#had the absolute luck of watching this live the other night and it was. truly amazing!!! aaah

[averlym]

some very very quick costume shorthands!

[traveler-at-heart]

Undercover

Summary: Natasha and you play a happy couple for an undercover mission.

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

-----

It’s mortifying.

As you lay in bed, looking at the ceiling, the moment replays in your head over and over and over again. How you wish you had an off switch for your brain.

This is supposed to be an undercover mission, and yet you can’t keep your true feelings hidden from Natasha.

Undercover as a married couple, no less.

Today, while you were sitting in the living room of your “newlywed home”, reading a book, Natasha approached you. Her hand rested on your shoulder.

“I’m going out for a run” she had said. You nodded absentmindedly, taking her hand and kissing the back of it.

“I’ll start dinner now”

And it wasn’t until you heard the door shut, that you snapped out of it.

You didn’t have to pretend inside the house. There was absolutely no reason for you to kiss any part of her like that, no one was watching.

Your cheeks flushed and your palms began to sweat. Feeling stupid and exposed, you tried to cook dinner, finding it hard to focus on what to do.

If Natasha noticed the slightly burned meatloaf, she didn’t comment on it. Even as you downed your wine quickly and poured yourself more, she remained stoic and acted as usual.

The night went by in a blurr and now you’re staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Natasha is in the study, doing surveillance and thank God, because sharing a bed after what you did today?

Impossible.

How do I get myself in these situations?

—

“The Maggia” Fury said, looking around the room. There were only five people there, which told you this was an important mission. “What do you know about it?”

“Family of criminals, from Europe, mostly Italy. Loose alliance at that, each family just stays out of the other’s way” you casually said. Hell, you could go on and on about them for much longer.

“Someone does their homework” Fury nodded.

“Show off” Natasha leaned forward, whispering in your ear. The contact sent a shiver down your spine, but you tried your best to hide it.

You feared your best wasn’t very good.

“Their operations consist mostly of loan sharking, narcotics and prostituion” Maria continued. “But, we recently recieved intel that the family in New Jersey is playing something more dangerous”

“Potentially, HYDRA and the smuggling of Trinium”

“What’s Trinium?” Rogers, who had been following in silenece, finally intervened.

“Incredibly rare element and highly explosive if exposed to a special charge”

Of course, it was always about blowing something up.

“We’ve located the leaders of the Jersey family. You two will be sent immediately to start the undercover mission, as the timeline indicates that the purchase will happen in less than three months. Sorry for not getting you a gift, but your wedding was done in such a rush” Fury slid down the files towards you and Natasha.

You took it and were about to hand it to Steve, since he was sitting behind you, but Fury just chuckled, shaking his head no.

Maria had to bite the inside of her cheek to not laugh at your shocked expression, while you turned to look at Natasha with wide eyes.

“Oh, darling, I’ll make you so very happy!”

—

Just your luck, Natasha decides to stay and work from home on Friday. Your plans of eating junk food and wasting away watching reality tv to feel better after your slip up are down the drain.

Instead, you are out gardening. It’s part of the cover, you insisted since you moved. What kind of person would not make an effort to improve their house? One they were planning on living in for years to come.

And truly, you had outdone yourself. In the month you’d spent here, the grass went from dry to green, all kinds of flowers blooming thanks to your hard work and the knowledge provided by years of helping your mother.

It doesn’t matter if the sun is burning your skin or sweat is dripping down your back, you absolutely cannot spend the morning inside the house with the woman who you have a crush on, and who probably knows your true feelings now, thanks to that stupid, stupid…

“Hey” her voice snaps you back to reality, looking up to meet her green eyes, soft and gentle.

“Hi” you reply from your place in the ground, wiping your forehead. “What’s up?”

“You’ve been at it for hours now, and it’s getting too hot. Come get some rest”

“It’s fine, I just need to…”

She calls your name, more of a plea than a warning not to argue with her and you sigh, standing up. As you go up the porch, she hands over a glass of cold lemonade and you take it, realising that you were very much in need of some refreshments.

“What are you doing?” you mutter when you put the glass down, and she takes her hands in yours.

“You’ve been acting strange since yesterday”

“Natasha”

“Did you act on instinct?” she asks, her lips inches from yours.

“Y-yes”

“That’s what a good agent does. You act natural. It’s not something you put any effort in. You don’t drop the cover under any circumstance”

She is throwing you a life line, a gracious way to salvage some of your dignity -if you have any left, that is- because you both know, you are not that good of an agent.

“She’s walking towards the house” Natasha warns, your back to the street. You don’t look behind you, allowing the redhead to pull you into a heated kiss that steals your breath.

“Hey, neighbors”

You turn around, Natasha’s hand falling to your lower back. Waving at Beatrice Costa, the both of you fake smiles. It’s still hard to believe this regular looking woman is leading a criminal organization next to her husband.

“Your garden is looking spectacular!” she admires.

“Thank you, Beatrice. I’ll stop by to give you some flowers when the hydrengeas bloom”

“As long as your wife doesn’t get jealous” the woman jokes, and you feel Natasha’s hand snaking around your middle, pulling you flush against her front.

“She does” the redhead says in a teasing manner, making your neighbor/suspect laugh.

“Anyways, I came to invite you two over for dinner tomorrow. To thank you for last week”

“Oh, it was no bother, really” you say, smiling.

“I insist. Eight o’clock?”

“Sounds great” you nod, and once she says her goodbyes, Natasha turns you around in her arms, still not letting go of your waist.

“See? It’s working. You’re doing great. Nobody questions us” she eases your nerves over what happened yesterday.

Nobody questions you because you are really in love with her, that’s the truth.

“What are you doing?” you say, your breath hitching when she leans over, about to kiss you.

“She’s still around” Natasha says, letting you close the distance to meet her lips.

By the time she drags you back inside, so you can have lunch, the only thought in your head is the feel of her lips in yours.

—

It had been a simple ruse, so simple that it was a wonder it worked.

Natasha made sure Beatrice’s car would malfunction. She always parked outside, and you made sure to be Natasha’s lookout as she drained the battery.

Morning came, and true to her routine, the woman was ready to leave home when the luxurious Mercedes Benz refused to turn on. It just so happened that you were running by, and as any good neighbor would do, offered to help.

What a coincidence, your wife knew enough about cars to fix the issue and send the woman on her merry way.

Beatrice was too polite and too rich to waste the opportunity to thank you -and flaunt her wealth- so next morning she stopped by with a tiramisu from the most expensive bakery in town, to thank you both.

And fuck, it was good tiramisu.

Now, she would greet you and Natasha when either one of you would run past her house (part of your intelligence operations).

Four weeks after the start of the mission, and it had finally paid off, as you received an invitation into the lion’s den.

“So, what’s our game plan here?” you say, looking over yourself in the vanity mirror.

“Enjoy the evening” Natasha says, smiling at your reflection.

“What?” you turn to look at her, confused. “We’re gonna be inside their house. We could bug it”

“Their phones are tapped. That’s all we need. And the man’s computer. But maybe I’ll excuse myself and break into his study”

“That’s too dangerous” you protest. Even if they act like normal people, they’re life long criminals with an extensive network. And you don’t feel prepared to take over anything if Natasha’s compromised. “Could you not?”

“If you have any idea on how to hack into their financial system, sure”

You huff, annoyed at her bored tone. As if she’s not risking herself over something that can be done a million other ways.

“Nat, I don’t want anything bad happening to you. We’ll find another way, ok?” you insist, putting on your heels.

“Ok, darling” she nods, as a spouse would do to calm their crazy wife and you glare, but take your win.

Without another word, you prepare to leave the room, when you feel her arms around your middle.

“What are you…?”

“Clothing tag was out” she says, fixing your sweater. “There. Perfect”

Her words, accompanied by a squeeze to your stomach make your head fuzzy. Clearing your throat, you nod and go down the stairs, picking up a bottle of wine from the kitchen counter.

“Trust me” you say when Natasha gives you an inquiring look. “Ready to go?”

“After you, sweetheart”

As you walk down the street to the Costa residence, Natasha takes your hand, running her thumb over the back of it. She might sense your nerves, or is apologizing for before. Either way, you keep a light conversation until she knocks on your suspect’s door, her arm firmly around your waist.

“Welcome!” Beatrice says, ushering you into her home. It’s elegant and big, but not too flashy or pretentious. “And what do we have here?”

“Just a little gift. It’s actually one of the bottles we got from our honeymoon” you take the lead, your hand in Natasha’s as you navigate the luxurious home all the way to the dining room.

“Oh, this is close to the place where my family is from originally”

Oh, what a shock. It’s not like you know everything there is about the Maggia, along with the history of the Gulf of Naples.

While Beatrice goes to the kitchen to check on the food -made by their staff, of course- Natasha looks around the room. You know that inquiring look, as she evaluates every threat and possible complication should you be compromised.

To help her ease into the environment, you take her hand in yours, feeling less exposed because you’re in front of other people who should believe your relationship is real. The mission is the only way you can justify your desire to feel Natasha’s touch.

By the time Beatrice comes back, Alessandro is right behind her and he introduces himself. His clothes scream old money, and the watch on his wrist screams fucking loaded of ilegal money as well.

“This wine is magnificent” he comments when you sit down and begin to eat.

“Le Lune del Vesuvio” you say, looking at Natasha across the table. “We spent our honeymoon in Italy and I just had to drag Nat to Pompeii for a tour”

“Are you familiar with the region?” Alessandro asks and you nod, having practiced everything.

“Yes, I did my dissertation on cultural identity in Pompeii”

“She’s a genius, my wife” Natasha says with a smile, impressed at how much detail you’re putting on everything to keep them engaged.

“Well, Beatrice’s family, the Fortunatos are from the same area. The Costas are from Sicily. So we are very happy to hear that you know it so well”

“How did you two meet?” Beatrice pivots, and Natasha is happy to answer.

“I was working on a client’s divorce settlement and needed an art expert. Y/N was the only one with the knowledge to help our lawfirm. A divorce brought us together” she says, looking at you with a smile.

Such a romantic.

“Oh, that’s lovely. Well, not for the divorced couple. But not everyone can get a happy ending, I suppose” Beatrice says.

It’s your turn to ask the usual questions and Natasha acts surpirsed, following up the way any normal person would, as if you don’t know every single detail about their lives and criminal record already.

When the conversation pivots to Alessandro, you perk up. This has proven to be the hardest part of the mission, as he keeps a tight leash on all their financial records through obscure third parties.

“You know, I also teach some finance classes. Would you be open to giving a lecture on art appraising? I think it’s an interesting market” he turns to you.

“That would be interesting” you say, groaning internally. Now you’re gonna have to actually work on a presentation, for fuck’s sake. Nobody told you you were gonna be quizzed to this extent during the mission.

Natasha hides her smile with the glass of wine, and you kick her under the table. Her smile fades just a little, but you can still see the teasing in her eyes.

She’s having too much fun with this.

—

The next morning you wake up to a note from Natasha. She’s picking up a “special” package, which means she’s coordinating with Maria the next stage of the mission.

You’re surprised to find a bouquet of flowers adorning the dining table.

Natasha is doing her share of the mission and you have to focus on yours, which is the fucking presentation. There better not be a Q&A session or you’ll lose your damn mind.

Moving to the study that also works as a surveillance room, you pull out your computer and begin to work. To be fair, you enjoy art enough to know more about it than the regular person. You had also been in contact with appraisers and auction houses back in your Interpol days, as you tracked ilegal art dealers.

For obvious reasons, you can’t mention that bit.

You’ve been working for a couple of hours when you hear the front door open, Natasha hurrying up the steps.

“Hey” she says with a frown.

“Everything ok?”

“You didn’t answer my text. Have you even taken a break to eat?” she puts down a heavy box in front of you.

“Sorry, I was preparing for the lecture”

“I got you your favorite food for lunch. And did you see the bouquet?” Natasha insists.

“Uh, I did… but is there a reason for…?”

“You seriously don’t remember?”

“Is it our fake first date anniversary, baby?” you tease, leaning forward. Natasha’s so worked up it's almost comical.

“Y/N, it’s your birthday”

“What?!” you turn to look at the calendar. “Holy crap, how could I have forgotten my own birthday?”

You are so focused on the mission, this completely slipped your mind. What were you supposed to do any way? Being undercover meant cutting off contact with the rest of the world. The timing sucks, but work is your priority right now.

“Work on that thing tomorrow. You should be resting and having a special day”

“Nat, it’s fine. It won’t be the first or last birthday that I’m stuck at work” you sigh, rubbing your eyes.

“Please?” she reaches for your hand, and the gesture is so gentle that your heart skips a beat. Natasha is very serious about taking the day off.

“Ok” you nod, and the hint of a smile can be seen on her face as you take her hand. She gets plates for the both of you and even agrees to watch Project Runway, which she loathes and you love. Without either one of you noticing, you end up across the couch, your legs on her lap.

“Our dinner reservation is at seven” she says, her hand going up and down your thigh.

“Dinner?”

“What kind of wife would I be if I didn’t take you to dinner?” Natasha smiles, making you blush.

“Well, no one really knows it’s my birthday, so…”

You leave out the most obvious part of how her logic is flawed: you are not even married.

“I know it’s your birthday. Come on. Just let me spoil you once?”

You clear your throat and nod, afraid that if you speak, your voice will give away how much those words affect you. Natasha telling you she wants to spoil you?

That alone is the best birthday gift you’ve ever gotten.

—

It’s honestly a lot more than you could have asked for. The restaurant is beautiful, the food is amazing, and Natasha is looking at you in that special way that makes you feel so happy and confused at the same time.

If you didn’t know any better, you could have sworn you saw love in her beautiful emerald eyes.

“How’s your food?”

“Here” you take a forkful of your pasta and offer it to her.

“Really good. Almost as good as the one we had in… where was it? Naples?” Natasha teases, and you smile.

“That’s the city. The whole region is actually really beautiful… maybe I should take some of that time off and travel again” you ponder, thinking about how life has been all about work for the past years.

“Where would you go? Aside from Naples?”

“Sorrento, Lecce, maybe Positano. I don’t know, I guess I’d spend it around the south, just because the food is that good” you sigh, dreamily.

“How come you know so much about it?” Natasha inquires, smiling softly.

“My parents owned a house, because my grandparents were from Salerno. So we’d all spent every summer there, until they sold the property” you explain, letting the waiter take your empty plate. The memory of hot days, cold water and delicious food comes back to you, coupled with the places you’d visit, driving everywhere with your family.

“So, maybe you were destined to be on this mission” Natasha says, smiling.

“I don’t know if destined or it was Fury messing with me” you slip up, hurrying to take a sip of your wine. He had teased you endlessly about your crush on Natasha, and he was probably laughing his ass off as he prepared your identities.

“Whatever it was, I’m happy we’re in this together” Natasha admits, smiling to you.

“Me too” you agree in a low voice. Then, you look at her and smile mischeviously. “So, since it’s my birthday, can we get a nice dessert?”

“I’m already on it” Natasha raises her hand, the man bringing a plate with a slice of chocolate cake and a candle. “Make a wish”

What could you possibly wish for? You wanted to spend time with Natasha, get to know her, have her look at you the way she was doing right now.

Your wish was granted already. Still, you smile, and lean forward to blow out the candle.

—

“Maybe this is a bad idea”

Natasha is hovering. Hovering and following you and asking all kinds of questions while you prepare your bag.

“It’s gonna be fine” you say, again.

“It’s too risky”

“All I have to do is place this phone next to his computer” you lift the device that Maria sent. “And we’ll have access to his files”

“What if he notices?”

“I better run fast then” you joke, but Natasha doesn’t laugh. “I’m a SHIELD agent, not a history nerd with no fighting skills”

“Except you are a history nerd” she mutters and you turn to glare at her.

“You know what, Romanoff”

“Can I at least drive you there?”

There’s a moment of hesitation on your side. Does she think you’ll screw up the mission? Or is she actually worried about you? Either way, she looks conflicted and there’s no reason to not give her some peace of mind.

“Alright”

On the way to the lecture, you review your notes, missing the way Natasha smiles at the things you’re saying about the subjective value of art and how it has changed throughout history.

Such a nerd.

“I’ll be in a cafe monitoring everything. Call me when you’re done and I’ll pick you up”

“Yes, darling wife” you say with a slightly mocking tone, the same way you always call her your wife in public, but with no one else around.

As you exit the car and walk towards the university, Natasha calls for you.

“I didn’t get to wish you good luck” she explains, pulling you close and kissing you softly. “Good luck”

“T-thanks” you say, out of breath.

Natasha nods, letting you walk as if she didn’t just do the sweetest thing in the world.

You try not to think about how much you’ll miss this when the mission’s over.

But now you have to stay focused.

Alessandro waves his hand in the air, and you walk towards him with a smile.

“I can’t thank you enough for doing this”

“It’s not a problem, really”

It totally is, you criminal motherfucker.

“Oh, I forgot my laptop, could I use yours? I have the deck on a flash drive”

Alessandro hesitates for a second, but his mask slips back to place instantly. If you really were a regular person, you never would have noticed his concern.

It means he keeps everything hidden there.

“Sure. Let me just…” he quickly types his password, and you look around the classroom, pulling out the phone and placing it on the table next to his computer. “All set”

“Thank you”

As the slideshow is projected in the auditorium, you look around the room, feeling more confident.

“So, how much would you guys pay for a banana taped to a wall?”

—

“I’m telling you, he keeps everything there” you say to Natasha, browsing through the device. “There’s some encryption, though”

“My expertise”

“Show off”

“Let’s get something to eat” she changes the subject.

“You don’t wanna go back home and check if it’s working?”

“I think a few hours won’t make a difference. We won’t be long, detka”

You think Fury would disagree, but she’s calling you detka and your gayness outweights your sense of duty.

“What are you in the mood for?”

“Anything you want”

“Pizza”

“Anything but pizza” she says, making a face and you laugh.

“Natasha!”

“Sushi” she proposes.

“Fine, sushi it is”

The evening is spent talking about everything but the mission, and by the time you’re driving back home, all you want to do is get in bed and sleep.

“Where are you going?” you ask when Natasha walks to the study.

“You did your part, now I have to work” she explains with a smile.

“Fine” you close the door to the bedroom, joining her in the study. “Either way you’re gonna wake me up when you come back to bed. Might as well help you now”

“Sure” she says, even though you know next to nothing about code and hacking.

While she works on the computer, you look at the window, yawning and stretching in the couch.

Natasha finds out that Pluto is the banking organization they use for their covert operations. To access the accounts she needs a code-string of numbers.

“How many numbers?” you ask, half asleep.

“Six”

“Not coordinates. Could be dates. Most of them like to write down the dates of their oldest founders' tombstones anywhere they can, like a fucking tramp stamp” you joke, falling asleep. “Get into the database and try those”

“Maybe…” Natasha begins to say, but when she turns around you’re snoring.

And what does she know, you are right, the key to the algorithm is based on tombstones’ dates. Talk about morbid.

“Nerd” Natasha says affectionately. Deciding it is enough work for the day, she closes the laptop, helping you up to your shared bedroom.

Truth is, she’s not ready to finish this mission.

—

The end is near, you both can tell. With the encryption finished and the communications that you have intercepted, SHIELD has enough to arrest them.

According to the conversations you recorded, the exchange is set to happen two weeks from today. So you have two more weeks of fake domestic bliss. And then back to being just colleagues.

“I’ll be home as soon as I have a response” Natasha says.

“See you later” you say from your spot in the couch.

“No good luck kiss?” she jokes, referring to the time she said goodbye to you before the lecture.

But you’re not messing around when you stand up and place a chaste kiss on her cheek. If these are the last two weeks you get to do this without being questioned, you’ll make the most of them.

“Be safe”

“You too” she smiles, squeezing your hand.

The sun is setting, but you don’t feel like cooking anything or watching television. Instead, you decide to go out for a run, passing by the Costa mansion out of curiosity.

“Hey, neighbor” Beatrice greets with her signature wave. She often looks like royalty waving at the commoners. “Want some refreshments?”

“Oh, it’s fine. I’m just out for a short run”

“Come on, you could use some rest! I’d love to hear how the presentation went”

Feeling cornered, you nod, stepping foot inside her mansion. Beatrice has a glass of lemonade ready, which surprises you, but you take it and sip slowly.

Damn, even her lemonade tastes amazing.

“Heard those students were fascinated by your presentation” she encourages you to speak, and you nod, the movement making you a bit fuzzy.

“It was fun… yeah”

“Everything ok?” Beatrice comes close to inspect your face, and you try to step back. Your leg gives in, so you end up on the floor.

“I’m not sure…”

It isn’t until the very last second you understand the woman drugged you.

—

Everything is upside down or so you feel as you struggle to open your eyes.

“See? I told you she’d be fine”

“Oh, shut it. We’ve been waiting for hours��� a man says and you blink several times. Their names come back to you slowly.

The mission.

Was your cover blown?

“Y/N, dear, I do apologize. My wife may have overdone it with the clonazepam” Alessandro says. You try to move, but your hands are tied behind your back. “Yes, about that. Don’t worry, we won’t keep you here for long. We just really need to use your connections in the art world to smuggle a tiny, tiny thing”

Good news (for you). The cover is safe.

Bad news (for them). Natasha is gonna kill them.

It looks like you’re in an abandoned warehouse, and judging by the sound, it’s close to the river.

“Yeah, uh… look. I don’t know how to say this, but you’d be better off crossing the border, whichever one. South, north”

“I’m not following” Beatrice says.

“Well, I’m afraid Natasha’s gonna kill you when she finds you two” you grimace, almost feeling sorry for them. They truly don’t know what’s coming.

“No offense, but I think a Maggia family will be more than safe from…”

“The Black Widow?” you say, with a smug smile.

“Bullshit” Beatrice snaps, pulling you by the hair. “Stop the nonesense and help us out. Or we’ll send you home to your loving wife in a body bag”

There’s a loud crash outside of the warehouse, and a widow bite is shot close to Beatrice’s foot as a warning.

“Hands off my girl” Natasha says, gun raised and pointing at Alessandro. “You ok, sweetheart?”

“Yes. Sorry for missing dinner”

“It’s fine. We’ll heat it up when we get home” Natasha jokes. With a nod, you throw yourself to the floor, shattering the chair. Beatrice throws a couple of punches, and she’s quite the fighter.

While Natasha is engaged in battle with Alessandro, the woman escapes and you’re following close behind. The drug is still in your system, and you can tell by the way your steps are a little clumsy.

Beatrice leads you to the edge of the river and you catch up to her out of breath.

“It’s over” you say, hearing Natasha step right behind you.

“Cap’s got the other one. Let’s bring this one in” she says, walking past you. She fails to see the gun that Beatrice is hiding, and you push Natasha out of the way. The bullet passes between you both and you launch your body against Beatrice, knocking her down.

Still, your diziness makes you lose your footing and you fall to the river.

“Rogers, Hill!” Natasha calls over comms, borderline hysterical. “Someone come in”

“I’m here, Romanoff” Tony says, flying over the redhead.

“What the hell took you so long?”

Tony’s suit scans the river and finds you.

“She’s ok, I’m getting her out now. Handcuff our suspect there”

Natasha turns to glare at Beatrice, punching her so hard she’s knocked out.

“Bitch” Natasha says, handcuffing her.

Maria approaches to make sure Natasha doesn’t kill Beatrice, while the redhead sprints towards the spot where Tony drops you off.

“Are you ok? What hurts?”

“J-just cold” you mutter, holding on to her hands.

“Let’s take her to the Medbay. Romanoff, stay so you can lead the rest of the mission” Steve says.

“Are you out of your damn mind?” Natasha screams so loud that every agent on the scene turns to look at her. “I’m going with her to the hospital, I don’t give a crap about your mission, Rogers”

“Tasha, I’m fine” you insist, but enjoy the way she pulls you against her, her hands on your lower back. Natasha kisses the top of your head, leading you to a car that will drive you to SHIELD’s medical facility.

Fury turns to look at Hill, amused.

“Remember our little bet?”

Maria rolls her eyes, annoyed. She pulls out a twenty dollar bill and reluctantly hands it to her boss.

“So not fair”

—

Bruised ribs, a potential cold from your night swim and a minor concussion. All things considered, it could have been a hell of a lot worse.

Natasha seems to disagree, which is why she pushes to postpone the mission debriefing.

“You need to rest” is all she says.

Back in your old room, you shower, enjoying the hot water and clean clothes. Natasha is still sitting on your bed when you walk out of the bathroom.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep without you” she confesses shyly, which makes you smile.

“Me neither”

“I thought I lost you”

“I got lucky. Those two idiots actually thought I was an art dealer” you chuckle.

“You’re a very convincing art nerd” Natasha teases, and you want to pull back but she grabs you by the waist. “I wish I still had two more weeks”

“It doesn’t have to be just two weeks” you say, running your hand through her hair. “I don’t want to pretend to be with you, Natasha. I want to be with you, for real”

“Yeah?” she looks up at you, a guarded expression on her face.

Instead of answering, you lean forward, kissing her softly until she pulls you to straddle her lap.

“You know, we never consumated our marriage”

“Seems like we should get on with it” you laugh as she flips you over, making you lie on your back.

“Just as long as you don’t fake an orgasm” she jokes, kissing every inch of your body.

“Promise I won’t”

Your reality turns out better than any undercover mission could ever be.

[nataliasquote]

Double the trouble | Switch Up | n romanoff

Double the trouble AU

Summary: Yelena is back, the twins are older, and her scheming ways do nothing but backfire. a mother always knows…

Age: 8

Warnings: none

wc: 3.3k

note: hello! I’m back with another little oneshot for DTT. I’ve missed writing tbh and although this isn’t the best, I’m pleased to finally write. I’m sorry for keeping you waiting!

-⧗-

Leaving the twins with Yelena was either the best idea or the worst idea Natasha had ever had. But with Wanda away visiting her brother, Natasha didn’t really have much of a choice. Work didn’t allow her to take time off like this, so she turned to the next best thing.

The blonde was as grumpy as anything until she was faced with the two bundles of joy that were her nieces. She hated kids, but Isla and Y/n were an exception. She opened the door with a huge grin as the twins came barreling towards her, crouching barely over the threshold to collect them in a hug.

Natasha hovered back by the stairs with a soft smile tugging at her lips. Despite having a rocky patch, she truly loved Yelena with all her heart. And seeing her girls happy was all that mattered. She wished she could stay, but with new development plans happening at the studio, she had to oversee the final meeting.

“Are you staying all day?” Isla asked, peering round to look at Yelena’s truck parked in the driveway. “Where’s Fanny?”

“I’ll get her out in a minute, and yes I am, lucky duck.” The twins cheered at her response, their chatter tumbling over the top of each other as they bombarded their aunt with questions. Natasha quickly stepped in, taking them by the hand so Yelena could finally enter the house. After sending her girls over to the couch, Natasha pulled Yelena to one side, whispering in hushed voices.

“It shouldn’t take long, but in case I’m held back, there’s boxed mac and cheese in the cupboard and the girls made cookies last night so they’re in the green jar.”

“Mac and cheese, green jar, got it.”

“Please don’t give them too much sugar,” Natasha warned, knowing her sister’s tendencies, “and they have been arguing a lot, so good luck.” She didn’t really need to tell Yelena what to do, she’d babysat since they were really little, but it gave Natasha a piece of mind to know they were well looked after.

“Natasha, they’ll be fine. Don’t you trust me? Yelena asked with a grin.

“Absolutely not.”

Yelena rolled her eyes, stuffing her hands into her pockets. “So who’s the troublemaker this time?”

“Y/n has been in a mood for the past few days, so it’s currently her. Apparently Isla's existence annoys her.” As if on cue, a yell sounded from the living room and Natasha inwardly groaned. A moment of peace was never on the cards.

As she went to sort out whatever argument was occurring with her eight year olds, Yelena let Fanny out of the car and watched the Akita bound up the front steps, her tail wagging frantically. Any normal person would feel bad about the amount of hair she shed, but it only made Yelena laugh. She truly made every place her home.

The scene in the living room was absurd even for Yelena. Natasha was scolding a pouting Y/n whilst Isla cried in her arms, clutching something hidden behind her hair. Yelena hovered awkwardly, unsure how to approach, and Fanny did the same. It was almost like she could read the room.

Natasha, breathing a sigh of relief, gestured for Yelena to approach, to which she did. A sniffly Isla was pushed in her direction and the young girl lunged at her aunt, clinging to her waist with a sob.

“What happened?” Yelena mouthed, her eyebrows shooting up as Natasha held up what looked like a barbie doll. “Where’s the hair?”

“This one got scissor happy,” Natasha said exasperatedly, jabbing her thumb in Y/n’s direction.

“She stole my barbie!” Y/n protested, folding her arms across her chest in a huff.

“No!” Isla burst out,” that’s mine!”

“Well I don’t care, I was playing with it!”

“Get your own!”

Above their heads, Natasha gave Yelena a look. This is what she had been dealing with since Wanda left and although she hated leaving her kids, the bickering was starting to wear her down. It was Yelena’s turn to handle it for once. She just hoped the house would still be standing when she got back.

“Girls, please,” Natasha sighed, standing up with the barbie in her hand. “Mama has to go in a minute, and I’m not having you acting up for Yelena.” She used her stern mom voice and Y/n paled, hating being told off. “Y/n, can you apologise to Isla please.”

“No.”

Natasha may have a soft spot for her youngest but the glare that crossed her features made the little girl’s eyes well up and she hung her head in shame. “Y/n…” Natasha warned, knowing what came next if she didn’t start behaving.

“Sorry,” Y/n mumbled, suddenly very interested in the sleeve of her pink sweater.

“Good,” Natasha stated, brushing off the dog hair from her sleek black suit trousers. “I want you two on your best behaviour, and Yelena will tell me everything that happens. If I find out that you’ve been disrespectful and naughty, I will tell Mama. Okay?”

The girls mumbled in chorus, with Isla still clinging on to Yelena and Y/n standing by herself. It was just a phase, Natasha had to keep reminding herself that, but it certainly felt as though it was going to last forever. She wasn’t the bad mom, but Y/n’s behaviour had been so bad lately that not a day went by where she wasn’t being told off. It hurt her to see her daughter so upset, but Natasha stood strong. It was her own kindred spirit that she saw in Y/n, and now she understood why she was such a difficult child sometimes.

“We’re going to have fun, right guys?” Yelena asked with extravagant enthusiasm, although the responses she got were far from it. “You can go and do your boring adult stuff whilst the cool kids do… cool kid stuff.”

Natasha anxiously glanced at her kids, a wave of doubt washing over her. “Are you sure you’ll be okay? I can cancel-”

“Natasha, go, I’ll be fine. They’re angels with me and I’ve got Fanny with me if it all goes wrong.”

The dog in question gave a small woof and Natasha eyed her warily, far more a cat person than a dog person. She wasn’t totally convinced, but motherhood had made her anxious so she straightened out her jacket and nodded, psyching herself up.

“I’ll be back by 5, 6 at the latest.”

“Have a good day Mama,” Y/n said quietly, trying desperately to get back on her good side. Having Wanda mad at her was bad enough, but having Natasha was the worst thing she could think of. And when her Mama crouched down and opened her arms, Y/n took her chance to get to the hug first, muttering another ‘sorry’ to try and make amends.

“Be good, girls. I’ll be home soon.”

‘Aunty Lena, does Mama hate me?” Y/n asked as the door closed. The blonde frowned and turned to her niece, her large green eyes piercing into the Russian’s soul.

“Of course not, little bug. But you have to start being nice to Isla, okay?”

“I know,” Y/n replied. “She just really makes me mad.”

“That’s what sisters do. Your mama and I used to fight all the time.”

Y/n’s eyes lit up. “You did?”

“It’s totally normal, little bug. When your mama had blue hair, I used to tease her about it all the time.”

Isla’s head perked up at that. “Mama had blue hair?”

“Has she never shown you pictures?” Yelena asked in disbelief. Both girls shook their heads and Yelena grinned. “I’ll make some hot chocolate and I can show you. Your grandma put all our photos as kids in an album.”

The twins cheered loudly and ran to the kitchen, laughing with each other. It was such a stark contrast to earlier that Yelena had to do a double take at what she was witnessing.

“I’m glad you’re not this much work,” she muttered to Fanny, who barked happily at the noise. Kids really were hard work.

~~~

“Lena, kick it!” Isla yelled across the garden, dancing around the goal whilst her aunt really took her time. She was doing it purely to mess with her niece, and it was working perfectly. With another yell, Isla sprinted out of the goal in an attempt to tackle, but Yelena took her chance and sent the ball flying into the goal with a thud.

“That’s not fair!” She cried, running over to retrieve it.

“Another point to Aunt Lena!” Y/n announced from her place at the side before launching into another back walkover. She’d only recently learned the skill at dance and was more than happy to do acro tricks whilst they played. As long as she kept score as promised.

“No! That doesn’t count,” Isla protested, one foot propped up on the ball. “She cheated.”

“I didn’t cheat, you just have no patience,” Yelena said sassily, propping a hand up on her hip. “You’re not going to make a very good goal keeper.”

“I hate soccer anyway,” Isla grumbled, kicking the ball as hard as she could in Yelena’s direction. “It sucks.”

“It’s only because you’re bad at it,” Y/n piped up, now sitting on the porch steps after exhausting herself from cartwheels.

“You’re worse!” Typical comeback but Yelena had had enough. With a roll of her eyes, she marched towards the goal, giving Isla a bump with her elbow as she walked past.

“New game, I’ll be in goal and you have to work together to score. Deal?”

Isla shook her head. “I’m not playing with her, she can’t even kick a ball!”

“I can too!” Y/n protested, sprinting up to her sister. “I’m better than you and I don’t even have lessons.”

“That’s so not true. You-”

“Guys!” Yelena shouted, her Russian accent thickly coating her words. “Do you ever stop this fighting? It’s so annoying!”

The twins went silent, an uncommon phenomenon. Y/n muttered something under her breath but Yelena didn’t have it in her to care anymore. Every time she babysat it made her more and more impressed at how Natasha did it. A true saint.

“New rules. You have to pass it to each other before trying to score. If you don’t, the point goes to me. Okay?”

“Fine!”

Surprisingly, very few fights broke out over the course of the game. Isla did most of the scoring after Y/n well and truly botched her tries. But in her defence, her legs weren’t made for kicking the shit out of a soccer ball.They were made for cartwheels, which Isla soon got fed up with.

After far too long outside, Yelena rounded them up and herded them back inside after teeth started chattering and Y/n’s soaked trouser legs from falling over were turning her lips slightly blue.

After a quick bath she sat them both on Isla’s bed and dug through her closet for some comfier clothes. After a few minutes she sat back on her knees, her mind racing.

“Do you guys match anymore?”

“Ew,” Isla said, her nose scrunching. “Never. All Y/n wears is pink, and I hate pink.”

“You also hate dresses too.”

Yelena was quiet for a moment, the cogs in her head turning. She turned around with a sheepish smile, almost shaking with excitement.

“I have an idea, but you need to cooperate… okay?”

~~~

Natasha sighed as she stepped out of her car, her breath forming a small cloud in front of her. It was far too cold for October and she rushed up the front steps to get inside. The building work was looking amazing and she knew Y/n was itching to get back to the studio just as much as she was (there was only so much kitchen ballet they could do).

It was eerily quiet as the front door opened, only her heels sounding on the wooden floor as she approached the kitchen. She wasn’t met with a pile of bodies throwing themselves at her, which was probably more strange than the silence. Had she trusted Yelena too much and her sister had kidnapped her children and ran off to Russia? Honestly it wasn’t such a surprising theory.

Empty kitchen… empty living room… this was weird. But the sound of giggles couldn’t be hidden and Natasha kicked off her heels at the bottom of the stairs and took the stairs two at a time, her trousers straining around her thigh muscles. Isla’s laugh was the most distinguishable and she pushed the door open slowly, trying not to startle anyone.

The wholesome sight of the three of them sitting on the floor surrounded by stuffed animals was enough to melt Natasha’s heart and she smiled softly, leaning on the doorframe waiting for someone to notice her. And strangely it wasn’t Y/n but Isla who jumped up first, almost stumbling over Fanny to get to her Mama with a shriek.

Natasha caught her daughter in her arms and pressed kisses all over her face, warmth flooding her body. She would never feel complete when she was away from her girls.

Y/n quickly joined in, wanting the same cuddles. Natasha crouched down and stroked their cheeks before pausing slightly, squinting. Something wasn’t right and Yelena’s overly wide grin didn’t help her suspicions either. She stroked Isla’s hair with a chuckle and straightened up, her back aching from bending down so much.

“Did you girls have a good day?” She asked, watching as Y/n settled back on the floor beside Fanny. “You both look happier than when I left.”

“We played soccer and beat Aunt Lena!” Y/n piped up. “I scored all the goals.”

“No, I helped too!”

Natasha didn’t miss the way Yelena nudged her nieces or how their eyes went as wide as saucers. But the redhead just chuckled and took a seat on Isla’s bed, her legs slightly aching from standing all day.

Isla stood in front of her, clearly torn with where to go. Natasha knew she wanted to sit on her knee but watched as she settled beside Yelena again. It was impressive, Natasha gave her that much. Very dedicated to the cause.

“You did? Well done baby. Have you behaved today?”

“They’ve been angels, sestra, as usual. It’s only you they are bad for.” Yelena had a shit eating grin and it took everything in Natasha not to launch a pillow at her head. But she could not condone aggression around her violent children anyway before Y/n got any more ideas.

“Is that right?”

“Mama you had blue hair!”

If looks could kill, Yelena would be well and truly dead. If there was one thing Natasha hated, it was pictures of her younger self. She made far too many questionable decisions and went through one too many boxes of hair dye, so seeing pictures was a no no. Not even Wanda had seen many. And now her daughters had seen the worst ones which she was never going to live down.

“Yelena Belova… what did you do.”

The blonde just shrugged and jumped up, causing Fanny to do the same. The queen of avoiding things. “Who wants Aunt Yelena’s special mac and cheese?”

The twins both cheered and raced out of the room after their aunt, leaving Natasha slightly bewildered in the blue and white room. There were times where Natasha convinced herself that Yelena wasn’t all that bad, and then she pulled stunts like this and put herself back on top of Natasha’s hit list. But that was never going to change.

“What else did you show my kids, Yelena?”

No reply. Typical.

Natasha truly was outnumbered when her sister was around. But then she remembered what was really going on and a small laugh escaped Natasha’s mouth. Adorable, really.

Y/n and Isla helped as much as they could to make dinner, including standing on a chair to stir the boiling noodles and dumping the cheese packets in when instructed. Natasha was banished to setting the table after Isla gave her a lecture about her inability to cook, clearly something else she’d picked up from Yelena. But Natasha yielded, setting the cutlery down with a shake of her head. The longer it went on for, the more she tried not to laugh. And the more slip ups she noticed.

Like how Isla wouldn’t stand on the chair because she was scared of heights, even though yesterday she climbed the largest tree in the backyard. And how Y/n stood still when waiting for her turn, when she’d usually be twirling around with her apron. Natasha could only watch as Yelena heavily emphasised their names and the twins burst into giggles whenever they answered her. It was adorable to see and she couldn’t wait to tell Wanda.

They ate in silence, which was usually the case when mac and cheese was involved. And the girls did very well, Natasha gave them that, until she pulled an admittedly evil move.

“How about cookies?” Yelena asked once plates were cleared and the table was wiped down.

“It sounds good to me,” Natasha agreed, grabbing the tin and sitting back at the table. “One each, you too Yelena. And Y/n, you know the rules. You got in trouble today so you don’t get a cookie.”

She slid the tin to Isla who happily reached in until a protest sounded from the girl next to her.

“That’s not fair! That’s my cookie!”

Isla had already shoved her cookie in her mouth at this point, the crumbs sticking to her cheeks and the front of her shirt. She grinned happily, thankful she agreed to Yelena’s scheming plot.

“Mama! That’s mine!”

Natasha shook her head. “No Y/n, those aren’t the rules, you know that.”

Isla smacked her palm against the tabletop. “I’m not Y/n! She is!” She pointed at her sister harshly, who was licking the crumbs from her fingertips. “We switched!”

“Isla!” Y/n whined, “You weren’t supposed to spoil it!”

“I’m not losing my cookie, give it to me!”

“No,” Y/n said with a grin. “Mama said you can’t have one, so you can’t.”

“I hate you!”

Natasha watched the scene unfold, with Yelena looking more and more concerned. The blonde turned to her sister for help, but was met with only a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

“Do something!” Yelena hissed, but Natasha shook her head.

“Absolutely not,” Natasha said, leaning back in her chair. “It’s your mess, you fix it.”

“Tell her Aunt Lena!” Isla cried, tears threatening to spill. “Tell her I’m Isla! I’m not Y/n.”

Whilst Isla was nearing a breakdown, Y/n’s mean streak thickened. “These cookies really are good.”

“Mama please!”

Natasha rounded the table and placed a kiss on Isla’s forehead before passing her the biggest cookie from the tin. “Here baby, you’re okay,” she soothed, gently wiping her tears. “But your Aunt is an idiot. I did know it was you all along Isl’s, I’m sorry baby.” She picked her daughter up and set her on her lap, holding her close as she ate her cookie.

Yelena’s mouth fell open. “You knew?”

“From the moment ‘Isla’ ran to me first.” Yelena hit the table, muttering ‘dammit’ under her breath. “A mother always know, Yel. Always.”

[shawnxstyles]

Omg! Panty stealer pt2 is sooooo gooood! Cocky and dom Peter absolutely blew my mind! Your writing is awesome!

Pleeeeease tell me that it will be third part to fulfill the panty trilogy! As humble suggestion maybe reader find out that Pete is SpiderMan and he will finally get head from her while he is in his spidey costume? Or maybe more than just blowjob?Hehehe Am I very bad and naughty that I'm typing this to you? 🥵🤤

Anyways love ya darling! You're smashing it!

in the suit

words: 3k

warnings: smut; (m- receiving [oral], dirty talk), language, and fluff of course. barely edited.

note: panty!peter blurb #1 coming up :D also, this is the way i believe y/n would have found out about spider-man, but i have another request for the same thing so i’ll probably do an alternative version!

—

you couldn’t stop thinking about it. how?

how does peter manage to get into your room every night? okay, not every night, but most nights.

most nights, peter magically and mysteriously sneaks his way up into your forbidden bedroom with ease. sometimes, you even wait and watch outside your window to try to get a peak at what he’s doing. but you never see him.

he’s just so slick. how does he do it?

you and peter have been together for over a month now, if you’re counting the day he broke in. the feeling isn’t necessarily new in your heart. you feel like you’ve known him your whole life. like he’s always just… been there.

through this month of stability yet craziness, you haven’t gone back to the frat house since the halloween party. you thought that after you guys got together you would stay there more often, but peter doesn’t want you to be ‘attacked’ by the guys. meaning, he doesn’t want them to ask a million questions when you guys are supposed to be private. you thought his excuse was dumb, but he was also just being a bit protective.

in reality, peter just didn’t know how to get you into the frat house without anyone seeing you. you both had agreed that your relationship was going to be kept private, very private. people could spread rumors and assume you two were together, but you weren’t going to show each other off. you guys liked it this way, it made your relationship more special because it was just for you two.

peter had a sixth sense, sticky fingers, and webs. it was pretty easy for him to crawl up into your room especially because you didn’t have security cameras (maybe you guys should get some at some point though…). you would constantly ask him how he does it since you live on the second floor and it was high up. but peter responds by not responding and instead laughs and kisses you. god, he was too good at distracting you.

but tonight, you were determined to find out.

peter had already texted you earlier and said he wouldn’t be able to stop by tonight because of overbearing homework. you completely understood, and sent him a good luck and goodnight to me then message. but truly, you were sneaking out and heading towards the frat.

you put on your sneakers and a hoodie, pulling the strings tightly around your head. the early december weather was no joke in massachusetts, and your thermal leggings were barely helping to keep you warm. as quietly as possible, you leave through the back door, making sure not to alert anyone or anything. not like you have a system to alert though.

you cut through some of the hedges until you’re in the front yard and the frat is staring at you from across the street. taking a deep, chilly breath, you cross the road with your frozen fingers tucked in your pocket.

all the lights in the top rooms were off, except one. you’re not totally sure which one is peter’s, but what other frat guy would stay up until 11 p.m. working on homework?

maybe ned, but he sleeps downstairs.

you walk until you’re under the window, the yellowish light taunting you. there was no latter, vine, rope, or magic hair to get you into the bedroom. the houses were built very similarly, and you know he doesn’t bring a latter with him.

so how does he do it?

you take a glance at your surroundings. the biggest difference of your houses was that the guys’ didn’t have large garden hedges. they just had a shit ton of messy bushes that they should probably trim once in a while.

having no ideas, you try to jump towards the window. great, that’s totally going to help you. maybe you’ll get some super jump that can spring you up and inside.

you feel stupid. yeah, peter may be the smartest person on campus and going to mit on a full academic scholarship, but how does he sneak into your room? with geometry? you didn’t think so.

wait.

what if… he’s hiding something from you?

that would explain why he’s so weird about it. letting the impulsive decisions take you over, you throw a rock at his window. hopefully, you’ll get his attention and he’ll come down, so you can see how he does it. or he’ll just go through the front door… whatever he does, you need to ask him this question right now. or else you’ll never be able to sleep again.

when throwing the rock gets tedious and noisy, you quit. just as you’re about to drop to the ground in annoyance, you hear a distant whipping sound. you hold your breath as if the person whipping will hear you.

fuck. it wasn’t a good idea for you to go out at night.

suddenly feeling anxious and scared, you slowly creep towards the sorority house. you don’t get too far before you see a body flinging through the air. the whipping noise gets closer and closer to you with every web on the streetlights. what the…

there’s only one person that could possibly be doing the impossible.

spider-man.

but what was he doing in your little neighborhood? this was one of the safest places in the area, so he didn’t need to check up here. there were so many more places in massachusetts that needed saving. feeling beyond curious, your feet scatter to hide you behind one of the untrimmed bushes.

you watch through crowded leaves as spider-man swings through the neighborhood, getting towards you. it’s like he can sense you and he’s coming for you. your heart thumps wildly in your chest, nervous about seeing him. you’ve never seen him before, and at least not in person. he was popular on the newspaper and television screens, but never on the street. unless you lived within the city.

with one long and final thwip, spider-man flings himself towards the frat house.

what. the…

you place your hand over your mouth, just in case your breathing is too loud. you intensely watch as the spider crawls up the white wall and towards the only lit window in the whole house.

no. fucking. way.

before you could fully register what you were seeing, you felt the gasp leave your mouth. you slap both of your hands on your face to shut yourself up. you nearly fall back on your heels as spider-man halts his movements. he scans his surroundings before jumping down the wall entirely.

your eyes are wide and your hands of shaking. you’ve never felt your heart beat so unbelievably fast, but you’ve also never been more afraid. what does he do to people that find out? what is going to happen to your relationship?

the body of blue and red stocks closer to the bushes with careful steps. you try to scoot away, but your back hits the fence. the wood creaks, your actions not quiet enough. his footsteps pick up speed as they rush to the bushes with determination.

spider-man jumps over the plant with grace, hoping to see a wild animal of some sort. but when he sees his girl with the most shocked and terrified expression in the world, he immediately falls to his knees.

“y/n,” he calmly says, slowly inching to you. he doesn’t hesitate to comfort you as peter. you don’t move, you just listen. “it’s okay. i promise.”

now that he sensed you, peter could hear your heartbeat overbearingly in his ears. he could hear your muffled breaths under your palm, and he just wanted to soothe your fear.

“baby,” he wanted to cuddle your body until you stopped shaking. you weren’t crying, you were just in shock. peter takes a quick glance at his surroundings before yanking off his mask and kneeling, so you could see his face reflecting off the moonlight. “it’s just me.”

“i…” you whispered as your hands fell from your face. peter doesn’t hesitate to grab them gently with his gloved ones. “…knew it.”

“you knew i was spider-man?”

“well… for like five seconds,” you flusteredly laugh while trying to recover. you still haven’t gotten used to this. well it’s only been a minute. “i knew you were hiding something.”

“what are you doing out this late anyway?” he stares straight up at the moon as it shines vehemently over you both.

“uh… well,” you start, “i was kind of curious as to how you always snuck into my bedroom without a latter or something, so i went to see? i don’t really know what i was looking for.”

peter chuckles. “but you found your answer, yeah?”

“yeah, i did,” you smile with sweetness as peter helps you up from the grass floor.

—

“it’s different breaking into your room rather than mine,” you say as you sit on the edge of peter’s bed. you watch as he tosses his mask inside of a box labeled books. “so that’s what was in the box. not dirty magazines.”

“surprise?” peter laughs and you giggle at his shyness. his cheeks and nose were red from the cold, but also from the slight blush that crossed them. you made him feel all warm and tingly inside, and even a little gooey.

his hand reaches for the button on his chest. it deflates, instantly becoming huge around him.

“wait,” you stop him before he undresses himself. he looks towards you. “can i just… look at you for a moment? in the suit?”

a small smirk creeps up his face. peter clicks the button again and his suit encloses on his body, outlining his muscles perfectly. every ridge and curve of him was being shown off by the spandex. you felt a spark of lust fire inside of you at the sight.

“like me in my suit, baby?” he teased as he trudged over to you. you stood up from the bed to meet his buff chest. you nodded with a bite of your lip.

he nearly growls before attaching your lips. it’s barely been a day since he’s last kissed you, but that’s too long for him. his gloved hand grips your jaw to deepen the kiss while your hands explore his messy hair.

the heat between you was undeniable. you were getting worked up over peter in his suit, and that’s something you never thought was possible. because you didn’t think peter being spider-man was possible.

is there a spider-man kink?

you take your shirt off after breaking the kiss, but resume it in no time. as he pushes you onto the bed, you stop him, having a new idea in mind.

“peter,” you sigh, spandex body hovering over yours.

“you okay?”

“yeah, yes. i just…” you swallowed, “can i…”

you didn’t really get your question out. you just slithered your body off the bed until your knees were digging into his carpet. peter’s eyebrows shoot up as he stares down at your figure, submissive below him.

“fuck. you want to touch my cock?” peter was already growing hard at the idea of fucking you in his suit. he found it hot that you found his suit hot. everything seemed to be a turn on right now. but now you were on your fucking knees like an angel and damn near begging to touch him?

how could he say no?

“go ahead then, sweet girl,” peter allows, but you stay still.

“how do i take it off—?”

“right—”

he unzips a zipper that you swear wasn’t there before. you barely take him fully out before you’re drooling at the sight. he was big and thick, and you don’t think you’d ever get used to looking at and feeling him.

your thumb drags over his weepy tip and he winces at your freezing touch.

“sorry!” you exclaimed with a funky smile. he forcefully laughs while you spit warmth into your hand.

“it’s okay, baby.”

your delicate hand wraps around him as you shift up and down. he sighs into the air, eyes fluttering back. your other hand scratches his thighs lightly. then, you fondle his balls until he’s groaning above you.

“fuck, darling,” he moans as his rough hand rests on your head. with his grip on you, you feel inclined to put your mouth on him. you’re barely an inch away, so what are you waiting for?

your lips pucker as you kiss his veiny shaft. you see from the top of your eyes how his face floods with pleasure, and your ego rises.

“if you look at me like that again, i’m going to explode, baby,” peter husks with his fingers laced in your hair for support.

with a hummed chuckle, you finally place your mouth on him. you suck on his leaky tip as a deep groan elicits from him. his noises always give you a bunch of reassurance, so you hum against him in satisfaction.

“takin’ me so well,” peter forces himself to stay still and let you do all the work. although, his hips just want to break free and ram into the back of your throat until you lose your voice. for another time… “love when you’re on your knees for me.”

you vibrated a moan against his cock as you took him deeper, a little more than half way. you were never the best at giving head because you couldn’t go that far down without gagging atrociously, but after peter showed you a better technique, for breathing and comfort, he thought you were a professional.

“you like being on your knees for me? or for spider-man?”

a groggy moan rippled around his cock from your filled throat, confirming his suspicions. you were definitely turned of the idea of peter as spider-man, and because of that, he was too. every time you were horny, peter was too.

you released your hands from him and braced them on his thighs. you focused and remembered the small notes he’s given you before. you take a long breath before sinking his cock deep in the back of your mouth. your thumb stabs your palm to eliminate your gag reflex, and it works. your nose nudges the base of his cock and you can see up close how his abs contract tightly.

“fuck! doing so good for me. going to make me come, sweet girl.”

hearing this, you bob and twist your head with a goal. your tongue swirls exploring around each ridge like it’s never tasted the plain before. peter was delicious; he was sweet with a pinch of saltiness that made you a fan of giving head. you would get on your knees any day for him.

his cock twitches in your mouth, warning you that he’s coming. you feel his hips buck into you as he strongly yanks your hair. you groan as he lets himself go.

“where do you want it? on your face? chest? or are you going to swallow it like a good girl?”

even when his dick twitches again, you don’t make an effort to move. you lick the underside of him, which sends peter over the edge.

a string of hushed groans fall from his pink lips as his muscles clench. ropes of his orgasm spurts down your throat, and you swallow every drop like a champ. well, almost all. parts of his come drip from the corner of your lip as he slowly pulls out of you.

the second he exits you, your jaw is instantly sore and achy, but it was worth it. to see the flustered and breathless peter above you was worthless everytime. peter was nearly disoriented by how fucking incredible your mouth was. how you were.

he tucks himself back into his suit as you remain on the floor. he leans down and helps you up, your knees popping in the process.

“how was it this time?” you croaked, voice cracking horrendously. peter tries not to laugh as he wipes away the nearly dried sperm on your face. you open your mouth without a thought, and he sticks his thumb in your mouth for you to lick it clean.

“it was good. fucking amazing. impeccable. exceeded expectations. outstanding performance—”

“okay, okay i get it. you’re a nerd!” you brokenedly laugh as you shove his chest. you got a sudden wave of chills because you were starting to get a bit cold. your body was still running hot because you were still, well, turned on.

“nerds are awesome, okay? they know everything.”

“like what? impress me,” you challenge as you throw your leg on top of his lap and get yourself seated. he smirks, feeling his cock chuff up a bit already. you were beyond soaked in your panties, and you just couldn’t wait for peter to destroy you.

peter knows you didn’t actually want him to say anything nerdy, so he made it a bit sexual. as always.

“they know how to… kiss.”

“you’re probably the one nerd that knows how to kiss.”

“okay, fine. i know how to kiss,” his hand cups your face as it leans closer towards his. he places a soft, longing kiss on your swollen lips before pulling away way too fast for your liking. “i know how to touch you, i know how to rile you up. right? i’m doing it right now. and you’re probably soaking.”

a warmth wave floods through your body at his words.

“i know how to talk to you too. bet these dirty words are going straight to your little clit, huh?”

“peter,” you whimper. he was right. he was beyond right.

his hand trails down your bare stomach and hovers over your clothed cunt. he can feel the heavy heat radiating from you through your leggings, begging for more.

“i can feel you. i can smell you, too. a perk of being spider-man,” he smiles, “guess this nerd is pretty great.”

“peter!” you shook his shoulders in desperation, but he didn’t move. you had a love hate relationship with his teasing. he indeed got you riled up, to the max, until you were begging him to touch you. he just dragged it on and on and on. he loved hearing you beg for it.

“okay, okay, sweet girl,” peter chuckled as his fingers fumbled down the waistline of your leggings. they were thick, so you helped him get them down. “just want to hear you say how awesome nerds are first. how do you think i made these webs?”

“you’re the hottest, super-nerd i’ve ever met in my life. now can you please fuck me?” you begged as your cunt ached.

“aw thanks, baby,” all he did was laugh at your misery with a smirk. “all you had to do was say please.”

—

note: not my best work, but i hope you enjoyeddd. literally posting this at 1 am :D

taglist: @invisibletrolleyson-jeremy @lnmp89 @crybabyddl @pretty-npeach @marine-mayday @aerangi @justanotherpasserby-blog @tinafuentes @moniffazictress11 @eywaheardyou @alwaysclassyeagle @mrstealuregirl @bisexual-desi @sherlockstrangewolf @madsttx @graywrites20 @bradtomlovesya @princesspannnn @sageisswaggg @purplerose291 @girlbossnancy @lockwood-lover @marzipaanz

crossed out= not able to tag

[colourstreakgryffin]

Heyyy! May I request headcanons for Carmila CarminexReader who has similar mannerisms to Obanai? (Both live rent free in my head) Have a good day/night!!!

Haha. Awww, that’s cute and I can absolutely see it! I am not sure how it’d go personally but let’s try it out for fun. Shall we! God, I struggled with this so much so I’m sorry if it blows

Carmilla Carmine- Bandy-Bandy

You’re a unique one, that’s for sure. Thats what Carmilla tells herself when her beloved daughters, Clara and Odette, brought you as a brand new potential employee for them. A lonely quiet determined sinner with a connection to all kinds of snakes

Carmilla watches you, at first, to test how good you are at the job her precious daughters gave you and she is pleased with the results. You’re quite good but you’re also kinda isolated and don’t talk to anybody besides your hyper-intelligent ‘scarf-snake’ friend

But then Carmilla’s watching becomes one of interest… you’re interesting, your behaviour is a lot less than what she suspected from a Sinner worker and how antisocial and distance you are is intriguing for anybody, even her

Carmilla does end up approaching you and she gives you a luck h… despite the fact you already have one and whilst you’re kinda blunt and quiet and uninterested, you’re polite and respectful since you know her position and let her accompany you

So, this became routine. Everyday, Carmilla comes over to you during lunch and presents you with a fancy lunch she has made for you and enjoys a lunch break with you. She is more of the talker whilst you listen to her quietly, surprisingly

Carmilla took a while but she’s been relatively open, talking about her beloved daughters, about other Overlords annoying her during meetings, about a number of things about herself. It’s shocking for a strong mature woman like her to even speak on these things with her new employee

It took quite some time but throughout all the sessions Carmilla has befriended and talking to you and having a meal with you privately, you ended up developing quite the fat crush on her to the point you get jealous and agitative towards others being close to her… except Zestial, to a degree

Carmilla doesn’t really notice how protective and aggressive you’ve become to others. She just believes you and her are good friends but you don’t feel that way at all; you love her dearly, so much that she is now basically your everything… even after you feared women heavily due to your awfully tragic past including your primarily female cult of a family

You don’t really eat unless Carmilla is nearby and since Carmilla is a kind graceful yet powerful woman, even as a mighty Overlord, she’ll eat with you since she notices how dependent you are… on her? She suspects it’s something to do with comfort so doesn’t question it too much

Carmilla is your starlight, the sugary yet tough mochi that has truly changed your life from a bland hell of self-deprecation and loathing to something much worth it. Now, you can actually express emotions better and you want to give yourself fully to Carmilla as to express how much you adore her

Carmilla is seemingly oblivious to your intense love for her as she has grown to view you, as she acts, like a surrogate child of hers. She doesn’t notice your affections and favouritism and much more, she just believes you’re a enthusiastic employee of the business that wishes to please it

Carmilla does, in general, appreciate and like you. It’s why she still approaches and tries to bond with you to this day. You’re a mysterious, quiet but fearless and strong and willing to rip people a new one. She respects that and it’s a reason she likes you

“Hello once more, dear friend. It’s been quite the rough day. My girls have had the hardest hours for quite a few years recently. Would you like to hear it?”

[weirdowithaquill]

Traintober 2024: Day 19 - Admire

Douglas Couldn't Help It!

Douglas smiled softly as he watched the station. It had been only a couple of years since his dramatic escape from British Rail and arrival on Sodor, but Oliver was already fitting in like a natural. The Great Western engine was an absolute social butterfly, able to charm the big engines with ease even as he made Duck laugh with all his in-jokes that only the two truly understood. He was admittedly still a little wary of the diesels - especially Bear and Daisy whose classes had worked around where Oliver had lived and replaced him and his siblings - but even then he was growing more confident around them with each passing day. 

“It’s nice being on Sodor,” Oliver had confided in Douglas. “Diesel and steam engines can live in harmony here without fear of one replacing the other.” Douglas couldn’t agree more, he himself feeling more at peace with the diesels on Sodor with each passing year. But the way Oliver seemed so relaxed and confident in himself, it made Douglas feel all sorts of things. Douglas couldn't help it! Oliver was so suave and witty and brave - how could he not admire him? 

As if on cue, a cheerful whistle blasted in the distance, and Oliver steamed in. Douglas puffed over, a broad smile already growing on his lips. “Hullo Oliver, how was yer run?” “Oh, hi Douglas,” grinned Oliver. Douglas felt like his fire was about to melt right through his firebars and fall all over the line. “The run was good - I don’t think I’ll ever get over how beautiful this line is!” “Aye, it is a fabulous little line, though I’m sure yer old line was also nice.” “Oh it was!” Oliver began, “but… then the diesels began to arrive, and we didn’t get to use the line as much. And that was after they replaced most of the Autocoaches with their Mark 1s… nasty, heavy things!” Douglas just hummed, a little dopily. Oliver chuckled, shooting Douglas a megawatt smile that went straight to the poor Scot’s boiler.

“I’ve got to go, and I think you do too,” grinned Oliver, already beginning back down the line with his train. Douglas blinked, and looked back. His guard was tapping his foot impatiently, and when he spotted Douglas finally paying him some attention, gestured to the trucks. Douglas went red with embarrassment and hurried to get back to work.

As he back down onto his trucks, Douglas looked over and spotted Mike sitting on the Arlesdale Railway’s tracks next to him. Mike was shooting Douglas the most disgusted look an engine could, his face scrunched up comically. “What?” “You’re besotted,” sneered Mike. “It’s pathetic to watch – just talk to him like a normal engine, ask him out if you have to! But stop gazing after him like he’s some damsel in a Hollywood film!” Douglas just sighed. “Ye'll understand ane day.” “No I won’t! Who would I even look at like that? Frank?! You’ve lost it, Douglas!” Douglas ignored the little pillarbox of an engine and steamed away.

Douglas worked hard all day, trying his best to find another time when his schedule matched up with Oliver’s so they could chat – only much to his dismay, it just didn’t happen. Poor Douglas was never in the right spot, and all he could do was watch as the cute Autotank vanished out of view with his passengers.

“Ah canae tak it anymore! Hou is it thon A keep missin Oliver by mere seconds?!” burst out Douglas to his twin that night. Donald snorted. “Ye're juist unlucky. Iver considerit playin cards - ye'd have more luck thare than i love!” Douglas rolled his eyes at his twin and went unhappily to sleep.

An entire week went by in this manner, with Douglas managing one or two short conversations each day where Oliver would leave him absolutely flustered and whining to his twin about the Western engine he had rescued. Donald indulged his twin with a wry grin, remembering similar conversations he’d had to listen to back in Scotland and back at Tidmouth.

Finally, Douglas managed to strike good fortune. On Saturday, he finished up his duties near Tidmouth, and convinced his driver to let him sleep there the night, so he could try strike up a conversation with Oliver again. But as he neared the shed, he heard voices – it was Oliver! And… Gordon?

“I mean, he’s just so strong,” sighed Oliver wistfully. “I suppose, though I don’t see the appeal personally,” came the reply. Douglas felt his boiler pressure drop. Who was Oliver talking about?

“I mean, have you seen him?” went on Oliver. “Especially at night! Watching him go by is a true sight.” Gordon snorted. “You talk like he’s me! Please, just because we—” Douglas reversed back down the line as fast as his wheels could carry him. Oliver liked another engine. Oh.

Oh no.

And Douglas knew who it was too – a strong engine who ran at night and Gordon could relate to? It had to be Henry! Gordon and Henry had shared a shape, and Henry hauled the Flying Kipper. It made so much sense, didn’t it? Of course Oliver would want someone like Henry, who was strong and caring and determined! And the two shared a shed too, so of course they had gotten to know each other well; and to think Douglas thought he had a chance.

Douglas managed to get James to agree to trade his late evening coal train – which was not that difficult, all things considered – and got as far away from Tidmouth as quickly as possible. He delivered the coal, then slept unhappily at Vicarstown.

Douglas didn’t say much for the next few days. He did his work, sighing quietly but still treasuring every smile Oliver sent his way. The Fat Controller had listened to his rather sudden request to help out on Edward’s branchline and agreed – for a few days at least, but all too soon Douglas was back on the Little Western.

Donald had noticed Douglas’ change of mood almost instantly, but waited a few days before confronting his twin.

“Richt, ye've been mopin aw week. Whit's wrong wi ye?” snapped Donald at the sheds. Douglas jumped, and looked at Donald for all of three seconds before gazing down at his buffers, a defeated look gracing the Caledonian’s features. “Oliver likes a different engine. A dinnae want tae get i the way thouch - A'm no some insane jealous idiot wha refuses tae see him happy without me thouch – e'en gin it's wi Henry. A'll juist admire him from afar an wait for these feelings tae gae away.”

Donald stared at his twin for a long, silent minute. He didn’t know what to say – Douglas believed, of all things, that Oliver liked a different engine. “Are ye sure?” he asked delicately. Douglas sniffled a little. “Ay, A overheard him at the sheds. He wis talkin tae Gordon aboot his crush. A'll be ok, juist... give me some time, aw richt?”

Donald agreed, and watched as his twin fell asleep. Then, he groaned aloud. “These twa idiots,” he grumbled. “A'm gaun'ae have tae talk tae Duck aboot this.”

Duck agreed with Donald. “Oliver’s been moping about Tidmouth too,” he huffed. “These two are as dumb as each other, I swear. We need to do something about it.” “Douggie wonae dae anythin - he's committit tae "just admirin him from afar" like some sort o chivalrous knicht.” “So it’ll have to be Oliver,” Duck realised. Donald agreed grimly.

These two would definitely need a push in the right direction – and thankfully, Duck knew exactly what to say…

“You’re an idiot and now Douglas thinks you like Henry.”

…Or maybe not.

“He thinks what? How?!” “He overheard you talking to Gordon about him and somehow misunderstood everything. The only reason I know is cause he told Donald, and I put ten and eleven together and figured out how dim-witted the pair of you are. Go ask that dumb Scot out already or I will dump you with Thomas.” “I get along fine with Thomas,” huffed Oliver. “He’s having another spat with Percy,” Duck replied with a groan. Oliver shuddered. The two still remembered the screaming match the pair had had in the middle of the Big Harbour a month back – it had been so bad that Gordon had to drag Thomas away while Henry held Percy back from chasing after the blue tank engine.

“Those two fight like cats and dogs,” sighed Oliver. “inconsistently and whenever it suits their fancy.” Duck couldn’t help but laugh, before pausing. “Don’t try and distract me – go ask Douglas out!” Oliver groaned, and puffed away to go do just that.

He found the Caledonian dozing in his shed up at Arlesburgh. Thinking quickly, Oliver convinced the signalman to let him roll onto the same line as Douglas, puffing right up to the Caledonian’s bufferbeam. Douglas opened a sleepy eye – and then bolted right awake.

“Oliver?!” “Hi Douglas. You know, I heard a very interesting thing today.” Douglas gulped, feeling his fire go cold. “O-oh?” Oliver grinned at the nervous engine, and smiled cheekily. “Oh yes – a birdie told me that you liked someone. And imagine my delight when I found out who.” Douglas listened intently – and then it sunk in. “Delichted? Are ye…”

Oliver smiled at the Caledonian, and rolled forwards until he buffered up to him.

“You’re an idiot, you know that? I like you, not some other engine. Strong, runs at night, saved me, blue like Gordon? It’s you.” Douglas just blinked dumbly, then groaned. “O course Gordon wad compare our paint juist sae he coud talk aboot himself!” “Of course,” agreed Oliver. “But I’d rather not hear you talk about other engines when we’re talking about us.”

Needless to say, Douglas was flushed bright red for the rest of the day and Oliver scored himself a Caledonian boyfriend.

Back to the Master Post

[aayakashii]

Wrote this after getting inspired by Bluecid, by Sevdaliza, which I 100% recommend listening to because it's a beautiful song!

If you've seen this earlier today no you didn't

bluecid

Warning: angst, sh implied, hurt/no comfort, reader is not PC

The white doors stood tall and open on that rainy night – an invitation to the ballroom where the Frostheim crest hung from every pillar, in dark blue velvet embroidered with white gold thread.

You stepped into the wide hall; the sound of chatter and glasses clinking filled the ambient as a timid orchestra played classical music, tucked away to the side of the long stairway at the other side of the room.

It all looked like it had come out of a fairytale. Unimaginable riches were displayed onto wrists and ears and necks and clothes weaved with the finest cloths and threads.

You exhaled slowly, trying to calm yourself down. Walking to the sides of the ballroom, away from any prying eyes, you tried to be as invisible as possible – you knew how much the average Frostheim student absolutely loved their petty gossip.

As a second year, you had already been the target of some talk, due to your sticking out like a sore thumb among the rich students – you were just a commoner after all. Someone who had wasted all their luck with a scholarship to Darkwick. 

After a while, however, they silenced – apparently it’s not fun to pick on someone that doesn't react at all.

You grabbed a small glass of champagne and leaned against one of the huge pillars that stood tall and proud all around the ballroom. On the other side of the room were the second year ghouls, and you felt your heart squeeze tightly.

Last year wasn't a good year. 

The Clash ruined the lives of countless students and you realized that being alone during a time of crisis simply cannot do. You needed support, you needed someone to lean onto. So, once you moved into the second year, you had convinced yourself to talk to the other outcast of your dorm – Fuji Kaito. 

It was, maybe, an underhanded method of making an actual friend. But you promised yourself that, if he ever gave you the opening, despite your less than stellar reason to befriend him, you'd do your best to be a great friend for him, no matter what.

However, the opening never came.

Your eyelids drooped as you saw the one person that rendered your plan a failure: the honor student.

You didn't hate them, no. In fact, you felt for them, deeply. Being thrusted into a world that was unknown to them and having to deal with the most difficult students of the Academy… It was something you'd never want to face and you wish they could be safe throughout this mess.

Yet, you couldn't help but feel a little bitter once they became Kaito's full center of attention. There was simply no opening for you to try and join in their conversations, ever. Too many secrets, too many shared dangers and too many inside jokes.

You would get some good mornings and good afternoons from them, from Kaito and from the transfer student, Lucas. And it was obvious they did appreciate you not treating them differently due to their condition as ghouls, but it wasn't enough.

You were never enough for anyone in that place. Not rich enough, not important enough, not right enough to have your existence acknowledged.

If there was one thing that made you truly bitter when it came to the honor student, however, was the one thing you've always dreamed of when you were lying on your bed, shivering when not even 3 blankets could shield you from the perennial cold of the dorm.

A loud bang echoed in the ballroom and the sound of chatter silenced. You turned your eyes to the stairway and watched as Ishibashi Tohma descended the steps gracefully, throwing out his arms with a flourish as his booming voice reached everyone to announce something unbelievable – something unthinkable after all these months.

Your heart drummed loudly against your ribcage and your mouth went dry as someone else descended the steps, right after Tohma's dramatic cue.

There he was, after so long. Frostheim's king.

Your king.

You felt dizzy, not quite sure whether it came from the third glass of champagne, or from the sight of the most ethereal man finally showing himself after months of enclosure, and how it still took your breath away after all that time.

“Kamurai Jin” you mouthed his name at the same time Tohma loudly announced the house’s Captain.

The beautiful icy-blue haired man kept walking down the stairs, a regal look upon his face as he downed the House's formal uniform and the students received him with hesitant applause.

His sword glinted dangerously on his hip, like a sharp jewelry he used to attest his superior ranking among everyone in that room.

You observed how he quickly patted his pocket, feeling how his loyal cigarette case was tucked safely. Your eyes twitched as you realized how you still managed to catch every single movement and habit he had always displayed in public, even after all those months you hadn't even caught a glimpse of him.

He was still as handsome as ever.

And you still hated him as much as ever.

Jin was the personification of everything you weren’t and could never be. He was gorgeous, filthy rich, admired, feared, extremely powerful and, oh the list could go on endlessly.

You hated him for everything he represented.

And you hated how you still couldn't shake off that sick one-sided love you had for him ever since you laid eyes upon his figure.

You chuckled darkly to yourself, your lips touching the champagne glass to hide the bitter smile.

Of course it wasn't enough for you to be excluded amongst your peers due to your social standing, of course the isolation wasn't enough. You just had to lock yourself into a cycle of pining for someone you could never ever have.

It was almost a habit of yours, honestly. Maybe you were slightly self-destructive, but every single romantic interest of yours has been doomed to nothing. 

During your teenage years, you fantasized about how it made you feel like a tragic heroine who was just waiting for the Right Person to sweep you off your feet.

As you got older, however, you realized that maybe you just needed therapy to get out of that cycle.

Falling for a king, however? That was on a whole new level of self-harm.

Gripping the glass tightly, you began to walk away after Jin and the honor student began waltzing on the ballroom floor, as the other students gasped and watched them, entranced by how charming (and unthinkable) it was to see their ghoulish king dance with that clumsy little lost human.

Just like in a fairytale.

While you seeked refuge in one of the isolated balconies that went by unnoticed by most students, the back of your eyes began to hurt and you felt tears well up.

What was wrong with you?

How could you possibly allow yourself to feel so deeply for someone so out of your reach?

How could you let yourself make such a mess of yourself, when the person you pined for didn't even know you existed?

You threw yourself against the railing of a small balcony, just a few feet over the snowy field that surrounded Frostheim's castle.

To your right, you could see the other balconies, higher above, and you scoffed – even the refuge you unconsciously chose seemed to be in lower places.

The rain was merely a drizzle, and for a second you wonder if that was an unnatural occurrence, since you only ever saw snowy weather in that cold place.

Maybe nature took a little pity on you and decided to be empathetic. Maybe it saw how your loneliness was maddening.

You reached out your hand, a few drops falling on your palm like little needles piercing your skin, and you breathed deeply, feeling the crisp scent of petrichor invade your lungs. It felt good to feel something that wasn't related to your godawful emotions, you thought.

Letting both of your palms welcome the piercing drizzle, you focused on the water freezing your skin painfully. Chasing a new pain to take the old pain away was a dangerous, dangerous move – you knew. But, for that moment, you just wanted to escape from that dull ache on your chest.

You let your head fall back, and your eyes snapped towards two figures above, on the balcony to your right.

Tohma motioned towards a cigarette stick and leaned forward, towards him, towards Jin, lighting its end with the end of Jin's own cigarette – a kiss shared between those awful cancer sticks.

You saw the smoke billow out of the mouths of both men, and you felt a sick rage bubble in your core.

How did he manage to always be around to threaten your sanity like that when he didn't even know of you?

How could your pitiful and stupid heart beat faster for someone that was oceans of distance away from you?

You would never be useful like the honor student, you would never be trustworthy like Tohma, you would never be a friend, nor a foe.

You would never exist in his eyes.

So why? Why did you still harbor that rotten love for him?

Why couldn't you just turn your obsession into actual hate for once?

Because you knew that, as long as you still thought of him when you laid down on your bed, you couldn't possibly hate him. At least not truly.

Trapped inside of the turmoil of your own heart, you leaned forward, onto the railing of the balcony and let the gentle rain hit the back of your head and slowly soak the back of your clothes.

A cruel thought lit up in your mind like a sad and old incandescent lamp that you refused to turn on too often, in fear it could explode and its shards could cut you deeply.

It seems you truly could only ever be loved in your dreams.

Full masterlist

[svltzmans]

waves - r.b.

surfer!reader x lifeguard!robin

robin moves as far away from hawkins as she can - to california. to afford her rent she picks up a lifeguard gig at the local beach, and meets someone she could have only dreamed about in hawkins.

warnings: implied smut, injury, (almost) drowning, unproofread writing Lol

a/n: HI GAY PEOPLE OMG!!! i truly was not expecting so many people to see my last post and all of your likes made my day omg <3 i've been on vacation and thinking about this robin au for days so i knew i had to write it. i hope you like it <3 my request box is always open if you have any ideas of something you want to see me write!!

robin wasn't quite sure what the breaking point was that forced her out of hawkins, but considering her trauma related to the starcourt mall (and the events that followed) and the constant homophobia, she wasn't surprised.

california seemed ideal. everyone there looked eccentric and cool. robin was hopeful that she would be able to make new friends, even though she had promised steve she would stay in touch.

she packed everything she had into the trunk of her old convertible and drove across the country, feeling terrified to be leaving everything she knew, while simultaneously feeling a sense of freedom that nothing could damper.

she had managed to afford a one-bedroom apartment off the coast that she spent all of her savings on, although it was completely worth it. she was free. like, really free.

despite her sense of freedom, robin needed a job. her savings from scoops ahoy and family video could only get her so far, leading her to start applying everywhere she could find. record shops, libraries, cafés. anywhere that had a bright "we're hiring!" sign in the window.

but no luck.

robin was feeling exasperated trying to find a job. the stress was getting to her quite a bit, and the thought of having to move back home came to mind.

she had the same coping mechanism ever since she was in middle school, and nothing had changed with her big move.

"fuck it," she thought. "i'm going on a walk."

she threw on her converse and a light hoodie (it got cool at night, she remembered), and stepped outside the apartment.

as dusk fell over california, robin's walk led her to the most beautiful beach she had ever seen, albeit one of the only ones. she was from indiana, after all.

the waves were crashing quietly yet so loudly at the same time, and robin found herself mesmerized by the sound.

she scanned the beach, realizing she was one of the few individuals left. a young couple and their dog and an older gentleman walking by himself were the only other inhabitants of the beach at that hour.

she quickly forgot about her solitude when her eyes landed on a "lifeguards wanted" sign hanging on the back of one of the many lifeguard chairs.

bingo.

lifeguard training was much easier than robin had anticipated. she found out through her week long excursion that she was a much better swimmer than she'd imagined, and that it seemed like the town she was living in would hire just about anyone as a lifeguard. it was truly lucky.

admittedly, she was nervous. she didn't know if she'd actually be capable of saving someone's life in any capacity. at the same time, however, she was ready to try.

the first several days of being a lifeguard went off without a hitch, albeit a bit of boredom. it wasn't exactly the most fun job, getting nasty sunburns and staring off into the ocean while listening to screaming little kids.

that was, until, she noticed a young woman running towards the water with a surfboard, her salty waves blowing in the wind.

"holy shit," robin thought.

robin was absolutely fixated. she couldn't keep her eyes off the mysterious surfer, watching in awe as she caught countless waves and rode them back to the surface of the sand.

robin took note of the way the surfer's bodysuit hugged her curves in all the right places. she had to keep herself from drooling and focus on the fact that she had to potentially keep a beach full of people alive.

but every day, the surfer was there. the same time every afternoon with her surfboard. robin couldn't avoid her. so she stared, and stared, and stared...

robin quickly started looking forward to heading to work, knowing she would get to see the hottest girl she had ever seen, in a skin-tight body suit, no less.

although many days came and went without robin having to make any saves, she knew she would eventually have to put her training to use, and she was right.

the beach was practically completely empty, with the local news warning of the roughness of the tide and the danger of swimming in the ocean.

nonetheless, the mysterious surfer was still effortlessly catching each wave as she did every day.

robin watched closely, seeing the ways the surfer climbed up onto her board and balanced herself so perfectly.

she had never wanted to learn to surf so badly.

while robin continued to gawk, she noticed that the surfer was losing her footing as the waves got rougher. she struggled to get back onto her board and stand up without wiping out.

robin knew in her heart that this was bad. really bad.

as she continued to watch, she witnessed the wavy haired surfer get hit with a wave, knocking her below the surface of the water. her board emerged, floating without the beautiful girl on top of it.

without thinking, robin sprung into action. grabbing her gear, she dove headfirst into the ocean and swam as fast as humanly possible. she was pumped full of enough adrenaline to not feel tired, despite this being the most intense workout of her life.

reaching the spot the young woman had fallen, robin finally sees her emerge from underneath the water, struggling to catch her breath. robin instinctively grabs her and lifts her up, holding her high above the surface.

"hey, hey, it's okay. i got you. you're safe," robin coos, watching as the surfer's face starts to gain color again.

the surfer coughs, trying to regain her strength.

"well, that fuckin' hurt," the surfer mutters, letting out a dry laugh. her accent is so undoubtedly californian.

"holy shit. i'm glad you're okay. you had me scared there," robin utters, suddenly becoming very nervous with the beautiful sight in front of her.

"isn't it, like, your job to see this stuff happen?"

"well, yeah, but it never has actually happened before."

"so i'm your first save, huh?"

"i guess you could say that, although you kinda saved yourself."

the still unknown surfer laughs quietly.

"i'm y/n."

"robin. we should probably get out of this water now."

"yeah, i think so. although i can't believe it calmed down enough for us to swim after i almost died."

the pair both chuckle at that.

robin and y/n finally swim to shore, robin quickly grabbing a towel and throwing it to y/n, who is still shivering.

in a moment of bravery, robin decides to try to get closer to y/n's freezing frame.

"do you want to go back to my apartment to warm up? it's like, a block from here," she asks, taking in y/n's face up close. it's covered in freckles and a light tan from the sun.

"that would be great, actually," y/n responds. "i think i might have hypothermia."

"okay, let's not be dramatic here," robin laughs, beckoning the girl to follow her.

as the two women enter the apartment, y/n sighs with relief, feeling the warm air of robin's new home.

"it's so nice in here," she compliments.

robin simply smiles, taking in the sight in front of her. y/n's wet hair is thrown into a bun, and her cheeks are newly rosy after being blue for quite some time after being in the water.

"let's get you something warm to wear, okay? i don't want you to actually get hypothermia," robin flirts.

"yeah, that would suck a lot," y/n responds, gently chuckling at robin's jest.

robin leads y/n to her bedroom where she lends her some warm clothes to change into. she begins to leave the room, but as she does, y/n rips off her bodysuit, revealing a matching pink bra and underwear set.

robin knows she shouldn't stare, but she can't help herself. she's in a trance, staring at y/n from the doorway.

before she can leave, y/n turns around.

"like what you see, huh robbie?"

did she just... call her robbie?

completely in shock, robin just nods. she can't manage to respond verbally.

y/n doesn't feel cold anymore. her body is full of heat now that she had caught the lifeguard watching her change.

she approaches robin, her hands quickly finding her waist and pulling her closer.

before either of them know it, their lips are clashing, and they collapse on the bed.

"you saving my life today was pretty cool," y/n mutters. "but you being so fucking hot is a huge bonus."

a/n: should i do a part 2 to this this was so fun to write

[susan-gampre]

lasting memory: Dignity of a Traveler Part 1

The even dance of string on string bore a haunting melody which ricocheted off the high ceilings; It's song reverberating deep in the thorax of every individual living and dead. The deep brown wooden beams and pillars which carried structure of the room offered a beautiful magnification to the chords at play. People watched on in silence, the usual back chatter of excited minds exploring the depths of this free space minimized to hushed whispers... And even then, the whispers all carried a similar tone of awe. Murmuring mouth to ear of the splendor.

The lights dancing overhead offered a shimmering effect behind the cellist, the small mustered stage crew making it with great effort to resemble twinkling lights against the black background and her figure. Her silhouette was dimmed only slightly; At her behest she sought, specifically, to be dimmed enough that the music would be the loudest performer for this last night.

Music always spoke where words could not express. Esme had made sure it would be front and center to encapture the audience in emotional turmoil. She played with deliberate strokes, her left hand making work of each string as her right played the melody of her farewell. The patrons were transfixed on the woman center stage of the Brothel's grand room; Including the Madam.

She watched on with an expression mixed with both grief and appease-- It was a peculiar face mixed with concern for what awaited the performer's future, but the pride of knowing it was Esme's decision after all quelled the twisting of her gut. She was a smart girl, Susan had to trust she'd continue to be smart leaving here. It was the good natured aspect of her that made Esme seem so naive. But debts were nearing full payment between Sue and the young runaway, and it was growing near time that Esme would be moving on from the Sisters in Sin with a life full of bright horizons before her. Still. Susan felt it necessary to speak to the girl before morning.

As Susan understood it, this would be the last night Esme earned her keep and paid her debts in a timely matter to the Madam -- No longer would Sue have a prime example to put on display to the other whore's of the SiS company on what a good standings employee looked like. The thought of the playful nature of she and the whores brought a slight smile to her troubled facade, many good memories had been collected over the years with them all... Not a bad head on anyone's shoulders, all particularly decent men and women with better intentions and absolute shit luck. But there was a nature to Esme that incited the best in people... Susan knew, above anything else, she would miss the empathetic traveler.

A bittersweet celebration was unofficially to be conducted tonight following the final performer of the evening: Esme Erynn, only to celebrate the woman herself for her departure which was at a time that no one truly knew, in all honesty. While they'd spoken of the details regarding final payments - and the transfer of her funds - the topic of what Esme had planned following her final day of work was an unanswered one. And Susan was never one to pry. Gods understood her hatred for prying.

With this notion she'd turn to her assistant of the evening, a squirrely and hyper young man who, upon the quietly exchanged request, would bow his head and turn to scurry through the curtains separating her balcony view from the hallway. He'd glance briefly to the other curtained off seats and private suites before bolting down the steps leading to the main floor. With a startle to the guards at the bottom of the steps, of which the curly haired fellow would express genuine apology, the fellow was quick to the backstage portion with Susan's message hot on his mind.

Esme's peformance was nearing it's end. Strokes became longer and infrequent, the melody of her song beginning to slow and fade as did the twinkling lights in tangent. Just as they had meticulously practiced over the weeks, the stage would dim to a point of complete darkness, leaving the young woman with her head bowed, a curtain of thick brown hair pooling into her face as she remains firmly planted to her spot. To the audience it was a young lady waiting quietly for the applause to cease, but to Susan she could see it was Esme's hesitation... Unwillingness to stand from her seat and exit left as she had every performance before. This was... A lingering. She couldn't understand why, though.

Eventually the people who came strictly with tickets for the performances would file out. An unspoken agreement between polite society and the degenerates that the performances would be the segway from day business to night business. And the night was young, those who remained stayed with a mind for the pleasures that occurred following the evening performers. It was then, as the stage lights were programmed to resume their typical settings of swaying their colorful beams to and from across the dance floor, occasionally illuminating sections around the main floor of the brothel. Patrons became alive once again, the chatter at full max as couples began to form. Then, and only then, did Esme pick her head up.

Her hair fell to her shoulders again, encasing her small face with thick tresses, her softened gaze watching on with a sense of longing in the pit of her stomach. Or was that... anxiety? She'd brush the thought away before standing, the tailored cotton dress straightening out along her figure, slippered feet turning once she picks up her instrument. A fellow worker would reach forth to help carry the cello, to which the woman graciously denies, smiling brilliantly as she explains, "This is my final walk off, I'd like to do this myself."

With this the maiden would walk off left of stage and enter the back with a deep breath, offering shy smiles as her fellow employees would move in to congratulate and compliment. She was quite meek in the exchange, ever full of humility as she politely thanked her friends. It wasn't long before she would soon express interest in seeing them at the party and explained her need to prepare -- A white lie, she wasn't ever truly going to be prepared for the end of the night but for the sake of her friends she wanted to ease away from them before her angst ate away their good moods.

It wouldn't be long before she ran into the familiar face of Susan's assistant- in fact she didn't even make it to the designated changing room.

"Esme! Wonderful playin' love," he expressed before immediately following up with, "The Madam would like a word."

Esme's stomach flipped, her heart leaping into her throat which caused a strained noise to leave her mouth -- Which caused a flash of confusion across the lad's face. She'd quickly recover, clearing her throat with a gentle beating of her fist against her chest, "S-Sorry, uh... Did she say what for, Jeth?"

His eyes widened before he'd nod, soon apologizing himself, "Awh! Pardon, I didn't realize how jaded that must've come off; Yes! She just wanted to chat, really, mentioned..," he'd pause, nose scrunching and eyes squinting as the memory of what Susan said had now faded some... Awaiting Esme's gracious decent from the stage had allowed for the fellow to get abit distracted with the whores come to meet and greet the performer. Finally he states, "Something about... Longing?"

Esme's brow would furrow before raising a hand to cease the painful watch of him trying to think about what he'd been sent here for. "No no, thats okay Jeth. I'll go see her shortly."

With this pleasantry concluded the fellow would turn tail and run back for the stairs to service his mistress; Leaving a particularly quiet Esme to continue to the changing room to put her instrument away and exchange her humble garbs for skirts and a top -- Both of which she'd slip into seamlessly, her midriff and collar bones exposed showing a belly button ring and cleavage. Otherwise, the garb would still be modest in comparison to the corsets and stockings of some of her friends as they piled in after a swift knock to the door. Esme hadn't even been able to react to the knock before they all began to coo and reach to pull the giggling woman into her chair. Poised and prepared to doll her up as they so playfully threatened before her performance, the ladies each took their cues of preparing the hair tools or combing through outfits.

A particularly cheerful blonde would grab Esme by the shoulders, giving her a playful shake while meeting her gaze in the mirror as she leans forward to say:

"Alright love... you're in good hands now, don't you go shoving us off, I sure as fuck ain't afraid to bite your hand!"

[jungkookjeon0007]

Nights in Vegas | CH. 19 (JJK FF)

☆ summary: When Olivia flies to Las Vegas for her first ever BTS concert w/ her best friend, she was expecting to make lots of unforgettable memories... What she wasn't expecting was to end up with the lead singer, Jeon Jungkook, knocking on her hotel room door only to find her in nothing but a towel. What will happen when the golden maknae wants to see her again? Will it lead to heartbreak, or a promising future for them both?

☆ pairing(s): jungkook x olivia.

☆ ratings: (18+) for detailed sex scenes + harsh language.

☆ genre: smut, angst, fluff.

☆ word count: 1.58k.

☆☆☆☆☆☆

[Author's POV]

A few days had went by, and tonight was yet another concert for the boys.

Except this time the concerts were going to be back to back, which means they had another one tomorrow as well. Lacie and Olivia were fortunate enough to attend the other two concerts due to the company allowing them to tag along with the boys backstage.

They arrived at the stadium, and were escorted to a very nice and private sitting room while the members were getting ready for the concert. The private room would be where the two would watch the concert live from a big screen TV monitor.

"Wow, look at this set up! I'd rather be in here any day compared to out there with all those sweaty ARMY fans screaming our ears off the whole time. What about you, Liv?"

She turned to see her best friend checking the place out with shiny eyes, "Idk, I like it back here but I loved being able to experience the 'purple ocean' and the guys performing was so much better in person. It was the most amazing experience, you have to admit."

Lacie smiled nodding her head in agreement because she knew Olivia was right, it was definitely something they could never forget.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door and 7 men stepped in, shutting the door behind them.

"Hello ladies, how are you liking your private room?" Yoongi asked as he gestured around him.

"It is amazing and so relaxing! We really are excited that we get to watch the concert in here." Lacie replied.

"Yeah, we tried to have them make it as comfy as possible for you both and made sure you had plenty of snacks and drinks for the whole concert." Namjoon said, smiling sweetly.

"Well.. We truly appreciate that so much Namjoon, thank you!" Olivia said as he nodded and flashed his dimples at them.

"Yes, so just relax and enjoy the show. If you would happen to need anything, there is a button on this table to call one of the staff members to come assist with anything you'd need." Jimin stated as he walked over and pointed to said button.

The rest of the guys spoke for a few minutes, until it was time for them to get ready and go out on stage.

. . .

[Olivia's POV]

We bid the other 5 members a farewell and wished them good luck on the show, but 2 of them stayed behind to talk for just a few more minutes with us.

Jungkook walked up to me and gave me his beautiful bunny smile, "I'm so glad I get to come here to you after the concert ends instead of waiting to see you at the hotel."

I smiled as he tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear. "Me too, I'm most excited to be able to ride home with you, take a shower, and after that getting into nice warm jammies so we can binge watch American Horror Story until we fall asleep."

He smiled, "That sounds absolutely perfect and I cannot wait."

He pulled me to him by my hips as he wrapped his long arms around me for a big hug. I stood on my tip toes and attached our lips together as we completely melted into the kiss. As we pulled back he whispered onto my lips, "I love you baby."

I pulled back and ran my fingers through his hair and whispered back, "I love you too my handsome pop-star. Have a great concert."

He smiled real big and kissed me one last time right before Hobi hollered at him from the door.

"Coming Hyung! He then turned back to me, "See you after the show beautiful." He winked, turning around and exited the room.

I took a deep breath and was smiling at the moment we shared when Lacie suddenly cleared her throat. When I looked up at her, she was giving me a big smile, "What?"

"Nothing. I'm just glad the two of you made up, you're perfect for each other Liv, I truly believe that."

I blushed. "He makes me so happy, I just can't help but keep thinking about when we have to tell them goodbye... the day is getting closer and closer and i don't know if I'll be able to do it."

She came up to me, grabbing my shoulders, turning me to look at her, "Please stop worrying over this. The conversations will happen eventually... until then, enjoy your time with him."

I sighed, "How are you so calm about this? You'll be leaving Hobi as well-"

She interrupted me, "Hobi and I have already agreed to continue a long distance relationship together to make this work. You and Jungkook need to have the same conversation, so you both can be prepared when it's time for us all to head home."

"I guess you're right. I'm just nervous about what he will want to do."

She looked at me with a loving expression, "Liv honey, he will want to do whatever it takes to be with you."

I looked at her with hope filled eyes, "You think?"

"Absolutely. You're soul-mates for sure and I think you guys are the real deal."

I smiled at her, pulling her into a hug, "Thank you so much. I needed that pep talk. You're the best!"

. . .

[Author's POV]

Lacie and Olivia continued to talk for a few more minutes until they received word from a member of the staff that the concert was about to begin. They sat down with their snacks and wine to watch the performance and once it started, they could not stop ogling at how amazing the members all looked.

"Oh my gosh! Look at Yoongi!!!" Lacie stated.

"Jungkook is looking so good! Look at him in that red outfit!" Olivia said while fanning herself dramatically.

"HOBI IS EVERYTHING!" Lacie said, taking a huge drink of wine as they both continued to commentate about how the members sang, danced, and looked during each one of their performances.

. . .

Time Skip — After the Concert

Everything was phenomenal and they could not be more proud of them all and as the concert came to a close, Jungkook busted through the door and went straight to Olivia. His lips crashed onto hers as they kissed passionately, "I missed you so much, Liv."

"I missed you too and you all did so good tonight! I'm seriously so proud of you all-"

She observed him with furrowed eye brows and changed the subject, "N-not that I'm not happy to see you, I really am... But I'm curious, why are you not getting a shower and finishing up everything with the others?"

He smirked, "I wanted to come back here and get you. I want to go back to the hotel because as I recall, we had plans to get a shower, get our pajamas on, and binge watch American Horror Story... right?"

"Yes, that's right. But.. won't the guys get upset that you didn't wait on them and went with me instead?"

He chuckled, "No baby. Namjoon Hyung actually insisted the idea. He said that we weren't doing anything after this anyways and I should just get you and take you back with me... So are you ready to go?"

Olivia turned and looked at Lacie, but she was already in Hobi's arms. As if Jungkook read her mind, he turned to her, "He's doing the same. He wanted to come and get Lacie since I was coming to get you."

"Okay then, yes. Let's go, I'm sure you're ready for a shower and to lay down." He nodded as she grabbed his hand, turning to Lacie and Hobi, "We are going to head back to the hotel, text me if you need anything and be safe!"

"We will and you both do the same. Enjoy your night and great job tonight Jungkook!"

Jungkook smiled at Lacie and bowed then lightly tugged Olivia's hand, insisting that they go. The pair left the room, heading to the back exit of the stadium where no ARMYs would be so they could get in the car that's waiting to take them back.

. . .

[Jungkook's POV]

We entered the car safely with no one seeing us and started on our way to the hotel, "Come here baby, let me hold you."

She got closer to me with a smile on her face and laid her head on my shoulder as I put my arm around her.

"You smell so good." She stated with a little sigh as if she was taking in as much of my smell as possible.

I chuckled. "Why thank you. I guess I should wear this perfume more often then, huh?"

She nodded. "Yes, I love the way that it smells."

I smiled, placing a kiss on her forehead as she nestled into me for the remainder of the car ride.

My life feels so complete when she's with me, but I dread when we have to have the discussion about what we're going to do when it's time to go home....

[chocolate-teapots]

Kim Taehyung- While It Lasted

     ╔═════════════════════════════════════════╗

                 In which you discover how much love truly costs. 

     ╚═════════════════════════════════════════╝

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: sensual Tae, swearing, romance, manipulation, toxic relationship, heartbreak. 

"I mean this is the happiest I've seen you in a long time."

Melanie searched my face for any evidence against this face but she couldn't find it.

It was the honest truth.

I was so happy that I had to concentrate on the restaurant around me just so I wouldn't liquify in my chair- whether it be the people peeping to see what we ordered, the woman complaining about linen charge or the staff flirting behind the bar.

I was so happy that I didn't want to talk too much in case I sounded insane. I had always been the pessimistic one between us both, laughing self-deprecatingly when Melanie stumbled in messily from a hookup but cried when she went to sleep it off.

"Well," I blush and chuckle modestly, grounding myself by gripping the slim stem of the wine glass "I am. He's just- who I am now."

I saw her sisterly cogs turning.

"And before you say don't become too dependent on him I'm not," I point watching her smirk knowingly into the rim of the glass "It's a perfect balance, we're seeing each other casually and being all over each other sometimes."

It doesn't make sense.

This kind of luck didn't exist anymore with people being too awkward to meet face to face or getting carried away behind screens and instantly begging for something more. This was rare and it would take a lot for me to even think about letting it go.

"Well," she raises her glass of wine elegantly by the stem, grinning with dumbfounded pride "fuck you and your perfect life."

I laugh but there were worse things to be sworn at for. I didn't believe in luck or the manifesting stuff I caught on late-night tv sometimes but I owe someone a pretty big favour for having a great job, a fantastic new relationship and a perfect new life in just a couple of months since moving.

"To the perfect man," I toast and the wine sloshes and glasses clink.

I didn't know if it was the sweetness of success or genuinely the taste but as I took a sip it was the best wine I had ever tasted. It was the best pasta I had tasted and we were regulars at this place.

"Are you sure you want to live with him? I know he's a fucking catch but I can cut my hair, tape down my tits and deepen my voice!"

This restaurant is where we'd come to rant when we didn't want to cry since it's unbelievably intimate and public. But this time I had good news. I was doing just fine with nothing to cry about.

"How is it gonna be actually living with the guy? A huge disappointment compared to your previous roommate I know but..." Melanie shrugs sarcastically, wincing at the thought of having to warm her own coffee and pastries in the mornings without me to do it for her.

But he was very eager, almost insistent actually that we move in together. He said it was the answer to all our problems of struggling to make time for each other with our schedules.

"Absolutely but," I shrug still playing around with the linguine on my fork "I really don't know. I've never seen his place."

"What?" she shakes her head for clarity but mostly the drama "You never slept at his? What if he has star wars sheets? Ew, what if he cuts his nails in the kitchen? Kieran used to do that before I threw his ass and his toenails out."

I laughed again but the funniest thing was that I didn't even care. At this point, Tae could attack me in his sleep and it wouldn't stop the bubbling anticipation I have to see him first thing in the morning.

He always made it clear from the beginning that his life was incomprehensibly complicated, not in a worrying my boyfriend is a serial killer way but in a please don't pry and ask too many questions I'll tell you when I'm ready kind of way.

But she's right. It's weird.

"I don't know he always made excuses that his roommate, Jimmie or something, was weird, he hadn't cleaned, he was having the floors done. I know that's the part where you start tailing him after work or going through his Instagram but I chose to respect his privacy. Maybe he was embarrassed about where he lived."

Tae was a host at a prestigious hotel restaurant and the nights were long and hard for him and for me who often waited up for him with a glass of wine until the inevitable 'working late. don't wait up' message.

Then I got out the tequila.

"Well, I hope for your sake Tae isn't a snorer. Has he put down the deposit yet?"

"No, I did."

She drops her fork, eyebrows dropping to her nostrils.

"I thought he said last week that he found the place?"

I shrugged, never liking conversations about money even if it was with my best friend.

"He did but he's still waiting around for someone to take over his tenancy since his contract runs out in April."

Melanie doesn't say anything else.  

By the time the bottle and the conversation had reached its end, we were wincing in heels through the door of our blue apartment for the last time. I was going to miss living with Melanie, we had lived together since we met in the second year of uni and ended up working at the same magazine.

At least we had one thing to keep us together, not that anything could ever keep us apart.

"I'm gonna miss this."

"Me too."

As we sloppily waved each other and walked into our separate doors my phone began to ring in my hand and I dodged a few boxes to the edge of the bed before answering. I waited for a second, a heavy glee pressing down my chest that I was scared would just crush me if I answered too soon.

Get a grip.

I slipped off my heels and picked up.

"You were out late."

His smooth deep voice poured through the speakers and into my spine which was dotted and frozen cold. I half unzipped my dress and flopped onto the bed on my stomach, legs kicking in a stupid girlie rush.

Damn him.

His tone was always firm but playful like he was telling me off and praising me at the same time. It was addictive.

"Yeah, we got a bit carried away with the old stories and the wine," I laughed at how my stomach still hurt from the uncontrollable laughter from a pair of twenty-somethings in a decently respectable restaurant "Are you on break?"

"No just snuck out when Craig wasn't looking, I wanted to catch you before you went to sleep and make sure Mel hadn't changed your mind. She can be very persuasive."

I couldn't help my smile as I rubbed my sore feet, the world suddenly just seems a little bit better. His genuine thoughtfulness was unparalleled and his words were effortless even if they were simple and meant little to nothing. Even when he met Mel for the first time, he was perfect, like an extension of myself.

"I can't believe in less than twenty-four hours I get to have you all to myself, all day, every day," he hummed happily, thinking out loud rather than just stating facts. It made me all the more excited, even the idea of yelling at him for his mess if he was messy or marvelling at his neatness if he wasn't.

I couldn't wait.

"Do you cut your toenails in the kitchen?"

But it was hard to articulate.

Taehyung erupted into unexpected laughter, more like a big splutter. I often carried out conversations in my head in public forgetting that the other person couldn't hear the first half of it.

"That's disgusting. Which one of Melanie's ex-boyfriends did that?" he replies knowingly, still laughing but also keeping quiet to hide from his pushy boss.

"It's just- I don't know..." I struggle "Don't you think it's odd how I've never seen your place? I've never met your roommate, only met one of your friends."

The more I talked about it the more I was talking myself out of this.

"Okay," he takes a deep breath as if he knew this was coming and had prepared something to say "Firstly, Jimin is the one respectable one out of my friends, I think you'd run if you met any of the rest. And second, my roommate was messy and the place was gross. I knew deep down that it wasn't my home because you weren't there, it was temporary."

I bite my lip, impulsively pressing mute so I could squeal into the sheets. I kick the headboard behind me over and over until my toes hurt. My heart was going to explode. God, I'm such a child.

I unmute.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what I was thinking."

"Don't apologise. I know exactly what you were thinking. Fuck I don't know him, maybe he has pokemon sheets or he has a huge porn box under his bed."

"Do you have a huge porn box under your bed?" I ask playfully with intrigue. Very specific.

"I'm sorry to say I don't. I don't need it when I have a woman who does unspeakable things to me on the bathroom counter..."

The heat from my ears burns the screen of my phone. He hums deeply down the line, hating how he's knowingly ruined my sleep for tonight and he gets to walk away and head back to work as if nothing happened.

"I saw your Instagram story, I know you're wearing that slutty black dress that I love so mu- uh yeah we're still waiting for the 3-piece Piatti plates for the Jones' reception!"

I threw up the air I had been suppressing, bringing myself back into existence as a couple of voices mumbled a different type of adult talk on his side.  

Damn you, Kim Taehyung.

"Sorry," he breathes relieved, I always loved how he did his job with passion  "I have to go, close call."

"That's okay. You know you're getting pretty good at that."

"I have to be, imagine if they found out I was talking to the press," he teased "enjoy your last night of freedom."

"I will, enjoy your dickhead customers," I replied, humming in enjoyment as the cold sheets cool my blushing body.

I thought he'd hung up.

It was quiet for a while.

But I still held the phone.

"Y/N?"

I bite my smile back, disappearing shyly into my shoulders.

"Yes?"

I can hear his smile. He's not doing his wide shy smile but his loving pink pursed lips side grin.

"I can't wait to wake up to you every day sweetheart."

"Me neither Tae."

Me neither.

_______________________________________________________

Kim Taehyung was a complicated man with a complicated personality, a complicatedly stressful job and a complicated way of organising his shoes. However, waking up with Kim Taehyung was anything but complicated.

I was usually awake before him and allowed myself the treat of studying his sleeping form as a morning dose of dopamine. Between Mel and myself, I've seen a number of good-looking handsome men in the past but their features were carefully sculpted and intentional as if they sat down and planned every fibre of their existence with a tiny brush. Taehyung was just naturally that way. His entire charm is his natural beauty, his unintentional charisma, his naïvity to his loveliness but his simultaneous arrogance.

He smells like lavender and fresh fabric softener, not nauseating tan, gel or cologne. The lines in his back are soft, brush-stroke-like and not forcefully chiselled to inspire fear. The only fear I had when I was with him like this was losing him.

"You'll be late."

I'm about to reach his thick eyelashes until he mumbles, making me jump and clutch the sheets to my chest. He's so close his nose almost bumps against mine.

"I'll send my boss a photo of you, she'll understand," I tuck my hands under the side of my head, quite comfortable with the idea of getting the sack just to stare at this man full time. The feminist within me was leaking out of my mouth, disguised as drool.

He groans with a cute pout, stretching out his arms on the other side of the gorgeous well-built bed until they landed beside my head and I was completely engulfed in his shadow. I gulp, nervous laughter disguising itself as I feel his body lower onto mine and his lips kiss the skin of my jaw.

"I thought you said last night you needed a rest?"

I look at him, his dark brown hair curling on his forehead in the morning and completely fucked out in the back. My hands reach out to touch it, curling a strand with my finger and running through it with my other hand. It was still so soft after all the rolling around last night.

"I'm rested."

He breathes against my skin. He loved it when I played with his hair because it soothed him or turned him on I wasn't sure. His kisses got less playful and intentional as he placed my arms against the mattress and muttered:

"Call your boss. Tell her you're a bit tied up and you'll be late."

_______________________________________________________

The office still looked the same.

Life was still pretty simple and I still did the same things every day. I didn't know why having a different place to go home to was going to change that. I still went to the same yummy sandwich truck every day, I still worked with Mel the only difference being I wasn't there to see her pop a huge spot on her butt cheek so she looked forward to telling me about it more the next day.

Yep.

Taehyung had an early shift this morning so he was gone before I woke up. While the sheets were a little colder in the mornings, I wasn't upset and only looked forward to seeing him more and enjoyed the rest. I'd wake up just to feel him kiss me goodbye, then drift back to sleep. We were building a routine.

It was going really great.

I had just walked in and the air was extra crisp, my coffee was extra warm and my hair didn't budge in the January wind. I greeted Ieuan at the front desk with an extra unstoppable smile.

"Hey Ieuan, anything for me this fine Friday morning?" I hand him one of the coffees from my tray, even though it was technically an intern job but I personally loved the way his eyes melted as if he hadn't eaten in a week.

"I love that you're not miserable anymore but it's freaking me out. I'm starting to think that I'm the problem in my life," he deadpans, snatching his coffee and nursing it in both hands.

"We both know your only problem is self-inflicted. He's not gonna call, move on."

"It's only been a year Y/N, we still have time," Ieuan rolls his ice blue eyes all the way back to his stupid brain that's fixated on a co-worker, as insanely hot as he may be, that he had a drink with one time and never called him back a year ago.

"I don't have time, shoot."

"Okay, I've got Austin Butler has agreed to an interview but he won't talk about surgery, Kelly said she won't cover Schiaparelli cause she's vegan, asshole love of my life wants to talk to you about the art page he said the red is too merry and not slutty enough and oh, do you know a Ben Rodgers?"

"Ben Rodgers? No doesn't ring a bell."

"He called like 5 seconds ago asking for you but didn't leave a contact number. He seemed like he was in a hurry. Sexy voice."

"Again? Weird, can't you trace it?" I shrugged, frowning as I rummaged through my bag for my work phone which conveniently began to ring. I heard that ringtone in my nightmares but it was unfamiliar. "Maybe it's some of your Grindr stalkers calling to see where you are."

"Still No Caller ID and my men take their time with me thank you very much."

I laugh at him.

"Forget about it, couldn't have been that important. If it's about a misprint, not much we can do when it's printed and under someone's coffee mug on the nightstand."

_______________________________________________________

There was a disappointment.

"Tae, have you seen my slutty black dress that you love so much?" I call to him from upstairs, confused not to see it when hanging up the laundry.

"Yeah, it's down my trousers! You might want to wash it," he calls back, his filthy mind making me laugh but still not distracting me from the missing garment.

I ponder with a 'hmm' as I follow the amazing smell of pasta down the stairs, pulling a navy jumper over my head as I run.

"Nothing?" Taehyung presses further, looking over his broad shoulders and away from the sizzling pan of wonderfulness to my missing dress matter.

"Nah I'm sure it'll turn up," I pick up the glass of wine and sit down at the table, relishing the feeling of not having to cook tonight and just relaxing until I'm fed. "What's that orgasmic smell coming from the stove?"

"It's my new shampoo rosemary and eucalyptus," he flicks his hair like a Pantene girl until he notices my angry impatient silence, something he knew never to mess with.

"Oh, you mean the food? Well, it's Italian sausage ragu thick tagliatelle with a fresh basil blanket and a sprinkling of Parmigiano Reggiano."

"I love it when you talk dirty to me."

"Wait until I tell you about dessert," he plays along, bringing my above-average-sized portion over to me with the prettiest presentation I had ever seen. He takes the wine bottle and tops up the glass in my hand before even thinking about his own serving.

I might love this man.

"Awe honey you baked?"

He looks at me mischievously before he sits, lost deep within the filthy part of his brain before uttering:

"Something like that."

I don't say anything and shove a stupid amount of pasta into my mouth to suppress a giggle. I groan at the taste, marvelling at the multiple talents of the god of a man that happened to host my birthday party once at the beautiful hotel.

Mel tolerated Taehyung, why she didn't embrace him as her own as she did with me I'll never know. She was civil, she asked questions, and she came over for movie nights and drinks but there was always something she wasn't saying. I thought it was because I did the same whenever she had a boyfriend. To me, no one would ever be good enough for her and if they were I was willing to turn a blind eye in fear of losing her.

How could she not like him?

"This is stunning! Since when do we buy these sausages?"

He looks up from his meal, lips painted red from the stain of the sauce and the dim lighting of the candle. His eyebrows twitch.

"Oh, I bought them today. Hope you don't mind, they still haven't sent my new card yet so I used your spare to get some bits."

He waits.

"Of course! No complaints, keep them coming."

He seemed relieved.

_______________________________________________________

"Who is it this today?"

"Colin Greene!"

"No fucking idea!"

_______________________________________________________

[blackberrydeer]

I don't really know why I'm doing it.

That's a lie. I wake up each day ready to ignore my own wishes and try to socialize in social media

21 days to find you

Chapter 2/?

All in all, she was fucked. Or better, she was fucking hungry. She had been in The Hole for three days straight, and combining all the food they gave her, she was sure one stale bread bread would have done the fucking job better.

And the universe had a kink on giving her hell, it seemed, because she managed to take the blame of some fucker in the way to get some-fucking-thing to eat – it was near dusk, they were (probably) giving ration, and at the moment that was enough to make her mouth water.

But she was, as her instructors would say, a living piece of a demon straight out of Hell. And they probably believed that, considering that they blamed her for something that happened two days ago, and decided to punish her while she exited her three (3) days long, no bathroom time, solitary confinement.

Her punishment? A punch in the stomach, other in the chest (FUCK, she was still feeling it), and no fucking food for another fucking day.

And that made four hungry days in a roll.

Of course, despite Fedra’s attempts in making their future soldiers as dull and dumb as possible, Ellie knew the dangers of starvation; if Riley was there, she would have given an entire lecture of the reasons she should “start taking fucking care of yourself, Ellie, I don’t care if the guards started it, you’re the one bitting the hook”, before giving her half of her own meal she always kept when Ellie was punished. She wasn’t guilty for this one, and anyway, Riley wasn’t there. Ellie was fucking starving and the curfew was up.

And that meant she could break it

She knew, because of dumb luck, from a passing inspector that there was a quick job near; payment entirely dependant on the amount of hours you work, and Ellie had slept a bit in The Hole, so she was almost sure she could pull an all-night and manage the school after (despite the senseless, good-for-nothing sleepiness she’d been feelings since she reached her early-twelve). That definitely wouldn’t be enough to put her stomach out of its misery, but at least it wouldn’t start to eat her insides.

Window and fire exit (which was supposed to be inaccessible, but Riley didn’t like that) passed by, Ellie did quick work of reaching her objective: the old Fedra’s deposit now barely standing and offering sweet slave-like job for almost no food. A dream that came true, truly.

The place was quite full, despite being in the middle of the night, what was not very nice, but she found herself a lovely post apocalyptic looking empty place to pull her weight (not very much, literally speaking).

The work itself was definitely not nice, though, even more when your body is actively trying to eat itself, but food is food, and the growling her stomach made every once in a while were very good points in her mental argument of staying when the rain started.

Nice, now she would also get hypothermia.

Fedra taught her about the dangers of starvation, not about the cold, so fuck hypothermia.

And now she was cold. Fucking cold and fucking starving and fucking wet and her shoulders were aching like the hell Fedra thinks she came from supporting the (heavier than necessary, in her humble opinion) pieces of what she supposed was some reinforced door. She had started to use her shoulders after watching a guy near her do that, but quickly decided he was full of shit.

The rain helped absolutely fucking nothing, only weighting the few clothes she had on, Fedra’s standard uniform that did nothing against the freezing as fuck night.

She also decided that the guy full of shit was a creepy too, and probably a pervert based on the amount of times he kept glancing at her.

And of fucking course, the rain had spooked every living soul out of the jobsite aside from the creepy guy.

Ellie took advantage of the moment he bent in half to pick up something to evaluate him. Obviously she had no chance of winning in a fight, but the rain could help her lose him if she needed to sprint her way out of there.

He was a big guy, heavy built and all. Big people tended to not look at the ground (or at least that’s what Riley says)

Fortunately the guy started to walk to the entry of the site, apparently deciding to get out of the rain. Thank fuck.

Ellie felt a weight almost as heavy as the broken pieces of Fedra’s building vanish from her shoulders when he started to walk away. Almost was a good word, she thought kneeling to pick up the smaller pieces of wood and a heavy iron doorknob.

Fedra was an absolute bitch for making absolute zero efforts in helping carry things destroyed by the Fireflies, not even giving them a pushcart. She was sure her shoulder blades were about to rip at any moment, but hey, starving she still was.

She was also very fucking dumb, drowning in pointless thoughts deep enough to not hear the person behind her until the very last second.

“Ki-“

Fuck

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Her brain stopped working, and at the same time she felt millions and billions of thoughts breaching their way into her mind. Was that what traffic used to be like? She had heard some old people once talk about it. The creepy guy looked very old too, he probably knew what traffic used to be, maybe that’s why he stopped, he sensed the traffic of thoughts on her mind and felt obligated to wait for green signal, why does the green signal meant stop? Green means plants, plants don’t stop growing, plants are badass, she wondered if it would be nice to be a plant. Are fungus plants too? She’s pretty sure they aren’t, but Fedra’s school teachers are shitty, so she’s not sure – ah, right, the creepy guy, did he move? She felt like a lot of time had passed, but everything seemed way to still, maybe no time passed at all.

She wondered if she could outrun the man. He had bigger legs, but he seemed old. Old people have bad joints.

Suddenly the sound of the rain pounding against every surface resumed ten times louder, and her brain crashed in what must have been a wall of goddamn adrenaline, all of her thoughts now transforming into one sentence: run

And so she did, hunger forgotten for the heavy pull of instinctive danger. One last glance over her shoulder revealed the guy with a strange, blank glinting in his dark eyes.

She ran, and ran a little longer, until the adrenaline was all but spent. Not the most she had ever ran, truth be told, but she was starving and tired and cold, and her clothes had at least 15 pounds of water.

For her dismay, the route she took would circle all the way around some Fedra’s facilities before she reached her bedroom, but the creepy guy was blocking the only short cut, and she wasn’t in the mood to risk a fight.

She had left her switchblade back in her room, after all.

She started a quick pace, wishing for the few hours of sleep she’d hopefully be able to get.

[angeldcgs]

what she was doing couldn't be considered cheating, just like what todd was doing couldn't, either. it's not like she was anyone's girlfriend— anymore, at least. they'd both decided that it would be best to cool it down and keep things casual once they signed to their label and their careers began to pick up, agreeing that the band should be their main focus, and not each other. envy was allowed to be a little selfish now and again, so long as it didn't impact the band's ability to function. she was merely embodying the rockstar lifestyle, embracing hedonism and indulging in her own pleasure rather than spending the night feeling sorry for herself. it might've been better to choose a fan who was entirely unknown to her so there'd be absolutely no strings attached, but there was no one in that crowd she'd have rather spent the night with than cooper. no one else deserved it but him, as he'd already proven himself to be a true fan, and one worthy of the ultimate perk. her soft spot for him had only continued to grow with every brief encounter, stringing him along with free tickets and not much else acknowledgment just to test how dedicated he really was, and finally his patience was being rewarded. "not many people can," she smirked at just how meek he'd become, absolutely no balls to back up his subtle attempt at negging. "live performance is a lost art." their recorded music and visuals were more than enough to catch the general public's attention, but it was their live shows that had truly solidified them as a rock band to watch out for, singling out envy specifically as the standout star of the group, much to her bandmates' chagrin. they were all talented, but she had an undeniably captivating quality about her, the sort of stage presence that commanded the attention of everyone in the room and wouldn't let up until she'd taken her final bow and stomped off stage. part of it was her look, for sure; her platform heels and teeny tiny hemlines emphasizing the elongated silhouette of her legs as she strutted around purring into the mic, leather and latex and shiny metal hardware giving off a seductively intimidating aura, but to chalk her popularity up to her appearance alone would be an affront to her many years of hard work perfecting her vocal technique. she didn't doubt cooper understood that— hell, he'd been a fan ever since they were a dinky garage band and envy was a mousy brunette who stood frozen in one spot for their whole set. her gaze bore straight into his once he finally looked up for an extended period of time, the tension between them thickening the air and warming her even more than the few cocktails she'd consumed before they came back to the hotel. she watched him closely with the faintest ghost of a smile on her face, brushing his hair back from his forehead to properly admire his features. despite the amount of times their paths had crossed, envy realized she'd never truly studied him. they'd never been close enough, their encounters only lasting a few minutes at most, but now she had all night to familiarize herself. "you better not," she warned him softly. "whatever would i do without my good luck charm there cheering me on every night?" while envy might not have gone on stage intending to impress him, his presence at their shows did have some sort of impact on her. whether she could see him during the show or not, the thought of him waiting around at the stage door just to catch a glimpse of her after the show helped fuel her performance, knowing that there was at least one person in the crowd who understood what she was trying to do as an artist. "can i ask you a question, cooper?" abandoning his curls, envy instead grasped one of his hands and began toying with his fingers absentmindedly while she fluttered her lashes at him. "you're not still a virgin, are you?"

cooper knew about envy's relationship with the bassist, or at least he thought he did. for someone who claimed to respect the band and their music, it should've been expected that he wouldn't try to get in the middle of them, especially when it could, in theory, come to affect the whole infrastructure of the band. at the end of the day though, he had his favourites and if he were to believe the gossip, envy deserved a lot better than someone who was filling his bed with whichever fan captured his interest that night. it was different with them, he was a fan of hers but he also felt like he knew her better than any of the other groupies could ever dream of. she wasn't known to bring people back with her and that meant he was special, he couldn't fuck it up with his inability to express himself properly. "you're right. i- i wouldn't be able to do it." half the time he could barely walk in a straight line, always tripping over himself or fumbling into the wrong situation, he wasn't anything like envy and it only furthered his infatuation with her. no one could be that disciplined, the care she put into her craft was obvious to anyone who wanted to pay attention and not disregard her as doing nothing but pumping out popular music for the masses but cooper knew better. envy was going down in history as one of the greats, an honest to god marvel and a true performer. when he considered it for more than a second, drunk on his own excitement, cooper realised how pathetic he'd sounded trying to insinuate that anything that envy had achieved over the run of the tour had been because of him. who was he? a face in a crowd of thousands. he still believed that he was special to her in some way, otherwise he wouldn't have been invited back to her room but her burst of giggles knocked him back down where he belonged, beneath her. he squirmed uncomfortably on the bed as she drew closer and kept his eyes down at the sheets, occasionally flickering them up so she'd know he was still paying attention before the reality of having her so close knocked him breathless and forced him to look away again. once her hand returned to his hair, cooper bit his tongue to squash the little whimper that threatened to escape the back of his throat. had he not had his confidence diminished, he would've been less stressed about keeping his excitement to himself, she would've gotten to hear his little sigh of satisfaction and see his eyes roll back at the feeling of her sharp nails scratching at his scalp. "yeah." his head lulled in her direction, heavy like he'd gotten drunk on one glass and he finally managed to maintain eye contact with her. she already knew how amazing he thought she was but she still deserved to hear it. over and over again, he'd repeat it till the day he died, like she was his god and his compliments were his prayers. "you always do. you're... you're incredible. i'll never get tired of watching you perform."

[freedfutura]

hii!! I’m coming from ur Wattpad! I have a request, Vance hopper x fem reader and it’s just fluff where Vance escaped from the grabber and goes to reader for comfort?

Hey!! I love seeing my Wattpad readers on here. Coming right up! <3 Hope it’s what you’re looking for.

[Vance Hopper]

Thanks For Sticking Around

Vance Hopper is described as a lot of things. Angry. Violent. Spiteful. Rough. Temperamental. But one thing people often forget to list is sensitive.

Vance Hopper is sensitive.

When he was taken by the grabber, he was forced to face the worst parts of himself. No matter how hard he tried to disguise his fear and pain with bravery and anger, it was clear that he was anything but brave. He had to face the facts- and that was that he was truly stressed out and terrified about his impending doom. He was afraid that no one cared enough to come and find him. That no one would care if he lived or died.

Sure, he was angry. Angry that he was weaker than the grabber. And that try as he may, there was no over powering a grown man twice his size.

In the end, his escape was pure luck. And he didn’t even do it alone- he had to obtain help from people who weren’t even alive. He couldn’t do it alone.

He’s always been stand offish, it’s just in his nature. So when the cops came to interview him, he was as stiff as a board. Not answering a thing they asked for over an hour until he was sick of sitting in the blinding lights of the interrogation room. Then he proceeded to answer their stupid fucking questions with short annoyed responses, finding their pitying expressions extremely irritating. He absolutely fucking hated the way they looked at him- like a hurt kitten. They spoke to him like he could break any second. It made him want to pull his fucking hair out.

When he was finally able to go home, the main goal in mind was to get a shower. He took his time, gently scrubbing at his bruises and scrapes. Watching the water pour down his body and pool around his feet- turning brown and red as it mixed with the blood and dirt previously smudged into his skin. Then, he redressed his wounds, changed into some fresh clothes and laid in bed.

He thought he would finally be able to get a solid nights sleep.

Of course, that was just too much to ask for.

No matter how many times he tossed and turned, he just couldn’t seem to get comfortable under his blankets. He felt wrong. He’s use to having too many feelings that he doesn’t know what to do with, but never before like this. The feelings he has are far more persistent. No amount of beating the shit out of others or playing pinball to dissociate would ever make him forget what happened to him. He can’t even look into a mirror without seeing that piece of shit’s finger prints etched into the skin on his bicep.

In pure frustration he tosses and turns erratically until he can take no more and throws his comforter off him with an angered grunt. He’s so worked up from all the movement that he’s panting with anger, balling up his sheets in his fist until his knuckles turn white.

He closes his eyes tightly in an attempt to calm himself down, and the first thing he thinks of is you.

And that’s when it hits him.

You! He completely fucking forgot he had you! God, what a fucking idiot. How could he forget the very thing that kept him motivated to escape in the first place?

You couldn’t have heard the news yet. They were yet to announce it on live TV. He imagines you must be worried sick about him, and his dumbass has had the power to make that suffering end this whole time.

He rushes to stand up from his bed, wasting no time to hurry to the phone in his bedroom. At first, looking at it makes him cringe as he unintentionally remembers the one in the basement. However, he soon shakes away that feeling, moving forward to pick it up off the receiver and place it against his ear. His fingers move quickly to dial the only number he had ever memorized. The same number he tried dialing in that damn basement oh so many times. Your number.

It rings for a few moments, and he begins to worry that he’s calling too late. After all, it’s already nearly midnight and your goody two shoe self always went to sleep at 11 on the dot.

Just as he’s losing hope, he hears a click followed by some shuffled noises.

“H-Hello?” You mumbled out groggily.

His face lights up in excitement, already feeling at ease by the mere sound of your voice.

His voice gets caught in his throat as he thinks of what to say, until he finally settles on keeping it simple. “Hey, sweetheart…”

If he could see your expression now, he would probably laugh.

Your eyes just about fall out of your school with how wide the burst open. You literally drop your phone in surprise before hurriedly rushing to pick it up again.

“V-Vance?! Where are you?! Are you ok?! Do I need to call 911?!” You rush out, choking back tears as you clutch the phone tightly.

He chuckles softly, shaking his head despite the fact that you can’t see him. “Nah. I already talked to those fucktards. They’re still as shitty as they were before I went missing. I’m at home. I’m alright now. Just a little bruised up- nothing too bad.”

“Y-You’re ok? What happened to you?” You stammer out, wiping away any stray tears that managed to escape you.

Though you’re trying your best to hide the fact that you’re crying, he can clearly tell by your irregular breathing and the shakiness in your voice.

With a slight frown he replies, “I…was…taken. By the fucking grabber. But I killed that motherfucker. Snapped his neck with a fucking phone cord. I bet he’s rotting in hell as we speak.”

From the sound of his voice, you would never be able to tell he was just kidnapped and trapped in the confines of a basement hours before. It’s honestly concerning. You know how Vance can be. He bottles up his emotions and then explodes at an innocent bystander for breathing too loud. But the worst part about him bottling things up is that he forces himself to suffer alone. And you’re not having that.

“I’m coming over. Now,” you decide sternly, hanging up the phone before he even has a chance to reply.

His heart flutters at the determination in your tone. Though he would never admit it, he always appreciated the way you would stubbornly force him to allow you to comfort him. He really needed someone to push his boundaries right now. To force him to let their love in.

Within a few minutes, he hears rustling outside his window, and looks over just in time to see you throw the panes open and clumsily falling through. You land awkwardly on the floor. He snorts at your idiocy, though is quickly cut off when you bounce right back up and practically throw yourself at him.

He stumbles back into his bed, barely saving himself as you throw your arms tightly around his neck and kiss his face again and again.

He feels heat creep up his neck and fights the urge to shove you off and cuss you out. Normally, he isn’t the hugest fan of affection beyond the occasional hand holding, but after everything he’s been through, he just can’t bring himself to deny your touch. He didn’t want to waste the very lucky opportunity he’s been given to feel your warmth once more. So, he carefully wraps his arms around your waist, allowing you to lay atop him as his eyes slowly shut in relief.

This is what he needed. You. In his arms. Your hair tickling his cheek. The scent of your shampoo lingering in the air around him. Your soft skin against his. God, he needed it so bad.

His hold on you tightens as he realizes this, unintentional tears strolling down the sides of his face.

“I missed you so bad,” you admit, your voice shaking and inevitably cracking towards the end of your sentence as you begin to tremble with tears. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

He hums lightly in response, simply showing his appreciation for you by holding you tight.

“Can I stay the night?” You ask hopefully.

He remains silent for a moment, but eventually replies, “yeah, alright. If that’s what you want. I don’t really care.”

You smile. Because even though he says that, his hold on you had just increased ten fold- showing no signs of letting up even if you had changed your mind.

Vance had a funny way of asking you to stay. Not by using his words, but rather through his actions. You knew when he called he was secretly asking you for your comfort, without actually saying that. He made it seem like what happened was no big deal, knowing you would come running to his aid.

Not everyone was cut out for a relationship with him- but to you he was complex. And you were willing to take your time and put your pride aside to understand him.

And later on, when he assumes you are sleeping, he ever so quietly whispers, “thanks for sticking around.”

And you just smile, pretending not to have heard a thing.

[adoringhaikyuu]

they reject you and regret it afterwards

CHARACTERS: kuroo + iwaizumi + osamu + (gn!reader)

REQUEST: pspspsps i hope its okay if i drop my request here since i saw that yours are open :D can you maybe do how kuroo, iwaizumi and osamu rejects reader confession ( they are best friend ) because they have feelings for another person but later they regret it when they moved on? i love it when the boys realize it later how much the reader means to them but y/n took the chance to move on and have a sexy glow up ✋😩 yessss i wanna see them suffer at the end >:) • by anonymous

WARNINGS: dumb boys hurting your feelings and you hurting them right back :/

NOTES: i feel like i’m not too good at writing angst lol but i made these blurbs instead of hcs! 

kuroo let you down easy, not wanting to hurt your feelings––to be honest he did feel something for you, but he wasn’t sure if it was what you wanted it to be. he felt more certain of the feelings he had for someone else. someone you slowly watched him admire from afar until he worked up the courage to start joking with them, then offering to buy them lunch and so on. 

you still remember the awkward smile he gave you when you confessed to him, the smile that absolutely broke you because it showed you how much he didn’t want you the way you wanted him. not enough to give up his efforts with someone else. “i’m flattered y/n, but i’m sorry i just––you know i have a date this week...” 

you’d looked down immediately, unable to look him in the eyes longer and swallowed back the lump in your throat that was aching to come up in a sob. “yeah yeah, i’m sorry i just––let’s forget this ever happened, yeah?”

you gave him your most convincing smile and he agreed, wanting everything to be normal between the two of you.

but it wasn’t until he’d gone on a few dates with them to realize that it didn’t feel right. it didn’t feel familiar, the way he thought it would. it wasn’t the same comfort he felt in your presence. when they texted him, he didn’t feel the same burst of happiness he felt when you messaged him. he tried to wait it out, to see if things would change, but they didn’t. they just weren’t you.

it’d been a few weeks since you’d confessed and gotten rejected, but you decided to move on instead of dwelling on his unrequited feelings––it wouldn’t do you any good to wallow and weep over your best friend. you wanted him to be happy, and you deserved to be too. so you knocked yourself out of that sad headspace and changed yourself up a bit. you started to value yourself better than you did before, you dressed the way you wanted to but were always afraid of doing and everything about you just brightened up. and other people noticed as well. 

kuroo had kind of been too preoccupied to notice, if he was being honest. he didn’t realize what he had in front of him until he practically sprinted over to your place to surprise you and be honest about his feelings. you opened the door, already dressed up and kuroo took a step back, eyes widening as they took you in. did you always look this breathtaking?

“wow...”

you smiled gratefully, straightening out your clothes. “thanks, that’s what i was going for.” you walked back into your apartment to get your shoes, “not that i mind but what are you doing here?” 

he blinked out of his trance and stepped in, closing the door behind him. “oh i just––i brought us some food.” he raised the bag he was holding even though you weren’t facing him. “i was kinda hoping we could spend some time together...” he scratched the back of his head, “maybe talk about a few things...” he trailed off when something clicked in his head as he watched you slip your shoes on. “wait why are you all dressed up?” 

you turned and looked at him apologetically, “oh...i’m sorry kuroo,” you paused, “i actually have somewhere to be. can i take a raincheck?”

he opened his mouth for a few seconds as he watched you, but no sound came out. “oh um...well could i just––wait here? until you get back?” 

you looked to the side awkwardly bringing one hand up to hold your other arm. “it’s just that...i might not be alone when i come back.”

as soon as you uttered those words, he could feel his heartbeat falter in his chest, a faint ringing noise in his ears. 

“...a date?” 

you nodded with a smile and though it’s selfish, he felt a part of him dim on the inside when he noticed how excited you were. he didn’t really have a right to stop you now did he, not when you chose his happiness over your own what felt like way long ago. so he wouldn’t.

he nodded as well, “oh” he forced a smile onto his face and stepped back towards the door, “that’s exciting. i’m happy for you, really.” he turned the door knob, “i’ll catch up with you some other time then, yeah? you’ll tell me how it went.” he looked at you one last time, his gaze wavering under the undeterred happiness radiating from you.

when he finally stepped out and closed your door, all the emotions hit him at once. he didn’t know what hurt the most, the fact that he was too late, or the fact that you didn’t stop him, didn’t notice the pleading look in his eyes as he silently begged you to stay with him. 

iwaizumi froze when you told him how you felt. it was the smallest reaction you’d ever seen from him before, the calmest––yet it did anything but soothe you. you could see the hesitation in his eyes, the uncertainty of what to say next in the way his mouth opened but produced no sound. you already knew what he was going to say.

he will admit, seeing the tears in your eyes that you barely managed to blink back when he rejected you did strike a blow to his heart. but he just couldn’t tell you what you wanted to hear, he wouldn’t lie to you. “i––i’m sorry y/n i just...don’t feel the same.” 

his eyes were apologetic, almost pitiful as he watched you take a step back, “right, right. that’s––that’s okay.” you tried to smile but it felt more like a grimace. “i just didn’t want to keep it to myself, that’s all. i’m sure i’ll get over it soon.” he nodded but wasn’t sure what else to say. so he didn’t say anything. 

things were a little awkward for a couple weeks between the two of you, but you didn’t want to lose your friendship, so you eventually moved on. 

it wasn’t until one day you were at the café you always went to together that you noticed him taking longer than usual to bring back your drinks. you looked over to see him chatting with the barista, both of them with nervous smiles on their faces. he came back a few minutes later with a note in his pocket that you assumed was the barista’s number and a blush on his cheeks. he placed your drink in front of you, eyes looking down, and didn’t mention anything, probably since he didn’t want to rub it in, so you didn’t bring it up either. 

but you did wonder if they were the reason he didn’t feel the same for you––you wondered if they weren’t in the picture, if he would have fallen for you instead. 

he didn’t want to hide anything from you, so he told you when he had a date coming up. you wished him luck and told him you hoped he’d have a good time and that was that. 

they ended up dating but you didn’t mind. he seemed happy and you truly did want the best for him. you started focusing on yourself and eventually found a boyfriend, one who appreciated you and loved you and you couldn’t ask for more. 

iwaizumi was happy for you as well, but he couldn’t ignore this piercing feeling he felt when he first heard the news, then when he would see you two together, on your double dates, at parties, anywhere, really. something just ticked him off. he knew he didn’t have a right to feel this way, but he couldn’t help it, couldn’t make sense of it. he couldn’t even figure out what it meant. 

only once he realized the ache he felt in his chest when you smiled at your boyfriend the way you used to smile at him, the pull at his heart when you kissed his cheek, completely enamored. only then did he realize that he was jealous, that he’d made a mistake, that he’d lost the one chance he had of being with his soulmate. 

osamu had just gotten his new restaurant, he was achieving his goals, living his life without fear, and you took inspiration from that. you decided to be upfront about your brewing feelings and ask him out just as he put the finishing touches in the establishment.

he was wiping down the counter as you sat at the bar, swallowing your nerves as you watched him. “hey samu?”

he hummed and glanced up at you for a second before looking back to what he was doing. 

you took a deep breath, “would you maybe...want to go out to eat tomorrow?” 

he didn’t look up, but his brows furrowed, “yeah? why are you even asking?” 

you paused, of course he wouldn’t realize what you meant, you guys ate together all the time. you blinked a few times before clearing your throat, “um i just––i meant as a...date?” 

this time, he paused, well more like froze. he kept his eyes on the counter, his face blank, but you could tell he was internally processing everything. did he hear you right? “what?” 

you considered taking it back, but you had a feeling he did hear you, he just wasn’t sure how to respond. “um...i asked if you wanna go on a date? with me...”

he nodded and straightened up, “right.” he brought a hand up to scratch the back of his head, finally looking at you and the look in his eyes was enough to make your wavering confidence crumble. “i sort of have my eye on someone else right now...” you nodded, trying not to let the tears form in your eyes. he went on, “my new neighbor needed to borrow something and we got to talking...was thinking of asking them out, actually.” that was the final twist of the knife. 

“oh...” your voice was small ”thats––that’s great!” you smiled but kept your eyes cast down, “forget what i asked i just...wanted to see what you’d say haha,” you tried to play it off as a joke, “i got you!” 

he stared at you silently for a few seconds, clearly contemplating whether or not he believed you, but in the end, he let it go. 

you never brought up that night ever again, but you thought about it constantly. it haunted you, in a way. of course the one time you’re finally able to speak up about your feelings, it backfired. 

you were in a very upsetting and self deprecating headspace for a while, wondering if this was your sign to never make the first move, if you were the problem. it took you a little while to snap out of it, but once you did, you realized your worth and stopped looking at the world through a grey lens––you felt like you’d bloomed as a person. 

things didn’t go very far with osamu and his neighbor, but you didn’t take that as an opportunity to try again with him, you didn’t want to wait around for him, even though you thought about it for a second at first––you learned to respect yourself more. 

meanwhile, your best friend was beside himself, going through the process of reflection and realization. it’s not that he was desperate after a failed relationship, it’s more so that he suddenly realized he had someone perfect right by him all these years––it only made sense. but he was too stupid to realize that, to realize that he cared about you as more than a friend. he had foolishly mistaken his feelings for you as caring for a friend––you two had been inseparable since you were kids, he couldn’t even notice when his feelings shifted from caring for a friend to loving his best friend. 

he decided to talk to you about it, it’d only been a few months since you’d joked? about going on a date with him, but part of him felt confident that you might have meant it for real. he was sure you’d be open to it still. he called you during his break at work and found himself smiling as soon as he heard your voice. 

“hey samu what’s up?” 

he started to answer, but he trailed off when he heard you laughing at an unfamiliar voice in the background. “hey...just wanted to talk. what are you uh up to?” 

he heard you shush whoever was with you. “nothing much.” he heard you sit down.” i can’t stay for long but what did you want to talk about? i’m all ears.”

he was going to brush it off, maybe it was just a friend, but when he heard a faint ‘babe’ and what sounded like a small kiss on the other end, that was all he needed to confirm his suspicions. “yeah i just...i’ll actually call you back later, okay?”

you paused on the other end, most likely confused, but you let him go nonetheless. 

osamu sat there in his office at the back of his restaurant, surrounded by silence, complete disbelief and an indescribable ache running through his body. was he really too late? 

[sweeterthanthis]

Your Filthy Heart

Part Three: The Pure and The Poison

Your Filthy Heart Masterlist

Thank you to @ozarkthedog for reading this through for me and to @msmarvelwrites for the support and some epic dirty talk suggestions!

Summary: It’s time to give Daddy a taste of his own medicine by bringing your boyfriend, Peter Parker, home for dinner.

Pairing: Stepdad!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Peter Parker x Female Reader

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, explicit language, daddy/stepdad kink, infidelity, vaginal sex, dirty talk, derogatory language, a touch of face slapping, cum play(?). 18+.

 Word Count: 3.5k

“I’m nervous, like really nervous. Is my tie straight?” 

There was a part of you that felt guilty for dragging Peter into your shit, truly. But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying his affections. 

He was handsome, a strong jawline, kind eyes, a boy next door kinda attitude. Peter was everything that Bucky wasn’t, and maybe a little part of you made the conscious decision to start dating him because he was so different.

You knew you were pushing your luck, but when the thought occurred to invite him home for dinner, your mouth engaged before your brain and you’d already asked. 

“It’s just dinner, Pete. You didn’t need to wear a tie at all.” You couldn’t help but smile at him as he fixed his hair in the rear mirror, but the pit of dread in your stomach was only growing more by the second. “Come on, Mom’s probably bouncing up and down in anticipation.”

“Your Stepdad’s gonna be home soon right? Fuck, I wanna make a good impression.” 

Placing a hand on his thigh, muscular and firm, you gave it a reassuring squeeze. He really was adorable, an underlying sexiness about him because he was so concerned with being the most decent guy he could be. And he didn’t deserve a single second of the torture you were about to put him through. 

Was that going to stop you? Absolutely not. 

You knew your mother would be too high on the buzz that you’d finally met a guy you’d deemed important enough to bring home for dinner. She wouldn’t notice the impending tension, of that you were sure. 

Stepping out of Peter’s car, your tummy flipping at the thought of Bucky coming home to find his spot in the garage taken, you readjusted your skirt and motioned at Peter to get out of the car with a roll of your eyes and a nod of your head. 

“Sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” He muttered, reaching for the bouquet of flowers he’d bought for your Mom in the back seat. 

Grabbing his hand, you tugged him towards the door connecting the house to your garage, you made your way to the kitchen -- the scent of pot roast, of course, filling the air and the sounds of gentle piano music playing softly in the background. 

Your Mom really had gone the whole hog to make a good impression, and you couldn’t blame her. She had no idea you were screwing her husband, feelings of possessiveness and bitterness growing with each passing day. 

She loved Peter. That much was very clear from the second she’d been introduced to him.  

You feigned interest as she sat across from him on the plush, cream sofa; asking him a thousand questions and not allowing him the airtime to answer a single one before she’d thought of another. 

But all you could think of was him. The look on his face when he saw Peter sitting next to you on the couch, the hand that was currently resting loosely on your knee, your Mother’s beaming smile as she informed him that we had a dinner guest. 

You revelled in the power you held — the power to drive him insane with jealousy. 

You zoned out as you helped your Mother set the table, the sound of her voice muffled in your ears when you heard the low rumble of a car engine pull up on the driveway; blood instantly pounding in your ears. 

“Oh, that’ll be James.” Your mother gushed, clasping her hands together and straightening out the cutlery on the way back to the kitchen. 

James. 

She always did like to abandon the nickname when she was trying to impress. You’d heard the name ring out in the night air on more than one occasion that week. And the thought made you sick. 

You held no claim over him. Not really. But that didn’t stop the rage from bubbling in your belly each and every time. 

“Hey, you okay? You look as nervous as I feel.” 

Peters hand resting on your lower back, his soft eyes looking down on you with gentle concern, you forced yourself to smile and nodded. 

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. He can just be a little,” you paused, wringing your fingers together in front of you, “intense.” 

He wrapped his arm around your waist, tugging you into his side to give your body a reassuring squeeze — guilt thumping through your veins as you cursed yourself for dragging him into the mess you’d found yourself in. 

“Anyone wanna tell me who’s car is in my spot?” 

The sound of his voice, laced with irritation and curiosity, had your heart beating rapidly in your chest; the reality of what you’d done setting in as his footsteps drew nearer. 

“Hey, it’ll be fine. I’ll make a good impression, I promise.” 

Peter was too good for you, of that much you were certain. But you forced a smile anyway, leaning up on your tiptoes to meet his waiting kiss. 

At the worst possible moment. 

“What do we have here?” 

Exhaling a shaky breath, you composed yourself, opening your eyes to meet his fiery stare. There he stood in the living room doorway, rolling up the sleeves of his crisp, black button up. You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander to the way the veins in his hands flexed. 

Before you could speak, Peter stepped forward; holding his own hand out for Bucky to shake. 

“Mr Barnes, Sir, I’m Peter Parker. It’s nice to finally meet you.” 

All you could do was watch as Peter’s hand hung in the air, Bucky with his hands on his hips, leaning back on his heels slightly. The tension was evident, yet only you and he knew why — the weight of your entanglement heavy in the air. 

“Finally, huh?” 

Bucky caught your anxiety-ridden stare over Peter’s shoulder, chewing on the inside of his cheek; brow furrowed as he blew out a heavy breath through his nostrils. 

“Nice to meet you, Peter. I didn’t realise we’d be having a guest for dinner.” Bucky stepped forward then, forcing a smile and shaking Peter’s hand firmly with one hand, and planting the other firmly on his shoulder. “Would’ve come home earlier, but then nobody tells me anything in this house.” 

The intent to agitate Bucky was clearly paying off, but you never anticipated the way it would make you feel — stomach churning and headache inducing. 

With Peter in the room and your Mother hovering in the next room, you knew you were safe. Yet the thought of what he might do later that night after your Mother had passed out from necking too much Chardonnay had your tummy fluttering. 

“C’mon, Pete.” Bucky threw a smirk in your direction, throwing an arm around Peter’s shoulder and guiding him towards the kitchen. “Let’s go get a beer and leave the ladies to it, huh?”

Your mouth hung open in astonishment and your feet planted to the floor, all you could do was watch as your lover took your boyfriend aside for what you could only assume would be a desperately uncomfortable conversation. 

As you helped your Mother to prepare dinner, absentmindedly chopping tomatoes for the salad, you kept one eye on Bucky who was already sitting at the dining table across from a flustered Peter — and mentally kicked yourself for putting yourself in such a stressful situation. 

You tried not to look at him as you walked over to the table, salad bowl heavy in your trembling hands.

Walking around the back of his chair, you did your best to flash Peter a reassuring smile, his eyes flitting from yours to Bucky’s while he tried to keep his attention on the conversation. 

As you leant over to put the salad bowl on the table, a discreet, firm squeeze to your ass made you jump; his fingers digging into your flesh in not so subtle warning. 

“Oh!”

“Are you okay?” Peter asked, shooting a concerned look in your direction. 

Breathing a short sigh of relief when his hand withdrew, you straightened yourself out and walked around to your Boyfriends seat; blood hot with frustration at the way Bucky had put his hands on you in such a fragile situation. 

Suddenly, you simply didn’t give a fuck. 

How dare he try to lay a claim on you after everything you’d had to deal with; having to watch every day while he played at happy marriages with your mother. 

“I’m fine, Babe.” You leant down then, planting a gentle kiss on his cheek and shooting Bucky a warning stare. “I’m gonna go wash up for dinner, okay? Be right back.” 

Your anxiety was slowly morphing into vitriol, your hips swaying as you marched past your Stepfather’s unamused gaze. 

Fuck him. 

You washed your hands in the bathroom, gearing yourself up for what was sure to be a very awkward dinner — checking your makeup in the mirror, and fixing your hair. 

He’d riled you up, and now you had a point to prove. And you had every intention of doing so, one way or another. 

Making your way out of the bathroom, you straightened out your pleated skirt - the one you knew drove Bucky crazy - walking down the hallway with a confidence that you’d seemingly plucked out of nowhere. 

“What the-” 

One strong arm wrapped around your midsection, pulling your back tight against a broad chest -- and you needed no clue as to whom it belonged to. 

He yanked you through the door to the garage, shoving you forwards a little as the door clicked shut and the lock twisted. 

Everything inside you told you to give him a piece of your mind, spinning on your heel, your cheeks hot with disbelief. 

But as he stepped towards you, his eyes trained on your shaking form, you felt warmth flood your groin and you were putty once again. You hated how easily he reduced you to a desperate mess of a girl. Truly, you did. 

The fact remained, your Boyfriend was the other side of the wall and your Mother was floating around the house fussing like a woman possessed. 

“How dare—”

Bucky’s hand gripped your throat in warning, wedding ring digging against the supple flesh of your neck - the fire in his beautiful eyes causing your pussy to clench around nothing.

Shoved up against the passenger side of Peter’s car, you lifted your chin in defiance, a slight smirk gracing your glossy lips as you soaked in his fury. 

“You tryna piss Daddy off, Princess? ‘Cause you’re doin’ a real good job.” 

Your fingers dragged up your bare thighs, lifting your skirt up higher, his thigh pressed firmly against your lace covered cunt. 

“What’sa matter, Daddy? You jealous?” The low growl that emitted from his throat made you shudder, his breath warming your face as he tilted your chin up roughly with his fingers. “You not enjoying getting a taste of your own medicine, Daddy? Is that it?”

“You fuck that kid? Huh?” The hand around your throat squeezed, thumb pushing against your pulse point, his lips inches from yours. “You better answer me or I swear to fuckin’ God, girl...”

One hand palming at the throbbing erection in his trousers, the other gripping his own as it shook against your throat, you smiled. And he looked like he wanted to fucking murder you. 

“So what if I did? Seems fair to me. At least you don’t have to listen to me screaming his name. And Daddy, he makes me scream.” 

You ignored the fear bubbling in your chest, your bratty mouth unable to stop itself from running merry hell. 

“He’s so big, Daddy. Stretches me out so good.” Bucky pulled you towards him then, teeth clenched and jaw ticking, on the edge of losing every bit of control. And you just couldn’t help yourself. “You should see it.”

The dark chuckle that fell from his lips held no humor, his tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek and his head cocked to the side. 

“Is that what this is, Princess? Fuck, that jealousy’s just eatin’ you up, huh? Poor baby…” 

Your confidence waned for a moment, whimpering pathetically as his thumb traced your trembling jaw. You couldn’t stop yourself, hips winding down against his thick thigh, a twinkle in his eye as he watched you with a faux pout etched on his lips. 

“If you weren’t so fuckin’ cute, it’d be pathetic. Lookit you; grindin’ down on Daddy’s leg like a bitch in heat. What would Peter say, hmm?”  

Shame swam deep in your gut, but it was nothing compared to the warmth spreading between your legs, the damp patch on your panties staining the material of his suit pants.

“Daddy—” 

His fingers nestled between your lips, pressing down on your tongue as they slid down your throat - gag reflex kicking in when the tips of his fingers found your tonsils. 

“Suck.” 

You did as he asked, eyes boring into his as he thrust his fingers back and forth between your lips, garbled moans vibrating in your throat, spit coating the platinum band on his ring finger. 

“Why do I always gotta remind you who you belong to, huh?” You couldn’t answer, mouth stuffed full, tears pooling in your eyes, and spittle dripping from the corners of your mouth. “You think I was just gonna make nice with your little boyfriend in there? Bet he doesn’t know what a dirty little cockslut you really are does he?” 

A sharp tap to your cheek, spit slick against your skin, had you quivering. Yet your hands found the collar of his shirt, gripping it tightly and yanking him down towards you. Your lips crashed against his then, a satisfied grunt vibrating against your mouth, one hand gripping your ass while the other dove between your legs. 

Bucky held you tight against his chest, fingers dipping beneath the gusset of your panties and swiping through your sloppy folds as he walked you clumsily round to the hood of Peter’s car - lifting you effortlessly and setting you down, cool metal causing you to shudder from the chill. 

You watched as he yanked your panties down your legs, your heart pounding at the thought of your Mother and your Boyfriend next door, waiting for you to return.

“I can’t trust you to be a good girl, can I? Can’t trust you to keep those fuckin’ legs shut.” 

“Daddy, I-” 

“You’re gonna shut your fuckin’ mouth and take it, you got that Princess?” 

Before you could open your mouth to answer, he’d balled your damp panties in his fist and forced them between your lips — teeth clenching down onto the salty-sweet lace. 

It was humiliating, degrading; but when was it not? You craved it, the way he treated you. That feeling of being owned, completely surrendering yourself to another person. He made you need that.  

“Look at that, always so wet for Daddy.” 

His palms splayed out against the flesh of your thighs, he pushed them apart, spreading you open and putting you on display just for him. 

Your heart was racing, the thrill of being caught at any moment thumping adrenaline through your veins. He could sense it, lips twitching into a satisfied smirk as he watched your eyes flit frantically back and forth between him and the door. 

“D’you have any idea how much I wanna drag you back in there and fuck you on that table. Make them both watch, show them that you’re mine?”

Your moans muffled by the material stuffed between your teeth, two thick fingers stretching out your cunt as he unbuckled his pants — you shook your head. 

You knew you had an effect on him, you knew he couldn’t stop himself from touching you, from creeping into your room late at night. But the way he looked at you now, the burning intensity in his eyes; it shook you to your core. 

“If I had the time Princess, I’d eat that slutty little pussy right here. Make you gush all over Petey Boy’s car. He make you come as hard as Daddy does?” 

Frantically, you shook your head from side to side. Peter had never even so much as grabbed your ass, but you’d riled Bucky up to the point of insanity. A man on a mission to prove just who you belonged to. 

“No? You've sure changed your tune.” 

You watched as he pumped his thick cock in his palm, the tip of him nudging against your clit, your pussy twitching. 

“Daddy’s gonna fuck the attitude right outta you, so stay quiet and keep those legs open for me.” 

Your arms hooked beneath your knees, thighs spread wide, you barely had time to brace yourself before his cock split you open inch by inch. 

You’d expected him to rut into you with excruciating force, to take you roughly. So when he thrust into you with slow, patient strokes; you could do nothing to hide the curiosity on your face. 

“I know you know who fucks you the best. You just love riling Daddy up, don’t you? Get so - fuck - goddamn jealous of Mommy.” 

Your head lulled back as his dick dragged against the throbbing walls of your cunt, his thumb finding your clit while he caressed your breasts with his free hand. 

It was too much, too much tenderness, too good. 

You hated yourself for wanting it. The new sensation of his knuckles softly grazing the hollow of your throat as he undulated his hips against your pelvis, hitting spots inside of you you didn’t even know existed. 

“You know what you do to me, Baby? Look at me.” 

Baby. 

Bucky leant forward then, elbows either side of your head on the hood, balls deep inside you as he ground his hips into yours at a torturously slow pace. 

“I got you all spread open wide for me, and my fuckin’ wife is right next door. She could walk in here right now and fuck, I still wouldn’t stop. You know how fucked up that is?” 

It was nonsense, the broken words falling from your panty stuffed mouth, heat rising in your belly when he pulled out completely and slid on home once again. 

He fit you perfectly; there was no doubt about it. The way your cunt wrapped around his dick, it was fucking sinful how perfect it felt. Sparks of pleasure shooting through your core as he rubbed tiny, delicate circles over your swollen clit. 

“Tell me how much you want me.” Bucky ripped the panties from your mouth, shoving them in his pocket as you licked your dried out lips. “Need’ta hear you say it. Come on, Princess.” 

You’d never seen it before, the needy side of him, the way he practically whimpered when your pussy clenched around his girth, his hand gently squeezing your thigh while the other tentatively worked your sensitive nub. 

You tried to speak, tried to find the words he so desperately needed to hear — mouth hanging open in sheer confusion. 

“You’re not coming until you tell me, and we’ve been gone a while…” 

He halted inside you, only the tip of him nestled between your pussy lips, thumb hovering over your clit and a soft, yet entirely serious look gracing his gorgeous face. 

“I—I want you, Daddy.” You yielded, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Your hand flew to your mouth, muffling the yelp as he slammed back into you in one brutal motion — slowly withdrawing and circling your clit with the tip of his dick. 

“Again.”

“I want you, Daddy.” Insistent this time, no tremble in your voice, hips winding down towards his length, eager to have him back where he belonged. “Only want you, Daddy.” 

There was no hint of a lie in your tone, and as he fucked you - possessive and hungry - you wondered how any other man could ever match him. 

Sprawled out on the hood of Peter’s car, legs hooked over Bucky’s shoulders, you begged and panted; nearing closer and closer to sweet release. 

“You do, don’t you? You belong to me, Princess. Daddy’s all the man - shit - you need.” 

Garbled words choked in your throat, the breath punched from your lungs when he pinched your clit roughly with his fingertips, stars dancing behind your eyelids as pleasure twisted in your abdomen, limbs shaking and numb. 

Pathetic whispers of daddy, daddy, daddy had him slamming into you, unforgiving and merciless while he chased his own orgasm. 

“Fuck lookit you, fallin’ apart on poor Parker’s car, cunt full’a Daddy. Wanna fill you up so bad Princess, but I’ve got a better idea.”

You felt the hollow emptiness of his withdrawal, hazy eyes flickering open to catch sight of him; teeth bared, fist furiously pumping his cock, white, hot spurts of come smattering against the already sopping flesh of your swollen, fucked-out pussy lips. 

“Bucky! Darling, where are you?”

You panicked, hopping down off the hood and scrambling to push your skirt back down your aching thighs. 

“Fuck, gimme my underwear.” You hissed, holding out your hand as you bounced on your heels. 

“Nuh uh, Princess. You’re gonna sit there all night next to Peter, who seems like a real nice kid by the way, with my come all over you. Be real hard to forget who’s little cockwhore you are then, won’t it?”

You watched, dumb struck as he casually tucked himself back into his pants, swiping the wine bottle from the counter and making his way to the door. 

“Hurry now, we’ve kept our guest waiting long enough don’t you think?” 

With a wink and a sardonic smirk, Bucky disappeared through the door, your Mom’s soft laughter ringing in your ears through the wood. 

Dinner was surprisingly a lot less awkward than you expected, aside from the jabs from Bucky thrown in your direction every now and again. But you’d much rather he targeted you than Peter. 

Sitting with Bucky’s come smothered between your thighs made the guilt in your gut throb every time Peter’s soft fingers found the bare flesh of your knee beneath the table. 

No matter how much water you chugged, your mouth was dry throughout, your instincts driving you to get through the meal without choking and needing to excuse yourself.

As the evening drew to a close, your Mother tipsy and insisting that Peter come back to visit again the following week, you couldn’t wait to get him out of there and wipe away the mess from between your legs. 

“Parker, you ever play golf?” Bucky asked as Peter pulled on his jacket. 

You couldn’t believe the audacity of him, shame and fury eating at you as he played the perfect, welcoming parent.

“Uh, a little from time to time.” He answered, looking down at you with a proud smile as he sensed an invitation coming. It killed you, the sweetness on his features. You didn’t deserve an ounce of it. 

“I’ll get your address from our girl, huh? Pick you up Saturday, say, just after lunch?” 

Our girl. 

It made you cringe, chewing on your bottom lip as you took hold of Peter’s hand and led him to the garage where you’d been full of your Stepdad’s cock just an hour earlier. 

“Yes, that’d be great Mr Barnes. Thank you!” 

“Please, call me Bucky.” 

You couldn’t stand it any longer, making your way to the garage while Peter trailed behind you saying his goodbye’s.

He kissed you softly, and it made you want to weep—the way his hands cupped your cheeks, his thumbs stroking against the corners of your mouth. When he pulled away, the look of adoration on his face had your heart skipping a beat. 

This was what you needed.

This relationship was healthy. Safe. Right. 

So why did it feel so wrong? 

What you had with Bucky could never go anywhere, would never progress to more than secretive fucks and risky situations. 

“Your Stepdad seems like a decent guy, but he’s really hard on you huh?” 

“You have no idea.”