour that you knew he would enjoy. All you asked for is that he did not teleport directly into your house unless you were in some peril, which he would know when his named was called. For every other time, however, he would have to knock before he could come in.

There was no peril here, but you did need to see him. Desperately. It had been three days, and your insides had stopped roiling since confessing. You were only left with preparedness now at hearing his answer. No matter how hard you tried to suppress it, there was a small part of you that hoped. Hoped Xiao might have a sudden change in his affections and realise he saw you as more than his friend.

You closed your eyes and steadied yourself.

You opened your mouth, beginning to say his name—

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sudden noise pulled your focus away.

You weren’t expecting anyone at this time. Perhaps it was your elderly neighbour passing over some food she made, or a salesman looking to find customers for his wares. Frowning in the direction of your front door, you walked over and opened it ajar, just enough so you could see who was standing there.

You hadn’t even said his name, yet he knew he needed to come.

Familiar dark-greenish hair framing the amber eyes of a once harsh gaze, now softened since the day he met you. His chest puffed up and down, as if he had just run from somewhere. He looked at you like your parting had been years and not just a handful of days.

Your hand slipped from the handle, letting the door swing open fully.

“Xiao?” his name fell from your lips.

This was a very rare occasion where Xiao hadn’t thought things out fully before executing a plan. All he knew was that he needed to see you as soon as his meeting with Zhongli concluded.

“Hello,” he swallowed, composing himself. “I would have come sooner, but you instructed that I do not use my powers—”

“I know, unless I’m in grave danger,” you finished. “Thank you for knocking.”  

His politeness despite everything brought a small laugh from you as you spoke. It was a moment of your liveliness that Xiao took to like a moth to a flame, fluttering with desire.

You stood aside, allowing him to enter. The last time he was here he was convinced that you were ill and, quite innocently, wanted to nurse you to good health. Now, he knew the true reason for those symptoms and had come to an understanding of his own.

His boots tapped against the wooden floorboards of your home, and he came to a stop in front of you. Neither of you wanted to sit down, too filled with mirrored jumble of anxiety and hope.

“I have my answer,” he said.

He had never known his nerves to be this weak until now. His palms were sweaty beneath the fabric of his gloves, and his breath constricted. He can’t have imagined the amount of courage it took for you to have done the same thing.  

“Alright,” you folded your arms across your chest to bury your sinking heart. Even in matters like this, Xiao still got straight to the point. “I’m ready to hear it.”

Xiao flexed his hands at his side, trying to ground himself.

Although he could never paint flowery words with his speech, there was one thing he could always rely on—his bluntness.

“I-I love you.”

...

Oh.

This certainly had to be a dream.

A dream where the man you like just said that he loves you.

“I love you,” he repeated, his voice raw and gravelly.

Did he say it in a strange way? Xiao silently cursed himself looking at how motionless you were, hands falling to your side. He knew he should have practiced it aloud beforehand.

“Was that... wrong of me to say?”

Your head spun. Delirious laughter almost spilled from you.

What he had just said was the furthest from wrong. Any small hope that remained in you unfurled and bloomed brilliantly.

"This... isn’t a dream, right?” you whispered.

Xiao moved closer.

“No, it isn’t.”

This had to be real, otherwise, why did his hand feel so warm as it brushed against yours? His fingers gently took your hand. It was the only proof he could offer that this wasn’t a dream. That he was here, and his words were true.

“You love me? Really?” you had to confirm again.

“I do.” He did not waver in his answer, “I do love you. I should have realised it sooner.”

Your breath caught in your throat. The urge to cry became more tempting each time Xiao repeated that he was in love with you.

“I-I was sure you weren’t going to feel the same way,” you sniffed.

His chest seized up hearing your voice shake.

He recalled a fleeting memory. Resting beneath a shaded tree, dappled light cast across his face as conversation drifted through the air. The commotion from four others whose voices he could never forget for as long as he lived. They were speaking about falling in love once the war was over, how it would feel like when love found them. Peace in these lands must be achieved first, one had said. To which one commented what a buzzkill that was, which was followed by laughter from the others. Perhaps Xiao should have listened more closely to learn something then, rather than closing his eyes, letting the sound lull him.

“I... have little experience or knowledge of these things. These distinctions are quite new to me.” Xiao held your hand tighter. His pale cheeks dusted with pink. “Speaking with someone else helped me understand what my feelings for you meant.”

He was so close once again. Yet, you didn’t freeze up like before, afraid of revealing your hidden affections. Instead, you melted into his touch, adjusting your grip to feel more of him. There was nothing to hide between the two of you anymore.

“I’m sorry for making you uneasy for so long,” he quietly added.

“You don’t have to apologise, I’m not angry at all.”

Relief washed over him. There was even a smile on your face. Bright and warm and enveloping him like the morning sun. Playfully, you swung his arms back and forth.

“In fact, I’m really, really happy right now,” a chuckle accompanied your words.

Xiao’s lips curved into a smile too seeing you in higher spirits. “I am glad. To be honest, I feel much... lighter.”

Weightless, even. The taut desire he felt three days ago when you confessed had eased. He had gotten the courage to tug and pull on that tether until he was standing here with you in his arms.

“I think I have loved you for a long time but never believed myself to be worthy of it. You are too good natured and kind, and if something happened to you because of me,” he closed his eyes, unable to even stand the very idea, “I wouldn’t forgive myself.”

You had never once thought Xiao could hurt you. Even in the beginning when you met, though he was coarse as gravel, he always remained attentive. There was much of his past that left painful memories and only fed him sorrow and doubt. Despite it all, however, he still had a soft heart.

You reached out a hand, grazing your fingertips against his cheek.

“Xiao…”

His eyes fluttered open hearing his name being called so sweetly under your hushed breath.

“Can I hug you?” you asked. “Usually this is the part where people would hug each other.”

He nodded, burning to hold you as well. You encircled your arms around his chest, entwining your fingers behind his back. He wrapped his own hands at your waist and pulled you in, your body flush with his, fitting together like pieces of a puzzle. Your breath tickled Xiao’s ear as you tucked your chin by his shoulder. Both of your heartbeats drummed with ineffable tenderness. It almost dazed him how much content swelled inside. He knew now why so many couples liked to hug.

Xiao was the first to lean back to look at you again. You were struck by this intensity of his eyes, seemingly lost with desire. Before you could think of anything else, your chin was tilted upwards.

Then, his lips were on yours.

You didn’t think Xiao could surprise you twice in such a short time.

The kiss was soft, like a falling petal brushing against skin. How much time had passed? Seconds, minutes, hours? You couldn’t tell. All you could focus on was the warmth from his lips and the shiver that it caused up your spine. This time, you were the first to pull away. Your cheeks were hotter than probably any of the springs in Natlan.

“How did you—” you stuttered.

Xiao cleared his throat. The spell he was just under seeming to disappear as he blinked away from your gaze, his blush intensifying. “I’ve seen many couples in the city do it. I-It just felt right to do.”

Shyly, he added, “Was that alright?”

He had a habit of second guessing himself when it came to his affections. Luckily, you were someone who was more than happy to give reassurance.

“It was more than okay,” you beamed. “It was perfect.”

You both stayed like this a moment longer, your hands around his back and his on your waist. Xiao spoke of meeting with Baizhu and Zhongli, which displayed a commitment to you that was far too endearing for your heart to handle.

There would be good news indeed when the time came to tell your companions what happened.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

⟡ taglist (hello lovelies!! thank you again for your patience 🥹🫶 i've never tagged people before so i hope this works) — @sizzles-z-4002 @redninjakitty14rp @butterescapism @fuyustuffs @unstablemiss @evilenbypotato

[moniquesha]

sharing is NOT caring

second

Pair: College!Bucky x reader

You and your twin were nothing alike, except when it came to men. That one shared taste might be what tears you both apart.

Warnings: there are both of you here, violence, angst, fluff, filthy smut, cheating, pick me behaviour, crazy twists, had a hard time writing this.

Masterlist

The sunlight cuts through the thin gap between the curtains, painting gold stripes over your blanket. You roll to your side, groggy and still wearing the remnants of last night’s eyeliner. There's a familiar hum of movement, Chloe’s already awake. You hear her in the bathroom. The sink runs, the clatter of mascara tubes and hair ties filling the quiet morning. She’s humming something poppy under her breath, the same tune she’s had stuck in her head all week.

You sit up slowly, a dull buzz in your head from the drinks and dancing. Your phone lights up beside you on the nightstand: 1 New Message: Bucky Barnes. Before you can even open the message, Chloe walks back into the room, brushing her hair with that usual effortless bounce in her step. She’s already dressed, cropped tee, bows on her head, and that lip gloss she only wears when she’s aiming to turn heads.

“Good morning, sleepy,” she sings, pulling open your closet.

“You going somewhere?” you ask, stretching.

“Later. Waiting for Wanda’s reply,” she says casually, but her eyes flicker to your phone.

She hesitates just slightly, like she wants to ask something, but doesn’t. Instead, she grabs your denim jacket from the hook and shrugs into it like it’s hers. You watch in silence, another small thing she does without asking. “By the way,” she adds with a casual toss of her hair, “last night was crazy, huh? You and Bucky looked pretty close.” It’s said lightly, almost teasing. But there’s a sharpness buried under her tone, like a needle wrapped in silk. You stretch your arms over your head and toss your legs over the side of the bed, brushing off the weight of her question with a yawn. “It was just a party,” you say with a small smile, playing it cool. “Besides, I can say the same thing about you and Pietro. You guys looked pretty cozy yourselves.”

“Oh, c’mon,” she grins, spinning around to face you fully. “I know you have a crush on him. You want me to tell him about it?” You raise an eyebrow, keeping your tone light. “What, like a middle school note? ‘Do you like my sister, check yes or no?’” She grins wider. “If that’s what it takes.” Then she pauses, looking at you more intently. “But seriously, Y/N. You should go for it. He does look at you like you hung the moon or something.”

It sounds genuine. Her tone is soft, maybe even a little sincere. But it’s Chloe, and you’ve known her too long to not hear the echo of control laced beneath it. Like she’s giving you permission. 

You’re not that numb, but you’re not the one to immediately assume things either. “I don’t think he sees me that way.”

You hear her scoff about your comment, already halfway to the door. “Don’t act dumb now. We both know it’s not attractive.”

And with that, she disappears down the hall, your jacket still hanging off her shoulders.

You glance down at your phone, Bucky’s message still waiting.

you up? hope your head’s not a warzone. last night was fun.

You grab your phone and slip it into your pocket, trying to ignore the fluttering feeling in your chest. It’s a mix of curiosity and something else, something you haven’t quite pinned down yet. Chloe watches you, her eyes narrowing with that signature mischievous glint as she takes another sip of her coffee. She leans back on the counter, almost too casually. “You know, it’s so cool how Bucky only gave his number to you,” she says in the most sarcastic, drawn-out tone. “Guess I’ll just have to wait my turn, huh?”

You feel her words settle into the air like a challenge. The sharpness of her voice, the way she’s poking at you, it’s classic Chloe. You raise an eyebrow, trying to keep your cool. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing. Just that I’m sure everyone here was just falling over themselves to give you their number, right?” She pauses for dramatic effect. “I mean, I don’t think anyone else got that kind of VIP treatment.”

You try to stay calm, but it’s hard not to feel the subtle jab in her words. “Maybe I’m just more interesting than you think.” She laughs, tossing her hair back in that exaggerated way, like she’s the queen of the world. “Sure, sis. Just don’t get too carried away. It’s Bucky Barnes, not the prince of anything. He’s just a guy.” It stings a little more than it should, but you don’t let it show. Instead, you grab your jacket from the back of the chair, zipping it up slowly. “Well, I’m sure you’ll catch someone’s eye soon enough. Pietro’s been hanging around you all night.”

Her eyes flicker for a split second, just enough for you to notice. “Yeah, he’s a great guy,” she says quickly, as if she wants to change the subject. “But you.. you really are so into Bucky, huh?” You shrug, hoping to play it cool. “We’re just talking. Don’t read too much into it.” Chloe just gives you that smile, the one that’s just a little too knowing. “Sure, sure. Just don’t let it get to your head, okay?” You both know the game she’s playing, but you refuse to take the bait. “I’m gonna head out for a walk. I’ll be back soon.”

“Fine, go get some air or whatever,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I’ll be here, waiting for my own life-changing phone call from Bucky.” You leave her in the kitchen, her words lingering behind you. But you pause at the door, your hand resting on the handle. The weight of Chloe’s words from earlier hangs in the air, and it’s been bugging you. You feel that confusion start to settle in your chest, like there’s something more to her words than she’s letting you on.

You turn back around, your voice softer than you expect. “Chloe. I don’t like him like that,” you say, your gaze steady on her. “We just met last night. You don’t need to keep pushing it.” Chloe looks up at you, her eyes narrowing slightly. There’s that smirk again, the one she wears when she knows she’s got you thinking. But this time, it’s a little too forced, like she’s trying too hard to keep the facade up.

“I mean it, Chloe. I don’t know what you’re trying to get at, but I don’t need you making it into something it’s not.”

She stays silent for a moment, looking away and then back at you, as if deciding how much of this she wants to show. “You don’t have to pretend, you know. I know you’re into him.” Her voice softens a little, but there’s still an edge of something underneath. “But just remember… you don’t have to get all attached.” You frown, stepping back toward her. “Why would I get attached? And why does it matter so much to you?” The words slip out before you can stop them.

She looks at you then, a flash of something unreadable passing through her eyes. Her shoulders tense for a moment, and for a second, you see a different side of Chloe, a side that’s guarded. She crosses her arms over her chest, biting her lip as if she’s holding something back. “I just don’t want you getting hurt, that’s all.”

“By him?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “Chloe, I barely know the guy. Why do you care so much? You have Pietro anyways.” She’s quiet for a long moment, her eyes flickering to the floor and then back up to meet yours.

“I know,” she says softly, her voice quieter than usual.

“But sometimes, I feel like.. like I can’t always have what I want. I’m just making sure you don’t get too caught up in something that’s not as perfect as it seems.” You stand there, taken aback for a second. The sharp edge in her voice, the vulnerability hidden behind her words, all feels so unexpected. You’d never seen her so open about feeling like this before.

“I just want to make sure you don’t fall for someone who might not be what you think he is,” she adds, her gaze drifting off to the side. The silence between you feels heavy now, the tension in the room thick. You open your mouth to say something, but no words come.

What do you even say to that?

After a long pause, you decide to keep it simple. “Okay, but I’m not gonna avoid talking to him because you think he’s a threat or something like that.” You hold her gaze firmly now, not trying to sound harsh but needing to make your point. “I’ll figure it out myself.”

Chloe nods slowly, her expression softening, though there’s still a subtle hardness behind her eyes. “Yeah, whatever. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.” You sigh, frustrated by how complicated things are getting, and then you finally step out the door. You need some space to breathe, to think without her words lingering over you. The world feels different this morning, and you're not sure if it's the fresh air or the weight of this conversation. Either way, it’s time for a walk. Time to clear your head.

You step outside, letting the cool breeze hit your face, when suddenly your phone buzzes in your pocket. You pull it out, your heart lifting when you see the familiar name on the screen.

“Ava,” you mutter to yourself with a smile, instantly feeling at ease. Ava Starr, your online friend. You've been chatting for months, sharing everything from your worst days to your weirdest thoughts. Even though she lives halfway across the continent, it feels like she’s always right there with you. She’s that one person you never have to share with anyone else, a rare gem in the vast ocean of online connections.

You swipe to answer, grinning as her voice fills your ear.

“Hey, you! How’s the world treating you today?” Ava’s voice is as warm as always, that familiar tone of hers making you feel like you’re back in a cozy space. It’s like a breath of fresh air.

“Hey, Ava! Things are... complicated, but I’m surviving,” you respond, your voice light. “What’s up with you? How’s the other side of the world treating you?”

Ava chuckles. “You know, same old. Just surviving the last semester, honestly. But you know what? I had this crazy idea for something, and I need your opinion on it.”

You walk a little further, smiling at the thought of her reaching out for your opinion. “Ooh, I’m all ears. Hit me with it.”

“Alright, so I’m thinking of making a big change. I don’t know, maybe moving to a different city. Something completely random, just to shake things up,” she says with excitement in her voice. Her words pull you into the moment, making everything else seem so far away. It's just Ava. Just the two of you talking, like no distance, no barriers. You can feel the comfort of knowing she’s only yours to talk to in that way. The kind of connection you cherish.

You walk for a little longer, enjoying the conversation and the ease that comes with talking to Ava. The world feels a little smaller when you’re talking to her, like nothing else matters but the connection you share. As you stroll down the street, your phone pressed to your ear, you feel the weight of the world lift just a little. No judgment, no complications.

“So, what’s got you thinking about shaking things up?” you ask, genuinely curious. “I mean, I get it, but what’s the plan?”

Ava pauses for a second, and you can almost hear her smile through the phone. “Well, I’ve been feeling like.. I don’t know. Like I’m stuck in a loop. Everything’s predictable, and I’m not really doing anything with my life, you know? I just want to change something, anything.”

You nod, even though she can’t see you. You get it. You understand exactly how she feels. “Yeah, I totally get that. Sometimes it’s like you wake up one day and realize you’re not where you thought you’d be. Not really in control of things.”

“Exactly!” Ava exclaims, clearly relieved that you understand. “So, I was thinking, maybe I should just pick a random city, buy a ticket, and go. No plan. Just… go and see what happens.” You laugh, the idea kind of crazy but in a good way. It sounds like something you’d love to do, too in the future. “That’s bold. But I love it. Maybe I should join you. We could be random city-hopping buddies. Can you imagine?”

She laughs along with you, the thought making both of you giddy with excitement. “You’d be down for that? I swear, we’d make the perfect chaotic duo.”

“I mean, why not?” you reply with a chuckle. “We could just go for it, see what happens. Worst case scenario, we end up lost in a city with no plan, no way to get back home, and I guess we just find a way to make it work?”

Ava laughs, her voice a little softer now, like she’s imagining the possibility. “I think we’d figure it out. We always do. And besides, who else would have my back like you do?”

Your chest feels warm at her words. “Same goes for you, Ava,” you respond, your voice sincere. “I’d be there for you too.”

The conversation continues for a little while longer, both of you laughing and joking about the wild adventures you could have. And that thought, the idea of stepping into the unknown with someone who understands you like no one else does, makes everything else seem a little less important.

You step off the curb, lost in thought, and barely register the sound of screeching tires before a car nearly clips you. You jump back just in time, heart thudding in your chest. The driver’s door flies open and Pietro rushes out.

“What the fuck, Pietro!” you yell, still shaken, eyes wide.

He’s already at your side, hands out like he wants to steady you, but you push him away slightly, needing a second to breathe. ““What the hell! Why are you even here? What are you doing in our neighborhood?” you ask, voice ragged.

He runs a hand through his hair, guilt written all over his face. “Chloe texted me. Said you and her had a big fight and asked me to come over.”

You stare at him, stunned. “What? What fight?”

Pietro blinks, just as confused now, his brow furrowing. “She said you stormed out. That you were upset, wouldn’t talk to her, and she made it sound serious. She was panicking so, I just got in the car and drove.”

You stand there, breath still shaky, the rush of adrenaline slowly wearing off. Your mind races. There was no fight. Sure, things have felt tense, but you hadn't even said anything to Chloe before leaving. Not really. “I didn’t storm out,” you mutter, trying to piece it together. “We had a weird moment, but I just said I was going for a walk. She didn’t even answer me.”

Pietro looks down the street, like trying to process something he doesn’t quite understand. “Then why would she..?” You both fall silent for a second, the tension between you thick and confusing. “I’m sorry,” he says finally, softer now. “I didn’t mean to hit you or shock you. I should’ve called first.” You nod slowly, the tightness in your chest starting to ease. “It’s okay. Just.. you know how much Chloe can overreact. Don’t forget about that one time at your parents house.”

He studies your face for a long beat. “Yeah,” he says. “I’m starting to realize that.”

You both stand on the sidewalk, the city moving around you like background noise. Pietro shifts his weight, eyes still trained on you. “So... what was it even about? Why’s she acting like that?” You hesitate, debating how much to say. But something about the way he's looking at you makes it hard to keep dodging. “It was about Bucky,” you admit.

Pietro’s expression changes. Subtly, but enough. His shoulders stiffen, jaw ticks just once. “Barnes?” he asks, like maybe there’s more than one Bucky you could be talking about. You nod. “He gave me his number. That’s it, really. Chloe’s just being weird about it. Joking like I have a crush, pushing the idea, then acting strange when I brush it off.”

Pietro looks off, jaw tight, running his hand through his hair again. “Huh.”

You narrow your eyes slightly. “What?”

He shakes his head a little too quickly. “Nothing. Just didn’t know you were into guys like him.”

Now it’s your turn to stiffen. “Guys like what?”

He opens his mouth like he has an answer, then stops himself. “Forget it,” he says, looking anywhere but at you now. “It’s not a big deal.”

But it feels like one.

You cross your arms. “Okay, you’re acting weird now too.”

He exhales through his nose, a mix of frustration and something else you can’t quite place. “Just.. look, Barnes has a rep, okay? Not bad, just that he's not always subtle. Especially not at parties.”

You look at him, trying to read between the lines. “You mean he's a flirt.”

Pietro shrugs. “Maybe. I just don’t want you getting dragged into some drama with your sister because of a guy like that.”

“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience,” you say quietly.

He doesn’t answer that, just looks away again, hands in his pockets. Pietro kicks a loose pebble on the sidewalk, jaw clenched. “Forget it,” he says under his breath, clearly shutting the door on the Bucky topic. “Whatever. It’s your life.” You blink, surprised at how quickly he pulled away emotionally. One second guarded, the next cold. You barely get a moment to think before he shifts again, voice sharp with curiosity. “So what’s up with Chloe, really? Why the sudden interest in Bucky too?”

You pause, arms still folded, protective of your thoughts. “She’s always been a little possessive,” you admit carefully. “Not just with people, but with things. Clothes, attention, even my own friends sometimes. I guess I just  always made excuses for her.”

Pietro nods slowly, lips pressed together. “Yeah. I’ve noticed stuff, but I didn’t want to say anything. Thought maybe that’s just how you two are.”

“It’s different when Mom’s around,” you add quietly. “She keeps things balanced. But when it’s just us she stops playing fair.” Pietro sighs, his voice softer now. “I get it. Wanda and I, we’ve had our fights too. But I’ve never seen her try to control me like that.”

You glance up at him, the weight of his words sinking in. “So you believe me?”

His gaze meets yours, steady now. “Yeah. I do.”

“Well, thank you. I appreciate that but I have to head back and talk to her about dragging other people into petty arguments.” You shrug, rubbing your arms like you're trying to shake the tension off. “This is just typical Chloe. Maybe it’s nothing.”

Pietro watches you for a moment, then nods slowly. “Alright. If that’s what you want.” He gives a small, crooked smile, almost supportive, but laced with something unreadable. “You’re probably right. Still, if she says something else weird, or tries to twist stuff again, don’t let it slide, okay?”

You glance at him. “Since when did you become my big brother?”

He shakes his head in disgust, almost cringing at the words you just said. “Cmon, Y/N. Jesus.”

You arch a brow at him, caught off guard. “Wow, okay. That was a little aggressive.”

Pietro sighs at himself, running a hand through his hair. “No, I mean. Ugh, I didn’t mean it like that. Like god, no. I don’t see you as my sister.” You tilt your head, curiosity peeking through the edge of your sarcasm. “And what do you see me as, exactly?” He meets your gaze, a flicker of something more serious behind his eyes. “Someone I like talking to. Someone I’d never call a sister.” There’s a beat of silence, charged but uncertain. You shift your weight on your feet, torn between teasing him and acknowledging the tension.

“..Right,” you say softly. “Good to know.”

He swallows, then gestures again at the car. “So.. ride or walk?”

You shake your head gently. “I’ll walk. Need to clear my head a bit before I talk to her.”

Pietro nods, clearly respecting your space now. “Alright. Be careful. And hey, if it gets too much, call me, yeah?”

You manage a small smile. “I’ll think about it.”

He lingers for a second longer, like he wants to say something else, but then just gives you a quick nod and heads back to his car. The engine hums to life, and you watch as he pulls away, the moment still lingering like humidity in the air.

You stop walking. Your feet closer to home but your thoughts are moving away from the confrontation you have to face. But your hands are still shaking from nearly being hit. By Pietro, no less. Everything feels off today. So when you hear the car slow down again behind you, your heart stutters. Pietro pulls up next to you, leaning over to the passenger window.

“Change your mind?”

You hesitate for a second, then wordlessly open the door and get in.

He doesn’t say anything at first. The silence between you is heavy but not uncomfortable. He just drives no destination, just motion, letting the wind slip between the two of you like it’s wiping the slate clean. Finally, you speak, eyes fixed ahead. “I feel guilty.”

“For what?” he asks gently.

“For leaving her behind,” you murmur. “She’s my sister. She might be overbearing or weird sometimes, but she’s still Chloe.”

Pietro exhales through his nose, nodding slowly. “I get that. But Y/N, not all the time you're going to be there for her.” You glance at him. He continues, voice softer than you’ve ever heard it. “You gotta live a life without your twin. She’s not your shadow. And you’re not hers.”

Your chest tightens. “Feels wrong.”

“Yeah,” he says. “At first. But freedom always feels weird when you’re used to carrying someone else.” He looks over at you. “Let her figure herself out. And you; figure you out. What you want. Who you like. Who makes you feel seen.”

You blink, his words sinking deeper than you expect. The silence returns, but now it feels like something new has opened between you. “Wanna get coffee?” he asks, breaking the quiet. You glance at him and smile faintly. “Only if you let me pick the music.” He grins. “Deal.”

The coffee shop is small, warm, the kind of place that smells like roasted beans and vanilla syrup. You and Pietro sit by the window, sipping slowly, talking about random things, classes, summer plans, anything that doesn’t involve your sister or guilt. When you’re done, you step out into the sunlight, and Barnes & Noble gleams next door like a gentle invitation. You smile and nudge Pietro with your shoulder.

“Ten minutes,” you say.

“Ten minutes,” he repeats, rolling his eyes with a grin. “Sure. That’s what everyone says before they get lost in the fiction aisle.”

Inside, it’s quiet. Cool air greets your sun-warmed skin, and you drift toward the new arrivals while Pietro trails behind. His fingers graze over hardcovers, eyes scanning blurbs, but you feel his presence close. It’s a comforting thing.

“Well, well. Look who finally decided to step inside my empire.”

You turn at the voice and see Bucky leaning casually against a nearby shelf, a smirk on his lips. His hair’s a little tousled, and he’s dressed down in a t-shirt and jeans, but the way he looks at you. Calm, amused, observant, sends a small flutter through your chest.

You blink. “Your what?”

“My empire,” he repeats, chuckling. “Barnes and Noble? And hey, you haven’t replied to my text. I never thought you’d be a ghoster.” He teases, showing his perfect white teeth.

“You’re joking,” you say, not sure if you’re stunned or impressed.

“Nope. My great-grandfather is the Barnes. The ‘Noble’ guy was just his friend. The name stuck. So technically, I’m royalty here.” He taps a shelf like he owns it.

Beside you, Pietro shifts, standing just a bit straighter. His jaw flexes, not enough to make a scene, but enough for you to feel the subtle shift in energy.

“That’s actually cool,” you admit, a laugh escaping. “Sorry I didn’t text back. Today’s just been chaotic.” 

“I figured,” Bucky says, gaze flicking briefly to Pietro before landing on you again. “But hey, since you’re here now, maybe I can help you find something.”

“I think she’s got someone helping already,” Pietro says casually, but his voice has that edge, the one you recognize from when he’s pretending to be totally fine with something. Bucky raises his eyebrows, then gives you a smile, soft this time. “No pressure. I just figured I’d offer.” You stand between them, caught somewhere between amusement and awkwardness, heart beating just a little too fast. You could cut the tension with a hardcover.

As Bucky gives you one last look and a playful salute before heading toward the register, you glance up at Pietro. His arms are crossed, gaze fixed on the spot Bucky just vacated, his jaw still set a little too tight for comfort. You nudge him gently with your elbow and lean in, voice low enough so only he hears, “Don’t be a jerk just because you heard stuff about him.”

Pietro scoffs under his breath, not looking at you right away. “It’s not just stuff. He’s got a reputation, Y/N.”

You narrow your eyes. “And you trust rumors more than me?”

That makes him glance at you. He hesitates, then sighs, weighing his hands like he has other options. “No. I trust you..” He trails off, searching for the right words. “I just don’t like the way he looked at you.” You pause. That catches you off guard, enough to make your breath hitch slightly.

You soften. “He looked at me like I was a person. Calm down, Maximoff.”

Pietro doesn’t say anything for a moment, and when he does, his voice is quieter. “Okay. Fine.”

You both stand there in the aisle, the scent of new books hanging between you, the low hum of the store filling the silence. “Still,” Pietro says eventually, teasing again but not completely letting go of whatever’s bothering him, “I’m picking the next book. You’ve got too much poetry on your shelf.”

You roll your eyes, but smile. “Fine. Just no self-help books with titles like ‘Be the Thunder’.”

You now stand outside the bookstore, leaning against the brick wall as you wait for Pietro to finish his phone call with Wanda. The air is light but your mind isn't. You think about the problems you have to face when this day ends and before you can spiral further, a voice from behind startles you.

“Your boyfriend already left?”

“He’s not my boyfriend, Bucky,” you say flatly, though not without humor. “And, uhm. Cool revelation with the store, by the way. That means you’re filthy rich.”

Bucky chuckles as he steps beside you, hands stuffed into the pockets of his leather jacket. “Filthy rich,” he repeats, amused. “That’s a strong assumption. I’m not the owner, just the heir to a bookstore empire. Very intimidating, I know.”

You smirk, still watching the street as Pietro paces nearby with Wanda on the phone. “Guess that makes you the soft kind of rich. The paperback prince.”

Bucky laughs at that, tilting his head to look at you more closely. “Paperback prince. I’ll take it. Better than ‘guy who got ghosted after giving his number’.”

You glance at him, slightly embarrassed. “I didn’t ghost you.”

“No?”

“I was just thinking.”

“Dangerous habit.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re not exactly making this easier.”

“I don’t want to make it easier. I want to make it real.” Bucky shrugs, eyes following a car driving by. “You were cool. Real cool. I like that. I still do.”

Before you can respond, Pietro walks over, shoving his phone in his pocket. He doesn’t interrupt, but his presence next to you is obvious and tense.

Bucky nods at him, unfazed. “Tell your not-boyfriend I said bye. Or see you around if Sharon has another get together.”

Then he heads off down the street, not rushing, but not waiting for anything else either.

You and Pietro stand there quietly for a second. He lets out a low whistle. “Wow. Guy’s got lines.”

You hum in reply, watching Bucky’s back disappear into the crowd. “Maybe. But at least he says what he means.”

You glance at Pietro as the two of you start walking back to his car again, the distant sounds of the street fading into a background hum. “What did Wanda want?” you ask casually, though part of you already suspects the answer.

Pietro sighs, long and tired. “Chloe called her. Crying.”

You stop in your tracks.

“She scolded me for saying I was going over when I wasn’t. Then I told Wanda I was with you and, uh.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah. I think Chloe knows by now.”

The guilt you had been working so hard to shake off creeps back in like a slow chill. It settles in your chest and you swallow hard. You look straight ahead, not at Pietro.

“Oh.”

You don’t have to say more. He gets it.

“She’s your sister,” he says, gently now. “And yeah, maybe she’s dramatic. But you need to tell her that she’s being too much sometimes. That means you care. I know you do.”

“I do,” you whisper, more to yourself than to him.

He doesn’t say anything for a few moments. Then, quietly, “You can’t keep setting yourself on fire to keep her warm.”

You nod, but it’s hard to swallow that truth when your heart screams otherwise. You love your sister to death, sometimes being mad at her just hurts you more than it should.

“Should I go back?” you ask, unsure.

“Only if you want to. Not because you feel like you have to.”

a/n: chloe reminds me of a friend i once treated like my twin too, yikes!

[saturnsag3]

Just a Trim - will smith x macklin celebrini

summary: will gets a haircut and macklin feels nothing but betrayal

wc: 2,946

Will thought nothing of it.

He’d gone to the same barbershop he always did, sat in the same chair, chatted with the same guy about the Timberwolves and his tragic fantasy football team. A little off the sides, cleaned up the neckline, left the curls on top mostly alone. He felt lighter walking out. Sharper. Clean, but still distinctly him.

The door to their apartment creaked open and he stepped inside, setting his keys in the bowl by the entrance.

“Mack?” he called, toeing off his sneakers. “Babe? You home?”

There was a pause, then a soft, “Will?”

Macklin’s voice came from the living room, confused, like he wasn’t sure if it was actually Will at the door. Will furrowed his brow, dropping a Walmart bag on the kitchen counter.

Macklin padded around the corner in a pair of old socks and one of Will’s oversized hoodies. He had a spoon in his hand—peanut butter, classic—and a suspicious look on his face.

Then he stopped.

Then blinked.

And Will watched, in real time, as his boyfriend’s expression melted from vaguely curious to full-body betrayal.

“What,” Macklin breathed, pointing the peanut butter spoon at him like it was a weapon, “did you do?”

Will blinked. “...What?”

“No. No, no, no, no. Don’t play dumb,” Macklin said, taking two steps forward. “What did you do?”

Will raised both hands in defense, half-laughing. “I got a haircut? Jesus, Mack, you’re looking at me like I drowned your childhood pet.”

Macklin’s eyes were wide, still fixated on his head like it had personally offended him. “Why is it so short?”

“It’s not short,” Will said, defensively ruffling his own hair. “It’s barely a trim. I told him to clean it up, leave the curls.”

Macklin didn’t look convinced. He crossed his arms, spoon still in hand. “It looks like you joined the army.”

Will let out a disbelieving laugh. “It’s literally the same cut I always get.”

“No, it’s not,” Macklin said, indignant. “You had the perfect curls yesterday. Like—like soft little golden blonde curls on your head. And now? Now you look like an extra in a CW cop show.”

“That’s dramatic.”

“It’s the truth, William.”

Will crossed the room toward him. “Mack. Baby. It’s not that different.”

Macklin stepped back. “Don’t ‘baby’ me. You betrayed me.”

“I didn’t think it would be a whole thing,” Will said, trying not to laugh as he reached for him. “It’s just hair.”

“You always say that like it doesn’t matter. But it’s your hair, Will,” Macklin said, ducking under his arms and pacing a circle around him. “I loved that hair. I styled it. I lived in it.”

Will grinned, turning to face him. “You did not live in it.”

Macklin looked at him, dead serious. “I took naps in it, Will.”

“You—??”

“I’d run my fingers through it and just… drift off. It’s like—like my own emotional support curls. And now they’re gone.”

Will tilted his head. “Are you genuinely mad or is this your way of angling for pity sex?”

“Yes,” Macklin said. “To both.”

Will stepped closer, arms sneaking around his waist. “It’s still soft,” he offered.

Macklin didn’t resist, but he did pout. “Not the same.”

Will leaned in, gently brushing his nose against Macklin’s. “I promise, the curls will be back in like, two weeks. Tops.”

“Two weeks,” Macklin repeated like it was a death sentence. “Do you know how long that is in my world?”

“I’m gonna say… a lifetime?”

“No. Longer.” 

Will laughed, his breath warm against Macklin’s cheek. “You’re so dramatic.”

“And you’re reckless,” Macklin shot back, poking him in the chest. “You didn’t even warn me.”

“I didn’t think I had to!”

“You always have to. I have to mentally prepare before you do things like this. There should be a protocol.”

Will pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You’re ridiculous.”

Macklin didn’t lean into it like he usually did. Instead, he looked at Will, face still slightly scrunched, eyes scanning his hair like he was trying to will it back into its full, bouncy glory.

Will sighed. “Okay. Be honest. On a scale of one to ‘you’ve ruined our relationship,’ how bad is it?”

Macklin narrowed his eyes. “It’s not bad, per se…”

Will arched a brow.

“…it’s just not ideal.”

“Wow. That hurts more than if you just called me ugly.”

“You’re not ugly,” Macklin huffed, finally wrapping his arms around Will’s shoulders. “You’re still painfully hot. Just… like, 15% less cuddly.”

Will snorted, hugging him close. “Cuddly has a metric now?”

“I like numbers. It makes it easier to yell at you.”

They stood there for a moment, just holding each other. Will kissed the top of Macklin’s head and felt him relax, the tension slipping from his shoulders.

“I’ll grow it back,” Will murmured. “Just for you.”

Macklin grunted. “I expect nothing less.”

Will grinned. “And maybe next time, I’ll take you with me. Let you supervise the haircut. Give them a PowerPoint presentation.”

Macklin perked up at that, the pout on his face beginning to morph into something smug. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea. I could make slides. Slide one: ‘Do Not Touch the Top.’ Slide two: ‘The Curls Are Sacred.’ Slide three: ‘Any Violations Will Result in Tears.’”

Will laughed, his chest shaking lightly against Macklin’s. “Tears? Whose?”

“Mine, obviously. And probably yours after I make you sleep on the couch.”

“You’re really gonna exile me over a half-inch of hair?”

Macklin sniffed dramatically. “It’s not about the half-inch. It’s about the principle.”

“Oh my god.”

“You should be grateful I love you enough to forgive you for this.”

“I’m shaking with gratitude, babe.”

Macklin finally cracked a smile, though he tried to hide it by pressing his cheek to Will’s shoulder. “You should be. I was gonna do that thing you like tonight, but..”

Will’s eyebrows shot up. “Now…?”

“I’m reconsidering.”

Will slipped a hand under the hem of Macklin’s hoodie. “What if I win you back with snacks?”

“You basically just called me a fat pig who can be bribed with a meal”

Will froze, eyes going wide. “What? No! That’s not—babe, I meant like, as a love language. Snacks as a love language. Not—”

Macklin’s face split into a shit-eating grin. “I’m messing with you.”

Will narrowed his eyes. “You’re annoying”

“You love it.”

“I do not love being tricked into thinking I insulted my boyfriend five seconds after being accused of follicular betrayal.”

Macklin poked him in the ribs. “Follicular betrayal. Big words for a man with a buzzcut.”

“It is not a buzzcut!”

“You don’t know what you look like from the back.”

Will groaned, flopping onto the couch in defeat. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re a criminal. A haircut criminal. I still don’t know if I’ve emotionally recovered.”

Will held out a hand dramatically. “Then come here and let me comfort you in your time of need”

Macklin hesitated, grabbing the bag of Cheez-its from the Walmart bag then plopping himself right into Will’s lap with all the grace of a brick. “Fine. But only because I need to monitor your hair at close range.”

Will chuckled, arms wrapping around him instinctively. “Right. For science.”

“Exactly. Scientific observation. Like... damage control. Curl grief therapy.”

Will pressed a kiss just beneath Macklin’s jaw, his voice muffled. “You’re so full of shit.”

“And yet here you are, begging for forgiveness with the promise of Cheez-Its.”

“I knew the Cheez-Its were working.”

“They’re not not working,” Macklin admitted, already cracking open the bag and pulling out a fistful. “This is a long road to recovery, though. Might take weeks.”

“I’ll schedule the regrowth timeline in my calendar,” Will deadpanned. “Should I also reserve a grief counselor?”

“Yes. But only if he has curls.”

Will laughed, warm and fond and a little hopeless. “You’re so lucky you were born with a pretty face”

Macklin shoved a cracker into Will’s mouth before leaning in, nose brushing his cheek. “You’re lucky I still think you’re cute, buzz cut boy.”

Will groaned again. “It’s not—okay. I already said I promised to bring you with me.”

“And I’m holding you to that.”

“I’ll print you a badge. ‘Curl Supervisor.’”

Macklin grinned. “With full authority to slap the clippers out of their hands if they go rogue.”

Will tilted his head back to look at him, all exaggerated solemnity. “You’d fight my barber?”

“Gladly. For the greater good.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“And you’re still 15% less hot.”

Will gasped. “That’s unfair.”

“It’s math, babe. Don’t shoot the messenger.”

Will tugged him down by the front of his hoodie and kissed him until Macklin stopped pretending to be mad, until the hands in his hair turned from judgmental to affectionate, curling gently into the shorter strands with a satisfied sigh.

“…Okay,” Macklin mumbled eventually, pulling back just an inch. “Maybe like… 12% less hot.”

Will huffed. “Progress.”

“And dropping rapidly,” Macklin added, leaning in again. “If you keep kissing me like that.”

Will grinned against his mouth. “I’ll have you down to zero in no time.”

Macklin laughed, soft and low, and rested his forehead against Will’s. “You better. Or I’m gluing extensions to your head while you sleep.”

“Threats of violence and arts and crafts. Who did I fall in love with?”

“You knew what this was when you started dating me.”

Will kissed him again, slow and sweet. “Yeah. And I’d do it all over again.”

Macklin softened at that. Just a little. Then he buried his face in Will’s neck and muttered, “Don’t let it happen again.”

Will chuckled. “Yessir.“ 

“Damn right.”

sages thoughts⋆˙⟡: i love the running joke about “hiding the scissors” from will bcs of his hair so i took that and ran with it, also it’s my job to make all of my wacklin fics extremely corny and cheesy so please bare with me i can’t help myself, hope u guys enjoyed!

[tohruies]

hi hi mrs yao !!!! christmas is coming up, are you going to celebrate anythinf with xiangli ? :33 btw, since miss coco doesnt have a tree, here's a little something to say thank you for being one of my lovely moots 🥺

oh! 😁 hi hello mr puppetgear! 😁 christmas celebrations with xiangli you ask! 😁 well actually! 😁 you see, i was th— *dies upon seeing the image you’ve attached to this ask* 😳😲🤯😱😱😱😵💀🪦

[imthatwannabeauthor]

.

[cosmogyros]

.

[holographicbutch]

Why have I felt on the verge of crying all day literally nothing has happened

[orcelito]

I'm tired of dreaming about my dad. I know it's part of processing, but I am just so tired.

[autistic-shaiapouf]

Beginning to really wonder how much of my financial concern is manufactured and handed to me as opposed to something I'm genuinely concerned by

[hremail24]

tbh i need new methods of helping my anxiety that arent ~deep breathing~ and ~meditating~ like doing those & reminding myself its just a panic attack literally don't help. i've had chest pain since Yesterday this shit is so annoying

[assumedcryptid]

ugh

[muntitled]

Indebted

Pairings: The Salesman x Fem!reader

Summary: He wouldn't call it jealousy... He just wasn't very fond of sharing his toys.

Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Jealousy Language, Violence, Age gap, God Complex, Brainwashing, Psychopathy, Blood, Gore, Codependency, Yandere!Salesman, Stalking, Smut (+18) mdni, Caning, Forced Orgasm, Controlled Orgasm, Dumbification, Impact Play, Blood Play, Blood Kink, Sadomasocism, Dom!Salesman, Sub!Reader, Rough Sex, Blood Play, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Sadism, Punishments, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Overstimulation

A/n: I'm not responsible for the media you consume

4k words

"Seriously, if it weren't for your help, I'd probably fail this module-" you meet him at the door, your Salesman, who's come to play one of his games. He arrives just as you're ushering someone else out.

"It's honestly my pleasure," you say, "You've made me feel useful."

As you speak, you open your front door to reveal your Salesman standing on the opposite end of the threshold.

You hadn't been smiling, not until you saw him standing there in a crisp, well-fitted navy blue suit. He's not looking at you. Not immediately. His eyes are trained on the boy you're standing beside. The one who's slipping on his sneakers, still murmuring about how incredibly grateful he is for your tutoring.

'It's nothing,' you replied modestly, even though it was most definitely not nothing to dedicate your entire Wednesday afternoon to tutoring. The boy is a first year and budding with the need to get better in psychology. His essay would have been flawless, had it not been for the grammatical and spelling errors that plagued the page. You'd both sat for the majority of this Wednesday afternoon hacking through the issues and improving on his spelling. It was endearing. To be in university and still need a spelling tutor.

"Thanks so much for the help." The boy tries to maneuver his lanky frame past your Salesman who takes up the majority of the space by your little doorway.

"See you next week." He shoots you a small smile before giving an uneasy glance to your Salesman.

"Hello." Says the Salesman, so painfully formal it causes a wave of unease to swell. He peers down at the boy like a tiny little thing.

"H-Hey." Your student replies before thanking you once more.

When he leaves and it's just you and the man you're paid to please every Wednesday evening, an uneasy sort of silence settles between you both.

You're smiling up at him.

And he's smiling down at you but it's different somehow. Tighter. Not a genuine smile at all.

Although admittedly, none of his smiles were genuine. His entire face was a carefully orchestrated scam, to get any suspecting victim to trust him.

And yet somehow, this smile feels more phoney.

Like a tempest is brewing beneath.

Before you're able to dissect it further, he's already stepping closer, letting his large, elongated shadow fall on you. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

"The last time you came to my house, you killed someone." You lean against the door, your hip leaning against the wood as you fold your arms over your chest. His eyes zero in on the movement and a rare occasion occurs: You feel powerful. That's the last thing you've ever been made to feel in his presence.

"It took a week to get the smell of blood and death out of my room." You continue.

He lifts his hands in front of you, showing the briefcase that hangs from his heavy fingers and the blisters coating his palms. Like a magician convincing you his hands were clean, "I come in peace." That deep and gravelly vibrato veneering his voice causes a tantalizing hum to run all the way down your spine, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. You step aside, staring blankly ahead of you as he steps into your house, bombarding everything with his presence.

From his brisk walk alone, trudging into your apartment like he owns the palace (which he regrettably does) you almost immediately realize that something is wrong. You are not under the impression that you've done anything to make him angry but unease still rolls in your stomach like a tempest that's brewing. When you make it into your adjoining living that bleeds into the kitchen, you find him standing in the kitchen. He lowers his briefcase onto the counter before resting both his heavy hands there.

You move to the other side of the counter, leaning down- giving him a more than perfect view of the cleavage spilling from your dress. You hope it might appease him as you try to wrack your mind for possibile slip-ups that would've caused this terrible silence.

This little-to-no-conversation between you both makes your dynamic feel like the transaction that it actually is: a girl, who needs her university fees paid and a sadist who wants his needs met. Feelings weren't in the equation and yet, your heart stops when he asks,

"How was school?"

"School was school." You reply, sounding pathetically excited to finally hear his voice since the moment he entered your little home.

"Although," you peer down at your jittery fingers on the counter. Your nerves are shot to hell as you admit, "I don't know how proactive I'm going to be tonight-”

He was a ruthless dominant, never failing to leave you absolutely spent by the end of the night. It left you with great discomfort to not be able to perform to the greatest of your abilities during these sessions. “I'm so tired... I've got this psychology quiz and-"

"Who was that?" His questions cut through yours like the tip of a hot knife.

“Who was who?” You ask.

He only smiles before turning his back to you, frantically pulling open cupboards as he says, “Rice. Where's the rice? Do you have rice?”

“The cupboard in the bottom row- Who are you referring to?”

He pulls out your tall container of rice and you watch him round the counter with it in his hands. “This place is so fucking small.” He says, popping the lid of the container, “Reminds me of my childhood home.” He stands right in the only open space in your apartment and all you do is watch as he tips the container over, watching millions of rice grains scatter to the bare floor.

“THAT'S MY FOOD, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU-”

His voice is like molten lava when he looks down at you and points toward the ground. “Kneel.”

You feel nothing but cold air slide across your exposed arms when he trudges back to your little kitchen. Your mind reels and your stomach sinks and sinks and sinks- burning a hole through the rest of your organs.

“Am I being punished for something?”

“Be a good girl and kneel on the rice.” He says and because you were nothing but a slave to the dominance in his voice, you slowly lower yourself to the ground. From behind the kitchen counter he watches your face contort into unmistakable pain as the rice grains dig into your knees. He takes a while but soon you're fully kneeling on the floor. He rounds the counter once again until he's standing before you.

“That… child that was just here,” his voice is eerily calm as he caresses your cheek, “Who was that?”

Had you been in any other situation, under vastly different circumstances, you might have looked for the urge to laugh. His blatant jealousy of some university first-year was nothing if not laughable.

“He's just a friend from class- ah.” It almost becomes unbearable but for the sake of your self preservation, you know not to get up.

He continues to caress you, loosening his tie as he asks. “Which class?”

“P-Pardon?”

“You mean to tell me you only go to one class?” He snaps and you fight off tears, “What the fuck am I paying for?”

“You're paying for me to get my psychology degree.” You reply with feeble words, trying to put away the thought of all the little stabbings plaguing your knees.

“And does that entail sleeping with your classmates?”

“What?!” You screech as he walks away. You're suddenly left without nothing to hold onto and you sway forward, your palms landing on more rice.

“Y-You know I don't do that.” You cry, feeling the sting more from the accusation than the pain of all this bloody rice, “Y-You know I don't sleep around- You know I don't talk to anyone-”

You hear his briefcase click open. From your vantage point on the lowly rice-filled floor, you cannot see what he's taking out. It fills you with more dread than you've ever experienced before. Which was utterly ridiculous.

With him, dread is a thing you ought to be accustomed to. Dread is where you live now. You ought to get comfortable with it.

“Such a shame.” He tsks as he finally rounds the corner to reveal whatever it is he's gone to go fetch. His dress shoes clack against your recently varnished floor and you breathe heavily. The pain had subsided- or perhaps you've gotten used to it- which scares you more than anything. He's messing with your pain threshold. Causing you to build a tolerance for certain things and that terrifies you.

Hidden under all that terror was unmistakable lust.

God help you.

“I thought we were making progress, you and I.” you see the cane first. Made of rattan, it hangs from his strong hand corded with tense veins. A gleaming watch is secured around his wrist and you're already shaking your head as you slowly look up at him. Now the tears are right by the doorway. No matter how much pain he forces you to get accustomed to you could never survive this. Your body still has limits.

“He just asked me to help him with his spelling- Please!”

He raises an eyebrow. “Spelling, you say?” he pats down on your head, eliciting a dizzying wave of subordination as he says, “I think you've just given us our game for tonight, Doll.” He bends down, knees bending until he's somewhat closer to your height. He's still far too big for you. Far too much. You try to crawl backwards, you try to crawl away but he grabs you by your face. You're quite literally being expertly manhandled as he turns you around until you're on your knees in the opposite direction.

“Please…” You're begging but you don't know what for. Once his games were set in motion, nothing could stop him.

Your movements still when you fill him lower his large hand onto your backside. It's so big and warm and you momentarily forget about the rice digging into your skin. He slowly lifts up the skirt of your dress, revealing your underwear beneath.

“Our little Spelling Bee,” he lowers your panties down your thighs, causing a shiver to wrack through your entire body. It's pointless to hide how affected you are by every little thing he does.

“For every word you spell right,” he lifts your leg for you, giving you momentary reprieve from the pain as he manoeuvres you out of the underwear, “You get to cum.”

You'd never felt more degraded: being forced onto doggy style onto a million grains of rice while this man lets his fingers graze over your exposed cunt. He parts your folds and a wave of embarrassment rolls over your face. It's all so normal to him though, just sticking his fingers inside your cunt. He does it with the professionalism of gynecology and all you're able to do is stare blankly ahead while he prods at you.

“We can't make things too easy, though, so you're gonna keep this little thing warm for me while we play,”

You're craning your neck back, trying to get a look. “What thi-”

You release one hoarse gasp when he inserts something round and bulbous and vibrating, straight into your cunt.

“Th-This isn't a game. It's a punishment.” You say through gritted teeth, trying to fight off a moan as the vibrator hums inside you, “I've only ever had sex with one person-”

You. That voice pipes up in the back of your head, feeble as you felt. You think back on the time you gave him your virginity. It had been a bloody affair.

The second his cock ruptured your hymen and the blood began to coat your thighs, it only made him ravage you more. You'd gone to bed crying that night, your tears soaking into your pillows. You were unable to get up and head to classes the next day. All that pain and yet you also felt so incredibly fulfilled. The pain was a godsend.

But this pain? It's angry.

He's angry and he's punishing you for it.

Silence follows your pleas.

“Are you done?” He asks and your shoulders slump as the tears begin to fall. The urge to grind down onto the vibrator coupled with the rice stabbing your knees puts you in an odd predicament. The inner workings of your body is being made a fool of and he's the root cause.

“I'm afraid you've gotten too comfortable with me-”

“Comfortable?” You scoff, whipping your head back to glare at the man watching you with calm eyes and raised eyebrows. “I could never feel comfortable around you.”

“And you've forgotten your place.” He smiles before standing to his full height, “Letting little boys over to your place-”

“We were studying-”

“I've gone soft on you as of late.” He lets his other hand drag across the length of the hard cane. “Shame on me. It's clearly deluded you into forgetting about our arrangement.”

He steps around you until he's once again standing in front of you. “You've forgotten your place as a thing.”

He grabs your face. “My thing.”

You do a very wrong thing then.

You moan.

It's soft and insecure and so dreadful but you moan

His eyes search yours. You can see the pleasure diluting them. Causing them to go as round as saucers.

He wants to lean into that sound you just made, but he's still furious with you and that sends you into a spiral.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry, okay-”

“So you admit you're a slut?” He asks, inches the buttons of his blaze as he readies his assault. “You whore yourself out to that little boyfriend of yours.”

"Boyfriend?” It's laughable. “Me?”

“Are you condescending me?” He asks darkly and you screech in frustration.

“You know I don't talk to anyone- Why are you so angry with me!?”

“You haven't seen angry, Little girl.” His face is calm. Dangerously so. “You haven't fucking seen angry.”

A shiver wracks through your body as you look up at his cold dead eyes.

“Fine.”

Whatever it takes.

“I am a slut-” you really weren't and the words barely register as truth but you're scrambling as he steps away from you. His hands folded in front of him and he appears oh so in control as he says, “Your first word is Gorgeous.”

You breathe out as you try to refocus enough to successfully spell the word.

“G-Oh.. fuck.” Your cunt spasms around the device and your eyes roll back. You're rocking backwards and forwards, frantically searching for friction that just isn't there. He loves the show you put on for him, writhing on the floor like a puppy in heat. He barely contains his glee as he raises his hand and says, “Wrong.”

“W-What!?” you blink, trying to shake away your pleasure-filled daze, “N-no that wasn't my final-”

“G-o-r-g-e-ou-s,” he says smugly as he moves until he's behind you. Your body tenses and the world shatters when he darkly repeats, “Wrong.”

The cane cracks through the air before it ever lands on your backside. The word ‘sting’ doesn't begin to cover the utter agony that blossoms across your asscheeks. All you know for all those seconds is white hot pain. Everything is at attention, and your body vitaly tries to urge you to take care of the inflicted wound but you can't.

“Sane.” He's breathing heavily as he walks over to stand in front of you. He's getting riled up, a strand of black hair falls in front of his almond eyes. His shoulders rise and fall and rise and fall. Seeing you get caned once does unspeakable things to his resolve. “Your next word is sane.”

Too easy.

"W-Which one?" You blink through the pain, trying to will the tears away. The second you slipped into self pity, it'd be over for you. "S-Sane is a homophone.” You say thickly. The pain. The pain. The pain. “There's Sane,” you glare up at him through wet lashes, “Which you very much aren't-" that amuses him greatly. You're regrettably far too happy to hear the dark chuckle. “Then there's Seine, like the fishing variety-”

He places his hand on your head. “Clever girl. I thought you didn't have a dad.”

“I don't,” you hiccup, “I just like fish. Men aren't the only fishers in the fucking world.”

“Smart mouth.” He pulls away again until he's standing at his full posture. “You use it like that with the boy from Psyche?”

Your shoulders slump and you don't care about the desperation in your voice as you reaffirm, “I'm telling you I haven't done anything-”

“Seine as in the fishing practice. Spell it.”

“S-E-I-N-E” your eyes are squeezed shut as you take a strike from a whip that never comes. Your eyes that had once been squeezed shut, slowly flit open and you're amazed to see his grinning face right in front of you. Every wrinkle running like tributaries around his eyes. The smile lines. He's so handsome it's devastating.

“Correct.” He says. “You're allowed to cum. Congratulations.” Just those few words have your eyes rolling into the back of your skull as you begin to rock back and forth. You lean into the pleasure like a warm and fluffy blanket during aftercare. It's a godsend and it has you moaning and whining into the air.

“Let me give you a hand,” he says, before stopping to deliver that signature, “My little winner.” He brings you in close, your hands cling onto his forearm while the other reaches behind you. He delivers a kiss to your forehead as his fingers find your puffy clit.

“I'm gonna-”

“Cum for me my Clever girl. Cum for me before I change my mind,” There is nothing but him. He consumes you as you fervently hump against his hand on all fours like the animal he reduced you to. Your hips move on their own accord and in his eyes, you can see his own pleasure mounting. Its in the gravel in his voice when he clears his throat and says, “Thank me for letting you cum.” your orgasm crashes down on you and it's ferocious. It's vicious. It's guttural. The rice underneath you still serves as a reminder of your punishment and that somehow has you coming harder.

“Thank you for letting me cum Sir,”

his eyes flutter shut and his chest expands as he basks in your servitude. He breathes it in, letting it settle in his bones, making him feel as important as he needs to.

“N-No more, please,” you whisper once the orgasm passes. He doesn't switch off the vibrator and soon the pleasure bleeds into a painful discomfort. the aftershocks rattle through your body as you drift into overstimulation, “Please-Done-” you became horribly useless with your words when he had you like this, and he watches you so intently as if not only turned on by your torture but so completely intrugued by it. You intrigued him.

“Stop-” You begin but he chuckles as he moves away from you. He straightens his suit and readies the cane, “Why? You’re not even bleeding yet.” He says, “Suck it up.”

“Oh my god, I need to come again,” it rolls through you quite literally out of nowhere and you gasp as you try to keep it at bay. Cumming without having won a round was a breach in the rules of the game and you didn't wanna do that.

“Well then, I guess you better spell the next word for me.” he says with a smile.

You swallow thickly. Your previous win elicits a tiny sliver of confidence and spelling is something you excel in so you steel your nerves. You breath in deeply and stare blankly ahead.

“Honorificabilitudinitatibus.”

You immediately look up at him.

“Latin words arent-” another aftershock rams through you. You're so close to cumming completely hands-free. “L-Latin words aren't allowed.”

Nothing but a dark chuckle escaped him at your expense. “I had no idea you were making the rules.” He says sarcastically. “Had no idea the cane's in your hand.” That draws your gaze to the cane, leaning in his palm.

Point made.

He could throw in whatever wild-card word he wanted because he held the cane.

“H-o-n-o-r-” you make the mistake of looking up at him then. He's gazing down at you with his head tilted slightly to the right. His cane behind his back as he leans down slightly.

“No cumming,” he tsks, shaking his head. “Disqualified.”

“B-But I didn't-” even as you say those words, you feel it. The lightning zipping through you like a phantom. A ditzy sort of smile flashes across your face as you succumb to the pleasure being forced out of you. “F-Fuck-” its so painful and so fucking good you're seeing stars. He runs a hand through his messy hair and the cane comes down on your backside. This time it draws blood.

“I'm a rusty old man, glad to see I've still got a firm grip,”

“P-Please-” You're still caught in the world of unicorns and rainbows. Your orgasm is center stage, in spite of all the pain. You didn't even know your body could cum for this long. You didn't think it was possible but here you are, riding wave after wave of pleasure induced by a vibrator in your cunt while he canes you almost mindlessly.

He transcended every realm of physical possibilities.

He's breathing heavily now as the cane falls to the floor. The end is bloody. You stare down at the floor while he moves behind you.

“Don't forget, this is a transaction,” Behind you he kneels behind you, his fingers graze your backside, “This is about you avoiding student debt for the rest of your miserable life. A life you'll probably spend married to some depressed drunk who beats you and doesn't even let you cum.” A hand pulls you back by your hair until you're seated on your haunches. Skin had broken.

Your blood drips down your backside like a marble statue in the rain. There were marks. Scars.

“You're indebted to me.” He says behind you. “Say it.”

“I'm indebted to you.”

“Thank me for hitting you, Doll.” His hands drift over your body. The softest touch after these moments of brutality.

Th-" You struggle to catch your breath as he digs his fingers in your cunt, finally freeing you of the vibrator that rattles to the floor, “Thank you… for hitting me.”

He hums into your hair, smelling you, feeling you. “You're welcome, my little winner,”

You hear the sound of his zipper, and frantic movements behind you. You're utterly spent. You'd let him do anything he wanted. Anything at all.

“You look so pretty, Baby. Look at you,” his fingers swipes down the arch of your back. He brings his hand around to show you the crimson dropping from his index. Almost automatically as if the two of you were in communication far beyond that of human understanding, he brings your finger forward the same time you dip your head lower and roll your tongue out. Until the taste of your own blood drawn from all his sadistic torture is wiped along your tongue.

He groans. “I wanna jerk off with your blood.” He admits, “Fuck-”

You gasp, beginning to rock on haunches as if you could still feel that vibrator inside you, “Please- don't say stuff like that-”

This was bad enough.

You were bad enough.

He's already corrupted you to a point where you didn't even recognize yourself.

Where is the quiet, shy girl you had been? She's drowning under all the blood he'd spilled to make himself cum. She's buried under all the pain, all the turmoil and all the damn torture.

You don't miss her

"Pl-lease fuck me, I need it." Your voice is hoarse and you realize you're making demands but still you peer at him over your shoulders. Your tired eyes plead with him.

“I never ever ask you for anything. I've let you control everything.”

While you speak, your voice deep and hoarse, his hand is already moving over his erection. He bends you forward, until you're in doggy style again. Fabric rustles. Your limbs are trembling.

“For once, just grant me th-” the words are barely out your mouth before he's shoving his cock all the way inside you.

“O-Oh God!” Your eyes squeeze shut as he fucks you on the floor like a rabid animal. You try to crane your head back, to watch him ravage you.

His hair is a mess, his tie completely undone. He's everything he tries to hide from the rest of the world. Nothing but an untamed beast.

“Your cunt is so fucking tight-” he says, resting his hands on bloody ass. He guides your movements, pulling you roughly down on his cock until you're screaming into the open air. You're both like animals. You've both regressed to the very basis of your instincts.

“I need to see your blood on my cock,” He's already pulling out of you. The sound reverberates with finality all around the apartment and you cry. It's all you're able to do as you crane your head back to watch him stroke his cock with a bloodied fist.

“Are you ready to cum for me again, baby?”

Your lips are quivering as you rock backwards urging his cock in, “L-Like you won't believe,”

“Then cum for me, Princess.” He says, sliding his cock back inside your overstimulated cunt. Your orgasm is instant and swift and it rocks through you, tightening your cunt around his cock like a vice. His movements grow more frantic as he fucks you through it, keeping a firm grip on your ass.

Your mouth falls open when you realize he's fucking his own cum and your blood back into you and its all too much. He throws his head back when he cums, letting his hips stutter against your ass and the world spins.

“You're s-such a fucking slut,” he laughs manically. You've quite literally given yourself to a sadistic monster and the post nut clarity is vicious.

“I want to take you out,” he says, way softer than he had been a minute ago.

Your body tenses. “Out? Where-”

“Dinner.” He says. “You deserve it… my little winner.”

If you knew anything about anything, you knew it wouldn't just be any ordinary dinner.

But who were you to refuse?

© to @muntitled on tumblr; do not repost

[holeforzenin]

Tw- STEPCEST, Toji refers himself as DAD. Not proofread

Stepdad Toji patting his lap, wordlessly signaling you to come and sit on it from across the room. You waste no time settling yourself onto his large thighs, your skirt riding up to your upper thighs and exposing a lot more skin than you would be comfortable with.

But his hands find your hips almost instantly and he lifts you and shifts you higher up his crotch— directly ontop his growing bulge before nonchalantly resuming his attention back on the TV as if it's nothing.

And whenever you’d try to get up, telling him it’s time for you to go do your homework, he’s possessively wrapping his beefy arm tighter around your waist to bring you closer against his broad chest, hand roaming your bare thighs while pressing his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply and telling you “Going so soon sweetheart? Don't you want to sit more with me.”

You whined under his grasp, the tension making your body heat up as his growing erection digs into your warm core, It’s as if his cock has a mind of its own, seeking warmth from your clothed cunt.

You never meant to be this “close” with Toji but it's genuinely as if he casted a spell on you or something because you're always seemingly obeying and doing whatever he says like some puppet. You assume it must be the fact that he's well aware of your daddy issues and using it to his advantage.

His hand snakes its way up to your thighs again, this time under the hem of your skirt, his rough fingers grazing the soft skin there.

You bit your lips, torn between the need to focus on your studies and the sheer desire to stay right where you are, perched on his lap like some fucking temptress because you already know he's gonna call you a brat if you don't listen but it’s your homework so he's going to have to understand right?

“Sorry Toji, I really should go do my homework,” you pleaded, your voice cracking slightly because of how nervous the situation made you.

He chuckled, the deep sound vibrating through his big chest and into your body. “Homework can wait, sweetheart. Don't you wanna spend some time with your old man?.” there's no way he couldn't feel the immediate throbbing of your cunt on top of his cock when he said that. “I’m not getting any younger as the days go by, ya know.”

His free hand tilted your chin upwards, forcing your gaze to meet his. A taunting smirk played on his lips with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He knew exactly the effect he had on you and now he's taking advantage of you for it.

He adjusts his hold on you, moving you slightly on top of him and leaning back against the soft couch and pulling you along with him until you’re straddling him. His erection is pressed right at the entrance of your leaking cunt through the fabric of your panties and you're 100% sure that there's a wet stain forming on his crotch.

You let out a soft grasp, your hands instinctively gripping his massive shoulders.

“See, much better,” he rumbled, his breath fanning across your collarbone, making you shiver. “Just stay here and enjoy the movie with me and Dad will help you with your homework later, yeah?”.

He's definitely not helping you with your homework, Lmao.

[rixsjwb]

waist problem geto suguru x reader

part 2

suguru has a habit of always putting his hand on your waist, even when you're both just close friends.

whether it's needing to get past with a 'my fault', his hands have a magnetic pull to the curve of your waist, whenever you're hanging out with the group of friends satoru, shoko, sukuna and toji and some others, you've become almost touch blind or lost all feeling on touch whenever suguru holds your waist. he does it so much that you don't even notice it anymore until people point it out.

" are y'and suguru a thing or..." You hear satoru say, " Why would you think that?" You say out of genuine curiosity.

you can feel suguru apply comforting pressure to your waist, which slides down to your pudgy, curvy hips, his vainy hands flexing.

"You flirt with everyone all the time. You don't see me asking if you're together." You shrugged, you lean your head on sugurus chest that he seems to bring you into.

eventually, satoru drops the accusation but doesn't seem fully convinced, but you don't mind.

the assumption continues to flow around in the group, sugurus hands always all over your body, hips, waist, and even going as far as to hold you from just under your breast to give the push up bra effect, ogling at them too.

pulling at the belt loop of your jeans before sliding a hand to rest on your waist, whenever he's sitting down while you're standing near him, he can't help but wrap an arm around your hips. leaning his head against your hip.

whenever he's down he pulls you by the waist snuggling into your chest, and on a rare occasion he would squish your boobs like a stress ball. which always made you laugh at the funny feeling.

overall, you can't ever keep him from not gripping your waist. He'd pull you closer to rub your stomach, letting some fingers slip up your shirt, but nothing too crazy.

note: THANK YOU GANG FOR ALL THE LOVE AND SUPPORT, especially you guys in the comments😋😋, this is the most likes I've ever gotten on a post, and I'm honestly baffled but I'm greatful, thank youu all😍😍😝😋😊🎉🎉😈😈🥹🙏🙏

note 2: part 2 is out!!

[renegadewoman]

I feel all of my feelings very strongly in my chest, a lot of tension builds up there.

But my God does it feel good when something opens my chest lol.