#he’s a mess for like a week seeing his family like that was a bad idea Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[urbaebarnes]

be mine

summary: you were convinced life would never be the same again after losing Nat, but your life's never the same after Bucky either

post endgame bucky barnes x fem avenger reader

warnings: grief, curse words, reader uses she/her pronouns, no use of y/n

i know people like flowers and everybody was so kind about it i couldn't wait to start writing this! this was also meant to be much shorter but here we are i guess

word count: 3.9k words

Grief was a scary thing. No matter who you were, realising that somebody is gone from your life is difficult. But it seemed to be double the blow for you and Bucky.

Natasha had been your lifeline, your only family. You came here with her, and part of you felt as though you left here with her too. It was supposed to be easy to understand, but no matter how many times people explained it to you, it didn’t quite make sense how everybody else got their families back and you just didn’t.

You figured Bucky must feel similar, the two of you never really ventured outside your designated people. He had Steve, and you had Nat. Sure, everybody else was still close, but they would never be able to fill the void that was left by the redhead assassin. Who were you supposed to run to after a good date- or a bad one at that?

It was fine, you tried to convince yourself, as everybody else moved out the compound, as everybody else moved on, you were stuck here.

The only other person who’d remained was Bucky, although that seemed to be partly down to the fact the government still wasn’t exactly sure what they were supposed to be paying him. It was a room, a bed, a constantly stocked kitchen. It made sense to stay.

After Bruce officially moved out, you were convinced you didn’t see Bucky for two weeks. He was good at being sneaky, you only ever caught glimpses of him, or often a still steaming mug of tea on the countertop when you’d abandoned your attempt to sleep and decided you wanted a glass of water. If you appeared in a room, he was gone before you could even open the door, only leaving a trail of proof behind him.

One day, it seemed to change. The solitude was starting to mess with your head a little, not like you weren’t used to it, but normally there was something, anything. An off hand comment, a morning or goodnight, the more time you spent around the compound, it felt like you were chasing ghosts. But seemingly, Barnes had gotten sick of dropping whatever he was doing and escaping.

It was late at night, or early in the morning - there never really was a cut off for that time - but either way, you were losing a race to sleep, constantly slipping from your fingers before your eyes opened, more awake than the last time. You’d grown to feel guilty about kicking Bucky out of every space you found yourself in, but you didn’t have it in yourself to sit in this room any longer, tracing every bump and scratch on the ceiling.

This time, however, it was different. As you pushed open the door, wiping your eyes as they adjusted to the dark and wandered down the corridor, you could hear scuffling from somewhere down the hallway, and by the time you got to the kitchen, Bucky was still there.

As you pushed the door open wider, Bucky seemed to notice you, freezing like a criminal caught in an act. His stance was almost laughable, leaning slightly forward, a pink mug in his metal hand. His hair was scooped into a small bun at the back of his head, and the light blue vest top seemed to match his wide eyes.

You gave him a faint smile, still feeling sluggish despite your lack of sleep. Bucky’s mouth opened and closed once, eyes shutting for a moment before opening on a loud exhale of breath, straightening his posture. 

His shoulders seemed to hunch, looking between the mug, a newspaper on the small circular table, open a few pages in. “I can go-”

You tried to ignore the ache in your chest that the first words he’d said to you was him offering to leave. “Bucky.” You cut him off, voice sharp but with no malice behind it, “It’s okay, I’m just getting a hot chocolate. Don’t leave because of me.” 

Your head tilted as he seemed to look shocked at your words, bun bouncing as he shook his head at you. “I don’t want to bother you.” He kept the mug clutched close to his chest, other hand reaching for the newspaper.

“You’re not bothering me, I won’t even talk, sit down and read your newspaper in peace.” You walked around to the hot chocolate machine, watching him out of the corner of your eye as he hesitantly sat back down, gazing over his shoulder at you until he caught your eye, quickly turning around.

You smiled softly to yourself, stirring around the drink with the teaspoon, keeping your eyes trained on the brown liquid. Part of you feared to look back up, scared to make him uncomfortable. Really, his presence was comforting, even if the only sound in the room was you stirring the drink and the rustling of paper as he flicked through the pages in his newspaper.

When you did turn around, he was squinting at the text on the page, pulling a face at whatever he was reading before moving along. You took a seat on the barstools, blowing on it as you pulled out your phone, scrolling through some news stories, a few unanswered emails from Sam. The warm taste of the hot chocolate slipping down your throat was almost as comforting as Bucky’s hums at the newspaper every now and again.

You sat like that in silence for god knows how long, even with the brightness turned down on your phone, the white light still illuminated your face as you ventured through your photos app, venturing years and years back. One picture in particular caught your eye, you and Nat just before you had to leave for Wakanda. She was pulling a stupid face at the camera, so normal and usual. You feared you’d never feel that carefree again.

At first, you figured you were imagining the feeling of eyes staring into the side of your head, but as you placed your phone down and picked up your cup, you glanced over to Bucky. His face flushed a little as he coughed, looking at the floor before looking back at you, lips slightly parted.

“You good?” You questioned, switching off your phone as you took a sip.

He nodded slowly, swallowing thickly before frowning, “Did you have another nightmare?” His voice was quiet- it was quiet earlier, but this was the most hesitant you’d ever seen Bucky Barnes. Your eyes must’ve shown your shock, how did he know about your nightmares anyway? He quickly licked his lips, sitting forward, “I’m not trying to be weird, it’s just I can hear you after you wake up sometimes… with the whole super-hearing-thing.”

You smiled slightly, shaking your head at his immediate nervousness, “No, didn’t get the chance tonight. Just couldn’t sleep is all. You?”

“Nightmare.” His eyes flicked from your face to around the room, biting the inside of his cheek.

You instantly regretted your question, seeing as he seemingly built walls around himself. “You wanna talk about it?” You already knew the answer, even before he shook his head, eyes refinding your face. 

You gazed down into the now empty cup, feeling more relaxed than you had in a while. “I’m gonna try and get some sleep.” You stand up, placing it down next to the sink. Your legs moved before you could fully register that you were walking all the way around the counters to walk past Bucky. It was the longer way, the much longer way, but you couldn’t help but slow down next to him, noticing the bags under his eyes. “You should too.” You whispered, placing a hesitant hand on his shoulder for a moment before quickly retracting it.

His face froze as your thumb laid over his collarbone, but just as quick as the warmth of your hand appeared, it left as you walked out the room, the door closing softly behind you as he stared at the door.

Maybe this wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

[⭐]

After that night, it was as if you couldn’t stop seeing Bucky everywhere you went. The times where he’d once ran out of rooms to avoid an encounter seemed long gone by now.

It started with him making you a coffee in the morning, even if he wasn’t around. Then came the books that he’d leave alongside them, sometimes he wrote in the very margins, little things that made you laugh, or notes in the very first page giving you a brief description. You made a point of reading them when he was there, you noticed that he liked to watch you read them. Then, every night, before bed, you’d sit together in the kitchen.

“Do you ever look at something and just think of her?” He asked you one night. His eyes looked heavy, his back hunched as though he was carrying the weight of the world. “Natasha?”

You looked over sadly at him, his eyes trained on the Iron Man mug in his hands. “Everyday.” You whispered with a bittersweet smile. “I go to show her things sometimes, things she would’ve found funny and then it hits me.”

“I do that with Steve.” His voice was barely audible despite the fact there was nobody else here. They found themselves whispering lite that often, as though everybody else was asleep and they didn’t want to wake them up. There was never anybody there. “I guess now I show you the things I’d show him.”

You hummed at that, shoulder brushing with his. 

Eventually, your lives became so intertwined that it seemed like you were shadows of one another. It wasn’t always intentional, but you’d both just show up at the gym at the same time, or go on a walk at the same time. It made sense, as you’d grown closer, that your everyday activities just fit together.

The first time after getting closer to Bucky that Natasha’s death really hit was when you realised how handsome he actually was. Sure, he’d always been an attractive man, but something about how peaceful he looked on a night, watching you so intently as you tilted your head at his snarky comment written in his loopy handwriting. 

You looked up at him, knowing he was already watching, and found his smile so intoxicating you forgot all about the little note for just a second, too busy being far too infatuated with his grin. In that moment, you wanted nothing more than to run to Natasha, curl up with your head in her lap as you rambled about how his upturned lips made your heart feel as though it was preparing to make its grand escape out of your chest.

But you couldn’t, so you feigned a smile that you hoped he didn’t notice was fake and made some excuse to use the bathroom in an attempt to avoid the swirl of emotions. By the time the words had left your mouth, you’d already shut the door, taking deep breaths as you splashed your face with water, “Fuck, come on. Pull yourself together.” You murmured, drying your face on the navy towel.

When you exited, you peeked your head out first, hoping your heart would grow used to the sight of him if you watched him a little longer, even though all that did was accentuate the dull ache left by the thought of Nat. Though you quickly came to the conclusion that time couldn’t make this go away.

A few weeks after that, Bucky slept in your room for the first time.

You were a light sleeper and though you’d woken up to Bucky moving around after a nightmare many times, this was different. He’s told you recently in the kitchen one night over a cup of steaming lemon and ginger tea about how bad his nightmares could get. He explained most of them were memories, but the really bad ones, the ones where he couldn’t differentiate the real from the fake, had subsided a little after Wakanda. He’d also said he screamed sometimes.

If this was what he meant, then it was much worse than how he’d described them.

It felt as though somebody had fished around your body and found your heart strings, then tugging sharply. He sounded scared, and in pain, and it took everything in you not to run to his bedside, so instead you sat there, attempting to quiet your own breaths in hope of hearing him moving in the now silence.

You couldn’t tell how long it had been, time seemed to blur as you stared at where you figured the door would be, everything hazy in the dark, but however long it had been, the relief you felt when you heard the three sharp knocks couldn’t be matched.

Springing out of bed, your toes curled at the feeling of the cold wooden floor before feeling your way along the wall, switching on the wall lamp, flooding the room with light on your way to the door. As your hand grazed the doorknob, he knocked again, this time quicker, more desperate.

You pulled at the door quickly, letting the light grace his face like the sun on a soldier back from war. “Bucky?” You whispered softly, seeing his distraught face, his eyes raking over your body, head jerking in small movements as you stood there.

“You’re…” He trailed off, placing his flesh hand over your heart. “You’re okay.” His eyes closed, nodding to himself as his head dropped. You wrapped your own hand over his, stroking your thumb over the back of his hand.

“I’m okay, you’re okay.” Your voice was gentle as you watched his chest begin to stop moving so violently, letting his shoulders relax, or drop, it didn’t look overly relaxing or comfortable.

He mumbled something, opening his eyes slowly before pulling away his hand, even though he pinned your thumb in between his pointer and middle finger. “I’m sorry, it was just… I had to make sure…”

You walked backwards, pushing the door open with your back, letting your arm stretch out, “Come on.” You whispered, pulling your arm slightly as he still clutched your thumb. Bucky’s mouth opened, standing dumbstruck for a moment before he nodded, walking closer, letting the door shut softly behind him. 

Even as you bent down beside your bed, he never let go of your thumb, and you never tried to pull it away. “What are you doing?” He questioned, voice still shaky but a hint of something else rearing its head, trying desperately to escape his tone.

Smiling, you tugged out a mattress, standing up and letting the arm that was stretched rest for a moment, he tilted his head curiously at it, “You want a blanket?”

Bucky was too stunned to speak, looking between you and your overly kind gesture, “I can’t, you shouldn’t have to-”

“When are you gonna start believing that I’m doing this because I want to, Bucky?” You questioned faintly, wrapping the rest of your fingers around his. “Lay down, please?”

Your eyes seemed to win him over, begging a pleading with him to just let you take care of him. That night was the best sleep he’d had in a while.

The only problem was that after that, he couldn’t do anything without you anymore, he couldn’t fall asleep in his own room, he couldn’t concentrate if you weren’t around. If he thought he was dependent before, this was another level- not that you seemed to mind. He’d just gravitated to that mattress in your room, the next night, he knocked again and you’d left it where it was, almost as though it was waiting for him.

From there, your relationship flourished, even if neither of you ever referred to it as a relationship, or anything really. You were just you and Bucky, there didn't have to be anything else. Despite what Clint suggested when he came to visit, or the raised eyebrows you’d received from Sam.

Sam had committed a full day of trying to get a picture of Bucky looking at you. He seemed to figure it would ignite something in you two, but it proved a harder task than originally thought out. After a full day of hiding his face with his hand whenever Sam would pull out his camera - partly to hide his pink cheeks from you - and pulling a stupid face at the camera, he’d managed to snap one.

You were both in the kitchen, Bucky sat across from you on the barstools as you yapped away, half expecting them both to zone out, but Bucky didn’t. The only time he’d zoned out when words were coming out of your pretty mouth was when you were standing a little too close for his own self control.

In the picture, he was leant forward, resting his tilted head on his wrist, nails grazing his lips as he stared up at you. The very corner of his lip could just be made out, the flash of pink pointing upwards as you didn’t notice him at all, looking down at the pan in your hand, mouth slightly apart. 

When Sam showed it to you, he swore he could trace the hearts in Bucky’s eyes, but you quickly dismissed the idea, shaking your head as he saved it to his favourites folder and murmuring something about how this would be shown at your wedding.

Sure, Bucky was everything, he was your everything, but you weren't about to ruin all of this just because you got selfish.

Sam, being the little shit he was, then tried to show Bucky, but he was even quicker to shove the phone away, insisting he delete it asap, despite the smirk on his face. 

The first time you were away on a mission felt like hell for Bucky. Whilst you could put on a brave face and spend three days in Germany, fighting alongside someone from S.W.O.R.D, his life was a mess without you.

It frightened him how much he seemed to depend on being able to see you while you were sleeping, or the fact that he couldn’t make anything but toast and pasta. Bucky wasn’t fully sure how he’d survived without you before. He’d already lost so many people and he didn’t think he could survive if you disappeared from his life too. You weren’t allowed a phone on the mission, so he couldn’t contact you, his only comfort was the small picture of you he kept in his wallet. 

It was stupid, but you were one of the few photos on his phone, and your face just looked too damn perfect not to fit in the small space. This way, every time he had to leave the house or got to the shops or be separated for the smallest amount of time, you were right there with him. It also helped him remember to bring his wallet- he couldn’t leave you in between the sofa cushions after all.

He’s been alerted of your arrival back an hour before your jet got back, and it seemed like the longest hour he’d ever known. Bucky sat on the bench, he stood up and paced in a circle, he leant against the wall, he sat on the ground, all within the space of ten minutes. But his dirty trousers were worth it as he spotted your face, a cut down your left cheek and a mark on your jaw.

But you were fine, and Bucky couldn’t care less about the agents who stopped and stared as he stepped forward and engulfed you in a hug. Your eyebrows raised in surprise as you froze before wrapping your arms back around him. The two of you were close, but this… this was different.

“I missed you, doll.” He murmured, squeezing you tightly as you hummed.

“Me too, Buck. Me too.” As you pulled apart, his hands cupped your face, careful to avoid the cut. His brows knitted together as he observed your face, eyes flickering around every part of you, only stopping as you let your hands rest on his shoulders. “What’s wrong?” He didn’t reply, just staring into your eyes, transfixed as people moved around you.

You took his head and led him inside to the compound, into the kitchen. Bucky could feel everything he’d ever felt rise to the very surface as you pushed his shoulders down so he’d sit in a chair as you set off, busying yourself around the kitchen as you tidied away his attempts at cooking something edible.

“I love you.”

The words were tumbling out of his mouth before he even had the chance to think or do anything to stop himself. It was stupid, so very very stupid, but you made Bucky a stupid man. He hadn’t even told you he liked you, he felt like he’d skipped through steps that were fairly detrimental to any stage of a relationship, and god he really wanted a relationship. He wanted to call you his and wrap his arms around your body from behind, pepper kisses on your neck-

Bucky was quickly pulled out of his fantasies by you, you could pull him out of anything with one glance, even your presence alone could calm down the waves of self hatred that reared their pathetic heads every now and again. But there you were, a pan in one hand, stopped mid stride as you stared at home with parted lips.

This had to be a bad thing, he thought, you looked like a deer caught in headlights and that didn’t often end well.

He was too busy wrapped up in his whirlwind of feelings to even notice your upturned lips, or the way you neared him, saying his name so softly. He didn’t register anything until your hands found his cheeks, he looked up at you, eyes wide with confusion as he took in your smiling figure. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think an-” His voice was a whisper, scared of losing you through his pure stupidity.

But all those thoughts were put to rest the moment your lips graced his, just a peck, a gentle brush of affection, but the moment he registered just what was happening, he wrapped his arms around your centre, pulling you in between his legs as you stood back up from bending down to his height. You let yourself be pulled in, his head resting against your body as he grinned to himself like a love drunk fool.

He stood up soon after, hands never moving from your back as he kept you flush against him, biting his lip as he looked at you as though you were the only thing in the world - maybe you were. “I had a plan in my head of how this was going to happen.” His words were strained, but the small chuckle that escaped his throat was enough to reassure any doubts in your mind. “But screw it, screw it all, just be mine, please be mine.”

His forehead rested against yours as he closed his eyes. The universe owed him this, it owed him his happy ending, and you yours.

After everything you’d lost in the past year, Bucky had made you smile, he’d made you laugh, he’d made you happy- something you weren’t even sure was possible after you snapped back, after you’d been told of what happened to Nat. But he helped. He didn’t try to fix everything, he didn’t try and bring a magic hammer and smash the broken parts of you back together, you grew together, you helped each other. You understand each other because even on your worst days, he was with you, and he would help, and love, and care.

“I’m yours.”

[doomedflare]

post-fog, jake keeps up with his family (mostly his sister) via social media (though he keeps his distance because it Would be incredibly jarring for him to just reappear at the same age he was when he first disappeared). this is how he finds out when his dad gets sick and, a month or so later, dies. yes, he does sneak around and catch part of the funeral from afar. yes it does destroy him despite the rocky relationship he had with his dad

[tsukiflwr]

ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁 .ᐟ THINGS ENHA DO THAT MAKES YOU SECOUND-GUESS YOUR 'FRIENDSHIP'

𝓅airing ∿ hyung line! enha x f!reader ᰔ 𝒽eadcanons ; fluff, friends to lovers, 𝓌: none that I know of 𐙚 𝓌c 1682 ᝰ.ᐟ 𝓇oro's note. i did not intend for these to be so long ﹒ ꒰ 𝓁ibrary ꒱ + 𝓂aknae ver

LEE HEESEUNG ∿ being touchy

you were used to heeseung’s touch. the way he would rest his hand on your lower back to alert you of his presence, the lingering hugs where his hands would hold your waist, how he would wrap his arm around your shoulders whenever the two of you stood or sat next to each other, his fingers absentmindedly tracing shapes on your shoulder as he talked and laughed with your friends. 

and the little things like reaching over to put on your seatbelt for you, holding your hand while crossing the road or following the sidewalk rule, pressing his chest back up against your chest as he helped you reach for things on a higher shelf . . . they didn't seem so little to you anymore. 

the lingering hugs lasted longer, his arm that used to rest on your shoulders moved to your waist to hold you closer instead. He would play with your fingers when you guys would binge watch shows in the living room, he would rest his hand on your thigh whenever he sat next to you, playing with the hem of your top. His fingers would linger on your face to softly caress your skin whenever he would tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. 

he didn’t touch his other friends like how he touched you, he certainly didn't pull them to sit on his lap when he played video games like he did with you. Or how he would cuddle you on the couch as you watched movies, his fingers absentmindedly caressing your sides while he placed soft kisses on your cheek, forehead or temple. Yeah, he definitely didn't do that with his other friends . . . 

you knew that he was aware of how it was affecting you, and you also knew that he enjoyed every minute of it. giving you that innocent teasing smile when he felt your heartbeat faster against his chest, or when he notices that flustered smile on your lips. deep down you knew the reason why he touched and looked at you like that – and he knew it too. 

PARK JAY ∿ spoiling you

you noticed jay’s habit of buying things for you very early in your friendship. whenever the two of you went out to get food he always made sure to pay the bill, quickly grabbing it before you could even see the amount, waving off your protests with a sweet smile. even when you were the one to make the plans he always found a way to pay first. when you had brought it up to him he just gave you that smirk as he said “Is it so bad that I want to treat you?” 

when the two of you went shopping together, he always paid attention to the things your eyes would linger on but decided not to get it because it cost too much, sneaking the items in his basket to buy them for you, along with things he just wanted to get for you. he didn't even bother to ever look at the price tag, knowing that it was going to be worth it seeing that smile on your face. 

he would bring you home items from when he went on trips with his friends/family, he would come up with excuses like ‘i thought of you when i saw it’ or ‘it's just a little gift‘ and one that never failed to make you a flustered mess was ‘I saw it and knew you would look pretty in it’ he had to know he was making you feel things when he said things like that . . . 

you noticed how jay would always playfully complain about buying things for his other friends, saying that they could get it themselves, but with you he did it without a second thought. you weren't the only one to notice that. your fellow shared friends had noticed it too, and of course they had to tease jay about it. but he wouldn't let it bother him, he’d continue to spoil you, buying you anything that reminded him of you. 

you’d wake up to a beautiful bouquet of fresh flowers outside your door every week, and almost every time you went to collect your packages there were always extra one’s, always with a sweet little note from jay ‘thinking on you’ ‘wear this tonight, i'm taking you out’ the gifts soon turned more romantic, domestic if you really think about it. but your relationship with him really changed once he gifted you that beautiful silver necklace with the letter ‘J’. 

he loved watching you absentmindedly fidget with the necklace as you happily talked with your friends, or how you would always admire how pretty it looked decorating your neck. he loved to softly tug on the chain to gain your attention, or to use it to pull you closer to him. he didn't care who the two of you were with, he’d stop in the middle of a conversation to reach towards your neck and gently pull the necklace that slipped under your top, adjusting it so the ‘J’ could be seen by everyone . . . you both knew he was irrevocably claiming you as his. 

SIM JAKE ∿ never corrects it when people assume your his girlfriend

you and jake have always been close, ever since the two of you met as young children – both of you were ‘forced’ to come along with your moms to a nice lunch between old friends. the two of you sat at the table, talking quietly and giggling as you raced each other to finish the mazes on the children's menus that were given. your mothers both smiling at the friendship blooming between the two of you. jake would refuse to admit it now, but his young self-did shed a few tears when he had to leave, not wanting to be away from his ‘pwetty friend’ 

as the years went on you only got closer with jake, he was your person . . . and you were his. but not only did he get closer to you emotionally, but also physically. and it was something that everyone noticed, the two of you grew up together hearing the hushed whispers of your moms giggling about how they would be in-laws in the future. So the topic of you two being together was something you were used to. 

it was a popular misconception – that the two of you were together. anyone would think you were – with how close, touchy, and the way you guys looked at each other. And jake ever the polite, would say “oh – no we're just friends”. . .  but jake found it unnecessary to correct the misconception as his feelings for you grew stronger. 

he liked to see the flustered smile decorate your lips whenever someone mistakenly called you, his girlfriend. he found it adorable how shy and awkward you would get, stumbling over your words. he also really loved that moment of bliss where he could fantasize that the two of you were together – that you were actually his girlfriend. that him taking you to that cafe you loved wasn't just a friendly outing but instead a date. 

you didn't know how to bring it up to him, that you noticed how he stopped correcting people, that he would always pull you closer to him when it happened. or how you noticed that big grin would always form on his lips after. that bliss you felt in that moment would quickly turn into confusion as your mind raced with thoughts on why he didn't correct them. 

was it because he was just polite, that he didn't want to make the person uncomfortable by correcting them? – you really hoped that it wasn't just because he was polite. You wanted it to be because he wanted you too – that you weren't the only one to have those silly little fantasies of the two of you together . . . 

PARK SUNGHOON ∿ being protective and possessive

one thing you admired about Sunghoon was how protective he was, to his family, to his friends, to you . . . with years of being best friends with him you didn't know why suddenly started to get so flustered whenever he got protective of you. maybe it was because his protectiveness was almost always accompanied with his possessiveness, and God was it hot . . . 

he always follows the sidewalk rule with you and walks you back safely to your car / apartment etc., he never sits with his back to the door when you are out at a restaurant, all he wants is you to be safe. at parties he always had his arm around your waist, giving his best intimidating look to any guy who tried to come up to you, and if you were at the party without him, he always made sure to check on you through the night, staying up despite the tiredness just in case you called for a ride home. 

he wasn't just protective of your physical but also your mental, he knew you better than anyone else so he could easily see whenever you were overwhelmed or going through something. he’d pull you somewhere quiet, he was there to listen to you talk about what's bothering you and giving you the best advice he could, and if you weren't in the mood to talk, he would do his best to distract you from your negative thoughts.

he sees your ex at a party? he's making sure he doesn’t come and bother you and get your mind all messed up after months of you getting better . . . he was very sensitive with you, especially if someone brought you up, he's always quick to shut down anything that's not appropriate. 

everyone always assumed that the two of you were together, he was always so touchy with you in public, he had a habit of scaring off guys who had taken a liking to you, he never shot down the rumors of you together, only making them stronger . . . at this point the only two who didn't know you were dating where the two of you 

ᝰ.ᐟ 𝓇oro's note. HEHE ITS FINALLY DONE !! it honestly felt like I’ve been working on this for weeks (i have oops) the maknae version will be released tomorrow !! I now have a taglist, so please comment or send an ask in my inbox if you would like to be added (please specify what taglist you would like to be added too !!) @leehansdoll is the account I will tagging you with <3 ꒰ nav ꒱

which member was your favorite?

likes, reblogs, comments and feedback are heavily encouraged !

[novelistwriter]

Betrothed Phantom

DP x DC Prompt

Danny, formerly Dania, was part of the League of Assassins and the future bride to Damian when he eventually becomes the Demons Head. At least, that was the plan before Danny's father took her away from the League.

The reason Dania was chosen to be Damian's betrothed is because Dania was Damian's equal in every way. Every training match they had always ended in a tie between the two.

Dania was badly injured during a rebellion. The rebels thought the future heir and his future bride should be gotten rid of before they could grow up. The reason for Dania's injuries was because she was defending Damian from attacks. Dania was rewarded by being dipped in the Lazarus Pit to heal her wounds.

That rebellion and seeing his little girl hurt caused Dania's father to run away with her from the League. He dropped her off at an orphanage, saying that they needed to split up so the League would have a harder time finding them. Dania wanted to stay behind to be with Damian, but now that she's out and most likely branded a deserter in the League, she will reluctantly obey her father.

She was soon picked up by the Fentons because young Jazz took one look at her and claimed her. About a year with Dania's stay with the Fentons, she told them that she wanted to be a boy, and she was supported by the Fentons fully.

Danny did have his accident but convinced Tucker and Sam not to mess around in the basement lab, so it happened while his friends were not in the house. Now he's trying his best to convince them that all Ghosts aren't all bad.

Talia made an appearance in Fentonworks when Danny was 16. She had tracked Danny down but wasn't looking to bring Danny back to the League. She had come to tell him that his biological father was killed by Ra's himself recently. Before Talia left, she left some parting words with him.

"Reach out to Damian. He may not have shown it, but he loved you, as you loved him. I know that you have been keeping track of him ever since he arrived in Gotham"

Those words stick with Danny for a week because the Nasty Burger explosion still happens, taking his family, friends, and countless others with it, despite him stopping Dan.

So now Danny heads to Gotham to reconnect with Damian and to avoid Vlad. He knows that Bruce is not as bad as Vlad but will remain wary of him. Despite Bruce being Damian's father, he will do anything to see Damian again now that he knows his feelings were not one-sided.

[whorelaud]

꒦꒷ ﹏ possessive ¡

summary rafe only realizing he's head over heels for you after you give up on getting him to like you, and move on to someone else. jealousy overrules his resist to give you space, eventually confronting you about the situation.

contains jealousy, slight angst, confessions, hurt/comfort, fluff!! wc; 2.7k

a/n fluff and angst yaya this was very fun 2 write ^-^ hope u enjoy!!

You knew it was time to get over Rafe when you caught him laughing and messing around with another girl, while he barely ever sent a smile your way. 

It broke your heart to pieces, the sight of the man whom you loved the most, cracking jokes with a girl he met five minutes ago, when you’ve been trying to pursue him ever since you were teens. 

Your family were good friends with the Camerons, which is how you were introduced to Rafe. After you moved to figure eight, his family were of great help when it came to adjusting. Sarah was kind enough to show you around town, and Rafe… well he was there. 

You developed an attraction to the boy from the moment you saw him, and it just grew from there. You knew your love was unrequited, however, you couldn’t help it, not with the slightest moments hinting that he might’ve been into you.

Whether it was the small smile he’d flash you as a sincere apology, or how protective he’d get whenever his friends try to influence you in a bad way. It all made your pulse quicken, getting your hopes up, thinking that he might’ve had the same motives as you. 

You were in the same friend group, meaning of course, you’d be seeing him often. That was besides the family dinners you shared every weekend, nothing but causing your unrequited crush to evolve into something more. 

You knew Rafe, the boy always kept to himself, the older he got, the more mature he became, distancing himself from his surroundings. That only made you want him more, knowing deep down, there was more to him, not just the cold persona he created for himself. 

You thought it was a fleeing moment, that you’d probably get over him as you grew, but you didn’t; in fact, things only got worse. You started wanting more from him, feeling your heart break a little whenever he introduced you as a family friend, or dismissed his friends whenever they teased you two about being together. 

He’d always laugh it off, brushing off their assumptions with a simple, ‘we’re just friends, she’s like Sarah to me’, and that, it really did it for you. You’d ignore him for a day or two, and give in when he texts you asking whether you were going to show up at the family gathering. 

Sure, he broke your heart, but he was quick to cover it up with sweet words that were the bare minimum to others, but to you? They meant the world to you, and that alone was enough to sum up your feelings for him.

However, this time around, nothing could fix the pang of emptiness that filled your chest, when you spotted Rafe laughing with another girl that wasn’t you, not a worry behind his eyes. He looked happy, that when you saw him, tears instantly welled up in the corner of your eyes, feeling your heart sink to your stomach from the scene you had witnessed.

That was it, your last straw. You decided it was finally time to move on, not able to bear the pain anymore. It was a hurtful sight, really. You validated the fact that you might end up with him one day, your dreams coming crushed when you lost all hopes of ever having him.

It was clear that something was going on between them, hell,  who were you to decide who he ends up with? After all, you were just a family friend to him, nothing more. 

You spent the next few days, weeks, months getting over him, you were determined to do it this time, hanging out less with him, and instead spending more time with the pogues. You started attending less family gatherings, not going unless your parents insisted on dragging you there. 

And when you did join them, you’d avoid the boy with all your might, looking past the puzzled expression that spread across his face whenever he saw you. His gaze would be glued to you the whole night, seeking your eyes with his own, even if it was for a mere moment. 

But you didn’t give him the satifcations. You wanted him to know that you weren’t the same girl who begged for his attention for years, only getting it now that you were ignoring him. 

Rafe on the other hand, well, he can’t state that he wasn’t desperate to find out what went down. Things were normal between you two, until one day, you decided to randomly ignore him, not bothering to text him, or check up on him anymore. 

He tried to crack a conversation out of you, whenever you attended events– which was rarely, now on, merely to be met with a dry response in return. You’d brush off his concerned questions, coming up with an excuse to immediately leave the conversation. 

He had them memorized by now, it was either you getting a phone call, or a text, sometimes needing to use the bathroom came in handy, and the most common one was of course, that you weren’t feeling well, telling him you’ll continue the conversation later on, though that was a lie. 

Rafe was well aware of that. He knew you were upset at him for something he did, that not even the things he usually does to get your attention could solve it. He wishes you discussed your discomfort with him instead of completely bailing on him, refusing to hangout with the rest of your friend group whenever he’s around. 

He can’t lie and say it didn’t hurt his ego, because it did, seeing you give someone the same smile you’d flash him months ago, now desperate for even a single word out of you. For a while, he thought going with the flow would turn things back to how they were, but that only made it worse.

He was starting to miss hanging out with you, having you chill on his bed while he played video games, his whole room smelling like you for days, from being able to recognize your scent on his pillow. 

It bothered him, not being able to hear all about your day, seeing your excitement dedicated to someone else, when it should’ve been him instead. He could only watch you from afar now, gaze burning through your skin until you somehow acknowledged him. 

Going to parties wasn’t fun anymore, he didn’t look forward to events now that you weren’t there, only attending in case he got to see you. He tried, he really did, attempting to get over the uncomfortable feeling rushing through his insides whenever he spots you from afar, wanting nothing but to go up to you, tell you all about how much he missed you.

He knew you though, he was aware that would lead to no good, causing you to further drift apart with the latter, as if it wasn’t bad enough already. He resisted the pang of jealousy that filled through his chest, held back, until he no longer could. 

He couldn’t help the possesivness that washed over him when he spotted you with a man, laughing at a stupid joke he told you while caressing his arms. The little gesture encouraged the latter, causing him to sneak his arms around your waist. 

Rafe’s jaw clenched, tightening his hold around the beer he had in hand, the sight causing anger to bubble up inside him. He wasn’t used to seeing you like this, acting the same way you did with him in the presence of someone else. 

He felt a ping of jealousy, wishing it was him instead, holding you and claiming you in front of everyone else, despite the misunderstanding you had going on. Topper tried to ease up the tension, noticing the way Rafe was intensely staring at you. 

He offered Rafe a drink, telling him to relax and enjoy the party, however, that wasn’t of much help, as his attention was fixed on you the whole night. He tried to resist, he really did, reaching his limit when the boy leaned down to kiss your cheek, the action earning a chuckle out of you. 

That alone, it had Rafe raging, walking towards you with anger visible on his face. He didn’t bother apolgizing to the people he bumped into on the way to you, his mind too accompanied with you to process anything else. 

His breath knocked out of his chest once he was in your presence, your scent instantly filling his nostrils, the same one he’s been grieving to take a whiff of, even for a moment. You turned in the latter’s direction when you sensed him hovering behind him, yet in the other man’s hold. 

“Rafe?” You mumbled over the loud music playing, noticing the look of discomfort on his face. “Is something wrong?”

“You’re coming with me.” He replied, grabbing you by the wrist, merely for you to yank his hand off, immediately growing irritated. 

“What are you doing?” You shot back, eyebrows furrowing with confusion. “What the hell, dude? Can’t you see I’m busy here?”

“Mhm, you look real busy, cuddled up in a random dude’s arms.” He scoffed, “Your moment told me to drop you off, I’m taking you home.”

“I'm capable of getting myself home,” your face scrunched with annoyance, reaching out for your phone, checking to see whether your mom texted you. “Besides, my mom didn’t even say anyth–”

“For fuck sake,” he cut you off, tugging you by your arm, this time able to drag you off the man’s side, who stared at you with confusion. “Just come with me, why are you making things complicated?” 

You mumbled a quick sorry to the man, as Rafe dragged you out against your own will, leading you through the dimly streets, until you eventually approached his car. He unlocked the vehicle, opening the door to the passenger seat, silently signaling for you to get in.

“What are you doing, Rafe?” You shouted, shoving him off of you. “What is wrong with you?”

“Get in.” He replied, tongue darting out to wet his lips. 

“I’m not going with you,” you stated, persistent with your decision. “My mom didn’t ask you to drop me off, I know you’re lying to me.” 

“Get in the fucking car,” he ordered, causing you to slightly wince. Realization washed over him, aware that he was scaring you. “Fuck, I’m sorry– I didn’t mean to–”

“Fuck you,” You hit his chest, attempting to stop him from taking another step forward. “You always fucking do this; every time you see me happy.” 

“Listen, okay– I apologize, I didn’t mean to startle you like that.” He muttered, gaze lingering on your arms pressing to his chest. “Let me jus’ get you home, so I know you’re safe.” 

“You can’t do that,” you choked out, feeling tears form in the corner of your eyes. “You can’t do this to me anymore, I won’t allow it.”

“Why not?” He questioned, frustration visible through his voice. “I did it before, why can’t I do it now?” 

“That’s the problem,” you shook your head, gaze finding the ground, afraid you would give in if you saw Rafe. “I don’t want you to treat me the same way you did, I’m tired of you confusion’ me, over n’ over again.” 

“Then what about me?” He asked, causing you to glance up. “Have you considered my feelings when you decided to ignore me?” 

“Why should I?” You scoffed, despite the tears falling down your face. “After all, I’m just a family friend, nothing more.”

“Fuck that,” he spit out, “That’s not a good excuse for you to ignore me. You know how confused I was?” 

You remained silent for a moment, taken aback by the statement. Rafe’s hands found his forehead, letting a stressful sigh escape his throat. 

“You know how hard it was not having you around? I tried, I really did try to get over it, ignore the fact that you’re killing me alive, while being in another man’s arms.” He uttered, exhaling through his parted lips before he continued. “I mean– what even happened?” 

“You–” You started, vision going blurry, your tears like a waterful now. “You led me on, Rafe. Kept me around, despite the fact that you have a girlfriend.” 

“I– what?” He cocked his head to the side, fixing his attention on you. “I have a girlfriend?”

“You don’t?” You sniffled, now just as confused as he was. “Who was that girl you were with at Topper’s party?”

“Val?” Rafe questioned, recalling the said girl you were talking about. “You idiot, is that why you’re upset at me?” 

You flashed him a puzzled expression, watching as a smile tugged at his lips, washing over his frustration. It made you angry for a second, feeling belittled under his gaze, despite the seriousness you had displayed across your face. 

Rafe relaxed under your gaze, and you could’ve sworn his eyes flickered to your lips, but that might be your vision, blurred up with the tears in your eyes. However, before you could further question the latter, he leaned forward, ceasing the distance between you. 

His lips captured yours in a soft kiss, one you’ve been dying for throughout your entire years of knowing Rafe, crushing on him, not being able to reach out and touch him, even though you were dying to do it. You tensed under his hold for a moment, relaxing when he moved his mouth over yours, the gesture bringing you back to reality. 

You returned the kiss, feeling your pulse quicken within every passing moment. You couldn’t believe it, Rafe Cameron, the one whom you’ve been crushing on for years is kissing you, and you loved every second of it.  

The boy pulled away, letting his forehead rest over yours. His nose slightly brushed yours, and he was so close, you could feel his breath fanning over your face. He cupped your face with one of his hands, wiping your tears with his fingers. 

“Val’s my cousin, by the way.” He clarified, chuckling when an audible gasp escaped your throat. 

“You’re kidding.” You covered your mouth, disbelief visible on your face. 

“Mhm, I’m not.” He sneaked his arms around your waist, a teasing grin forming on his lips as he pecked your temple. “She was visitin’ the island, so it caught me off guard when I saw her.”

“Right.” You replied, too embarrassed to meet the boy’s gaze. “That’s…”

“Cute,” he snickered, continuing your sentence. “You’re so adorable, I didn’t know you were ignoring me ‘cause you were jealous.” 

“Shut up!” You shoved his shoulder, “‘s not funny.” 

“I thought you knew how I felt about you.” He started, embracing you in a hug as his chin gently rested on top of your head. 

“How you felt about me?” You repeated, feeling your face heat up. 

“I like you.” He confessed, “I like you so much, it hurts seeing you with someone else, knowing I should've been the one in his position.” 

You froze in your spot, eyes slightly widening at the confession. Your heart was beating so hard, you were afraid it might pop out of your chest any second now. You were in a state of disbelief, mind too hazed up to comprehend what the boy said. 

The Rafe Cameron likes you, out of everyone else, you. Teen you would be screaming and fanning herself right now. 

“How was I supposed to know that?” You muffled against his chest, fingers fiddling with the buttons attached to his shirt. “You always ignored me, y’know.” 

“That’s not true,” he pulled away, “Everyone in our friend group knows I like you, I was scared it might make you uncomfortable, that’s why I always brushed it off whenever they teased you about me.” 

“You’re so stupid,” you chuckled, sniffilng once more. “I’ve liked you for years, you know that?”

“Oh, I know now.” He cupped your face, a knowing smile suppressing it’s way across his. “Never ignore me again, tell me next time something bother you, okay baby?” 

You nodded, nuzzling your face into his chest once again. You let silence seep through the air for a moment, enjoying the comfortable hug Rafe wrapped you in, letting the boy rock you back and forth. 

“I had no idea who that man was, by the way,” you clarified, cutting through the quietness. “I jus’ went with the flow in hopes of getting you riled up.”

“I knew it!” 

[on-the-clear-blue]

Dead Man's Diner drabbles since I need to get back into writing it.

Robber, bursting through the door, gun already pulled out and shouting: EVERYBODY PUT YOUR FUCKING HANDS UP AND OPEN UP YOUR WALLETS

The whole God damn Batfam just looking up from their respective places in the diner:..

Danny, behind the counter, tired as hell from basically taking over feeding them all: Take the fucking shot.

---

Nightwing, laying dramatically over the breakfast bar as Danny walks in, a rose between his teeth: Hi~ I need to place an order

Danny, woke up 15 minutes ago: It is to early for this (it's 7 pm)

Nightwing, watching as Dany just turns around and leaves the diner: Wait no.

---

Bart/Wally/Berry, finally done helping their respective Bat with Gotham Things ™️, stumbling upon the Diner:Sweet, no need to run back home on empty!

Danny, seeing the one that he has seen Clockwork scream about walk into his diner: shit I gotta make a call.

(15 Minutes later)

Bart/Wally/Berry crying into a massive plie of pancakes as Clockwork reads them yo filth.

---

Wes, grumbling as he is kicked out of the diner for the fifth time this week: God damn it Fenton! Stopping hiding your ghostly existence! The people demand the truth!

Bernard, there because Tim recommended it, trying and failing to hit taking him there for a date, head snapping over to Wes like a horror movie: I sense a conspiracy theory.

---

Cass, squating on a bar stool: *pouting face*

Danny, squinting at her: No.

Cass, looking up at him with the most hurt expression: *kicked puppy look*

Danny, feeling terrible:Okay! Okay I will get Cujo to come over! A-and I will throw in Ellie!

Cass, breaking unto a smile: and hot coco?

Danny, fully broken by her: Sure, why the hell not.

---

Tucker and Sam, finally coming into the diner: honestly? Not as bad as I thought it would be.

(A Bat getting chucked through the door, and Rouge following after)

Tucker:Holy...is he okay?

Sam: I take back what I said.

Danny, looking at the property damage:Nope...nope this is normal, Red Hood your tab just doubled.

Jason, fully concussed: Sure thing...babe...

---

Based on an idea I have for later on, Jason and Danny are in the middle stage between friends and Dating and Jason finally gets to meet the other two of the everlasting trio...

Sam, has a baseball bat in hand that is starting to sprout out branches: You hurt Danny and you'll end up dead again, and this time you won't have the hands to dig your way out.

Tucker, with sparks flashing in his eyes and a grin on his face, his PDA blinks with info that no civilian should have: Jason Peter Todd-Wayne, I know all about you, mess things up with Danny and your Pride and Prejudice Self insert fanfiction gets shared with your family, as well as your Wattpad and Tumblr accounts will be sent directly to the Justice Leauge.

Jason, crying a little bit:Danny your friends are terrifying.

Danny, walking out in a pink apron:Oh shit...ugh, Sam! Tucker! I told you dont do that!.

---

Vlad, being a creep to Danny: Oh little badger...truly looking forward to seeing you begging for your life once more

Jason, equidded with Fenton works guns: Anyway I started Blasting.

[jaewritesfic]

Everlasting Trio Nobody Knows AU DP x DC Part 4

Part 3

(Tim POV! This is a long one 😅)

 Tim almost has it. He's so close to cracking this file he can fucking taste it. He's been fighting this thing for two weeks. It's the most incomprehensible and infuriating code he's ever faced off against, which is fitting considering who gave it to them.

The engineer. THEIR engineer. The engineer they didn't ask for and Tim still isn't sure how they got, and the single biggest mystery in Tim's fucking life right now.

See, a significant amount of Bat gadgets at this point are Tim's brainchildren. He imagines them, he designs them, he workshops and tests them.

A few months ago, he'd had a pouch on his utility belt full of experimental pellets meant for slowing down fleeing vehicles. They were designed to break when run over and the compound inside would expand into durable, sticky foam that would ensnare tires.

He'd tested them in the cave.

He had not been prepared to take one hit to that side and have to frantically divest himself of that pouch before he became Gotham's latest foam based cryptid. 

His family had laughed themselves silly at him even as he broke off in pursuit of the drug runners he'd been fighting.

When Tim had doubled back expecting a mess to clean up and pellets to rework? It had been gone. All of it. The foam, the pellets, the pouch of his utility belt.

A serious problem, because who knows who got their hands on that?

Then it had shown back up.

That is to say, Gordon had called them because he found a pouch with a note labeled ‘for Red Robin’ sitting on the stand of the Bat Signal and didn't dare touch it.

After making sure it wasn't a bomb or some kind of biological weapon, Tim had opened the pouch - his own belt pouch - and found pellets. New pellets. Different pellets.

The note just read, “As funny as that was to watch, I fixed them for you. No more premature sploogage on the job. :3 P.S. here's a recipe for solution to dissolve future intentional discharges.”

They'd been right, too. The new pellets were tested (in case THEY were a bomb or biological weapon) and they'd been just strong enough to safely transport but still break when under the pressure of tires. Even the foam was more effective, and the spray Tim synthesized from that stupid recipe had worked like a dream.

What. The fuck.

This person not only improved his design and came up with a dissolution agent from scratch in days, they'd been watching without him knowing and made off with the original pellets without anyone noticing.

This was either a rogue in the making or someone they wanted on their side, and either way they needed to be found.

So Tim had done the obvious.

He'd put together a lockbox of money for the product they'd been given, loaded it with no less than ten (10) bat trackers and a note thanking their mysterious benefactor and requesting to meet up. He'd exploded a foam pellet on a rooftop and left the box on it in the hopes they'd notice and find it, then hung around far enough to not be seen and close enough to beat feet as soon as the trackers started moving. 

They did not start moving. They all went offline simultaneously. 

Tim has never moved so fast in his life, and yet by the time he got to the rooftop there was a pile of foam and nothing else. Not even a trace of whoever took the lockbox.

The next day, there was a ping of one (1) tracker that led them to a note thanking him for the money, refusing to meet, and asking if they'd considered certain improvements to their grapples with schematics for said designs.

Thus started the most bizarre and infuriating chase through notes, money, helpful designs and disappearing trackers Tim has ever been a part of.

Last time, the engineer had left them a USB stick and a note claiming that since they really wanted to know about him so bad, they could have the information on the USB if they could crack the encryption on the zip file inside.

Obviously they screened heavily for viruses or backdoors, but long story short Tim has been trying to crack the fucking thing for two weeks and refuses to let Oracle help. It's personal. It's a matter of pride. 

He could swear the code itself has actively been sabotaging his attempts to hack it, which is, you know. Impossible. 

Ping!

Tim blinks, looking over at the map on another monitor of the Bat computer. 

“Motherfucker-”

He taps into Duke’s comms. This is the first time this has ever happened during the day shift, he wasn't expecting it.

“Signal! I need you on the roof of the warehouse on the corner of Fifth and Everest - a tracker just came online.”

Another thing that infuriates Tim. You can't just turn Bat trackers on and off. They're activated, and then they either stay active or they're destroyed. They can't be turned off and then reactivated.

And fucking yet.

Duke groans, but his own tracker starts making its way in that direction.

“Dude. He's gonna be long gone by the time I get there. He always is.”

“He can't run from me forever,” Tim insists. “I'm almost in this damn file, and I am going to find him and dangle him off a roof from his ankles for giving us this runaround, so help me God.”

“Uh huh,” Duke deadpans. “Sure you are. I'm almost there, and- oh look! A note. What a surprise!”

Tim hears Duke touch down on the rooftop, eyes on the code on his screen while his brother clears his throat and reads aloud.

“Ahem- ‘Good morning, sunshine!’ - guess that's me - ‘I hear some bats and birds have been murdering tires at an alarming rate with the way they drive their bikes-’”

Tim freezes. He's not listening anymore.

“Signal.”

“‘- and that just can't be good for business. Nobody wants a bald tire ruining a chase. So boy do I have the thing for you-”

“Signal!”

“What?”

“I got it.”

“Huh? Got what?”

“I cracked his file. I got it.”

Tim is staring, wide eyed and full of a mixture of elation and trepidation at the contents of the zip file. It's a single text file titled, ‘Wow! You did it!’

“Oh, shit? Well? What's in it?”

Tim swallows, mouse hovering over the file. He takes a deep breath, then double clicks.

The file opens.

Tim blinks.

“Red Robin? What's in it?”

Tim scrolls slowly down, disbelief and horror dawning across his face. “Oh my God.”

“What? Come on, man, talk to me.”

Tim scrolls further.

“Oh. My God.”

“Red? Red Robin, you're scaring me, man.”

Tim puts his face in his hands. Voice muffled, he responds.

“Duke.”

“...Red? You okay?”

“No.”

“No?”

“It's the entire Bee Movie script.”

Silence reigns for a solid five seconds before Duke breaks and descends into raucous, hysterical laughter.

Even muffled by his own hands, Tim's scream of rage scares the bats in the cave into a tizzy.

Part 5

Masterpost

[sinner-as-saint]

i'm a winged insect, you're a funeral pyre

Father Charlie Mayhew x Reader 

Run-through: In dire need of counsel and guidance, you find yourself in Father Charlie’s office each evening working hard to be the perfect daughter your rich and eccentric family wishes you to be. And Father Charlie has a very… hands on approach when it comes to leading one of his astray little lambs back onto the right path. 

Themes: dom!charlie mayhew, smut, impact play (spanking), degrading kink, slight age gap, aftercare, some fluff?

“Did those thoughts bother you again, sweet girl?” 

You tensed up at the sound of his voice, fingers nervously playing with one of the pink flowers on your sweater. You stood right next to his desk, with your back to him. And you heard his steady footsteps getting closer and closer until he stopped right behind you. 

Father Charlie always made your heart race a little faster. Not out of fear, no. It was just that… he was so handsome. And slightly older. And kind. And gentle. And sweet. 

He was stern, and passionate about things. He was like a burning flame. Warm, mildly unpredictable, and it could hurt if you weren’t careful. That’s where the nervousness came from. That unpredictability, that possibility of hurt. That not knowing. 

But most of all, he was crucial in guiding you back onto the right path. You hadn’t committed any major sins, but your thoughts had been troubling you lately. Dark, sinful thoughts. It doesn’t suit a nice girl like you to think like that, he’d said once when you first came to see him, but that’s why I’m here. I’ll help you. 

And so it was decided that a couple of times a week, you’d be in his office in the evenings, waiting for him to be done with his duties so he could give you his undivided attention and get you out of this mess. 

So for the past weeks, his office was where you spent most of your evenings. 

“Um,” Your voice trembled, “A little.” 

“Hmm,” A deep rumble sounded like it came from his chest. “We’ll have to work on that, as we always do.” He spoke, calmly. Priestly. Then his large hands came to rest upon your shoulders. Large, warm, and comforting hands. 

You felt him lean in, nuzzling the shell of your ear. You felt him inhale your scent. 

He exhaled, his hands giving your shoulders a firm but gentle rub. “Is that a new perfume?” 

You nodded and answered sheepishly, “My daddy got it for me from Paris when he went on a work trip.” 

“Ah,” He let out a soft chuckle, his hands massaging your shoulders in a way that had you wanting to let out a soft moan. “You are your daddy’s little girl, aren’t you? Hmm?” He teased, then suddenly switched to sounding stern again when he asked, “But does your father know? Does he know why you come here so often?” 

You sucked in a breath when he pulled you back into his chest. His body pressing into your back, and this time you couldn’t help the moan that escaped, not when you felt his bulge pressing into your lower back. “Father,” You gasped. “Please, you can’t tell him. You promised.” 

Father Charlie had been safekeeping your little secret from your family for weeks. When your parents asked him about your sessions, he told them that you were doing so well. That you were so obedient. So perfect. 

But it was all a lie. Truth was, you were still stuck inside that metaphorical maze – the one that was filled with sinful things, and the way out was not easy. 

His hands moved downward, from your shoulders, down your back, down your sides, and came to rest at your waist. He pressed you even more against him. “But do you see how bad you’re becoming? Sneaky, liar,” He began listing all your wrongdoings, “Deviant.” He scoffed. “Now you see why I’m obliged to punish you each time? Hmm, sweet girl?” He whispered right into your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your back. “Do you?” 

“Yes, Father.” 

He sighed, shoving his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent again before he said, “You know what to do, little lamb.” 

Then he let you go, giving you space to prepare for your ‘punishment’. You had done this many times before, it was necessary for you to learn, he’d said. So you knew the steps to take. You kept your shoes on and got out of your skirt, leggings, and sweater. Then removed your underwear and dropped all your clothes into a little pile at your feet. 

You then turned to face him, to look at him. He looked… tortured. Pouty mouth, lips parted as he breathed heavily. Sleeves of his black shirt rolled up till his elbows after a day’s work, and a hunger in his eyes as he walked over to you. You couldn’t look away from him. 

He stood in front of you and reached out to grab you at the back of your neck, tugging just a little to tilt your head back. He leaned in to rub the tip of his nose along your throat, lips brushing against your skin as he spoke, “Now tell me, what was it this time? Huh? What sinful thoughts did your brain conjure up?” 

You were completely as his mercy. And you had no choice but to be honest with him, “I’ve been having dreams. Last night was…,” You trailed off, your sentence ending in a breathless moan the moment he began nibbling and biting on your skin. “There was… there was a man, Father.” 

“Ah.” He pulled away and stared deep into your eyes with his fiery ones. “And? Did this man try to touch you again? Did you let him?” He asked in a lowered, stern voice, “Did you like it?” 

You blinked then did your best to nod. “I… I woke up, but–,” You cut yourself off. Breathing deeply when you felt his other hand sliding easily in between your legs, teasing your clit. 

“But what?” He demanded. “What happened? What did you do?” He sounded disappointed, but also like he couldn’t wait to hear what you had to say. 

You struggled to even form a coherent thought as you felt him touch you, his fingers sliding along your slit slowly. “I… I touched myself after I woke up from the dream.” You confessed. 

He clicked his tongue, clearly disappointed. “We talked about this, didn’t we? Good girls don’t do that.” He chided. “How did you do it? Hmm? Like this?” He looked down, loosening his grip on your neck so you could follow his movement, both of you now looking down at how his fingers touched and teased you until they were nice and wet. “Is this how you touched yourself?” 

It was downright dirty to just watch his fingers leisurely gliding in and out, stroking your sensitive parts. His fingers weren’t even inside you yet, but you were close to the edge already, feeling warm and tingly all over. You closed your eyes tightly and held back a moan as you answered, “Yes, Father. I’m sorry. I know I wasn’t supposed to.” 

“No,” He said, “You weren’t supposed to do that.” He sounded like he was whispering precious secrets to you. He held your stare, leaning in just so he was all you could see. The rest of the world didn’t exist here. “Because that’s my job. Isn’t it?” He pulled his fingers away and brought them up to your lips, sliding his wet fingers into your open mouth like he owned it. Your lips wrapped around his fingers, gently sucking on them as he spoke, “This little cunt belongs to me. And only I get to touch it. Wasn’t that the deal we made? Hmm?” He brushed his lips across your cheek, still sliding his fingers in and out of your wet mouth, “I keep your filthy little secrets from your family, and in return, you let me touch it, taste it, fuck it, whenever I please.” He added, “To punish you, of course. Wasn’t that our deal?” 

You nodded. 

He sighed, “You see? I try to instill discipline and obedience in you, but you defy me again and again.” He scoffed, “I don’t like having to punish you all the time. But you leave me no choice,” He pulled his fingers out of your mouth and pointed at his desk, “Bend over.” 

You turned around immediately and bent over the edge of his large desk. Your cheek pressing against the cold surface of the polished wood as your hands laid palm down on each side of your head. Your ass pressed against the front of his pants and you whimpered, feeling his thick, hard cock beneath the fabric, rubbing against your soft folds. 

You felt his hands on your body. “Look how pretty you are.” He placed his hands on each side of your waist and caressed your body, rubbing up and down along your sides, touching your ass but not touching you right where you needed him to yet. “It’s a shame you’re such a dirty, needy slut.” 

You gasped at his crude words, and bit your lip to keep yourself from moaning too loud as his touch made you feel all tingly and floaty. 

He scoffed before pinching your skin to make you gasp again, “Such an obedient little slut, aren’t you?” He finally trailed his fingers down in between your legs and lazily traced along your slit. “So wet and ready for me.” He chuckled, “Tell me, how many times do you fantasize about me while you touch yourself, hmm?” 

You closed your eyes and frowned in pleasure as he lazily finger-fucked you. “A lot… too many times,” You whined as he touched a sensitive spot inside you, “Please Father. You sounded just as desperate as you were.

“Oh.” He scoffed, as if that wasn’t what he wanted to hear. “You filthy little slut.” 

You braced for the painful impact which you were certain was coming. You heard how he lifted his hand up in the air and brought it down to spank your ass. You yelped as his spank left behind pleasant tingles on your skin.

“Count.” He ordered impatiently. 

“One.” 

He did it again, allowing his hand to linger on your skin a little longer this time, caressing your skin where his hand landed. 

“Two.”

Again. 

“Three.” You said, almost moaning at how good it felt, and heard him chuckle.

“This never gets old.” He muttered and slid his hand further down, stroking your folds for a moment. “You’re so fucking wet. This gets you off, huh? Pain, being degraded, being treated like a whore,” He listed, “You like this, don’t you?” He chuckled. “Of course you do, you’re fucking dripping.” He lifted his hand and spanked you again.

“Four.” You sighed, in pleasure and pain. 

Again. “When will you learn, hmm?” 

“Five.” You whimpered as he struck your butt again. 

“See,” He spoke in that deep voice again, “Good girls don’t enjoy being spanked. But you’re far, far from being a good girl, aren’t you?” 

“Six.” It stung a little, but the kind that you wanted more of. “Please, Father,” You barely knew what you were begging for. 

He chuckled, sounding smug. “I know, I know.” 

“Seven.” 

Again. 

“Eight.” You gasped. 

He smacked your dripping core instead of your butt. Your whole body tingled. You were breathless. 

“Nine.” 

He grunted as he spanked you one last time. “There we go.” 

“Ten.” You moaned shamelessly this time. He had you all worked up, hot and bothered with just spanks. 

“What do we say?” 

You whined breathlessly, “Thank you, Father.” 

He let out a satisfied hum, his hands rubbing you all over as you waited again, since you couldn’t see him. You relied on your sense of hearing to determine where he was. “Don’t move.” His deep, steady voice ordered. 

You heard him undoing his pants, the sound of him lowering his zipper made you whimper as you pushed your ass against him even more. You felt his hands on your body again, he grabbed you on either side of your hips before spreading your legs apart and pressing the tip of his cock against your entrance. 

But he didn’t slide his cock inside of you yet. 

You waited, your heart racing as he spoke. “Remember, I’m doing this for you.” He sounded wild, his voice strained and raspy. “You know that, don’t you?” 

You tried to push back into him but he moved away, chuckling while you whined in desperation. “Yes, Father.” 

Pleased with your answer, he moaned under his breath as he pushed himself slowly inside of you, feeling your walls tight around him. You whimpered as he filled you up, stretching you as he went. 

“You see? This is how you will always be treated if you don’t mend your ways.” He struggled to talk just a little, gasping as he felt your walls clench around him. “This isn’t how good girls get treated. Bent over a desk like this,” He scoffed, “No, this is how little sluts like you get fucked.” 

He pulled out and thrust deep into you again, making you moan and gasp under him. He reached out and grabbed your wrists, pinning them down at your lower back as he started rocking into you. Using you like a toy. Slowly at first, then gradually building up his pace. 

“But you love this, don’t you? You love it so much you dream about it.” 

You whined as he fucked deep into you, your front bumping against the edge of the desk each time. “Yes,” You admitted, “Yes, Father.” You whimpered as he pounded harder into you at the sound of that confession. His pelvic bone smacking against your ass each time he thrust into you.

“Yeah? This is what you wanted, isn’t it? You sick, twisted girl. All you want is for a man to fuck you like the little slut you are,” He growled, tightening his grip on your wrists as he fucked you harder, feeling your walls getting tighter around him. He hissed again, “Like you’re just pussy to be used, huh?” 

You whined, “Please…” 

He slammed his cock harder into you, making your eyes water and your heart race so fast you felt like it might just escape your ribcage. He thrust so deep into you just then that it felt like you would simply come apart right there but then he pulled out and pulled you off the desk, turning you around so you faced him. He grabbed your chin roughly in his grip as he stared into your eyes. 

“Don’t you dare fucking come yet.” He threatened. 

Your lips parted as you gasped for air. He looked like he was trying very hard to maintain his composure. He cupped your face and kissed you savagely. Hard. Lips, teeth, tongue – all of it. And for a moment it felt like you might just come undone from his kiss alone. 

But then he pulled away from your swollen lip and spat into your mouth before he said, “Get on your knees. Now.” 

Your brain was still processing it all but your body obeyed immediately, falling perfectly on your knees in front of him. You watched him with a hunger in your teary eyes. 

You watched how he grabbed his cock at the base and guided his tip over to your already open, wet, warm mouth and said, “Suck.” 

You did. You opened your mouth wider as he slowly pushed himself deeper into your mouth. You took him in slowly until he hit the back of your throat. 

“That’s it, worship this fucking cock like you’ve always dreamt of doing, like the filthy little slut you are,” He hissed in pleasure, “And make it good for me.” 

You looked up and met his piercing eyes. He looked like a god as he looked down at you like you were in your rightful place, kneeling before him with his cock in your mouth. Pink lips parted as he hissed in pleasure. 

You gripped his thighs and worked extra hard on him, feeling his smooth skin along your tongue, tasting yourself and his precum as he groaned. You whimpered when he let out an unrestrained growl as you circle his tip with your tongue before sucking on it gently. 

He let out a carefree chuckle as he looked down at you, “I wonder where you learnt that from?” He asked, knowing damn well you couldn’t respond with his cock filling your mouth. Then he said, “Up.” 

You listened, even though you were a little disappointed you didn’t get to make him come in your mouth but you’d take whatever he’d give you, as usual. So you followed his instructions as he had you sit on the edge of the table this time before he stepped in between your legs, still staring into your eyes. 

Your arms wrapped around his neck as he leaned in to whisper against your mouth, “Still want more, don’t you? Hmm? You don’t care who gives it to you, you’re a happy girl as long as you’ve got some cock in you, huh?” He aligned his cock to your core again. He slipped inside you with ease, making you gasp at how good he felt as he began fucking you again. “We talked about this, didn’t we?” His calm words didn’t match the way he fucked you like an animal. He grabbed your thighs and pushed them further apart so he could fuck you deeper. “Good girls don’t think about cock and fucking all the time. But that’s all your filthy brain is filled with, isn’t it?” 

“Please…” You whimpered. 

He fucked deeper into you, pounding into you relentlessly as he moaned into the crook of your neck. “Your little cunt feels so good… so fucking tight for me,” He whispered against your skin and you barely heard him over the sound of sex echoing in his spacious office. “Only for me though, right? You don’t spread these legs for other men, do you?” He couldn’t help but laugh, “Of course you don’t. This is mine. You are mine.” He growled. 

“Yes, Father…” You whined as you felt yourself getting so close to the edge again as he pounded into you aggressively. You felt a tear slip out of the corner of your eye as you felt the pressure in between your legs getting too much to contain. 

He felt it too, as your walls clenched violently around him. “Fuck,” He growled into your ear, “Come for me, slut. Come all over this cock…” 

You didn’t hear the rest of what he said because you were long gone, well fucked and lust drunk, you came with a loud cry. He followed shortly after, coming undone while he was buried deep inside you, gripping your thighs so tightly that his fingers would surely leave a bruise behind as memory. 

As always. A little something for you to remember him by until you see him next. 

—

Father Charlie had some paperwork to oversee and some mails to reply to. But he didn’t want you gone just yet, so he helped you clean up, put your clothes back on, then he pulled you onto his lap as he sat on one of the couches in his office to get some work done. 

He did his thing, signed some papers, sorted them into files, replied to some emails, checked his socials, while you straddle his lap, resting your head on his shoulder and sighing each time he petted you or caressed your back, occasionally leaving kisses on your forehead. 

You mindlessly played with the buttons on his shirt, tracing imaginary shapes on his exposed forearm, breathing in his scent, finding comfort in his body heat. After the first ‘session’, he noted that you liked being held, at least until you came down from that high. 

And you were, gradually. Soon he’d drop you home and have a word with your family, and he’d tell them that you did good. He’d also tell them that you’d need some more sessions. And they would happily agree. 

Soon. Not now. 

“What is it?” He asked, after noticing that you’d been whining and rubbing your face against his warm neck like a kitten. “Want me to drop you home?” 

You shook your head quickly, “No.” You mumbled quietly. 

“Don’t just whine like a brat then,” He said, “Make yourself useful.” He pointed down at his crotch. “Keep it warm for me.”

You knew exactly what he wanted you to do. So you reached down and into his pants to pull out his cock. You lifted up just until you had room to align his cock to your entrance, and once done you sank down until he was buried deep inside you again. 

You whimpered as you shoved your face into the crook of his neck again, keeping his cock warm just like how he wanted you to. 

“That’s it,” He said. “Now stay still and do a good job, and maybe I’ll fuck you one more time before I drop you home. Yeah?” 

You whined in response, wanting nothing more than to move and make it feel good again. But you knew he’d reward you later if you behaved. 

He went back to his work, paying little attention to you. Only caressing you here and there, maybe a kiss on your shoulder, or a whispered word about how good you were doing, or he’d hiss and tell you to stop moving your hips. 

And you knew.

There was no getting better. There was no way you’d get back on the right path or whatever he’d promised your family. If there was hell to pay after this, you didn’t care. 

Because you knew. 

You knew you’d keep coming right back to him. Each day. Each time he’d want you to. Over and over again. 

Like a helpless moth to an all-consuming flame. 

—

a/n: yeah I have a problem, save me father charlie– 

[stvrnzcherries]

› WHEELS ON THE BUS

m. sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: You and Matt have always been best friends, you never felt something else but an incident while you both were in a road trip together might change that.

warnings: soft dom!matt, smut, pet names, use of y/n, foreplay, p in v, degrading kink, sort of breeding kink, edging, bulging, swearing, semi-public sex, unprotected sex (don't).

word count: 3.8k

a/n: After MONTHS of being a lazy ass and also after a TIGHTT week of anxiety, I’m back and better than ever 🤍 expect more coming soon, I appreciate y’all.

Based on this request!

The cold breeze tingled Matt’s skin, sending shivers down his spine as he kept piling up everyone’s bags inside the car truck, the blue hour of the sky created this dark yet comforting panoramic view of it.

A voice in the distance caught his attention “Wait up!” You taunt, running down to your best friend as a heavy bag carried behind you. You agreed a few days ago to go on this trip with Matt and his family since he was practically begging you to spend an entire week with him; even though he knew you hated the beach, you hated feeling sticky or feeling a singular drop of sweat on your skin, being in heated places was a thing that always drove you to the edge and you would get in a bad mood the whole day because of it.

It was just too excruciating, but you accepted just because your best friend didn't want to spend an entire week without you yet he liked seeing you suffer since he had always known your hatred towards the beach.

“Here ya go,” You said as you lifted the bag with all the strength you had and handed it to Matt, he just looked at you, a cocky smile forming on his lips as he placed your bag on the last spot in the trunk. “You excited?” Matt asked, closing the trunk before his eyes returned to bore into yours waiting for an answer, “If you mean I'm excited about torturing myself an entire week on the beach, then yeah.” You replied sarcastically gaining a chuckle from him, “It’ll be fun, I promise.” He said, patting your head gently.

“I highly doubt that being in the hottest weather ever is fun, Matthew.” You said, sticking your tongue out, he just chuckled and messed your hair a bit, his hand gently moving to cup your cheek as he pinched it delicately, “Thank you for coming either way.” He smiled gently and you returned it.

The eye contact lasted for a few seconds before the lousy voice of Chris caught each other’s attention, you both turned around to see him walking towards you “Time to hit the road!” He says with a big smile as he places his arm around you, he looks at Matt and then at me, “Are you guys ready?” He asked to which you replied with, “Heck yeah! Let’s hit the road!” A bright smile smeared your face as you, Matt, and Chris made your way to the backseats.

When Chris stopped taking hold of you to go to the other side of the car you were left with Matt inside the car and his face giving slight concern. “What’s wrong?” You ask furrowing your brows slightly.

That is when you realize what it was, the backseat had no space left for you, and neither Matt nor you knew what to do, “Fuck.” He muttered to himself looking back to where his brothers were situated and back to you with an awkward face.

Matt thinks for a second before parting his lips to let out the sentence, “You could sit on my lap.” His palm softly patted his lap as he looked at you with a sly smile.

Your lips pursed into a thin line, the awkwardness getting the best of you as you got into the car and carefully down your weight on your best friend’s lap. To which he just placed his hands around your waist and gently sat you down on his lap. “Relax, you’re not heavy at all.” He whispers in your ear as the car door closes.

You looked back at him and smiled shyly, trying to hide the fact that he was caressing the sides of your hips with his thumbs.

The first two hours of the road were completely normal, you and the triplets had a karaoke session for half an hour, and the rest was to talk about what you guys wanted to do as soon as you arrived and enjoy some snacks. But now you guys were only an hour away from the beach house that the triplet's parents rented.

Nick and Chris had fallen asleep for a few minutes and you could also feel your eyes heaving from the energy you wasted the first two hours throughout the way, also the fact that you didn’t sleep that well last night. Matt on the other hand was with his headphones on the minute Chris and Nick closed their eyes.

You patted Matt’s lap to get his attention, you looked back at him as soon as you did that he took his headphones off “You okay? Need something?” He asked with slight concern.

“No, I’m fine, I was just wondering if I could get comfortable so I can sleep while we get there.” You said with a little smile plastered on your face as he nodded.

Matt spread his legs slightly so you could have more space to get as comfortable as possible, you rocked your hips a little to the sides so your lower back could be resting on Matt’s chest level or closer to it, and you rested your head on his shoulder as he put his headphones back on.

Your eyes closed so easily, and your mind drifted to your dreams so swiftly that you couldn’t even imagine.

Thirty minutes left inside the car, you were still in the embrace of Matt’s arms, your position shifting once in a while.

And how clueless of Matt for not thinking how touch-deprived he is, every time you switched your position while your slept you would move your hips or straddle his lap, making his dick twitch against his pants.

His breathing getting heavier, and his body was shaking trying to contain the pure excitement that just the smallest friction could do to him. He felt so guilty for his body reacting and finding pleasure in something meaningless; something completely common and normal.

He closed his eyes, trying to contain these feelings towards you, towards your body to stop the erection that he sooner or later would have to fix all by himself.

And also wish he could arrive as fast as he could to the fucking beach house.

After what seemed like a good twenty minutes of sleep, you finally opened your eyes carefully, trying not to get blinded by the rays of sun that were passing through the window, the change of scenery makes your stomach flutter with joy as you see the ocean peek through the reliefs of the street.

You turned your head to peek at your best friend who seemed to be sleeping, his dark circles showing off a little bit more with this new change of lighting that the car has. You smiled to yourself as you saw your best friend opening his eyes quickly when he felt your gaze on him. “Did you get to sleep for a bit?” You asked, your throat was dry and raspy, nonetheless, a good cup of water could fix it as soon as you guys arrived at the beach house you were staying in.

Matt nodded, his eyes looking away from yours as he changed his position a little, making your weight lift a little, a small poking sensation in your inner thigh as he did this action. Something felt off in your surface.

You looked down, scanning Matt’s lap to check if he had something in his pockets that could make this sudden change in position make you slightly uncomfortable.

Your eyes widened as you took a glance of what was the strange object poking your inner thigh, it wasn’t just an object it was more of a certain body part. You looked away in shame, forcing yourself to stare at the blankly looking headrest in front of you, your stomach feeling fluttered as you tried to stop thinking about what you just witnessed.

The beach house was beautiful outside, it was a two-story victorian summer house, with a small front porch with two wooden chairs and a tiny round wooden coffee table, the breeze hugging your skin nicely, everything seemed to be perfect, the weather in Long Island was just the perfect balance of not too warm and not too cold, it definitely felt like the summer vibes were there.

As you entered the house, your eyes were amazed by the interior, the walls were covered in this beautiful blueish floral wallpaper, the couches looked like they some sort of English sofas, and a small chimney facing a large path to the back porch of the house, the stairs that lead to the way to the different rooms where you would be staying in for the next week.

Matt steps beside you, glancing around the place, “Wanna share a room?” He asked nonchalantly as he looked at you, taking in all of your factions, you looked back at him “I thought you and Chris agreed on sharing the same room, though?” You retorted.

Matt brushed the strands of hair blocking his view, “Yeah, I thought so too until he decided that he now wants to share a room with Nick.” He sighed, “I think I’m going to go upstairs and shower and then take a nap, I feel like I haven’t slept in years.”

You nodded “Alright, I’ll catch you later.” You replied, giving a sly smile to him as he walked upstairs and disappeared out of your sight. Things have gotten awkward since you discovered the hard-rock erection he had back in the entirety of the ride. You didn’t say a word but interacting with him or even just looking at Matt made you nervous somehow.

Your mind kept racing with the thought of seeing his body react that way to you, does this mean he feels turned on by you? Should you do something about it?

A few minutes had passed and you explored the rest of the house already, you carried your bag in your left hand as you went upstairs, a room door slightly opened and a dim light reflected on the inside of it. You pushed the door gently, and the first thing you heard was the shower running down, Matt’s bag half-opened in the bed, you tossed yours to the other side, sitting down beside it, your head had a pounding headache that you couldn’t make it stop.

Scanning the room, you see the bathroom door halfway opened, the fog from the steaming water escaping through it, you could see Matt, his silhouette revealing the way his forehead was resting on the tiled wall of the shower, the water running down his back and cascading through his hair, his hands rubbing his face exhaustingly as he sighed in pure relief.

The way his muscles flexed each time he brushed his hair back was enough to make you soaking wet in your panties. You stood up, your steps closer and carefully just to get a better view of his silhouette.

You were there, your hand opening the door more, the squeaking sound blowing your cover because Matt looked right at you in the eye, the eye contact holding on for what seemed like an eternity. You shut the door and ran down to sit back on the bed.

Would it be worth it to risk it all?

Dawn arrives, you've been playing with Nick and Chris UNO matches for what seems like an hour now on the back porch of the residence, every match Nick either complained or Chris would make a mess and you guys would have to play all over again, that was until Nick threw a tantrum over him and they both went to their separate ways inside the house.

You were lying now on the couch of the living room, bored filling your senses, your phone not even making an effort to entertain you at all. You heard steps coming from the staircase, as you looked up you saw Matt, his hair was still a little wet and he looked like a brand new person in comparison to how he looked a couple of hours ago. “Hey, I’m going to drive around town, I was wondering if you would like to come with me?”

You stood up from the couch, “Sure! I was getting bored, so.” You both walked towards the front door, Matt opening it for you.

The town was almost like a sort of ghost town, with a few people walking down the sidewalk, and making their way to Amangasett beach. The lamp posts illuminated around with a tenuous yellowish light, the night sky revealing a pale moonlight. “Wanna go for a swim?” Matt’s voice takes you out of your trance.

“Yeah, I don't see why not.” You replied with a small smile as you moved to his seat and gave him a side hug, to which he just chuckled and kept his eyes on the road.

Matt parked the car in an almost empty zone at the beach, the place seemed clear of big crowds, just a few couples sitting by the edge of the ocean but no one else. As you got out of the car you took off your shirt and shorts quickly, running down to the ocean as Matt followed your pace, the both of you giggling.

Your body trembled when your toes grazed lightly on the water, the adrenaline and tingling sensation making your heart flutter anxiously, you kept sinking your body until half of your abdomen was fully covered by the ocean, you looked at the moon taking in the sight of it until you felt cold fingertips touch your lower back. “I’m glad you came with us,” Matt said, his voice sounding so distant yet it had a hint of something else you couldn't fully recognize.

He spins you around by grabbing your waist, your eyes meeting his as he pulls you closer, your breaths mixing with each other’s as he takes the sight of your face, his hands still positioned on your lower back. His eyes shone brighter than ever before. “I mean, that’s what friends are for, right?” You looked for a split second at Matt’s lips, his tongue sticking out to lick the inner corners of his lips before parting them.

“Yeah, friends…” He breathed out, his words laced with that unknown feeling you can’t recognize, his eyes giving a glint of lust as he looked at your lips.

Your mind drifts to the moment you both are in the car, his hard rock erection making you question whether it’s worth it to risk the friendship or pretend like it was a little accident, even though it wasn't little at all.

Or the shower incident, nothing of what happened today was by accident, there was not even a chance that it was.

Your attention gets drawn by his breath getting closer to your ear, his voice carefully whispering his words “What you thinking ‘bout?”

You licked your lips, your voice trembling and your words slipping out of your mouth sloppily “Nothing…w-why?” your lips pressing together as his breath reached down your jawline, his lips grazing the fine line of it teasingly, a low dark chuckle getting out of his mouth when he saw you shiver by the smallest contact.

“Remembering what you saw in the bathroom, hm?” His lips pressed tentatively, traveling from your jawline to your neck, you titled your head to the side to grant him more access, his hand sneaking down to grab your throat delicately as he kept abusing your sweet spots. His other hand caresses your waist.

“I don’t have a clue of what you’re talking about…” You breathed out, breathless whimpers coming out of your mouth as Matt kept doing his attack all over your throat, leaving hickeys and wet kisses all over. He hums, Matt’s vibrant voice coursing through your body “Really? How funny, considering you even tried to be sneaky about it.” He says as he returns to kissing your jawline, then your chin, and then he gets to your lips, tempting you to make the move, his teeth biting your lower lip gently.

“Don’t act so innocent now, you were sneaky about your little accident back in the car too.” Your words shut out with such confidence, you looked at him, your eyes piercing his as you took in his reaction of pure shock; his lips parted and that was the chance you decided to get to kiss him. The both of you synchronized perfectly as if your lips were meant to be for his.

Your hands went directly to his chest, your fingertips doing small circles around his collarbone as he pulled you closer by your waist. Your noses were touching at this point and the kiss got more intense, the both of you roaming your hands all over each other’s bodies.

You were now lying down on the backseat of the car, your hand gripping Matt’s hand as he sucked your right nipple, his other hand playing with the left one, your back arched off the seat and your legs were wide open, fully unclothed now in the secluded space that he decided to take you to. Your eyes closed as you let the overwhelming pleasure take control of your body, his tongue swirling around your nipple, your breathless whimpers making Matt get harder beneath you with each passing second.

His kisses trailed to your belly, kissing it intently “I’m going to stuff this beautiful body of yours with my babies” A dark glint on his eyes as he ascended back to your face to kiss you. His hand traveled down to where your folds were, his fingertips adding pressure as he moved them in circles, causing you to gasp at the sudden wave of pleasure you were experiencing. Your hands flew to Matt’s biceps, your nails burying deep inside his skin as he kept getting you all worked up.

His lips rushed to kiss yours, this time more desperate and sloppier than ever as he kept adding more pressure on your sensitive nub, your moans getting louder as the knot in your stomach gets stronger. “m’ god” You babbled between kisses, your eyes closed as you take in all of the ecstasy.

“So close…” You breathed out, the knot snapping any second.

Then suddenly, the feeling stopped, completely gone.

You opened your eyes, Matt’s looking at you with a devious expression as he untied the lace from his shorts, the bulge of his dick very visible even though you are in an almost dark place. “What?” He asked, his head tilting to the side, a low chuckle as he spoke, “Wanted to finish?” You nodded, the desperation clear.

“Why would I let you finish if we haven’t even started? Hm?” He crawled back to be face to face with you, you felt his tip grazing your folds unintentionally, “Spread those legs wider for me, m’kay?” He said in a low voice, almost a whisper.

The desperation and adrenaline fuels your body, your legs spread wider enough to give him space between you, he positioned his tip in your entrance, edging you out even more until you had to practically beg to him. “Matt, please—“ you huff out at the undying desperation that your body was craving.

“Aw, look who’s getting frustrated now…” He coos, his left hand pumping his dick slightly before he slammed into you without warning, his movements frantic and hard, your head hitting the door slightly each time he pounded back inside you.

Your hands flew back to his biceps, gripping onto them for dear life as erratic moans emitted out of your mouth, his pace was nowhere close to being steady, it was sloppier as if he was already on the verge of getting on his own high too.

The tip of his cock was hitting that sweet spot of yours perfectly, making you salivate due to the incredible amount of intoxicating pleasure you were given in twenty minutes. Your mind felt fuzzy, this kind of pleasure was something that you’d stopped experiencing a long ago, your eyes crossing and shutting as you felt that sweet sensation of being closer, Matt abusing that spot deep inside you over and over again.

You couldn't even remember the last time sex felt this good, and never in a million years, you would’ve thought that your best friend would be the one to achieve that with you. Your thoughts stopped as soon as you felt his thumb on your tongue, indicating for you to suck it which you didn’t hesitate to be asked twice.

Your tongue swirled all over his thumb like a lollipop, getting it all wet as you felt the grunts and whines from Matt, the grip his other hand had on your hip getting tighter within two minutes. His pace not slowing down but getting ten times faster than it already was, the car shaking and your hands gripping the door to hold onto dear life.

Pornographic moans emitted out of your mouth as you felt that tight knot forming once again and getting closer and closer to snapping ferociously, your hand gripping tightly onto the seat as your eyes closed.

Matt’s placed his hand to grasp your chin, forcing you to look at him. “All that teasing to get dumb fucked by me?” He said, his voice losing power from time to time.

snap.

Your juices spurt all over the seat and coated Matt’s dick in a thin, sheer coat of hot cum. Moans emitted out of your mouth as your grip on the headrests of the car loosened up due to the lack of strength that your body was capable of holding up. Your legs are all wobbly and your muscles are sore from all the containment that they did.

At this point your mind was fuzzy, too dumb fucked to acknowledge that the well-known knot snapped already, your body too weak to keep upholding Matt’s pace as he kept pumping in and out constantly.

Not too long after, Matt came to his release too. Your juices and his combined deep inside you, he pulled out of you as he admired the conjoined trail of juices coating his shaft. His left hand immediately went deep inside you, making sure his hot seed was ‘secured’. He pulled his fingers out, a popping sound as he did so, and cleaned them off easily, admiring the rest of your body, a gleam on his eyes reflecting the lustful expression of being satisfied enough.

He pulled you close to his body, sitting you straight up as you both recovered, Matt trailing kisses all over your face and repeatedly saying “M’ love you” as he caressed your hair with ease.

Both of your chests were going up and down irregularly, trying to stabilize each other’s breathing back to normality.

Matt’s eyes shifted around the car, taking a look at the foggy windows, a sly smile smearing all over his face as he traced with one of his fingers the foggy window in front of both of you, tracing the words.

‘We just fucked :)’

You finished reading what he traced on the window and chuckled weakly as Matt looked proudly at his ‘work of art’.

a/n: tysm for 600 followers, wtf I can’t believe we’re already 600 (Nick fic coming real soon as a 600 followers special). It’s funny how I can easily write shit about Chris or Nick but when it comes to Matt, this mf is the hardest person to ever write off 😭 love y’all

tag list: @sturniolossss @tillies33ssss @chrisloyalgf @alorsxsturn @sturnioloslurps @cindylcuwho @3mm4yung @chrissfavwh3re @blahbel668 @lov3bug @starsturns234 @junnniiieee07 @mstarniolo @sara2233445 @teenagetrash00 @mattsturnioloisbae @mbbsgf @thecynthh @braindead4l @freshsturns @lexisecretaccx @wh0resstuff @jnkvivi

[mournthebird]

Bleeding Heart. | B.B

summary: You're his assigned nurse.

warnings: Angst & Comfort | 40's!Bucky - WS!Bucky | Violence & description of injuries | Medical procedures | Brief description of torture | Death of minor characters | Creepy soldiers & scientists | Dehumanization | HYDRA experiments

a/n: EDIT: Originally posted on my main but deleted to post here and it will be a new series I will write for. Still writing for my recovery series too! But now I have two with WS <3

A lot of nurses in WW1 and WW2 were called 'mother' or 'mom' a lot by the soldiers and I just wanted to write something like that. I made it work lol. I also tried to write more dialogue in this one since I tend to just focus on details and painting a picture so hopefully it doesn't seem too much. Also, in the comics it is said that Bucky's mother died when he was young, but for the sake of this story, she's still alive. ;; wc: 10.6k 😭

Unedited because I just want to post this. Errors to be fixed later.

Bucky did his best.

He did his best to stay strong for his friend, his family, and his fellow soldiers. To be the role model he was always viewed to be, to put on a brave face and stare at fear without flinching.

But there were some things he couldn't stay strong for.

"Sergeant Barnes, this is the third time this week, and it's barely Tuesday." You frowned at the soldier sitting in your tent, his usual charming smile now tinged with a hint of pain as he clutched his side. "There are other nurses here too, you know. I'm starting to think you're deliberately getting yourself into trouble just to see me."

Bucky huffed and slowly lowered himself onto the bed, a barely suppressed wince crossing his face as he settled. His hand remained firmly pressed against his bleeding side, the crimson stain slowly spreading beneath his fingers. "Now, doll, would I do something like that?" He asked, his voice strained despite his attempt at levity. "I only like when you tend to me...you've got the gentlest touch in the whole camp. I swear it."

He grunted softly through gritted teeth, clearly trying to maintain his façade of nonchalance. But you could see right through it - the tightness around his eyes, the slight tremor in his hand, the paleness of his usually ruddy cheeks. Your frown deepened as you approached, worry gnawing at your insides. You maintained professionalism the best you could, but you couldn’t help but care a bit too much for this one soldier.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Sergeant," you replied, though your tone was gentle. You were already reaching for your medical supplies, your training kicking in despite your exasperation. "Now, let's see what mess you've gotten yourself into this time."

"It's nothing, really." He attempts to deceive, fully aware that his lie is transparent to you. A visible grimace crosses his face as his gaze reluctantly drops to the crimson stain spreading across his uniform. "Just got roughed up on the battlefield, a little scrape," he adds, trying to downplay the severity with a nonchalant shrug that doesn't quite mask his discomfort.

Your eyes narrow as you carefully examine the injury, gently pushing his protective hand aside to get a better look. The wound is angry and raw, far more severe than he's letting on. "This is significantly more than a minor scrape, Barnes," you chide softly, your concerned gaze meeting his. A flicker of embarrassment crosses his features; the seasoned soldier, so accustomed to projecting strength and capability, felt himself struggling with this moment of physical weakness.

"It's...it's not that bad, sweetheart, don't go worryin' too much about me," He chuckled through gritted teeth, his strong front crumbling as you delicately probe the inflamed skin surrounding the wound. His body instinctively recoils from your touch, a sharp intake of breath betraying the intensity of his pain. "Ah, damn it!" He hisses, his composure finally shattering under the weight of his injury. "Why'd you go and do that for," he asked with strain.

"Oh, Barnes...this seems like something you could have easily avoided," you observed, your keen eyes quickly assessing the shrapnel wound and the way it had likely come into contact with his body. You couldn't help but furrow your brow slightly, concern and mild exasperation crossing your features.

Bucky was known for his agility and quick reflexes; he typically managed to escape fights with either minor scrapes or, in the worst scenarios, severe injuries, or even completely unscathed. This particular wound, falling somewhere in between, was uncharacteristic of him, suggesting that something must have been distracting him.

"You have absolutely no sympathy for me," he grumbles, though there’s no real bite to his words. His steel blue eyes remain fixed on your hands as you carefully apply the gauze to his injury, your touch gentle and practiced. There's a subtle softening in his expression, a quiet appreciation for your care despite his feigned complaint.

"It's deep..." You muttered, your brow furrowing with concern as you carefully examined the wound. Pulling your hands away, you reached for more of the sterile gauze you had ready behind you. "I am going to keep holding some gauze over it so I can help the blood clot and stop flowing so quick," you added, your voice calm but tinged with an urgency he picked up on that only helped that tiny seed of anxiety begin to sprout.

Bucky's face contorted, his eyes met yours, searching for reassurance. "Just tell me I won’t die from it, and I’ll be fine" He attempted a wry smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. Despite the gravity of the situation, there was always a subtle tease in his playful tone. You were almost certain Bucky Barnes couldn't take anything seriously.

"You’ll live, Sergeant Barnes," you replied, your tone steady and professional. "But I won't sugarcoat it, and it isn't a simple scratch. You're going to need a substantial number of stitches, and the recovery process won't be pleasant." You turned back to the wound while you spoke to him, pressing the gauze firmly against it, the white fabric quickly bloomed with crimson. "Especially knowing you and your inability to sit still."

Bucky let out a long, weary sigh. "Fantastic. Just what I needed to add to my list of battle scars," he quipped, his voice dripping with sarcasm. But then, almost imperceptibly, the corners of his mouth twitched upward. His eyes, still fixed on you, softened slightly. "Well, if I have to be patched up, at least I'm in the best possible hands," he murmured, his gaze lingering on you. "And scars are pretty attractive, huh?" He quipped with a lopsided grin.

"Uh-huh. Be still for me, alright soldier?" You hummed softly, your voice soothing him a little. You could read him like a book and the more cheeky he got, the more nervous he was. You prepared a needle to numb the site of the injury before you could begin the delicate process of suturing the wound, something you had done many times prior with other patients. You were the best at stitches, able to leave minimal scarring, even on large injuries.

Bucky nodded, his body tensing slightly as he tried to suppress the involuntary shiver that cascaded down his spine at your clinical tone. A potent blend of attraction and a hint of intimidation stirred in his gut at your tone. He found your authoritative presence both alluring and slightly unnerving, he always had a secret attraction to commanding women. Something about that stern, yet caring tone of yours just made him want to pull you on top of him.

Closing his eyes, he drew in a deep, steadying breath, attempting to steel himself mentally for the impending discomfort. "Just get it done and over with," he muttered, his voice a low rumble.

"You can squeeze my hand if you want, I can do this with one," you offered. You began to clean the area of insertion, the antiseptic cool against Bucky's skin. He flinched slightly, the wipe tickling him. You smiled at the subtle flinch his body gave, observing the smile that tugged at his own lips, the short huff out of his nose that resembled a quiet laugh...it was human. A small hint that you liked about him, that little bit of him that he allowed you to see. Despite most of the nurses seeing their patients as stoic soldiers, you never did.

You angle the needle, poised to begin the procedure. Bucky's eyes flickered open, his gaze drawn inexorably to your face. He studied your features intently, noting the concentration etched in every line, before his eyes drifted to your outstretched hand. He swallowed thickly, feeling a familiar knot of nervousness tighten in his chest.

"Don't let me break your hand, doll," he warned, his voice affectionate. He reached out, enveloping your hand in his. His grip was firm enough to convey his need for support, yet gentle, mindful of his own strength and your delicate fingers. The warmth of your skin against his provided comfort, grounding him with silent reassurance.

Bucky flinches as the needle pierces his skin, the sharp sting causing an involuntary reaction. He maintains a firm grip on your hand, just as you had requested he do, but he was conscious enough not to squeeze too hard. "Damn, that stings," he grunts through gritted teeth, his voice strained but determined. The strange feeling of cold medicine rushing through his body gave him a weird taste in his mouth, his fingers remaining intertwined with yours.

You notice his discomfort and frown slightly, working as swiftly as your expertise allows, careful not to compromise the quality of your work. "I know, I know," you respond, your voice soothing his frayed nerves. "You're doing so good, Sergeant. Just a few more seconds for the medicine to get in you." Your words are gentle, almost melodic, as you maintain a deliberately calm demeanor. You modulate your tone, keeping it soft and reassuring, hoping to quell any rising anxiety he might be experiencing. “Too quick plunging it in, and it will burn more and cause extra discomfort. We don't want that, do we?”

Bucky swallows hard, his throat working visibly as he processes the sensations. A light huff escapes his lips. As you carefully withdraw the needle from his side, his eyes find yours, seeking reassurance. "You know how to make a grown man melt, don't you?" He murmurs, his voice low and tinged with affection.

"It's a gift," you reply with a hint of playful modesty, your lips curving into a small smile. You tend to the injection site, dabbing the area with a clean piece of gauze. The soft cotton absorbs any residual blood, leaving the skin clean and ready for the next step. Once you were satisfied, you reached for the nearby tray, your fingers hovering over the surgical thread and needle.

Bucky's smile softened, his grip on your hand loosening slightly as the numbing agent began to take effect. The gradual fading of pain didn’t deter him from letting go, he maintained his gentle hold, unwilling to sever it. He liked how your hand felt in his, he wished he could be holding it while you both walked down a boardwalk together, or across from one another in a fancy restaurant, a drive-in, or just…sitting close. His eyes locked onto yours, searching for something beyond the surface. "You're far too sweet for a place like this," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. The weight of his words hung in the air, the room remained quiet.

"War, murder, death... these aren't things you should be surrounded by. You should be at home, safe with your own family, far from the horrors of this place."

As you methodically prepared the medical supplies, Bucky watched you intently, his mind racing with questions about your presence here. The starkness between your gentle demeanor and the harsh realities of war was not lost on him. His mind couldn't help but drift with thoughts about the circumstances that had brought you to this profession. Your beauty, youth, and kindness seemed so out of place amidst the chaos and destruction.

It wasn't that Bucky believed women had no place in war, it was the thought of you, specifically, being exposed to the brutal, soul-crushing aspects of conflict that troubled him deeply. He struggled with the idea of your innocence being tarnished by the grim realities that surrounded you both.

"I... well, I don't really have what you'd call a family," you spoke slowly, your hands busy laying out a towel under his side. Your voice carried a hint of melancholy as you continued, "I lost both my parents when I was young. After that, I kind of... bounced around, I guess. From one home to another, never really finding a place where I truly belonged or felt wanted."

You paused for a moment, your fingers absently smoothing out a wrinkle in the towel. "So, I decided to pour myself into school. I worked incredibly hard, determined to make something of myself. Eventually, I earned my medical license, and now...now I feel like I've found my purpose in life."

You realized you had never opened up to any of the others like this before. Talking about yourself, especially your past, wasn't something you typically enjoyed or felt comfortable doing. But there was something about Bucky, his presence, his quiet understanding, the gentle look in his eyes, it made you feel...safe. He was just so easy to talk to, like a calm port in the storm of your memories.

"These days," you added, your voice growing stronger as you carefully began to dab at his wound, preparing to stitch it, "I dedicate myself to helping others reunite with their families. It's my way of...I don't know, maybe making up for what I never had." Your eyes flickered up to meet Bucky's for a brief moment before returning to your work. "I want to make sure that other people don't have to experience the loneliness and uncertainty that I did."

Bucky watched you intently, listening to every word with a deep ache in his heart. The image of a small, vulnerable version of you, shuffled from house to house, unwanted and alone, formed in his mind. The capable, compassionate person before him now was so different from that little girl you once were.

"Well," You cleared your throat, changing the subject. "I'd strongly recommend bed rest, but...I have a sneaking suspicion your superiors won't allow you the luxury of recuperating properly." You let out a weary sigh, your skilled hands meticulously finishing the final sutures.

Bucky struggles to suppress a visible wince as the needle repeatedly pierces his skin, his hand instinctively tightening around your forearm in a reflexive grip. He inhales sharply through clenched teeth, making a concerted effort to maintain steady breathing. While the sutures weren’t necessarily painful, the sensation was enough to elicit a visceral reaction from him. The foreign feeling of the thread weaving through his flesh threatened to induce a wave of nausea.

"You've hit the nail on the head," he grunted, his voice strained with a mix of discomfort and resignation. "I can guarantee they'll have me back in the field at the crack of dawn, injuries be damned." His gaze shifts towards you, catching sight of the subtle frown tugging at the corners of your lips. Noticing your concern, he attempts to reassure you, his tone softening slightly. "But don't worry too much, doll. I've been through worse, and I've got a certain image to maintain, after all. Can't let a few stitches tarnish this soldier's reputation, now can I?"

You exhaled deeply, your fingers carefully finishing the last stitch. You gently dabbed the wound clean, concern and frustration crossed your features. "I wish I had more influence around here," you murmured, your voice tinged with exasperation. "If I did, I'd insist they allow you proper time to rest and recover. At the very least, until the wound begins to knit itself back together and the flesh starts to heal properly."

Bucky observed you intently as you completed the stitching process, his grip on your arm remaining firm and unwavering. "Don't stress about that," he said, his tone gentle and reassuring. His gaze found yours, holding your own steadily. "What's important right now is that I'm patched up and ready to get back into action." He attempted to sit up straighter, his muscles tensing with the effort, but couldn't suppress a sharp wince as the movement pulled at his freshly stitched wound.

"Ah, not so fast, Sergeant..." you frowned, gently placing a hand on his shoulder to keep him from rising. "I still have to dress the wound properly. We can't have you strolling out of here with those fresh stitches exposed to the elements. That's a surefire way to invite an infection, which could lead to complications far worse than your current injury. Let's not undo all my hard work, hm?" You spoke clinically and with a slight firmness, indicating that you were going to finish.

He let out a resigned sigh, his features settling into a familiar downturn. Bucky had always been the type to leap back into the fray at the earliest opportunity, even when his body screamed for rest. But he knew you well enough by now, knew the determined set of your jaw when you were in what he fondly called your 'fixer mode.'

Reluctantly, he eased back onto the bed, his muscles relaxing incrementally. "You're worse than a mother hen sometimes, you know that?" he muttered, but there was a warmth in his eyes that belied the gruffness of his words.

A smile tugged at the corners of your mouth as you resumed your work. "Is that why some of the soldiers are calling me 'mama'?" The term of endearment, far from being an insult or a source of mockery, was one that never failed to warm your heart.

These soldiers, some barely more than boys, had been wrenched away from their homes and families. Many were as young as 18, thrust into a world of chaos and violence they were ill-prepared for. It was only natural that they might seek out a maternal figure, someone to offer comfort and care in this harsh new reality. And you, with your willingness to tend to their needs, no matter how minor the injury or trivial the concern, had inadvertently stepped into that role. You were the constant, nurturing presence amidst the tumult of war, a reminder of their own mothers who anxiously awaited their return.

You recalled a recent incident involving one of the younger soldiers who had come to the medical tent for something as trivial as a paper cut from a rations wrapper. You tended to his minor wound, providing not just physical care but emotional comfort as well, knowing that was probably more so what he came for than anything.

While you applied the band-aid to his finger, you couldn't help but notice the vulnerability in his eyes, a misty fog of homesickness clouding them. Your heart constricted painfully when his voice, barely above a whisper, uttered the word mama. The raw longing for his mother was etched in every line of his face as he perched on the edge of the cot, looking so young and lost in the stark surroundings of the medical tent.

Bucky's warm chuckle broke through your reverie, his lips curving into that familiar, endearing smirk that never failed to lighten the atmosphere.

"Well, with the way you fuss over everyone, I can see why they'd view you that way," he teased, his eyes twinkling with affection and playful amusement.

"Oh, is that so?" you retorted, your tone matching his playful banter. "And what about you, Sergeant Barnes? Are you next in line, hm?" Your eyebrow arched challengingly as you met his gaze, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

"For what, doll? Motherly fussin'?" He quirked back, smirking at you.

"Callin' me mama, silly." You chuckled, securing the gauze over his wound. Bucky's cheeks flushed ever so slightly, his heart fluttering at the words. He swallowed, unable to deny how much he liked the idea of calling you that, he felt that it was a bit strange but...something about it was appealing.

He searched your face, making sure it wasn't just a lighthearted joke, before letting out a soft breath. "That doesn't sound too bad."

"Do you miss your mother?" You inquired gently, your voice laced with empathy. You wondered about the depth of his longing. Most of the soldiers you met harbored a special place in their hearts for their mothers, which always warmed yours. Bucky was such a sweetheart and undoubtedly no exception to this rule. How he treated you was a peek behind the curtain, he must love his mother dearly.

His gaze dropped to his fingers, which were now absently tracing patterns on the sheets. A shadow passed over his features as he responded, "Yeah, I miss her."

The admission came out soft, barely above a whisper, but the wavering pain in his voice was unmistakable. "It's just...it's really tough, you know?" He continued, his voice strained with growing emotion. "My momma, she’s the kindest soul you'd ever meet. And now here I am, thousands of miles away, caught up in this senseless war." He paused, swallowing hard against the lump that had formed in his throat. "The truth is, I was drafted. I...I tried to put on a brave face, make it seem like I was eager to serve, but...I didn't have a choice."

For a moment, Bucky fell silent, his eyes fixed on a distant point, avoiding any eye contact. When he spoke again, his voice was tinged with resignation. "But I knew I had to be strong. For her sake, for Steve's too…before all that super soldier stuff happened to him. And in doing so, I guess...I never really allowed myself the luxury of feeling sad about the whole situation. It was easier to just...keep moving forward, you know?"

"Yeah, I know," you replied softly, your empathetic heart ached listening to him, never having heard him this way. "It's natural for her to be incredibly worried about you. But try to hold onto hope. You're strong, and you'll make it through this. One day you'll walk out of here and return home to her waiting arms."

Bucky exhaled shakily, his eyes lifted and locked onto yours. Something about your reassurance made his heart simultaneously ache with longing.

"Thank you..." he whispered, his voice barely audible, rough with emotion. He shifted slightly in his seat, subconsciously leaning towards you, as if drawn by an invisible force. There was a vulnerability in his eyes that he rarely allowed others to see.

Bucky swallowed hard, fighting an internal battle. That seemed like the norm now.

He didn't want to admit, even to himself, just how desperately he needed this moment of connection...how much he needed you and the comfort you provided.

"Until then...I'll fill in as that nurturing figure in your life, like I have for the others. You just have to let me." Your voice was soft and reassuring as you spoke, your fingers gently brushing away the stray locks of hair that had fallen across his forehead. The longer strand in front had curled slightly, disrupting the careful styling he had done that morning. Your touch was tender, mimicking a maternal touch in its care.

Bucky felt his breath catch in his throat, emotion threatening to overwhelm him. He struggled to maintain eye contact, not wanting to betray just how deeply your offer had touched him, how much your presence alone affected him. The weight of your words, the promise of care and nurture, settled in his chest like a warm, comforting blanket despite the raging environment he had been thrown to.

"You'll be my mama?" He whispered, a hint of playfulness dancing in his voice, even as his heart thundered against his ribcage and a smile began to tug at the corners of his lips.

Despite his initial reluctance to show weakness, he found himself unconsciously leaning into your touch, seeking more of the comfort you offered. The walls he had built around himself seemed to crumble under the gentleness of your gaze. "Then I'm all yours, mama," he murmured, the term of endearment fell from his lips naturally, as if he'd been waiting to say it for longer than he led on.

"Excellent work today, my brave little soldier. You've been such a wonderful patient, sitting still and following instructions like the courageous boy you are," you praised softly, your voice filled with warmth and affection. To an outsider, this might seem like a silly interaction, but it was simply a cherished game of tender make-believe between the two of you. Completely indulgent to their needs.

You enjoyed giving the soldiers a hint of maternal love, reminding them of their boyhood amongst the war and death they endured. Seeing their eyes light up from being dull to shining with tenderness was something you’d never get tired of. "Now, remember to be gentle with yourself and try not to put too much pressure or strain on your left side, alright?"

Bucky nodded obediently, his expression softening into something almost childlike and vulnerable. He was accustomed to following orders, but there was something uniquely comforting about the way you spoke to him, as if he were something precious, something to be protected. He winced slightly as he carefully maneuvered himself off the bed, mindful of his injury. "I promise I'll be careful, mama," he replied, his voice brimming with sincerity and a touch of eagerness to please.

"That's my good boy," you cooed, your eyes crinkling with fondness. The dusting on his cheeks wasn’t hard to miss, but you didn’t comment on it. "Now, off you go, but remember - be cautious and take it easy and if you need anything at all, come right back to mama.”

“I will.”

Things happened with such rapidity that you struggled to react to the unfolding chaos.

The tranquility of the camp after nightfall was abruptly shattered by an influx of unfamiliar soldiers, their presence bringing devastation and death to those you had come to know. Your eyes, wide with terror, took in the horrific sight of fallen comrades strewn across the blood-stained earth. The amount of gore you saw would be permanently etched into your eyelids, you were sure you’d never be able to un-see such disgusting sights. Unmarked soldiers rushed, killing brutally, starting fires, grenades exploding in the dirt and splattering the earth and guts everywhere.

In a moment of panic-driven self-preservation, you attempted to flee, only to have your escape halted by the heart-wrenching cry of the youngest soldier in the unit.

The anguished plea emanated from his prone form, his life essence seeping into the unforgiving soil beneath him. The weight of the situation bore down upon you with crushing force, threatening to overwhelm both your emotional fortitude and mental resilience.

Suppressing your own fear and anguish, you found yourself kneeling beside the fallen soldier, gently cradling his head in your lap. As his life ebbed away, you summoned every ounce of strength to maintain a façade of calm and comfort, though you knew you were doing a poor job. The young man's quiet sobs, born of terror and agony, pierced the air around you, louder than any of the gunfire. “Ma…ma.” The poor soldier rasped at you, his shaky, bloodied hand rasping around your wrist. It was only after his final breath had passed that you allowed your own tears to fall, having shielded him from the depths of your own fear in his final moments.

He still wore the brightly colored band-aid you had applied to him earlier contrasted against his dirt-smeared skin. The blood somehow washing right off as if to mock you.

God, your heart couldn't take this. Neither could your mind.

He was barely eighteen.

You stood, your eyes wide with terror as you frantically scanned your surroundings as things only proceeded to get worse by the second. Without another thought, you bolted off in a random direction, your only instinct being to put as much distance as possible between yourself and the chaos of the battle raging behind you. You were overwhelmed by panic and fear, only being able to focus on escaping. The lack of any combat training or experience left you feeling utterly helpless, knowing full well that you stood no chance against the well-armed and battle-hardened soldiers.

You plunged headlong into the dense forest to at least seek some cover, your feet pounding against the uneven, damp ground. Ferns slapping your bare legs as you ran, the dew from them helping wash away the blood staining your skin. Your blind rush left your sense of sight helpless and you collided with something solid. The impact was jarring, sending you sprawling backwards onto the forest floor with a resounding thud from the force.

Before you could scramble to your feet, a vice-like grip encircled your wrist, your heart sank as you realized it was one of the attackers who had caught you. As if materializing from the shadows, several more emerged from the cover of the dark ferns, their piercing gazes fixed upon your uniform as they silently deliberated your fate.

The air around them was thick with the acrid stench of gunpowder and the metallic tang of blood. Carried on the wind was the unmistakable smell of burning flesh, the destruction wrought by grenades and the inferno consuming the camp's tents.

You finally saw a single emblem that you had all but recognized, causing a wave of panic and nausea to intensify. It was red amongst their black uniforms, making out the shape of tentacles and a skull.

HYDRA had methodically and ruthlessly stripped away every last shred of your humanity, leaving you a hollow shell of your former self. Their relentless assault on your psyche knew no bounds, pushing you far beyond what you ever thought possible for a human to endure.

When they first approached you in that tiny cell they stored you in, their request seemed simple enough - they were in need of a skilled nurse to care for their injured soldiers. However, your initial refusal to comply with their demands almost made you wish you had agreed at the beginning of your capture.

Almost.

If there was one thing HYDRA excelled at, it was the systematic destruction of an individual's will. Their techniques were refined, honed over years of practice, designed to break even the strongest of spirits.

The facility was designed to erode your sense of self until you finally shattered under the immense pressure. Like a relentless tide, they wore away at your resolve, bit by bit, until you crumbled like a fragile twig beneath their unyielding boot. The speed at which you broke filled you with a deep sense of shame, feeling like you were incredibly weak minded, but after enduring weeks of near-starvation, psychological torment, and unrelenting physical abuse, you simply couldn't withstand it any longer.

You weren’t meant for this. You weren’t a trained soldier. You were just a nurse who wanted to help people.

A paralyzing fear had taken root in your very core. This hellish existence was so far removed from the life you once knew, from everything you had ever prepared for. You were adrift in a sea of terror, desperately clinging to the last remnants of your sanity.

They had curiously allowed their lead scientist to conduct experiments on you, though the exact nature of his work remained a mystery. It wasn’t like he was going to sit down and explain to you what he was going to do.

The HYDRA scientist was a man of undeniable brilliance and questionable ethics. He bestowed upon you a myriad of gifts, each more terrifying than the last. His demeanor was characteristically cruel and rough, embodying the very essence of someone who thrived in such a morally bankrupt environment.

He subjected you to a barrage of experiments, each more harrowing than the last. Serum after serum was mercilessly pumped into your veins, their effects causing you to writhe in agony on the cold, unforgiving table. Your screams were his favorite symphony, echoing through the sterile laboratory walls as the bastard actually hummed along.

The scientist's excitement was disturbing, his eyes gleaming with a twisted fascination. It was evident that having a female subject at his disposal was a novel experience for him, one that he relished with disturbing enthusiasm, devoid of basic human empathy and consumed by his perverse scientific pursuits.

Sick freak.

But you were consumed by shame, feeling that you had succumbed far too quickly to their demands. The pain was unbearable, the excruciating torment they put you through felt never-ending. You were unable to withstand the relentless torture and psychological conditioning for long, and you loathe to acknowledge just how swiftly they managed to break your resolve.

You thought you were better than that, if not physically, mentally.

The ease with which you submitted left a bitter taste in your mouth. While the scientist overseeing your case expressed disappointment at your rapid surrender, viewing it as a setback in their research, the director of the facility was elated.

They now possessed a somewhat compliant and skilled nurse for their own soldiers, one whose will had been thoroughly crushed and who lacked the ability to refuse any command, no matter how unethical or dangerous. Your newfound obedience was seen as a valuable asset, and they made good use of that without hesitation or remorse.

However, your status a caretaker did not save you from everything.

It did not grant your safety or autonomy.

You vividly recalled being guided towards a strange looking chamber, its cold metallic surface gleaming under harsh fluorescent lights. As you were carefully placed inside, the last sensations you remembered were the gradual drop in temperature and an overwhelming drowsiness before consciousness slipped away entirely, leaving you in a void of nothingness.

The cryogenic process proved to be unreliable in your case.

The facility frequently used you as a test subject for their cryo chambers, ostensibly to ensure their proper functioning. Their decision of subjecting you, their only nurse, to potential risks seemed counterintuitive. The reasoning behind their actions remained unknown, leaving you with more questions than answers. You were used to this reality, your mind fogged with an array of questions that were never answered.

Your days were a blur of tending to injured agents and wounded soldiers, with scarcely a moment to think of your situation or the facility's cryptic motivations. As time wore on, the once-distinct uniforms began to blend into an indistinguishable mass. You noticed a gradual change in yourself as well; the spark that once animated your eyes had dimmed, replaced by a weary, almost vacant gaze - you didn’t recognize yourself in the mirror.

The director issued an order for you to tend to another soldier, prompting you to make your way towards the designated room for your work. The room's layout was standard for medical procedures and treatments, devoid of any personal touches or unique features. Such personalization was strictly forbidden in this sterile environment, no photos or even a tiny plant was allowed, they didn’t allow you any individuality. The space was equipped solely with the essential supplies required for you to carry out your duties efficiently and effectively.

Upon entering the room reeking of alcohol and plaster, your eyes were immediately drawn to the soldier restrained on the bed. Thick, unyielding straps securely held him in place, allowing not an inch of movement. Even with the evident effects of sedation to ensure a drowsy state, you couldn't miss the all too familiar look of fear in his eyes. It was a look you had seen countless times before, confusion and helplessness overriding any other sense. The soldier's drugged expression did little to mask the underlying panic that seemed to radiate from his body.

"Get to work," the guard commanded, his voice gruff and authoritative as he stepped aside to provide you with access. "The subject's performance was subpar today, resulting in numerous injuries. Address these wounds and restore it to full health. The director has made it clear that a complete recovery is expected by morning, without exception."

It?

You hesitated, your eyes widening in disbelief at the unreasonable demand. "Complete recovery? But sir, the extent of his injuries is too severe for that. The sheer number of wounds on him, it’s impossible to-"

Before you could finish voicing your concerns, the guard's hand struck your face with a resounding slap, the force of the impact causing your head to snap to the side. The sting of the blow had barely registered when his fingers roughly grasped your jaw, forcing you to meet his cold, unforgiving gaze. His grip tightened painfully as he leaned in close, his retched breath hot against your skin as he growled, "I said get to work, now. Your objections are irrelevant, do what is ordered of you or you will be pulled to the corrections room again. Do you understand?"

You emitted a soft whimper, forcing every muscle in your body to remain perfectly still as he seized you roughly. This was behavior you had painfully learned over time, a survival mechanism to avoid provoking additional blows. Somehow you managed to stutter out a response, your eyes reluctantly meeting the guard's harsh gaze. "I... I understand," you rasped, your voice barely above a whisper. Immediately after speaking, you lowered your gaze submissively, another gesture that had been ingrained in you through harsh conditioning.

The guard abruptly shoved you away, satisfied with your compliance. He took a step back, silently commanding you to proceed with your assigned task. Your limbs trembled and your heart was rapidly beating against your ribcage, but you obediently gathered the necessary supplies to tend to the wounded soldier. You approached cautiously, your eyes were drawn to the gleaming metal arm that caused your brow to furrow with curiosity.

Whispered rumors and hushed conversations had taught you about this particular soldier. He was described as a lethal asset, a relentless force that pursued its targets with unwavering determination. The way the agents spoke of him was chilling - more like discussing a piece of equipment or a weapon than a living, breathing human being.

That’s where the it came from.

HYDRA held little regard for anyone outside their upper echelons. In their eyes, guards and agents were as disposable as common household items, easily replaced and forgotten.

The soldier wore a muzzle-like mask, obscuring most of his face. It left only a small opening for breathing and barely enough room to moisten his lips with his tongue. You could hear his labored breaths, raspy and wet, indicating the presence of blood in his mouth. You reached out to remove the mask, wanting to allow him more room to breathe and to see what was going on beneath it. Your fingers trembled slightly as you gently pulled it away from his face, setting it aside carefully. As you did so, you noticed thick, viscous strands of blood clinging to the inside of the mask, stretching like grotesque spider webs before finally breaking.

The moment his face was revealed, your heart felt like it had stopped beating entirely. The shock of recognition hit you like a physical blow, leaving you momentarily breathless.

What you saw before you felt... impossible.

Your mind reeled, trying to make sense of it all.

You realized with a start that you had no concept of how much time had passed since your capture. In this place, this Hell on earth, you had been cut off from all natural rhythms. The sky, its comforting cycle of sun and moon, had become a distant memory. There were no clocks, no way to mark the passage of hours or days. Time had become a fluid, disorienting concept, sometimes crawling by with agonizing slowness, other times rushing past in a blur of monotony and fear.

You almost felt like you had been driven mad by the mere concept of time itself.

Your world had shrunk to the confines of your prison. The stark, featureless walls that surrounded you had become your entire universe since the moment of your capture. They were constant, unchanging, a blank canvas for your fears and dwindling hopes. And now, faced with this unexpected revelation, you felt those walls closing in even tighter, your sense of reality shifting once again.

This soldier...his vibrant blue eyes dulled with pain and exhaustion, his once-pouty lips now chapped and drawn tight with tension and crusted with blood. You felt your throat constrict and your eyes begin to burn with unshed tears as you took in his haggard appearance.

Sergeant Barnes, James, Bucky. The name echoed in your mind, the memory of the charming soldier was nothing like the broken man before you.

He was barely recognizable.

His frame appeared gaunt and frail, even under the thick layers of the clothes he wore, you could tell this was not his ideal weight. His hair, previously neatly trimmed, now hung long and unkempt around his face. But it was the obvious new appendage that truly drove home the extent of his transformation. The metallic arm shone coldly under the harsh lights, the red star on his shoulder like a goddamn brand.

He wore what could only be described as a perverse fusion of a straight jacket and a uniform. The black material bound him tightly and restricted his breathing, a reminder to him, and blatant display, of control. Yet, it also seemed designed to showcase their improvements to his body, as if he were nothing but a prized experiment.

Surely, there were wounds hidden beneath the uniform judging by his clear uncomfortable grimace, but removing the garment to assess his condition was out of the question. The guards would never allow it; unbinding him from the table was too great a risk in their eyes.

Bucky's eyes slowly lifted to meet yours, no longer staring blankly at the ceiling and following the many cracks in it, or possibly counting the tiny dots on the paint to stay sane. His gaze was almost unbearable to meet. His eyes were always so full of warmth, now blinked with nervousness, glossing over with a sheen of unshed tears. The man before you looked so utterly unlike the Bucky you once knew. He appeared caged, not just physically, radiating an aura of defeat that broke your heart.

"Bucky...oh my god, what have they done to you?" The words escaped your lips in a trembling whisper, your hands quivering as you gently placed them on his chest. Your fingers nervously traced the unfamiliar straps of his new uniform.

At the sound of his name, a flicker of confusion crossed his features. His brow furrowed deeply, as if trying to grasp at a memory just out of reach. The sight of his fearful memory loss sent a chill down your spine, realizing that even his own name now seemed alien to him.

The soldier lying motionless on the bed regarded you with an unsettling blankness. It was as if you were looking at a stranger wearing Bucky's face - the familiar contours were there, but the essence of the man you knew had vanished.

Your mind reeled, desperately trying to comprehend the transformation before you. The Bucky you remembered - with his easy smile and unwavering loyalty - seemed to have been erased, replaced by this hollow shell. The man you once knew, the one whose eyes used to light up at the sight of you, was gone.

In his place sat this new entity, molded by HYDRA's cruel machinations into something entirely foreign.

They had systematically dismantled him and rebuilt him from the ground up. The organization had taken the brave, compassionate soldier and twisted him into a weapon forged in the fires of their ruthless ambition.

You gazed into those vacant eyes, wondering if any trace of the old Bucky remained beneath the surface, but there was nothing.

The guard spat venomously at you, his words dripping with malice as he demanded that you immediately attend to the injured soldier. His harsh voice sliced through your thoughts like a razor, and the menacing threats he uttered were more than enough to spur you into action. You managed to carefully remove the top of the soldier's uniform with trembling hands, revealing his bare chest and the horrifying extent of his hidden injuries.

His skin was a canvas of violent bruising, ranging from deep purples to sickly yellows, creating a grotesque patchwork across his torso. A jagged stabbing injury that looked raw and angry, and an active gunshot wound in his lower abdomen that was still oozing blood at an alarming rate.

Your medical training kicked in, overriding your initial shock. "How long has he been in this condition?" You demanded of the guard, urgency in your tone as your hands moved swiftly, pressing a thick wad of gauze firmly over the bleeding gunshot wound. The sudden pressure elicited a sharp hiss of pain from the soldier, a momentary crack in his composure. However, almost immediately, his features smoothed back into a mask of stoicism. You couldn't help but notice the flicker of terror in his eyes. The potential consequences of displaying weakness in this hostile environment rushed through his expression.

"Just patch it up, we don't have all day. It's due for cryo." The guard replied coldly, "Damn thing's malfunctioning too often, can't get it to obey a single fuckin' thing."

"HE." You retorted with a frown, glaring up at the guard. "This is a person! Not a machine, he is a he. Not an it." You insistence on Bucky's person only seemed to piss the guard off even more.

There wasn't much you could do to avoid the baton colliding into your face.

You were so careful, your hands steady despite the cruel denial of numbing medication as you carefully stitched his wounds. The deliberate withholding of pain relief was something they commonly did to their assets, to increase their pain resistance. Though, whether or not it was punishment for you or him, you had no idea.

The soldier lay motionless on the bed, his stoic demeanor betrayed only by the occasional twitch and curl of his lip with each precise poke of the needle. Your voice broke the heavy silence as you looked at him, "I'm sorry, soldier, I...I am, I promise...I don't meant to hurt you." The words tumbled out, a desperate attempt to convey that your actions were not born of malice, like every other action he had been used to dealing with. It pained you to think that he might perceive you as just another source of suffering in a world that seemed intent on causing him harm.

The fog of pain and confusion was thickly clouding his mind, but something about your demeanor resonated with the soldier.

A faint glimmer of recognition flickered in his eyes, as if some deep-seated instinct was trying to tell him that you were different from the others he had encountered. Yet, his thoughts remained fragmented, like scattered pieces of a puzzle he couldn't quite assemble. It was almost something instinctual, rather than logical, like his core was telling him different from his mind.

You were safe. You were a safe person.

He couldn't afford to trust the people here; that was a lesson hard-learned and deeply ingrained. The facility was a maze of deception, where even the smallest gesture of kindness could be a carefully orchestrated ploy.

They were manipulative in their methods, planting agents who acted nicer, their false warmth a siren song designed to lure him into a false sense of security. They waited patiently, hoping he'd lower his guard, crack under the pressure, or attempt any form of rebellion. And when he did, the whip came down, harder each time to break his trust.

But you...you were different. Your actions, your words, your very presence was completely different to the calculated manipulations he'd grown accustomed to. You weren't hurting him.

You were a fragile thread of hope.

That was...good.

His icy gaze seemed to be cataloging every minor detail of your appearance. The soldier's eyes traced the contours of your face, lingering on the hues of your eyes and the curve of your lips, noting with particular interest the way you furrowed your brow in concentration. His attention was drawn to the surprisingly dark, angry bruise that marred half of your face from the guard’s baton.

A soft sound escaped the soldier's lips, drawing your focus away from your task. Your gaze lifted to meet his, noticing the intensity in how he stared at your throbbing cheek. You weren’t sure why he looked so concerned, considering he had been so silent and emotionless the entire time but part of you hoped that maybe a bit of himself was actually coming to front.

"Oh... it's nothing to worry about, soldier," you murmured softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you continued to tend to his wound, carefully cleaning it before preparing to apply the next stitch. “Doesn’t hurt that bad…”

The soldier appeared far from satisfied with your response. His body tensed, muscles coiling beneath his skin as he shifted slightly in his restraints. His metal arm tore free from the binding that held it in place. The unexpected action caught you off guard, and you instinctively took a cautious step backward, your heart rate quickening. You were unsure of his actions, and you’d much rather keep yourself out of reach in case he retaliated.

He remained motionless after freeing his arm. He made no attempt to rise or to reach out towards you.

The lack of reaction gave you some confidence, and you came back to his side. "Easy..." You spoke cautiously, his behavior had been docile so far, but he could flip on a dime.

He simply stared, his hand lifting to your face slowly, the plates in his arm realigning and whirring quietly. You gave a soft flinch when his fingertips grazed the bruise, the skin throbbing and raw from recent injuries.

The metal of his prosthetic hand felt surprisingly pleasant against your skin. It was cool against your skin, soothing the warmth of your flushed face. His touch was unexpectedly delicate for a prosthetic limb, each subtle shift of his fingers executed with a finesse that seemed almost impossible for an artificial limb. Your mind thought about the potential intricacies of the arm's design. The details of its construction and capabilities were closely guarded, known only to its creator and the select group of scientists who worked tirelessly to refine and maintain it.

The feather-light quality of his caress was so lifelike, so nuanced, you wondered if his nerves had been intertwined with wires. You remembered the science fair before you were brought to the camps, the magnificent tales of the future of science. Maybe HYDRA had somehow made flying cars.

It wouldn't surprise you.

Letting him lower his arm, you carefully finished stitching the gunshot wound and the deep laceration on his abdomen, your brow furrowed in concentration. You tried to ignore the faded scar on his side from your previous work on him, remembering that exact wound was it reminded you this stoic, hurt soldier was in fact your Bucky. Well, yours might be taking it far but…to you, he was.

The guards' refusal to allow the use of site-numbing medicine only added to your efforts to make things quicker, knowing it was hurting him. Their callous disregard left a bitter taste in your mouth. Heartless bastards.

With the stitching done, your hand moved gently to assess the area around the wound to ensure everything was ready for bandaging. As your fingers lightly grazed his side, you noticed the soldier flinching under your touch. His body tensing as he struggled to stifle a shudder that rippled through his chest. You observed as he swallowed hard, his neck muscles visibly straining as he fought to keep silent. The familiar response triggered a memory in your brain, though they hadn’t brainwashed you like most of their assets, some things faded over time.

Not this. You remembered the sensitivity in his side.

It seemed that some things remained constant, despite the circumstances.

"Ticklish?" you inquired softly, your lips curving into a gentle, reassuring smile. The soldier continued to maintain his stoic façade, but you could see the cracks in his armor. His eyes briefly met yours before quickly darting away, unable to hold your gaze for more than a fleeting moment.

Curious, you repeated the motion, your fingers ghosting over the same spot. This time, you caught the unmistakable twitch at the corner of his mouth, a smile threatening to break through his stern expression. The subtle huff of air from his nostrils and the sharp upward jerk of his chest confirmed your suspicion.

Yes, it definitely tickled.

"It's okay, Soldier," you reassured him, your voice warm and understanding. "I know it probably feels a bit strange, but don't worry, I'm almost finished. Then I’ll wrap you up."

The soldier responded with a curt nod, maintaining his silence.

After bandaging his severe injuries and applying dressings to the lacerations on his face, you leaned back to assess him one more time. Your eyes scanned over your handiwork, ensuring every wound was properly tended to. With a sense of accomplishment, you let out a breath, "Alright, there we go...all done." A look of satisfaction crossed your face as you offered him a reassuring smile, your demeanor calm to try to put him at ease.

However, the guards didn’t make it easy.

They removed him from his restraints, the fleeting sense of relief that had begun to wash over him was abruptly crushed as they mercilessly jabbed him with their batons. The soldier let out a pained hiss through clenched teeth, his body instinctively scrambling to escape the source of agony. His movements were uncoordinated and shaky as he stumbled off the table, somehow still having enough strength to stand. You felt a surge of protective instincts rush through your veins.

"What are you doing?!" Your voice cut through the tense atmosphere as you stayed by his side, "He needs to stay still for at least 24 hours to allow the stitches to begin the healing process!" Your eyes darted between the guards and the soldier, you had taken a lot from this place, but you knew he had it much worse than you did.

You could only imagine what they did when no one else was around.

The guards fixed you with a menacing glare, their faces contorted with disapproval at your unexpected display of compassion. The lead guard's voice was cold and threatening as he spoke, "Your sole responsibility here is to tend to injuries, not to coddle. You will stand aside immediately, or face severe consequences for your insubordinate behavior."

As he issued this ultimatum, he raised his baton, pointing it directly at you. The weapon sparked ominously to life, its head illuminated by a dance of blue and white electricity that crackled erratically between the prongs.

"Move! This is your final warning!" The guard's voice rose to a shout, the baton still poised threateningly in your direction. The fear of feeling the weapon's cruel bite didn’t deter you. You remained rooted to the spot, standing firm between the guards and the injured soldier. Your eyes darted briefly to the hunched figure behind you, noting how he clutched at his side, his face a mask of pain.

This was The Winter Soldier, a man whose reputation preceded him, yet seeing him in such a vulnerable state stirred something within you. Your heart ached at the sight, especially knowing that beneath the fearsome moniker was Bucky - not the faceless monster so often portrayed, but a man who had endured unimaginable suffering.

A deep breath was exhaled through your nose, and you squared your shoulders and met the guard's gaze unflinchingly. "No," you declared firmly, your voice steady despite the rapid beating of your heart. "I will not move. You can inflict whatever punishment you deem necessary on me later, but this man will remain on that bed for the next 24 hours. He needs time to recover, and I will make sure he gets it." Your words hung in the air, the tense room quiet besides the occasional sharp breaths of the soldier behind you.

The guards remained silent for several seconds, it might’ve been the longest few seconds in your life.

They exchanged glances with one another, their eyes darting from face to face, before finally settling on their superior. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife. Not wanting to prolong the situation or potentially escalate it into something more serious, the lead guard slowly lowered his baton. His shoulders slumped slightly as he let out a deep breath through his nose. You watched as they yielded so readily, your mind racing with anxiety and preparing for a potential false sense of security. However, you quickly pushed aside your surprise, knowing that dwelling on it now could be dangerous.

"Fine," the lead growled, his voice laced with barely contained frustration and a hint of defeat. He paused for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he fixed you with a stern glare. "You will answer to the director when this little game of caretaker is over." The way he emphasized 'caretaker' dripped with sarcasm and disdain.

With a final scowl, he spun on his heel, his movements sharp and angry. The other guards fell in line behind him, their boots echoing off the walls as they filed out of the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the lingering tension in the air.

You exhaled deeply, releasing a breath you hadn't even realized you were holding and turned your attention back to the soldier. Gently but firmly, you assisted him in returning to the bed, carefully laying him down as he writhed and let out pained hisses of discomfort. Your heart ached at the sight of his suffering.

"Shh, I know...I know it hurts. I can't even begin to imagine the pain you're feeling right now," you murmured softly, your voice taking on the same gentle, soothing tone you'd use when comforting scared soldiers on the battlefield. Your words were meant to ease his distress and provide a semblance of comfort.

It seemed to work.

His eyes were wide and filled with an innocence that seemed so out of place in this Hell, reminded you starkly of the way Bucky used to look. This supposed heartless soldier, the boogeyman of so many stories, wasn’t real. The person before you was Bucky, trapped within a persona that had been forced on him. Fresh from brainwashing, he might exhibit that emotionless soldier, one with no humanity or heart, but the persona was already beginning to crack, revealing the scared, confused, and utterly lost man underneath.

"It's okay," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath as you tried to reassure him. "You're going to lay here and rest now. That's all you need to do." Your words were simple but laden with compassion, an attempt to provide him with a clear, manageable directive in the midst of what must be overwhelming chaos in his mind. The soldier did well with orders, while you didn’t want to order him, you wanted him to be somewhat familiar with what was going on.

You hadn't spent time around him in this state before, and the unpredictability that others had warned you about lingered at the back of your mind. Your eyes never left his face, watching for any sign of comprehension or compliance, all the while steeling yourself for any sudden changes in his demeanor.

He obeyed, thank god.

You carefully positioned him on the worn, uncomfortable bed in the makeshift operating room, ensuring he was as comfortable as possible given the circumstances. Once he was settled, you dimmed the harsh overhead lights to create a more soothing environment conducive to rest. He was usually drugged, but like hell you were going to inject him with anything. A drugged sleep feels like a wink, and you wanted him to feel more rested, having the freedom of falling asleep on his own and all.

The unfamiliar surroundings clearly unsettled him, his eyes darting around nervously before finally settling on you as you bustled about, tidying up the room and preparing to leave. His mind was in a fog, thoughts jumbled and unclear, like static on an old television set. Only brief flashes of blurred memories began to shine through the static, albeit only for a split second. Regardless of his confusion, he felt an urge to prevent you from leaving, sitting up despite his weakened state.

"Ma...mama," he stuttered, his voice barely above a whisper, cracked and hoarse, yet somehow managing to carry across the room to where you stood.

You halted abruptly, spinning around to face him as he struggled to leave the bed. "No, no, soldier, you need to lie back down," you urged, quickly returning to his side to gently guide him back onto the mattress. "Please, you must stay put. Any sudden movements could jostle your stitches." Your brow furrowed with concern as you observed his face, noting the strange mixture of bewilderment and childlike innocence in his expression. It was a disturbing contrast to the hardened soldier, and it tugged at your heartstrings.

It was like his brain couldn't even function or understand what was happening.

It had been fried too much. When he wasn't the Winter Soldier, he was just...a confused blend of it all.

His metal arm grabbed your wrist with an unyielding grip, causing you to wince at the unexpected force. He looked up at you, it was clear he hadn't meant to hurt you, but something deep within him refused to let go.

"Stay. Mama, stay." The soldier's voice was barely above a whisper, rough and pleading. His eyes lacked their signature sharp and alert glaze, now sported glossy neediness. You could tell the difference immediately.

The sterile room around you, with its clinical smell of antiseptic and tacky gauze, seemed to close in around him and give him an increased awareness of the room and its possibilities. He didn't want to be left alone in this unsettling environment, one where he had suffered enough. His cell, though barren and cold, had become a twisted area of sanctuary for him.

This room was not, even if he was in a warm bed with a blanket and pillow. How sickening it must be to see, actual comforting items were so foreign to the soldier, almost outright rejected because of the unfamiliarity.

The pleading look in his eyes began to consume you while his rough voice wavered with barely contained emotion. The thought of leaving him here, alone and exposed, was becoming increasingly unbearable. It wasn't just the isolation that concerned you, the underlying threat of potential nightly visits from the guards loomed ominously in your mind. His gentle, almost childlike request for you to stay, coupled with the threat of overwhelming fear in his demeanor, ate you alive.

"Okay," you whispered back gently, your trembling hand delicately gliding over his forehead and into his hair. You noticed how tangled and unkempt it was, frowning a bit. The least HYDRA could do is let him brush his own damned hair, if they were gonna make him keep it long.

While your fingers carefully worked through the knots, you were struck by how vulnerable he appeared in this moment. How he leaned into your hand so subtly, like a beaten dog being given its first gentle pet. His features had softened, revealing a glimpse of the man you remembered from before. He looked so...harmless.

It was hard to reconcile this image with the stories you'd heard, the warnings you'd been given about this deadly asset. In the quiet moment, he seemed incapable of hurting a fly. Your heart ached, recognizing fragments of the Bucky you knew and loved, hidden beneath layers this forsaken place buried him in.

Goddamn the universe for never being able to tell him.

"I'll stay."

Dividers by @/strangergraphics | Cover images from Pinterest

No taglist for this series yet.

[plumipal]

I just had a thought- how would Grim and the ramshackle ghosts feel about all the stuff happening to us?

Especially if the yandere(s) are coming over to our dorm too! Would they, depending on the severity of the yandere and their specific actions, range from supporting it cuz yknow reader gets to be happy with someone who treats them well and loves them to concerned because sweetie please get yourself outta there 😭

I can imagine Grim is NOT alright with it and for a multitude of reasons, they are taking away your time with HIM, and once he pays more attention to the bigger picture? Yeah messed up things be occasionally happening that could very well hurt you!! He does not like that!!!

im just imagining Grim being visibly not alright and reader will not have it either when it comes to him, they are a PACKAGE deal and that is that no matter which yandere comes their way 🗣️

we have many people more alright with Grim being reader’s number one priority, or yknow silently(?) wishing it was them, poor Grim and Reader man encountering yandere after yandere 😭

Grim would give us a look if we expressed any sort of romantic interest in any yandere I think lol

‘Pologies if it was too long or ranty, though I am curious who you think would be the most and least alright with this? I imagine Leona and Ace (legally required to bring up Ace he’s my all time fav next to Grim) would NOT like it lmao

.. first off, this is the longest ask ive ever gotten, I gotta just say oml thank you so much????? You, wrote all of this, fpr me?? 🥹🥹🥹💖💖💖 this literally made my week thank you so much bestie 🥹😭 second off, this inspired me to rant too, I hope you enjoy!- (not proofread btw)

So im mainly gonna focus on grim, no offence to ramshackle ghost fans, I just really like the silly little fire-cat/rat/weasel/creature. He was literally our first friend, our first companion (I bet Ace and grim bicker on who was your first).

And oh boy, guy is NOT HAPPY when he sees all these dumbasses vying for your attention and either trying to butter him up with tuna (which will not work on the mighty grim!) or ugnore him completely! Like you stated you and him are a package deal! Get the prefect and get their silly hungry companion!!

Now, grim surely uses his position as your closest companion as a safety net, they can't kill off the closest you have to family in this world! Guess they gotta live with him if they wanna have a life with you.

Ace hates that grim was your friend before him, feeling annoyed whenever he bullied (Juice) Deuce about being friends with you before him only for grim to butt in. Ace isn't too annoyed with grim though, and grim thinks that Ace is one of the better choises of the roster you have, they're both friends after all.

Of course most students in the cast don't liek "sharing" you with grim, especially the more territorial ones. Leona is probably the worst, I mean come on they're both feline looking creatures. With scent being a heavy thing for felines (yes even beastmen dont come at me) Leona is not happy to have his scent on you be muddied by the little rodent (the greatest mage of all, grim). Probably the worst choise since they're just gonna bicker to the end of the world..

Floyd doesn't like this either! Not fair that he has to share!! And with grim no less.. Floyd results in biting you instead of scenting, his chompers being good for nibbling on you. He also has the advantage that grim is sorta afraid of him (honestly who wouldn't be? Especially yan Floyd...).

Kalim tries to brime grim, with anything he could ever think off! Unlimited tuna for grim, and the best there is as well!! Nything grim could ever want on a silver platter, only if grim let's kalim marry you! That alone doesn't sound too bad, but that unsettling horrifying servant that follows Kalim around. He knows what jamil can do, and he sure does NOT want you with that dude!- guy is manipulative and creepy (he would definelty seperate you and grim!-)

Malleus... Malleus scares grim, guys is honestly horrifying. Threatening to curse him into an eternal slumber so he can whisk you away from him, he doesn't want that! You would also get sad id malleus did that, so luckily the possessive dragon had to share (for now...)

Whoever you choose, grim would probably disapprove, guy thinks of you as family (he will never admit that tho). He cares about you, and he is not okay with the invasion of privacy from these teenagers! >:(

I know you didn't ask fpr any drawing or such, but I couldn't help myself sorry 🤭 hope you like my ramblings back at you!

[aliceinborderlandsquidgame]

Wrong move | The Salesman x Fem!Reader

Summary: He thought you were in love with him....maybe he needs to show you how much you need him.

Warnings: SFW - Possessive!Salesman - Obsessive!Salesman - Controling!Salesman - Red flag basically - Unhealthy relationship - Power imbalance - DARK!Salesman - grammar mistakes -

Note: Not part of "Home Bliss", this is a different universe.

"No"

These were the words that have been in the Salesman's mind for a week now. His aparment, a place he used to love coming to since you were here waiting for him now felt like a empy box. Walls too grey to look at, too dull. The food did not have teaste and his bed felt too big.

When did things go wrong ? He did everything right.

Saw you one day at the local park, got enamoured by you. Followed you around, got to know your schendelure so he could see you from afar. Was able to hack your phone to know every last detail. Your social media were poorly secured. He got to know you like he knew his own skin, when he finally did approach you, you were already his.

And after two years, two years of beautiful moments together, perfectly crafted by him, each one calculated and made so you would fall more and more for him. He got you to move in with him, he was accepted by your friends, your family loved him, and saw him like part of it.

He was sure, centrain that this was the right moment. The perfect one. This was your favorite season, favorite month, perfect hour of the day and a well secured place so you would not feel pressure over it.

Some part of him wanted you to come to him willing.

But your words were marked liked fire. The exchange and after events lived rent free inside his head.

How he had managed to keep his facade he has no idea. The aparment (after you refused to get back) was the one that suffered his rage. All the expensive forniture was destroyed by him, some walls had blood by how much he had punched them.

He was a mess, a disaster. How could yo do it  ? After everything? Weren't you two the perfect match ?

A ding from his phone, the ding he had set just for you sounded.

"Sorry, I think its better if we stop seeing each other. I will pass to get my things soon"

The phone went flying. Were you breaking up with him by text ? When he had read all the exchange with your friends  ? Like how scared you were and how fast it felt. Why were you doing this?

And your doubts ? He never saw them, you seemed content by his side. And loved him like that.

But your personal diary on your phone said different. You felt trapped, like he knew too much, like he was not being honest.

Maybe he should have been more...severe? Showing you just how bad he could be, maybe he let your leash go too large and now he was paying the consequences.

But would he give up ? No. After all you were just confused, and scared, you just needed a reminder of how much you needed him. How he could be the only one for you.

He took the phone back, the screen broke but other functions working. He ignored your message and instead went to his contacts. He had many friends, friends that could ruin you completly.

"I need a favor"

Leaving him was the start of your nightmare.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

At first the relationship was fine. How does peopel put it ? Honeymoon? Well you two had it for very long.

He was the man any woman could ask for, gentle, caring, doting, never forgot a special date. And would get your favorite things.

But something was off. His eyes, the same dark eyes that sparked when he saw you, these eyes would change to sharp and cold around others. You felt like he was always on you, even when being away for work, he would just know when to send you a message or call you.

Would meet you randomly on the streets, knew when you wanted to do something even when you never mentioned it.

Something was wrong. Your gut told you to run from him but you did not know how. After all on the eyes of everyone he was perfect.

Then he asked to marry you, and you saw your chance. You could say you got scared and that things just did not work out after it.

But it did not go that way.

Once you had got your things from his aparment your Boss called, he had said how sorry he was but the company was cutting off some employees and you were one of them.

Your work, your dream work. The one you had passed years preparing yourself, tears and blood for it. The one that made your parents proud.

Ripped out from you with one call.

Then it came your social circle. Slowly your Friends stopped meeting with you, some removed you from their social media, and some blocked your number. You never got to know what was wrong, or what you did.

And later your parents, it was a shame losing your job, it was worse not being able to get another one.

"Sorry we are looking for something different"

"Your solicitude was read but right now we need another thing"

"We will call you"

Rent became impossible, and so you had to move back with them. Your mother was not happy, telling you how much of a failure you were, how your brother was making money overseas and how your sister had made a family.

Your father did not even look at you. Like he felt guilty, not even the company he used to work for would take you in.

Your days became a circle of sending out curriculums and doing your best to keep your parents happy even when you knew they did not want you there.

And some days you would go to the park and cry. Not caring if others saw you, your life was ruined, you had nothing. Maybe....maybe if you had said yes....

Checking your phone you saw the contacts, mom, dad, brother, sister and him. You were sure you had removed his number but it kept coming back. Maybe you were getting sick because of the stress.  Your finger went over the call buttom till you finally hitted it.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

He never wanted to see you like this, so broken, so out of life. Maybe he had insolated you too much. Let some lies to your Friends and mother that grew and now they hated you. Your father was a rough one, he had used some...other methods for him. But did coperate at the end.

"You dont seem so good" Were his first words and you looked down at your lap.

"Im sorry for have called you.., after everything"

"Dont say anything. I was glad I got your call. I wanted to know how you were doing" He lied, he knew you were miserable.

Only him could fix it.

"I have...well things have been bad" You addmited "I dont want to burden you with it, maybe this was a mistake"

You went to get up and leave but a firm grip on your hand stopped you. His eyes, cold and sharp like he was seeing his prey.

You, you were his prey.

"Sit" It was an order not a request "Lets talk for a bit more, maybe I can help you, for the old times"

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

"Are you sure? (Y/N) you can still go back and say no" Your fathers voice cut off.

You were wearing a beautiful weeding dress, outside from a ceremenoy to take place.

"Dad...you have been saying that since I told mom and you that I was getting married. This is good, we actually made up and I even got my work back, with double pay. Was not what you wanted for me?"

Your father did not respond. He still remembers that night. The night your "perfect" boyfriend appear. When he told him how your life would be so bad you would be wishing you were gone.

"And if thats not enoguh, maybe leaving her limp like you will do the trick"

He had tried for many months to hide his injury, the injury that man had caused him and promised to do the same to you.

"Dad? Its your leg hurting? You are crying"

"No dear, im fine. A little emotional to see you go"

When the doors opened and he walked you in and saw the monster you were going to marry he felt like dying there. When he gave you to him he could see it, he was liking his pain.

"I will take good care of her" Were his only words, and by the time his eyes were on you it had changed.

Love? Obsession ? A twisted sense of care ? No one could tell, no one dared to ask.

Him ? He was just happy you finally accepted what was best for you.

Him, he was the best for you.

"Till death do us apart"

Not even death would be able to separate you from him.

[feeder86]

Roy's Boy

“Don’t even go there,” warned Roy as he saw Scotty checking out the most handsome guy he had ever seen coming into the bar.

“Who is he?” Scotty marvelled, turning to his much older boss. Tall, muscular and with the face of a supermodel, the guy who had just come in wasn’t in the same league as anyone else there that night.

“He’s bad news,” Roy stated, between grabbing drinks from the refrigerators behind him. “Not the type you want to get messed up with.”

Scotty served his own customers, continuing to glance over their shoulders as the outstandingly beautiful guy began perusing the crowds there that night as if they were pieces of meat.

“Jed’s a bratty jerk who thinks he rules this town just because mommy and daddy own the timber plant,” Roy went on to explain. “I’ve had more than a few run-ins with him, lording about in here like he owns the place. It’s a wonder he can get his head through the door,” he sighed, keeping an eye on the guy as he strutted about.

“His family actually owns the timber plant?” Scotty replied, impressed.

Roy sighed, seeing that his new, young bartender wasn’t getting the message he’d intended. “Just trust me on this one. Jed’s not a nice guy. You wouldn’t believe some of the stories I’ve heard about how he gets his kicks.”

Scotty couldn’t help but feel even more intrigued. As nice as Roy was, taking a fatherly interest in him when he took this job at the gay bar two weeks ago, he’d never encouraged Scotty to date anyone who came in. Being only nineteen and recently out to his hostile parents, Scotty had never come across the bad-boy type; Jed had piqued his interest like no-one else ever had. The guy had the air of a brute who would happily take the lead in the bedroom and make any lover submit to him. Just the thought of being mercilessly dominated by him was making Scotty glad that his crotch was hidden behind the bar most of the time.

“Who’s the fresh meat?” Jed asked as he came up a few minutes later, spotting that Scotty was a new employee; his voice deep and powerful, much like his staggeringly built body.

Roy had stepped in front of Scotty the moment he saw Jed approach. “Off limits!” he stated assertively. “What drink do you want?”

Jed smirked, eyeing Scotty with more interest now that Roy was standing in his way. “He’s cute,” he nodded appraisingly. “Tight ass, pretty face. Was that on the job advert?” he asked cheekily.

“Off limits!” Roy repeated, now with a hint of aggression. He pulled the lid off a bottle of beer and pushed it towards the arrogant jock. “No charge,” he growled, just wanting Jed to get back to the dancefloor and away from the bar. The bribe seemed to be a language that Jed understood best, tipping his head at the free beer and smirking at Scotty as he retreated back, somewhat satisfied with his result.

Scotty couldn’t help continuing to check Jed out whenever he looked up. He saw the guy sitting in a chair to the side of the dancefloor, his legs spread wide open, displaying his long and muscular thighs and ensuring that every single person who gazed upon him imagined themselves sucking him off; Scotty most of all. He could feel an arousal inside of him that was unlike any sort of attraction he had ever felt before. Boys were making a fuss of him, with one guy sitting on his lap for a short while; his ass crudely felt up by Jed’s enormous hands as he whispered something clearly kinky into the hunk’s ear.

A sudden rush came at the bar and the next time Scotty looked up, Jed had gone; onto the next bar. Scotty sighed in disappointment and inwardly cursed Roy for getting between him and possibly the best fuck of his life. He decided then that if he ever was lucky enough to come acrossJed again, he wouldn’t be so easily quietened. If Jed really was such a bad boy, he was going to have fun learning that for himself.

As the clubs were in full swing, it was time for the smaller bars to start to close up for the evening. Roy was in a particularly good mood, letting Scotty leave as soon as the cash registers had been balanced. He skipped out the front, taking in the warm summer air and tried to recall the breathtaking images of Jed that he still had in his head. The man had been so fucking sexy! He could still feel his boner even though it had been two whole hours since Jed had come in. 

Scotty walked slowly by another bar, noticing that they still had quite a crowd inside. He peered in, just in case Jed was amongst them. Then, his heart skipped a beat. There the beautiful guy was, surrounded by other handsome boys, like his own personal fan club!

Wasting no time, Scotty went in and leaned against the bar to be served, deciding that a short detour before home would be worth it if he could catch Jed’s attention once more.

Keen-eyed Jed spotted him straight away, sliding over straight after he had been served. “Well, well, well… what have we here?” he sang. Scotty’s heart started beating with incredible speed. He couldn’t tell whether he was about to be flirted with or bullied. Either way, he was already getting horny. “I wonder why you came in here!” he chuckled, seeming to already know Scotty's motives.

“I often pop in here after a shift,” Scotty lied.

“Sure you do!” Jed laughed, getting closer and closer. “How’s the lovely Roy these days?” he asked.

“He’s fine,” Scotty replied, finding he was too nervous and excited to even hold eye contact for more than a second or two. “Why does he dislike you so much, though?” he questioned him; his curiosity getting the better of him.

At this, Jed smirked. “I may have fucked a few people in the bathrooms at your bar,” he beamed proudly.

“We often get guys misbehaving in the cubicles,” Scotty shrugged, a little disappointed if that was to be the extent of Jed’s sexy ‘bad boy’ reputation.

“Oh, I don’t squeeze into those uncomfortable cubicles!” Jed laughed. “I get off on having an audience when I’m fucking someone. I don’t know what little Roy was complaining about. I certainly packed out his bar for him.”

Scotty tried to imagine the sight, feeling his breath catching in his chest with excitement. His eyes drifted onto Jed’s full, plump lips, losing control of himself.

“Roy sure knows how to pick the kinky twinks,” Jed teased, searching into Scotty's eyes and seeming to instinctively know all of the dirty thoughts that were running though his mind. “So, you grew up in Tennessee, huh?” he asked next, as if trying to refocus the conversation back onto something that might calm the horny Scotty down.

“I grew up around here,” Scotty answered, bewildered by Jed. “I moved from Tennessee when I was about five. But how did you know that?” 

“A couple of your vowels when you speak,” Jed replied. “It’s very subtle, but it’s there if you know what you’re looking for.”

“You’re very observant,” Scotty mumbled back, wondering just how much more Jed had inferred about him. No one had ever commented on his indistinct accent before. It was clear to him that Jed was as sharp as they came.

“Are you taking him back with us?” asked a muscular guy to Jed, strutting over with a feminine looking conquest under his arm.

“Of course I’m taking him home,” Jed replied, looking Scotty up and down. “Don’t be too flattered,” he chuckled to the slender bartender he had spoken to for the first time only a minute earlier. “I fuck all of Roy’s boys. It really pisses him off.”

Scotty didn’t care about the motives or consequences at that moment. His erection was wanting him to follow Jed, no matter where he led him. He abandoned his full drink and followed the boys on that short journey down the street towards an apartment building. Once in the elevator, Jed pulled him in to kiss him passionately, as if this was all a well rehearsed and highly effective warm-up for the main event. His massive, sexy body pressed into him, hands roaming exactly where they needed to. Then he stood back and smiled wickedly, knowing that he had Scotty hornier than he had ever been in his life.

Once on the top floor, the two other guys entered the apartment, with voices and dance music escaping as soon as the door opened. Jed held Scotty back in the entrance space, ready to explain the rules and expectations.”I’m leaving fifty bucks here,” he demonstrated, pulling out the ruffled notes from his wallet and placing them on the small table by the door. “If you want to leave at any time, just take it and get yourself a cab. The guy downstairs will help you out.”

Scotty nodded despite having no intention of going anywhere. But Jed’s intention was clear: he was free to leave whenever he liked.

“If you want to suck my dick tonight, you gotta leave your clothes here,” Jed ordered next, pointing to a pile of empty, discarded shirts, pants, underwear, socks and shoes. “The subs don’t wear anything in here,” he explained matter-of-factly. Then he stood, waiting for Scotty to comply.

Scotty didn’t waste a second. He wanted to be part of one of Jed’s exhibitionist fantasies like nothing else. He kicked off his shoes, pulled off his work shirt, released his belt and dropped his pants, alongside his underwear; taking pride in showing off just how hard his erection had become. Twenty seconds of stroking and the whole thing might blow.

The main living area was large and spacious, with double height windows and several areas for people to congregate. Guys were everywhere, some naked and some not, lounging about the place. From their reactions when Jed entered, it was obvious that this was his place. The star of the show had just returned, holding a naked, skinny twink’s hand, ready to fuck in front of them all. They stopped what they were doing, conversations ending and they moved to see what entertainment Jed had in store.

“He’s very slim!” chuckled one of the guys to the side. “Not your usual type at all!”

Jed laughed and nodded, stroking Scotty’s slender butt with hardly an ounce of fat on it. He;d always been the same: moderately tall and lanky with a runner’s build. “He’s one of Roy’s new bartenders. You know what Roy’s like for his twinks. I had to collect the set.”

Scotty felt even more blessed to be there. He wasn’t even Jed’s usual type, yet there he was, about to have the pinnacle of his sexual experiences merely because the bad boy had a vendetta against his boss. He was sent down onto his knees. Jed unbuckled his pants, feeding his oversized erection into Scotty’s mouth. No wonder the guy was so into public sex. He had no reason at all to ever feel conscious about his size. Scotty had never taken something so big; his mouth needing a little while to work out what to do with it all.

Jed continued chatting to those around him, recounting the story of how he had been sent away by Roy earlier. They all laughed at the bit where Scotty had turned up at the bar later and been so easily enticed back; moaning with appreciation at watching him trying to suck Jed off.

“Alright, alright,” Jed chuckled a few minutes later, pulling Scotty’s mouth off his hardness. “That’s not really your specialty!” He looked around at the others. “Skinny boys always give shit blowjobs.”

Scotty noticed people rushing to push some of the large sofa sections together. The whole thing came apart in modules, leaving a large, square, bed-like stage in the middle of a surprisingly crowded space.

“Face down. Ass up,” Jed ordered him, guiding him to the area. He’d slipped a condom on and lubricated himself up, all the while Scotty presenting his butt to the eager crowds. But once Jed was inside him, working up a sweat, nothing else mattered. Scotty felt the eyes upon them, heightening his sexual thrill. He came the moment Jed reached around and grabbed his hardness, only seconds before he ejaculated himself. Some in the crowd had started touching themselves, others subs going down on their men.

Jed, drenched in sweat and smiling proudly simply turned to Scotty and whispered. “Be sure to tell Roy that I did that!”

The whole living space was empty when Scotty woke up the next morning to a loud sound. He’d always been a deep sleeper, having crashed on the couch at some point and not woken, even as the sun had started to pour in through the enormous windows. Had he missed the memo? Had Jed expected everyone gone before he was up the next morning?

“You’re still here?” asked a naked Jed, striding into the kitchen moments later, opening the refrigerator and drinking his milk straight from the carton.

Scotty apologised, fumbling as he got up and tried to remember where he had left all of his clothes. Jed leaned against the wall, watching with amusement as a slightly panicked Scotty tried his best to dress himself from the scattered remains of his clothes across the hallway.

“Thanks for last night,” Scotty tried once he was half dressed. “It was the best experience I’ve ever had.”

Jed only smirked and downed more of his milk.

“Is there any chance you might want to do it again some time?” Scotty asked next, knowing that he would regret it if he didn’t.

“I fucked you to piss Roy off,” Jed answered honestly. In fairness, his agenda had always been blatantly transparent. “You’re not my type. All that skin and bone. I’m into chubs.”

Scotty nodded, not in the least bit surprised that Jed wasn’t interested in seeing him again. Although the fact that a guy like Jed could be into chubs was not something he had expected until last night. 

“Maybe if you gained thirty pounds or so, we could discuss it. I’m sure Roy would love that!” Jed joked, supping from his milk once again.

“Roy’s a nice guy,” Scotty replied, feeling that he needed to defend the kind boss who had looked after him so much since he’d moved to the city and been practically disowned by his parents. “He didn’t hire me because of how I look.”

Jed laughed. “Roy’s not a nice guy,” he sniggered. “And he absolutely hired you because of how you look. That’s why all his employees look almost identical. If he’s not made a move on you, it’s because he’s not got you where he wants you yet. Trust me, he does it with every single one of his bartenders eventually.”

Again, Scotty shook his head. “You just don’t know him like I do,” he sighed, finally pushing his feet into his shoes and turning to leave.

“Wanna bet?” Jed asked, as if Scotty had thrown down a challenge. “Saint Roy wouldn’t be half as nice to you if you did put on a little weight.”

“He’s not interested in me like that,” Scotty repeated.

“Fine then. Prove it!” Jed demanded. “You wanna be Roy’s boy, or mine?” he asked flirtatiously, stepping closer.

“Yours,” Scotty replied meekly back, his heart beating faster again.

“Gain thirty pounds for me and I’ll fuck you in front of everyone again, just like last night,” Jed offered, his hands sliding onto Scotty’s butt as he pulled him in. “No muscle, no weight training. Just give me some nice doughy padding on that ass of yours for when I fuck you next.”

Even the thought of a second fucking like yesterday’s was giving Scotty a hardness he couldn’t control. “I’d do anything…” he whispered back lustfully.

Jed smiled and kissed him, motioning him back towards the door. When the kiss ended, Scotty was already on the threshold. Jed had spun him around by his shoulders and with a little push on his butt, Scotty was outside in the corridor. “I guess we’ll soon see, won’t we,” Jed grinned back, swinging the door shut behind him. Gone.

After several rounds of touching himself, thinking about the previous night, Scotty set to work researching his task without a second thought. He needed to gain a good few pounds if he had a hope of getting with Jed again. The internet had lots of good ideas, although weblinks kept sending him back to sites that promoted ways to lose weight, rather than gain it. He studied the advice for weight loss, realising that he could reverse much of it if he wanted to see the number on the scales rising. So what if he might look a little chubby for a while? Experiences like the one last night could not be matched, so why fight against doing what had to be done? He’d been far too skinny most of his life anyway.

Word had reached Roy that Jed had slept with Scotty by the time he started his next shift that Wednesday evening. The relentless gossip was one of the most frustrating parts of this community, Scotty realised. Roy was obviously cross, reminding Scotty again and again how he had tried to keep him out of harm’s way, as well as the reasons why. Scotty found himself apologising simply to appease the guy, not daring to explain any of the details of how thrilling and magical the evening had been. Roy wouldn’t want to hear that he didn’t regret a thing.

For two weeks, Roy was colder with him, before things finally started to lighten up. However, that was before a new challenge hit them.

“Those pants look a bit tight,” the older man commented seeing Scotty unloading some beers into the refrigerators. 

Scotty idiotically tried to turn his head over his shoulder, as if he too could see his butt. He’d done everything he had learned in order to gain weight, but had only managed about five pounds so far. Surely that wasn’t enough for his boss to notice?

“You know, if you’re going to work here, the customers expect you to look tidy,” Roy reminded him.

“The pants feel fine,” Scotty shrugged. “I just gained a couple of pounds. That’s all.”

Roy raised his eyebrows disapprovingly. “Well, sort it out,” he grumbled warningly.

Scotty soon realised that pants which felt fine one day could soon become quite restrictive the next. He couldn’t deny that his butt had swollen up as he finally reached a ten pound gain on the scales. His flat stomach had taken a bit of a beating, looking constantly bloated; remaining like it was after a large meal. When he poked and prodded it, everything underneath the skin felt altogether softer. His tight, figure-hugging t-shirts had to be put away for the time being, and Scotty bought himself some stretchier pants for work, pairing them with a black shirt that made his less streamlined appearance stand out less. By fifteen pounds, Scotty was starting to feel it under his chin. Each time he shaved, he could see the little padding getting puffier and puffier. Softness was spreading into his hips and sides, swelling slight love handles out that further complicated the fit of both his pants and shirts by the time over twenty pounds hit. He looked, for all the world to see, like a young guy ready to go on a diet. Twenty-five pounds sounded like a tiny amount of weight, yet it had altered his appearance so much, especially when his shirt came off.

As for Jed, Scotty hadn’t laid eyes on him in the entire three months he had been following every single nutritional advice he could in order to pack on the pounds. There were faces he recognised of the people who had been at the party that night, but none of them were ever with Jed, nor willing to hand out his cell phone number whenever Scotty cheekily asked for it. Some said he was on vacation, others that he was working away. In either case, Scotty was soon going to reach his weight goal and the guy he was doing this for wasn’t even going to be around to see it.

It began to dawn on Scotty just how much extra weight thirty pounds was. With it, he had actually grown a small belly that rounded out his middle, whilst he was also starting to carry extra blubber around his nipples for the first time. His cheeks had become puffier in his face and even with his styling choices, he wasn’t able to conceal the fact that he had gained quite a considerable amount of weight. But with the absence of Jed around town, Scotty suddenly had an unexpectedly awkward job on his hands. At 185lbs, he’d hit his weight target and now needed to somehow maintain it without dropping down again. That would mean he would need to maintain certain aspects of his new eating regime, without going overboard. Something that had never been part of the plan. What Scotty had expected was a short-term weight gain, followed by a cut that would see his weight return to normal.

Perhaps it was all about the timing. Scotty had hit the goal weight just as the holidays were getting underway. He should have known that maintaining his weight would have been no issue. But as Scotty tried to button his pants that January, he realised that he had actually done even more damage than before. He stepped on the scales and sighed in disappointment at himself. It couldn’t be? The scales had to be off! He couldn’t really be 197lbs, surely? Had he really fucked up his metabolism that much on this weight quest? He needed to go on a diet as soon as possible.

“What the fuck did you do?” cried out a deep and powerful voice as Scotty busily collected the empty glasses and bottles from the tables in the bar. He’d been rushed off his feet, with Roy choosing to leave him with a fairly incompetent new hire. But as he turned around to see who was shouting, the air got caught in Scotty’s lungs and his eyes visibly bulged. It was Jed, looking even more built and physically imposing than the last time Scotty had seen him.

In an instant, Scotty realised how stupid he had been. Jed was joking about the weight gain, right? He’d made a couple of throwaway comments about gaining thirty pounds and here Scotty was with almost an additional fifty. He rubbed his stomach, suddenly wishing he could make it all disappear.

“You’re an actual fatty!” Jed laughed, reaching out to Scotty’s hips as the boy held his tray of empties. Then Jed spun him around so that he could see the wide, bloated mess his butt had become.

“I’ve been doing it for you…” Scotty shot back, now feeling a desperate need to explain himself. “...Like you asked.”

Jed turned him back and reached his hand under Scotty’s chin, pulling forwards so that all of the new double chin fat bulged underneath. “This is way more than thirty pounds, though,” Jed observed shrewdly. 

“I went a little overboard,” Scotty replied meekly, seeing that people were starting to stare. “I got carried away.”

Jed was just staring at him, spinning him some more; a wicked twinkle in his eyes. He reached down and readjusted himself. Was he actually getting a hard-on, right there in the middle of the bar?

“Where can I take you to fuck you?” Jed demanded, looking around the space as if exploring all possible options.

“I can’t. I’m working,” Scotty replied regretfully, hardly believing the apparent urgency that Jed needed him after all.

“Fuck!” Jed moaned, sounding like he might actually burst. He looked at his large designer watch knowing exactly what time the bar would be shutting. “Come to my place after you finish,” he ordered, strapping his big hand over Scotty’s butt and squeezing. “You remember where to go, right? I’ll make sure there are plenty to watch…”

Scotty nodded. After months of work, everything was suddenly happening so fast. Not only was this happening, it was happening tonight! At long last, Jed was about to have his way with him.

Jed wasn’t the one to answer the door when Scotty finally made it up to the apartment two hours later. A short, hairy and slightly older guy answered. Completely naked, it was obvious that he was the submissive of someone inside. Had he been there last time? Scotty could hardly remember. However, with the way his body was being scrutinised, Scotty felt sure that he must have been: eyes of judgement upon him for packing on so much extra weight.

Jed, your new chub’s here!” the guy cried out.

Suddenly, a strapping, shirtless, athletic guy was racing to the door. He picked Scotty up from the threshold, throwing him over his shoulder excitedly and calling out to the room in his deep voice. “My new fatty’s arrived!”

Scotty was very aware that all everyone could see of him as he went in was his wider, chubbier rear, held at head level for the rest of the guests; some of whom patted it in amusement. It was the ass that he hoped Jed was about to give a proper pounding, all going well.

Jed put him down and immediately swept Scotty up into a surprisingly romantic, passionate kiss. He took a step back, leaving Scotty as the focal point of all the eyes in the room. “Take note everyone,” Jed called out. “This is what a real sub looks like,” he beamed. “I challenged him to gain thirty pounds for me and the little pig went and gained fifty instead! All of it pure blubber!”

Jed stared intensely whilst the others in the room looked at each other, perhaps some of them starting to recognise Scotty now from when he was here a few months ago. Jed lowered his zipper and pulled out his own hardness, stroking it excitedly: big and heavy, too large for even his giant hand. He nodded at Scotty, his meaning clear in that moment: start undressing.

Scotty gazed with lust at Jed’s hardness as he began unbuttoning his shirt. He heard gasps of surprise as he pulled it off, knowing just how much the material had concealed his flabbier shape. He knew how bad the back fat looked: the stretch-marked love handles resting on his belt, the fleshy swelling of his nipples. But still Jed grinned, stroking himself; silently demanding more. He noticed that the music had been turned down low as he removed his belt and kicked off his shoes. He undid his pants, dropping his underwear at the same time, uncovering his comparatively underwhelming hardness.

“Fuck, look at it!” a horny Jed proclaimed. “He absolutely destroyed his twink body for me!”

Scotty smiled, realising that that was exactly what he had done, surrendering his whole body in the hope of Jed dominating him one more time. More than ever, he wanted Jed to take him, turning slightly so that he could show the muscular boy his glutes, swollen and enlarged. He put his weight on one foot, making one glute bulge and then the other. He reached his hands behind, bouncing the fleshiness, then spreading them apart. 

That was the last thing that Jed could take, ripping off his clothes and launching himself upon Scotty; starting to make love to him. Unlike last time, there was a horny urgency to the whole thing. It felt like barely a minute had gone by before Jed was moaning in his ear as he came inside him; simultaneously stroking Scotty up and down his shaft and making him squirt absolutely everywhere.

“Fuck!” Jed moaned collapsing on top of Scotty, still fully inserted inside of him. He seemed completely spent and satisfied; much like Scotty himself. The pair lay there for a minute or two, laughing blissfully whilst everyone else drifted off; the music returning to the usual volume. “I’m going to need to do that again later,” Jed explained, finally rolling off Scotty.

“Fine by me,” Scotty beamed, only now realising that his socks were still on. After all those months of gaing, he knew he was going to make sure that he stayed there for as long as Jed would have him.

Jed had been insatiable, fucking him twice before bed that night and another, more rapid and sweaty affair the next morning. “How’s the lovely Roy these days?” Jed asked, spooning Scotty lovingly from behind afterwards. 

“He’s fine,” Scotty replied. “A bit grumpy. I’m lucky I don’t see him so much these days. I usually work with the other staff.”

“What a surprise!” Jed chuckled. “So Roy’s not as nice to you now that you’re a chub?”

“I wouldn’t say I’m a chub,” Scotty replied. “I don’t look that much different. I don’t think it’s the reason why Roy’s been a bit off with me.”

Jed laughed, kissing his neck. “You’re so sweet and naive,” he whispered, holding Scotty like his own little plaything. “But you’re absolutely a chub now,” he teased. His flaccid penis was starting to get hard again, pressing gently between Scotty’s butt cheeks. “Everyone can see what a little porker you’ve turned into.”

Sensing Jed’s arousal was making Scotty feel more than a little horny himself. He didn’t know why Jed’s teasing and name-calling did it for him so much, but accepting what was said to him felt like the most beautiful submission. It was easy to lean into it. “So, Roy doesn’t like me anymore because I got so fat for you?” he asked. “Because I turned into a chub?”

Jed’s hardness was continuing to build. He started gyrating his hips and nuzzling into Scotty’s neck even more. “Say that again…” Jed moaned into his ear.

“I’m a chub,” Scotty repeated, feeling Jed’s hand stroking his semi encouragingly as soon as the words left his mouth. He moaned. There was so much more he wanted to do to turn Jed on; to submit himself to him.

“How does it feel being a fatty now?” Jed went on, enjoying his mastery over him.

Scotty moaned. How did it feel? He had the hottest guy in the world trying to make him squirt for the second time that morning, all because he’d gained so much weight for him. “Fucking amazing!” he blasted.

“Then gain more for me,” Jed ordered, seeming to have greater control over himself now than he had the previous times they had started to make love.

“You want me to get even fatter?” Scotty asked, finding it hard to even think straight with all  the stimulation. He rolled slightly, needing to look Jed in the eyes to see if he was serious. “How much fatter?” he asked, finally meeting Jed’s calculating stare.

“As fat and as blubbery as I want,” Jed answered, expertly keeping Scotty hard without climaxing, “I want you to be what I’ve been looking for my entire life. I want you to be my ultimate sub.”

“I want to be your sub,” Scotty nodded.

“Then you know what you need to do, right?” Jed asked him seriously; without a hint of humor or joviality in his face.

Getting back into the old routine wasn’t difficult. Jed had been overtaken by wild lust when Scotty had explained all the routines he had previously set up for himself in order to ensure he was consistently overdosed with calories and reduced his active periods. It made Scotty feel excited and validated that he had done so well in following Jed’s wishes. All he had expected was one last fuck from the hunk, yet here he was, with several messages from the guy on his cell phone and a hook-up planned for later that week. Gaining weight, doing as Jed asked, it had all opened up doors for him that Scotty didn’t know existed. He ripped open the lid of the whipping cream and began pouring. Chug, chug, chug. Just as Jed would want.

A few more weeks went by and the noticeable changes in Scotty’s body were the subject of many stares at Jed’s usual weekend party at his apartment. Perhaps it was all the cream Scotty had been drinking, or the consistent manner with which he had pushed himself to gorge, but the plush extra weight had settled itself squarely on his new gut and further softened up his chest. He looked genuinely bloated, as if his face and chins had yet to catch up to the tank that was being manufactured below. Jed also said that he could see it building in his butt and thighs, patting the glutes like a proud owner.

“You should hear some of the things Jed says about you when you’re not here,” whispered Jed’s other submissive, Sebastian, trying to get a moment alone with Scotty at the party. “He’s absolutely lost it.”

“How do you mean?” Scotty asked, helping himself to a beer. He didn’t feel in any way alarmed by the dramatic concern Sebastian seemed to be showing. He knew that none of Jed’s other subs liked him. They were jealous of how much of his time Scotty took up and the fact that Jed appeared only to have eyes for him whenever he was around.

“Scotty…” called Jed from across the room as he was chatting to someone else; never really letting him out of his sight. “Remember to snack on those breadsticks, baby.”

Sebastian waited until Jed’s eyes were away from them before he started speaking again. “I’m not sure you realise how into this Jed actually is,” he resumed whispering. “He’s obsessed about your weight. He talks constantly about your calories and how to ensure you don’t move around too much or exercise. It’s all he ever wants to discuss with the other guys.”

Scotty gnawed on a breadstick, enjoying the thought of Jed getting so aroused by him, even when he wasn’t around. 

“He showed me some kinky underwear he wants to make you actually grow into. I’m not joking. They were enormous!” he emphasised. “I think… I think he actually wants to make you… morbidly obese,” Sebastian finally stated.

Scotty looked at him, wondering what game the guy was trying to play. Was he trying to scare Scotty off so that things could return to normal around here? Sebastian had always been one of Jed’s favorite subs due to his surprisingly heavy, oversized rear. Was getting rid of Scotty his way of ensuring Jed paid him more attention instead?

“And?” Scotty asked defiantly.

Sebastian seemed taken aback. “And?” he repeated back to him. “Dude, look at yourself!” he demanded. “He’s had you eating the entire time you’ve been here. You’re seventy pounds fatter than you were when you met him!”

“Is everything alright, honey?” Jed asked, striding over and placing his large arm directly over his favorite lover’s shoulders. He stared at Sebastian, seming to sense what had been said.

“Your sub doesn’t really approve of what you’re doing to me,” Scotty answered him obediently, happy to throw Sebastian under the bus.

Jed straightened up a little, seeming more imposing by the second. “Is that so?” he asked Sebastian with a slight menace to his voice. The whole room quietened.

“He was telling me about some underwear you’ve bought for me to grow into,” Scotty further added, enjoying seeing Sebastian squirm.

“You tried to ruin the surprise for my fat boy?” Jed laughed, despite being clearly irritated.

“I was just…” Sebastian tried to defend himself. “I wasn’t sure that he knew everything!”

Jed tutted and shook his head in disappointment. “Oh, Seb!” he sighed. “You know that you’ll have to be punished, don’t you?” he asked the submissive boy.

Sebastian’s eyes lit up. “I do?” he asked hopefully.

Scotty felt a little tap on his butt and heard a whisper in his ear for him to go and sit on the big chair by the TV. Jed strutted to his refrigerator and opened the door, pulling out an enormous expensive-looking cream-covered chocolate cake on a large tray. “My pig needs feeding,” he explained disinterestedly, passing Sebastian the tray even though the young, relatively chubby submissive seemed genuinely surprised by the weight of it. “Make sure he eats it all,” he grinned. 

For a moment it seemed like Sebastian was ready to rebel. Jed’s face lit up at the silent challenge.

“Tell my pig I want him big, fat and greedy,” he demanded. “Otherwise… there’s fifty bucks by the front door. Take it and leave,” he smiled.

Sebastian huffed, walking with the tray over to Scotty and getting down on his knees. Then, in one single movement, he scooped his hand into the cake, filling his palm with it, before thrusting it towards an eager Scotty’s face. “Eat up!” he ordered, thoroughly defeated as Scotty began gorging from his hand.

The other dominant men in the room came over to pat Jed on the back. He’d handled the situation well; both his boys were now doing exactly as he wanted. Indeed, Jed looked on with pride, picking at Sebastian’s technique the entire time and laughing with the others in the room. “Don’t forget the frosting!” he called out, watching his two subs pleasing him like this. Needless to say, it was Scotty that had the honour of making it into his bedroom that night, leaving Sebastian to head home, unfulfilled.

Scotty couldn’t quite get over the quiet hostility towards him in work as he showed up for his shifts whenever Roy was around. Despite always dressing well for his increasing size with shirts and pants that fit properly, Roy would scowl at him as he began to take up more and more space behind the bar. “Move your ass!” the guy would shout across to him whenever he got in the way now, hiding him in the back to organise the stock as often as he could.

Jed would often come in during a shift, smiling extra brightly if Roy was ever there. No more free drinks were given, no protective swooping in from Roy to ensure Scotty stayed out of harm's way. “Do you like the improvements I’ve made?” Jed would goad him, pointing at Scotty’s chubby glutes as he trotted about serving the others.

“No, I don’t,” Roy simply replied, not wanting to even give Jed the satisfaction of looking him in the eye.

It all gave Jed such a thrill. “Well, that’s too fucking bad!” he’d laugh, sipping his beer and turning back to check out the guys in Roy’s club. He knew Roy would never bar him from coming in here. Given the way he looked, just having him there drew people in. It made perfect business sense.

At the end of the shift, Jed would be there, waiting to walk his property back home to his place. He’d be sure to kiss and handle him whenever Roy was about, always explaining that a take-out delivery was already on its way for when they got back.

“Is it bad that I would love to fuck you in front of your boss?” Jed laughed later, admiring his chub as he hungrily gorged for him after the shift.

Scotty laughed and nodded his head. “I’d say that would definitely get me fired!”

“So?” Jed asked seriously. “I was looking at the data from your smartwatch on my cell phone earlier. You got far too many steps in walking backwards and forwards behind that bar tonight. Why do you think I had to order you the extra garlic bread?”

Scotty swallowed, appreciating how erotic it was that Jed took such a keen interest in every aspect of his life; wanting to dominate all of it. “You want me to quit?” he asked.

“Definitely,” Jed nodded. “I need you to sit on that fat ass of yours more if I’m going to grow it out like I want.”

“But what would I do for work? I couldn’t afford my rent,” Scotty fretted.

Jed looked around his large penthouse apartment. “You’d move in here with me instead. I need you to give me twenty four hour access to all that blubber. I think it’s time, don’t you?”

It was already a done deal. After some simple seduction, playing with Scotty’s newly sensitive nipples, Jed had him messaging Roy, quitting his job right there and then. Then he messaged the boys he shared a place with, letting them know he was giving up his room. When the morning came, Jed had one of his minions head over to Scotty’s place and clear out his room; most of the clothes heading straight off to charity.

Scotty was expecting to be set up in Jed’s spare room and was surprised to learn that he was actually going to be staying in Jed’s own bedroom with him. The kinky hunk had bought himself the largest bed he could find and wasted no time in taking Scotty’s ever expanding and always softening butt anyway he could.

The effects of not working had been speedy. Under Jed’s orders, the amount of calories Scotty was consuming through liquids had dramatically increased. Each night Jed would study the chub’s body, captivated by the new stretch marks. Three hundred pounds had been a kinky goal for so long, yet it came and went rather rapidly under the new regime. There were new rolls and fleshy areas forming all over his frame. His body had become a playhouse to the handsome man he had been ensnared by, and he simply couldn’t imagine anything being more thrilling. Jed was insatiable. Walking around in only a tight pair of briefs pretty much guaranteed that Jed was going to fuck him wherever he was in the apartment. Several times, Scotty had walked by as Jed was on his cell phone making a business call. He’d been stopped in his tracks, purposefully bent over the desk and gently pounded without Jed ever losing his train of thought whilst speaking with the client.

The other subs, like Sebastian, had started to pile on a few pounds, making Jed laugh at their desperation for attention. Although many of the other dominant guys who hung out at Jed’s parties were no longer attracted by Scotty’s flabby form, the fat boy was still shown off in all his glory regardless; poked, prodded and teased for letting Jed transform him like this.

Derek was the only other dominant guy who seemed to really get off on the unusual form of domination Jed was mastering over his prey. Jed sought his advice often, being a few years older and the only one with any sort of experience in handling growing chubs.

“Every time I look at that butt I think it can’t get much bigger,” Derek marvelled, witnessing Scotty trotting over to join them on the couch. “And yet, there it is… fatter every week!” he laughed alongside Jed.

Jed grinned proudly, sliding his muscular arm over Scotty. “It’s almost the biggest ass I’ve ever fucked now,” he nodded, happy to take full credit.

“And just remember that scrawny little shit we watched you fuck all that time ago!” Derek chuckled.

“Just under eighteen months ago,” Jed nodded, mindlessly bouncing Scotty’s sagging chest as his huge arm draped over the boy’s shoulders. “He’s still shit at giving blow jobs, though,” he laughed, remembering how uninspired he had been that first night.

“Train him,” Derek shot back, shrugging his shoulders as if it was the most simple thing in the world. “It’s a lot easier with chubs.” He looked across at Scotty and all the fat he was now carrying in his face; a giant ring of fat under his chin. “They’re greedy little fuckers. Every last one of them. It’s simple.”

As suggested, Jed unbuckled his pants and spread his legs, fishing out his oversized erection for Scotty who was getting down onto the floor as if to start sucking him off.

“The thing with fatties,” Derek began, “is that they have saliva glands which are a lot easier to activate than most people.”

“Mmm! Wet, sloppy blow jobs!” Jed chuckled, looking at Scotty’s greedy little mouth. He reached out his hand, pinching the sides of Scotty’s mouth until his lips opened and his cheeks bulged.

“I hear your pig has quite the sweet tooth?” Derek asked, collecting a cupcake from the side and passing it to Jed who held it in his hand. “Just waft this under his nose to start with.”

Jed smirked and followed the advice. Instinctively, Scotty went to take a bite and was stopped by a very loud ‘no’ from both Jed and Derek; scolded like a naughty puppy. “Just smell it, Piggy!” Jed ordered.

Jed and Derek watched him with fascinated curiosity. Then, all of a sudden, they both simultaneously burst into laughter, almost making Scotty jump. It took Scotty a few moments to work out why they were chuckling. Had he swallowed his building saliva without even realising?

“It works every time with a fatty!” Derek laughed. He reached out and scooped a little of the frosting from the cupcake and smeared it over the tip of Scotty’s nose. “You need the pig to keep smelling it if you want it to keep producing the saliva.”

Jed was smiling excitedly, delighted by the tutoring. He reached out his large hand and lowered Scotty’s mouth onto his hardness, sighing with pleasure as the wet tongue began its work. Next,  Derek handed him a warm pizza slice from the box that had just arrived. Jed lowered it, holding it close to Scotty’s face as he sucked. Derek adjusted Jed’s hand a little, ensuring that the scent would be easily picked up by Scotty’s nose.

“Fuck!” Jed cried, jumping a little as a fresh wave of saliva lubricated his erection, allowing Scotty to slide his mouth effortlessly over as much of it as he could fit into his mouth. “This is fucking awesome!”

Derek smiled, resting his hand on Jed’s large shoulder. “You put in the hard work developing your pig’s appetite,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Now you can just sit back and enjoy it!”

Word was spreading that Jed was close to climaxing and the horny guests gathered around to watch, just as Jed liked. He moaned as loudly as Scotty had ever heard him, pulling out at the last minute so that everyone could see the giant jets as he came.

Thoroughly satisfied, slouching and exhausted, Jed lay there with a wicked smile plastered across his face. Scotty grinned, pleased to have been the reason for it. Not being able to please Jed with his mouth had been a constant source of shame for him. He reached out, picking the drooping pizza slice out from Jed’s hand and began nibbling. Jed watched on with nothing but pure love in his eyes.

The crowds attending Jed’s parties began to evolve. Pretty soon, Derek wasn’t the only admirer of the hunk’s hard work with Scotty. Other chub lovers, and the guys who were getting fatter for them, started replacing those more casually kinky men who used to be invited. Scotty found himself sucking down a greater variety of calorie shakes as the new acquaintances in this group gave Jed a variety of recipes to prepare for him. At over three hundred and fifty pounds, Scotty didn’t feel he had much to prove to these guys, nor the starter chubs they brought along with them. The focus became more about the food, which suited Scotty fine. His appetite and capacity was something everyone always complimented Jed for, elevating the hunk’s status to new heights.

Jed held Scotty from behind, one hand holding up his chubby neck in a way that pushed forward his double chin; his thumb gently caressing his cheek. Jed’s other hand gripped mercilessly onto his belly fat, jiggling and shaking it for all to see. “At least three shakes a day and these are the sorts of gains you can expect,” he told them all. “Have high expectations at all times. That’s how you grow out your pigs.”

Despite being a submissive, amongst the other fatties, Scotty felt he had a much greater status. He’d done it all, after all. They’d all seen the video someone had taken the first time Jed had fucked his skinny little butt, and they had all witnessed for themselves the monstrous appetite he could display for Jed’s pleasure. When he hit four hundred pounds, the submissives had all been ordered to feed him whilst the others watched on, shouting out orders.

Although Jed still went out to pick guys up when he pleased, never missing out on one of Roy’s ever skinny employees, it was always Scotty he came home to. When they went out to the gay venues together, the big jock never shied away from showing his affection and always sought a seat for his increasingly rotund lover in whichever bar they went to.

“Roy keeps on staring,” Jed chuckled, whispering into his fat boy’s ear. “When he goes out next, you’re going to have to move faster than I usually let you.”

Scotty nodded, excited to give Jed this fantasy. When instructed, he heaved his fat body up quickly and trotted behind his lover. Once inside the bathroom, Jed had undressed completely in the time it had taken Scotty to open his pants and pull them down enough to show his blubbery ass cheeks.

This was it: the final piece of the jigsaw, letting Jed take him here, in the place he had once worked. Kinky boys had already gathered around them, keen to watch Jed and his giant hardness at work. No doubt Roy would notice and follow in soon to throw them all out. But what did it matter? He hadn’t been Roy’s boy for a long time. 

He was Jed’s.

[moonlitwitchdaisy]

You Should Have Run Away

✰ summary: once upon a time, in the bustling streets of shibuya, there lived a beautiful mafia princess who had angered her brother greatly. no matter what she did, she couldn’t shake off her brother’s overprotective grip. frustrated and seeking revenge, the princess decided to venture into the forbidden territory of shinjuku. when the princess stepped into the lair of the evil king, it was impossible for her not to catch his attention. to her, using her brother’s greatest enemy as a tool for revenge seemed like a brilliant idea. but once the beast wanted something, it became his. in the end, the beast would make sure the princess paid the price for daring to enter forbidden territory.

✰ pairing: rival mafia boss!sukuna x mafia princess fem!reader

✰ warnings: +18 Minors Do Not Interact +18 mafia au, mentioning of beating, mentioning of sex, gojo as a protective brother, use of mature language, use of alcohol, eventual smut, neck kissing and sucking, sukuna calls reader “miss gojo” and “brat”, oral sex (reader receiving), fingering, sukuna has a definitely heels fetish, little teasing, big dick alert!!!!!, unprotected sex, possesive behaviours, creampie, sukuna hates gojo lol

✰ word count: 5.4k

✰ a little note: while i’ve started reading mafia romance books again, it wouldn’t feel right not to write something like this. enjoy!

“This was your last chance, and you used it, princess,” your brother yelled at you furiously.

“Fuck off, Toru! Just because I slept with someone doesn’t mean you can beat him half to death and then force him to grovel at my feet to apologize,” you snapped back, your tone far angrier than his.

Your brother’s increasingly overprotective behavior was becoming unbearable. Fine, maybe he was about to take over an important clan, and sure, given the dirty work he handled, he knew how manipulative and dangerous people could be.

Satoru Gojo wasn’t a bad person—at least not when it came to his family. But if someone disrespected the clan? No one wanted to see his bad side. And if they wanted something even worse than that, all they had to do was mess with you.

“Go to your room, princess. I don’t even want to see you step outside for the next two weeks. If you need something, tell Yuji to get it for you. But you’re not setting foot out of this house. Understood?”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Don’t test me, princess. You know the rules—anyone who dares to touch you faces a fate worse than death.” His eyes were bloodshot. He must not have slept all night, and finding out about your little escapade had probably wiped any chance of sleep from his mind.

Screw this. Enough was enough. You were perfectly capable of seeing whoever you wanted. If someone tried to use you, you’d know. After all, the whole “Six Eyes” thing, which basically meant knowing and seeing everything, wasn’t exclusive to your brother. But still, the bastard refused to believe you could protect yourself.

“How long are you planning to keep protecting me, Gojo Satoru? Until I’m dead? I’ll be with whoever I want—” Your words cut off as your brother shot you a deadly glare. You usually chose to fight back in situations like this, but Satoru, with his anger and lack of sleep, might very well set the house on fire.

“Go to your room. Now.” He didn’t shout, but the tone of his voice made it clear you shouldn’t push him any further.

“Fuck you, Gojo Satoru.” With that, you turned toward the stairs and headed to your room.

Slamming the door shut behind you, you began pacing back and forth, your anger boiling over. Did he really think you wouldn’t leave the house? You weren’t his precious little princess. And he wasn’t even officially the head of the clan yet. Sure, he ran most of the operations since your father had grown old, but the final word still belonged to your father.

Your pacing came to a halt when your phone buzzed with incoming messages.

𓉘22:32𓉝 Nobara: holy shit i just saw your message so your brother found out huh?

𓉘22:32𓉝 Nobara: honestly the only thing i can say about that guy is that satoru gojo’s gonna kill him

𓉘22:33𓉝 Nobara: if not he’ll probably do something worse

Nobara was right. Unfortunately, your brother had already made the guy wish he were dead.

𓉘22:33𓉝 You: i wish he’d just killed him

𓉘22:33𓉝 You: oh and guess what? i’m grounded for two weeks can’t leave the house

𓉘22:33𓉝 Nobara: if I know you there’s no way you’re staying put

𓉘22:33𓉝 Nobara: wanna do something fun?

You? Of course, you wanted to. Especially right now.

𓉘22:34𓉝 You: what's on your mind?

𓉘22:34𓉝 Nobara: there’s a party in shinjuku

𓉘22:34𓉝 Nobara: you know where

Shit. Unfortunately you knew. Everyone knew about Malevolent Shrine. And everyone knew what went down at the parties there. That club was pure chaos—exclusive and dripping with danger. Just like its owner.

Shinjuku was off-limits for you. Actually, it was off-limits for anyone from your clan. That wasn’t your territory. Worse, the owner, Ryomen Sukuna, was your family’s sworn enemy. His empire ruled Shinjuku, and he was the Evil King.

Sukuna was the kind of man no one should mess with. Especially not you.

You could never go there. For one, you’d die—not by your brother’s hands but Sukuna’s. The moment you stepped foot in Shinjuku, his men would put a bullet in your head. And if you somehow made it to the club, the security would handle the rest.

𓉘22:35𓉝 You: you know i can’t go there

𓉘22:35𓉝 Nobara: chicken

𓉘22:35𓉝 Nobara: name a better way to get back at your brother?

𓉘22:36𓉝 You: girl are you insane? the second i step foot there i’m dead meat

𓉘22:36𓉝 Nobara: chicken

𓉘22:36𓉝 You: stop calling me that

𓉘22:36𓉝 Nobara: i’m not stopping until you say yes

𓉘22:36𓉝 Nobara: chicken chicken chicken

This girl was crazy. Watching the string of “chicken” messages fill your screen, you considered her plan. You were furious with your brother. You didn’t want him to protect you forever. You were a grown woman who had every right to be with whoever you wanted. No one could dare talk about a woman’s “honor” like it was their business.

You were so sick of men.

The messages on your screen had already hit 20. Were you really going to stay home like a scared little chicken? Or were you going to be the mafia princess who didn’t care about the danger?

Screw it. There wasn’t a single drop of cowardice in Gojo blood.

𓉘22:38𓉝 Nobara: chicken

𓉘22:38𓉝 Nobara: fuck my fingers are cramping but i'm not stopping

𓉘22:38𓉝 Nobara: chicken

𓉘22:38𓉝 You: i’ll be at your place in thirty

𓉘22:39𓉝 You: my brother’s probably too busy at our club blowing off steam and fucking someone to notice

𓉘22:39𓉝 You: also yuuji owes me a favor

𓉘22:39𓉝 You: but yuuji can’t drive us there you know they’d recognize the car

𓉘22:39𓉝 Nobara: i knew you weren’t a chicken 😘

𓉘22:39𓉝 Nobara: wear that gold dress

𓉘22:39𓉝 Nobara: we’re stealing all the attention tonight 💃

Shutting off your phone, you walked to your closet and pulled out the gold mini-dress you’d just bought from Rabanne. As you held it up, a sly smile spread across your face.

There was no way you wouldn’t get noticed in this.

“I hate you, you know that, right?” Yuuji said, glancing at you through the rearview mirror as he drove.

“You owed me.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t, but this wasn’t what I had in mind.” In a high-pitched, comical voice, he added, “I didn’t know my debt was death!”

When you hurriedly got ready and came downstairs, as expected, your brother wasn’t home. Yuuji was sitting on the couch, playing on his phone. When he heard the sound of your heels clicking, he turned his head toward you, and the look on his face wasn’t a good sign. The sight of you in 10 cm heels and a sparkling gold dress could only mean trouble.

As you checked your lipstick in a small mirror, you said, “Don’t worry. My brother will drink himself into oblivion and fuck someone senseless tonight. It’s the perfect time to teach him a lesson.”

“Even if you threatened to tattle to Papa Gojo, I still shouldn’t be doing this. But damn it, your dad is even scarier.”

Your brother could definitely be terrifying, but the person who made him that way was your father. If what you wanted wasn’t done, your father wouldn’t hesitate to put bullets through anyone.

Of course, if your father knew you were heading to enemy territory in Shinjuku right now, things would turn out very differently.

Ten minutes later, when Yuuji stopped in front of Nobara’s house, you planted a quick kiss on his cheek. “Nobara said she called an Uber. That must be the car in front. Thanks for the ride.”

Just as you were about to step out, Yuuji grabbed your arm. When you turned to look at him, you saw the worry etched on his face. “This clears my debt. If anyone asks you, I didn’t bring you here, okay? Also…” He took a deep breath. “If anything happens, you call me. Immediately.”

“You’ve got it.” You smiled to ease his concern and stepped out of the car. As soon as you approached the idling car with its lights on, you peered through the window to see Nobara. The moment you spotted her, you opened the door and got in.

“God, it’s freezing out there.”

“Hey, gorgeous. Holy shit, that dress is incredible.” Nobara whistled, giving you an approving once-over.

“We have to make this night worth it, don’t we?” you said, a sly grin spreading across your face. Both of you laughed, and during the drive to the club, you recounted every infuriating thing your brother had done lately.

When the Uber driver announced you’d arrived, you looked at the black building bathed in red lights. If you were to paint a picture of hell, this would probably be it.

You were officially in forbidden territory. Maybe threatening Yuuji by dangling your father over his head hadn’t been the best idea. Going back home and curling up in your warm bed suddenly seemed a lot more appealing. But Gojo Satoru had asked for this, and as his little sister, you were going to push it further.

The guards at the entrance immediately shot you suspicious looks, their brows furrowed as if asking, What the hell are you doing here? It must have surprised them to see anyone from the Gojo clan walk into this place so boldly.

“Good evening, gentlemen. I hope there’s room for two lovely ladies tonight?” With a sweet tone and an even sweeter smile, you asked the towering guards as if everything was perfectly normal.

“Go home,” one of the guards said, his stern expression unchanging.

“But who stays home on a Friday night, right, Nobara?” Your friend chuckled in agreement.

“If you don’t want the boss to blow your head off, go back where you came from.” The guard’s tone suggested he knew exactly how this would end.

You weren’t leaving. Whatever lie you had to tell to get inside, you’d say it.

“I hate to break it to you, buddy, but your famous boss invited us here tonight.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” The guard on the left stepped toward you angrily, but the other stopped him with an arm and turned to you. “The boss invited you?”

“Yep. Apparently, there’s at least one Gojo he doesn’t hate.” You had no idea what you were saying, but you rolled with it.

The guard stared at you and Nobara for a moment before finally stepping aside. “Tell the bartender inside you’re special guests. They’ll direct you where to go. Enjoy your evening, Miss Gojo.”

Well, that lie had actually worked.

“Thank you, sir.” Hooking your arm through Nobara’s, you hurried inside. The moment you stepped into the club, you realized it was even more hellish than it looked from the outside.

First, it was boiling hot—a relief, given how freezing it had been outside. Second, the place was all black and red. No matter where you looked, there wasn’t a hint of any other color. When you told the bartender what the guard had said, they led you to a quiet lounge upstairs. While the club itself was luxurious, this space was something else entirely. There weren’t many people—just a few men you assumed were businessmen, an actor you’d seen in an action movie, and two women hanging off his arms.

As you sank into the plush leather seats, Nobara turned to you. “I think this place lives up to the hype.”

Leaning back, you replied, “Seems like it. So, where are these infamous sex parties?”

Nobara laughed. “Probably in some hidden area. You know, like in the movies where you go through a secret passage.”

That was likely true. Based on what you’d heard about Sukuna, the man probably designed this place like a maze.

When the waiter arrived with a bottle of champagne and two glasses, he said, “A gift from the boss, Miss Gojo.”

Sukuna knew. Not that you hadn’t expected this. The guards must have informed him the second you walked in. Honestly, you’d assumed they’d tell him when you’d first started lying.

“Please send our thanks to the boss,” you said with a bright smile, taking the glasses the waiter had filled. You handed one to Nobara, and the two of you clinked your glasses before sipping the expensive, delicious champagne.

“Why don’t we finish this and hit the dance floor?” you suggested, the mix of alcohol, music, and the lingering fear of Sukuna making your adrenaline spike.

Nobara grinned, clinking her glass against yours again before downing the rest of her champagne. Then she poured herself another glass.

If you had to guess, the two of you would finish the entire bottle within fifteen minutes.

I guess you were wrong with your predictions because you and Nobara finished that bottle in just ten minutes. You had no idea how you managed it so fast, but you drank it like it was water while talking. Anytime you were with Nobara, there wasn’t a single moment that wasn’t fun. She was one of those people who made time fly without you realizing it.

With the rhythm of the song pulsing through you, you ground your hips against the man behind you, feeling the hardness growing against your back. You weren’t drunk—sure, you’d downed that massive bottle in ten minutes, but it was just champagne. You’d had far heavier nights, and your tolerance was nothing to scoff at.

“You know how to dance,” the man murmured, his lips brushing against your earlobe.

“It’s what I’m best at,” you replied, your tone just as flirtatious.

“I’m sure there’s something you’re even better at,” he whispered, and his hands slowly slid lower, brushing against your hips. You smiled, even though he couldn’t see it.

“Maybe,” you teased.

The truth was, you had no intention of sleeping with this guy. Sure, it would’ve been a great way to stir up even more trouble, but your focus wasn’t on him. It was on the crimson-eyed devil who hadn’t taken his eyes off you from the upper floor.

From the moment you stepped onto the dance floor with Nobara, you felt someone watching you. A few minutes later, when your gaze drifted upward, it wasn’t hard to figure out who it was. Sukuna, leaning casually against the railing with a glass of whiskey in hand, was watching your every move.

Every sway of your hips, every time you brushed your damp hair back, every teasing grind against the men who approached you—he didn’t miss a single second of it.

You wanted to create a scene, but only for him.

There was no denying his handsomeness. Even though you’d never seen him in person before tonight, it was clear he was mesmerizing, even from a distance. As you danced, you realized why your brother had kept you far away from him all these years. If you had ever seen this man before, you, like everyone else, would’ve wanted him to ruin you. Even knowing the danger he posed.

He might just be the only bad boy you’d ever want to destroy you. But calling Sukuna a “boy” was an insult. Ryomen Sukuna was a “man” in every sense of the word.

When your partner’s hands drifted lower, you pressed them down, urging him to squeeze your hips. He didn’t hesitate, gripping you firmly. His lips found your neck, and he sucked hard, marking you. You tilted your head back, letting out a soft moan, all while keeping your gaze locked on Sukuna.

You weren’t sure what you wanted him to see. Maybe it was something like, “Look at me, I’m here, the one person who absolutely shouldn’t be in your territory. And I’m letting someone else touch me in your club,” as if you wanted to make yourself stand out.

It was a childish move. Trying to make someone like Sukuna jealous was a fool’s errand.

But those crimson eyes followed your every motion. You were certain. Even as he took a sip from his glass, he raised it slightly in your direction, as if to say, Enjoy yourself.

You laughed, throwing your head back.

“Like what you see, baby? I can give you more if you want,” the man murmured against your neck.

You barely heard him. Sukuna had disappeared into a black-tinted, private room upstairs, and your focus was entirely on him.

You pushed the man’s hands away and stepped back. Without even looking at him, you said, “See you around,” and made your way toward the room Sukuna had entered.

When you reached the third floor, two guards stood in front of the door. You expected them to stop you, but instead, they said, “Welcome, Miss Gojo,” and stepped aside.

Even in your own territory, you weren’t treated with this level of respect.

Offering a polite “thank you,” you opened the black glass door without hesitation. The room, unsurprisingly, was black. Oddly, there were no hints of red here. Sukuna stood behind his desk, speaking on the phone. Though you couldn’t catch the full conversation, it was something about a delivery. He didn’t turn around, not even to see who had entered.

It was as if he had been expecting you all along.

“Call me when you cross the border tomorrow. If there’s a problem, consider yourself dead, understand?” He ended the call but still didn’t face you. The sound of keys clicking echoed in the room as he typed out a message, his attention still fixed on the screen.

“Well, what a lovely surprise, Miss Gojo.” Finally, he put the phone down and turned to you. His tone was calm, almost warm.

You were still standing by the door, unsure of your next move.

“Looks like the boy on the dance floor didn’t keep you entertained,” he said, clicking his tongue. “Pity. He probably thought he had your full attention, but Little Miss Gojo didn’t care for him at all, did she?”

Finally finding the energy to move, you walked over to the couch in front of his desk. “I don’t like overly grabby men,” you said, sinking into the seat.

“Well, that’s his loss,” Sukuna replied as he sat in his own chair. “I take it the clubs your brother owns don’t amuse you anymore, so you decided to try out Shinjuku’s nightlife instead?”

“Oh, absolutely. Our clubs are, how should I put it… dull. And my brother, as you know, Mr. Sukuna, is a complete buzzkill.”

Sukuna laughed, a genuine, deep laugh. “Gojo Satoru has no idea how to have fun. I’m glad you chose to come here.”

“Thank you. Even as an uninvited guest, you’ve treated my friend and me so well. But seriously, why are your guards so polite? I’ve never been called ‘Miss Gojo’ so many times in my life.” As you crossed one leg over the other, Sukuna’s eyes followed the movement. He watched, unblinking, even after you’d finished.

“My men know how to address people properly, Miss Gojo. And no one would dare speak disrespectfully to you.”

That was… unexpected.

“Why?” you asked, letting your top leg sway slightly as you spoke.

“No one disrespects my special guests, Miss Gojo. If they do, I’ll have to cut their tongues out. And I doubt anyone wants that.”

Ryomen Sukuna would absolutely do it. You were sure of that—and you doubted it would stop at just the tongue.

“You look like a runaway sun,” Sukuna said, leaning back in his chair, eyes never leaving you.

The sudden compliment made you laugh. “Was that supposed to be a compliment?” you managed to say between chuckles.

He smirked. “It was. Being something so hot that it melts everything in its path isn’t easy. Not everyone dares to touch.” Sukuna leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “This is where you wanted to be, isn’t it? Rather than getting more riled up by some amateur boy, you came here to play with the greatest danger in the room. You think you can burn me.”

“You said it yourself—I’m the sun. That means I can burn you.”

Sukuna rose from his chair and walked toward you. He leaned over the armrests of your couch, caging you in. You leaned back, but the space between you was negligible.

“Miss Gojo, if there’s anything hotter than the sun, it’s hell. Don’t forget that.”

You didn’t care. You could burn in hell. All you wanted was a touch.

One of Sukuna’s hands trailed up the inside of your thigh, brushing the fabric of your gold dress. “What a beautiful dress. Shame it’s so short—it leaves a lot to the imagination.”

You struggled to keep your thighs from pressing together at his touch. Despite your best efforts, you couldn’t stop the subtle trembling of your legs as his fingers traced slow, deliberate patterns against your skin. The soft yet firm caress made resisting impossible.

“Gojo Satoru did well to keep you away from me. But you’re too much of a brat to listen, aren’t you? That’s why you’re here, in my territory.” His hand stopped moving, and this time he squeezed the inside of your thigh, firm enough to send a jolt through you, but not painful—just enough to make you crave more.

“Yes…” Your voice came out as little more than a moan.

“Know this, Miss Gojo: if I’m entertaining you as my special guest, I’ll expect a favor in return.” His hand kneaded your thigh, coaxing another soft sound from your lips.

“W-what kind of favor?”

“You want me to fuck you, don’t you?”

Yes. Yes, you did. You’d wanted it from the moment your eyes met.

“I-I—”

“You wanted it to be me instead of that boy, didn’t you?” He leaned closer, his face hovering near your neck. He didn’t touch, but his eyes lingered on the mark left by the other man. “Should I track him down and kill him? It’s my job to keep my special guest satisfied.”

“Oh…”

“Use your words, Miss Gojo.” The way he called you Miss Gojo made your head spin.

“Yes. I wanted him to be you, Sukuna. I wanted the Evil King to claim me in his territory.”

Though you couldn’t see his face, you heard the low growl rumble from his chest at your words. Before you could say anything more, he easily lifted you with one arm, carrying you to his desk like you weighed nothing at all.

Before you could brace yourself, Sukuna swept everything off the desk with one hand, the clutter crashing to the floor as he pinned you down. The hard surface met your back, and the look in his eyes told you all you needed to know—he had transformed into a ravenous beast, his gaze hungry, predatory.

Your dress was shoved up almost to your waist, and, unsurprisingly, the panties you’d forgotten to wear were nowhere in sight. Your dripping, needy core was now fully exposed to Sukuna’s greedy attention.

When his gaze dropped to your slick heat, his eyes fluttered shut briefly, as if fighting to maintain control.

“I wish I could see how Gojo Satoru loses his mind when he hears about this,” Sukuna muttered, dragging your body closer to the edge of the desk. He yanked your gold dress the rest of the way up, spreading your legs wide to get a clearer view of the spot he clearly intended to devour.

“Fuck…” he murmured, his left hand gripping the inside of your right thigh while his right hand traced over your wet folds. He moved achingly slow, teasing, as though savoring every drop of slickness that coated his fingers. His touch was deliberate, exploring the sensitive walls of your entrance, his movements maddeningly unhurried.

But as much as the teasing ignited your body, you wanted—no, needed—more.

“Sukuna…” Your voice was barely a whisper, trembling with need.

“What is it? You want more?”

You swallowed hard and nodded, unable to find the strength to speak. His fingers moved with such infuriating precision that you were losing yourself.

“If I give you more, there’s no going back. You won’t be able to escape. Are you sure?”

You should’ve run. You should’ve left and never come back. But here you were, in enemy territory, no longer thinking about revenge on your brother. All you could think about was your own desperate need.

“I don’t want to run,” you managed, biting back a moan.

“Fuck,” Sukuna growled under his breath. Taking your response as permission, he leaned in, his mouth claiming the place that needed him most. His large hands spread your legs even wider, giving him complete access as his tongue began its sinful work.

“Su-Sukuna—ohhh,” you whimpered as his head moved between your thighs. His tongue licked you from your folds to your clit, his pace changing between slow, teasing drags and targeted, rapid flicks. Occasionally, he focused on a single spot, making you cry out, his masculine groans vibrating against you as he continued.

You couldn’t describe it. You weren’t someone who slept with men often, but none of them—not a single one—had ever worshiped you like this. The man who should’ve been the last person to ever touch you was devouring you like you were his last meal.

“The forbidden things are always the most delicious,” Sukuna murmured, pressing a wet kiss to your swollen lips. Just before plunging his tongue inside you, he added, “You taste incredible.”

“Oh, God… Sukuna…” you moaned. His tongue worked inside you with practiced precision, each movement sending fresh waves of slickness to coat him.

“Your walls want to keep my tongue inside. I can feel it,” he growled, his voice low and thick with desire. “Fuck, you’re so tight. How’s my cock supposed to fit in here?” His right hand left a sharp smack on your inner thigh before he returned to licking you, unrelenting.

Then he added his fingers. Without warning, two thick digits plunged inside you, curling as his mouth latched onto your clit. The wet, obscene noises his hand created only added to the intensity.

“You made a big mistake making me kneel for you, little brat.” He sucked your clit into his mouth, drawing a desperate, shaky cry from your lips.

“H-how?” you stammered.

“It means you’re never getting away from me,” he said, his fingers moving faster, hitting the perfect spot inside you. The heat between your legs became unbearable, and you knew you were close.

“You’re so filthy. Look what you’re doing to my fingers,” he teased, driving them deeper. “When I pull them out, I swear they’ll be wrinkled from your juices.” His lips returned to your clit, sucking hard while his fingers pumped relentlessly.

“D-don’t stop… I’m so close—UGH I’M GONNA CUM S-SUKUNA!” The tension in your body coiled tighter, seconds from snapping.

“Fuck no,” he growled, suddenly pulling his fingers and mouth away. Just as your release hovered on the edge, Sukuna stood and unzipped his black slacks, pulling them down along with his boxers.

Your breath caught. There was no way that was real. The massive, throbbing cock he held in his hand couldn’t possibly be human.

“Are you ready for my cock, Miss Gojo?” His voice was a low, primal growl.

You weren’t. Not even close. You had no idea how it would fit.

He brought his cock closer to your entrance, teasing you by sliding the tip along your soaked entrance . He let out a moan as the wet heat of your pussy coated him. You could feel the precum leaking from his tip mixing with your own arousal.

“This—this is torture. Please…” You were barely coherent, but you couldn’t take the teasing anymore. You needed him.

“What? Say what you want, Miss Gojo,” Sukuna taunted, his cock brushing lightly against you.

“I-I want you. I want your cock inside me,” you begged, your words tumbling out in desperation.

Sukuna chuckled darkly. “You can’t even form a proper sentence. All you can think about is my cock, isn’t that right?”

“Y-yes,” you stammered, your voice trembling.

“Then take it,” he growled before slamming into you in one swift motion.

Your entire body arched off the desk as you cried out. He didn’t ease in, didn’t give you time to adjust. He buried himself to the hilt, filling you completely. Wrapping your legs around his waist, your heels dug into his lower back, earning a low groan from him.

“Every time I thrust into you, I want those heels to dig in. Do you understand me?” His voice was a harsh command.

“Y-yes,” you gasped.

“Good. Seems the only time you behave is when someone’s fucking you.” Sukuna began moving, his hips slamming into yours with unrelenting force.

He was too big, stretching you so wide it felt like he was splitting you open. Every thrust pushed you to your limits, his thick cock hitting places you didn’t know existed.

“Do you hear that, Miss Gojo?” He was referring to the sound of his hips slamming against yours, the wet smacks of his length plunging into you. “That’s real music.”

“You’re—you’re insane, Sukuna. F-fuck, right there—” His tip hit the perfect spot inside you, making your toes curl.

“Here?” he taunted. “Take it all, Miss Gojo. Be a good girl and take everything I give you.” Your legs trembled as your heels dug harder into him, pulling him closer, making his thrusts even deeper.

Provoking a beast like Sukuna was a terrible idea. Yes, he was driving you wild with pleasure, but you knew that after tonight, no one else would ever compare. No one would ever fuck you like this, hitting your G-spot with every thrust, coaxing more of your juices out with every motion.

Sukuna Ryomen was about to become your addiction.

“I should kill Gojo Satoru for keeping me from this for so long—fuck—for keeping you from me,” Sukuna growled, his cock continuing to batter your sweet spot. “I fucking hate that man.”

Even fully clothed, beads of sweat ran down from his abs to your thighs, dampening the space between your bodies. His head tipped back, his hands gripping your legs tightly as if he never wanted to let go.

“Know this, Miss G-Gojo,” he growled, his words rough as your silken walls squeezed tighter around his thick, veined cock. “From this moment on, you’re mine—ughhh.”

"Sukuna—just a little more, please—so close—"

"Say you’re mine," he demanded, leaning closer to pound into you harder. Though his hands released your legs, you still clung to him, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him even closer.

His thrusts grew deeper, each movement dragging along every sensitive spot inside you, making you shiver. With his lips brushing your ear, you whispered, your voice trembling with surrender, “I-I’m yours, Sukuna.”

“Fuck, yes! You’re mine. Get that through your head!” he roared into your neck, burying himself deeper.

“SUKUNA, IT’S TOO DEEP—I’M GONNA CUM!” your screams echoed through the room as your legs spasmed, and the sharp heels of your shoes dug further into his flesh.

“Don’t hold back on me, Miss Gojo,” Sukuna growled as he bit your neck, sending you over the edge into a shattering orgasm.

Your juices dripped onto his black wooden table while his hot seed filled you to the brim. The feeling of his warmth pumping inside you only reignited the arousal coursing through your veins.

Still buried deep within you, Sukuna pressed a soft kiss to the bite mark he’d left. As you worried about how you’d hide it from your brother, Sukuna’s words snapped you back to reality “Tell that idiot brother of yours you’re mine now. And if he behaves, I might even let him step foot in my territory.”

Your eyes widened. “W-wait, this wasn’t just a one-time thing?” No matter how much you had told him you belonged to him, you had only said it under the heat of lust. You had never truly considered that Sukuna might actually want to claim you.

Sukuna raised his head from your neck, his hungry, feral gaze pinning you in place as he braced himself above you. “Sunday. My house. I’ll fuck you against every wall until your marks are all over them.”

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath.

You should’ve stayed home today, listened to your brother. Or, when you stepped into this office, you should’ve run as fast as you could. Anything to avoid this.

But the beast had already claimed you.

all rights belong to the @moonlitwitchdaisy do not copy, reproduce, or translate my work.

art by @Crain1Art on X

divider by @bernardsbendystraws

[nebulousmoon3990]

GHOSTS OF THE PAST (Batfam x neglected hero reader)

II𓂃› POISON

Warning: Negligence (unintentional), Damian being Damian, violence, swearing, sensitive topics,bad things, spelling mistakes (English is not my first language) and reader has black hair and blue eyes (sorry), Fem reader!, use of (M/n) for his mother's name, I accept criticism but please don't be rude, everything is fictional!

Two weeks.It had been two weeks since you disappeared, two weeks in which Bruce did and still does everything he can to find you (as the millionaire Bruce Wayne or as Batman), two weeks in which he and possibly no one in the mansion slept properly, two weeks in which guilt gnawed at him in the worst possible way. But even so, Bruce is ashamed to say that in these two weeks he has only been going to his room now.

Could you blame him? Bruce didn't want to go to his room because that would be a way of saying that you died. He refuses to think that way, you are alive, he is sure of it, and he will find you.

However, Bruce's thesis was shattered by his anxiety.

That's why he goes to your room for the first time.

Bruce remembers going there only once, you must have been seven years old, what saddens him the most is that he only went there because there was a problem with the ceiling and that's why you had to change rooms. Your room was on the second floor, a little further away from the others, possibly the room closest to yours was Tim's.

Alfred had to show him where his room was, which made Bruce feel even worse. He didn't know where his own room was! Was he so negligent to that point?

Your room was at the end of the hallway, the only thing that identified it was a guitar sticker on the door, it was faded and dented, possibly having been there for years, wood splinters were visible on the door and the metals on it were very rusty.

Grabbing the doorknob, Bruce hesitated to open it, the logical part of his brain warning that you might feel uncomfortable with him invading your room like that, but his desire spoke louder, gathering courage Bruce opened the door slowly and faced the environment. He was greeted with a sweet smell that reminded him of artificial strawberries, coming from the entire room and Bruce thought that maybe this was the smell you had passed many times.

The first thing he noticed was the appearance of your room, it was smaller than most of the rooms in the mansion. Your bed was next to the window, giving you a view of the mansion's garden, next to the small bed was a nearly empty study table, on it papers and colored pencils were in the corner organized so as not to have a mess, a small swivel chair was there, there were tears and poorly washed stains, but it seemed like you used it a lot. Above the table on the wall were posters of bands and other things, but what caught Bruce's attention was not that, no, it wasn't.

There were trophies, certificates and awards on top of his shelves.

There were so many, so many, that Bruce thought it was his mind playing tricks on him, but it soon proved to be true when he approached the said shelves. There were trophies for gymnastics, literature, computing, swimming, there were awards for drawing, music, and even jiu-jitsu.

Each one was accompanied by a photo of you, photos that were supposed to be taken with your family but most of them were with your instructors, it was possible to see that with each photo that there was your face changed from false joy to not even bothering to smile.

The sight of you in the photos made Bruce's heart break, the worst one of all was one that looked like you were from gymnastics, but in this one you were really exhausted. Sweat was all over your forehead, making your hair stick to it, your eyes were a little red and there was a bruise on your arm, you tried to smile but it was noticeable that the smile was fake and to top it off, to break Bruce's heart? You were holding back tears, tears shining in the corners of your eyes so intensely, but you held it tight, so as not to cry in front of the camera.

Bruce felt horrible, really awful in fact.

He carefully picked up the photo and sat down on the chair, watching you. You must have been eight or nine years old? He didn't know, but you looked so young, so helpless, but you already looked so... broken. As if you knew the weight of the world, the weight that life brought.

He straightened up in the chair and looked at the room again, seeing the back of his room where the wardrobe was. Bruce noticed that next to the large piece of furniture there was a box, almost as worn as the sticker on the door, he got up from the chair leaving the photo on the table next to him, walking over to the box and picking it up with ease. Preferring to sit on the bed instead of the chair he opened the cardboard box to find a computer and a pen drive.

Bruce, so immersed in his thoughts, barely noticed that while he was turning on the old device, someone else was entering the room.

“Bruce?” The aforementioned looked up to see Dick. Looking at his son, he realized how worn out Dick was, whether it was the deep bags under his eyes or the messy hair from so much grabbing and pulling. “What are you doing here?”

“I…” came to see my daughter’s room? Came to try to feel less guilty? Came to try to comfort myself in my pain of not having protected my own daughter? Bruce didn’t know what to answer, fortunately, Dick understood this and decided to see for himself. Carefully, Grayson entered the room and observed with interest, his gaze stopping at the same shelves of trophies that Bruce was interested in, the small smile on Grayson’s face disappeared when he discovered the real reason for the trophies being there.

“W-wait, is that from gymnastics?” Dick looked closer, seeing on the table the same photo Bruce had taken, his anxious eyes roaming the entire shelf, observing his every victory in detail. “Is that all of…(name)?”

“Yeah, and all of hers, all the effort we never saw.” Bruce turned his focus back to the computer, the anguish in his words reminding him of his mistake, while Dick sank in guilt as Bruce himself decided to look at the computer’s contents.

It looked like it hadn't been used for a while, there was dust on the computer and the screen was broken, putting the pen drive in the device a folder appeared on the screen, Bruce clicked and the loading screen appeared on the screen, while it was loading Bruce felt his oldest son sitting next to him, watching the computer next to him and as soon as the loading was finished the two men came across photos.

Very, very old photos of you.

Photos of you as a baby at various points in your childhood outside the mansion, there was a photo of you walking while smiling at the camera, a photo of you sleeping on the couch drooling all over it, a photo of you drinking while wrapped in a blanket like a burrito, and many others.

Bruce heard Dick sigh when he saw you, he had to hold himself back from melting right there, you looked so cute with your chubby cheeks and bright eyes. He wished he could be there at that moment, seeing you so cute, taking care of you, being the father he never was.

But time has passed, you've grown up and are gone now.

Bruce shook off his thoughts when he saw a different photo, in it you had the corners of your mouth covered in what he assumed was chocolate, your hands were covered in the same candy, but what caught Bruce's attention wasn't that, but the woman behind you holding you while laughing at your lameness.

your mother

(M/n) (Last name)

He remembers the woman, kind and caring, a writer from outside Gotham, and although it is strange that she preferred Gotham to live in (with so many other cities more protected than it is), she reached her peak of fame, which made them meet. Just one night with her, nothing more, an affair that didn't go ahead and in which he thought he would forget about her, only for a year later she sends him a letter, talking about you, his daughter.

She didn't ask for anything, not even alimony for herself, she just asked him not to interfere in her daughter's life, although Bruce found the request strange he accepted, being too busy with work to care, he didn't give it due importance at the time.

That was until (M/n) died, her sudden death made him bring you to his house, he fought for custody of you with your aunt, but since he was the one best able to raise you, your custody was given to him.

That was many years ago, he doesn't remember you bringing this computer.

Oh.

Do you keep the computer to remember your mother?

The articles were old, wouldn't it be better to transfer the photos to your cell phone? Or didn't you want to? Maybe you would prefer to keep the computer to remember your memories.

Dick shifted beside him, looking again at the immense trophies on his shelf. “We had her here, and we just ignored her.”

“Dick—”

“We had a diamond in the rough, shining brightly for us, and we just ignored it, and now that she’s gone…” Bruce said nothing, there was nothing to say.

Dick was right.

They had lost a precious stone.

And there was no way to get her back.

Three months.

Nothing about you, no clues, no trails, nothing made it even more difficult because the bus you were on was burned, even if it was left there were no fingerprints, DNA or anything else that would lead them to you.

Dick had to go back to Blüdhaven, continuing his own investigation there. Bruce, knowing that he couldn't do it alone (not this time), put his pride aside and warned the members of the league about your disappearance.

Clark, in an effort to find you, published an article in the Daily Planet about your disappearance, but not even that helped in his search.

The members of the League were alert in each of their cities, looking for clues about you, but nothing came to them, not the organization that kidnapped you or your possible whereabouts.

It was as if you had disappeared from the earth.

Six months.

The police were getting sloppy, probably already giving up on the case. Bruce was still investigating, but how was he going to get deeper into the case if the clues that led to you had disappeared into the wind like dust on the ground?

All he had were your desperate calls for help, your messages, but they led nowhere, your device destroyed without its location.

The family had become more depressed, as if something was missing for everyone present, the immense loneliness in the mansion showing who was missing.

You.

One year.

The case was closed, with nothing to investigate, the Gotham police had more problems to deal with than a missing and possibly dead teenager.

There was… nothing. 

Nothing to say, nothing to do, nothing to look for.You were gone.

A long time ago.

What they didn't know was that you weren't gone, but you were there.

“Alright, alright, I think we’re done for today, right?”

The iron-tasting liquid once again rose up in her bile, making the blood in her throat gush out of her mouth, choking her.

The room they were in, previously white, was now stained crimson, clinging deep into the walls as it reflected the light from the lamp.

In the corner of the room stood you, chained up like a beast (which technically wasn’t a lie now). You lay still as the toxic green liquid entered your veins, the acidity still biting your skin.

Doctor Magnus was the one in front of you, the man with long black hair and golden eyes was watching you dangerously, the loving attitude that many could see as a father educating his son was nothing more than a facade of sadistic malice from the man.

He disgusted you.

They all did.

All of them, all of them, all of them, ALL OF THEM-

Magnus watched as the syringe that connected the tube in your neck finished injecting the toxin into your veins, with the process finished, Magnus approached you and pulled it from your neck.

With the brutality with which he pulled the syringe, you hissed in pain, your abnormally large fangs showing themselves to the doctor, the protective instinct emerging in your brain. Despite the offense, Magnus just smiled at you.

Stepping away from you, he lowered your restraints making you feel a little comfortable. With his fingerprint, the doctor opened the automatic door, before leaving he stopped at the door and looked over his shoulder, his gaze meeting yours.

“Get plenty of rest (Name)…” the man’s smirk widened, the evil coursing through him making her stomach churn with fear.

"Tomorrow your experiments will intensify.”

Okay, I'm a little disappointed (I was hoping to write one more, but I couldn't add anything without it affecting the next chapter), well I'll make up for it in the next chapter.

Here's the tag list \(•◡•)/:

@daiyanomochi - @amber-content - @wizzerreblogs - @foggyv-oid - @kore-of-the-underworld - @theunknowntravel3r - @space1crow - @shortnsweetsposts - @popursocks - @sugasweettea - @salfishers - @itachisank - @jsprien213 - @infirebaby - @yhin-gg -@h-ib

@bunbunboysworld - @h-ib - @sheep-from-rad - @tatsuri-zomushiki - @the-holy-pigeon - @geminis93

sorry for any mistakes.

Bye

[blackbirdsblackberries]

I Hate The New Hero!

Pt 8: The Trapeze Artist's Fall

Pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3 - Pt 4 - Pt 5 - Pt 6 - Pt 7 - Pt 8 (You're here) - Pt 9 - Pt 10

It was his second week of school for him. In no way was he excited. Gotham was a fresh start for the young boy, private school was meant to be a fun experience - many would kill to be able to get premium education - but he finds he misses the countryside hills that he'd watch pass by as his mamă taught him how to spell and read. He misses his tată teaching him math and cool sciencey things.

He misses his family.

The school wasn't the problem, though he found he was falling behind in learning due to his homeschooled life beforehand. The problem was his classmates, the ridicule he'd get for simple slip-ups. It wasn't his fault English is his second language, it isn't his fault he slips-up.

Last Friday one boy in the class, Mac Doust, had put gum in his hair. Dick ended up crying in the bathroom until Alfred came to pick him up - not Bruce, no, Bruce was as unavailable as Dick's dead parents honestly.

Gripping the straps of his backpack Dick mutters under his breath, trying to assure himself he'd be okay. The whole weekend he had practiced hiding his accent so kids would think he was normal.

Upon walking into the school he held his head high and didn't mess around, he headed straight to class.

...

That's strange, why was the door only opened partly? Ms Xavier keeps the door wide open, always greeting Dick with a wide smile and some Romanian she had put in the effort of learning for him.

Dick opens the door hesitantly, peeking inside.

He only gets to see Mac's stupid grin before water is dumped on him, the metal bucket clanging on his head harshly.

He doesn't know what to do, he stands there, the bucket on his head as the sounds of giggles and cackles fill his ears. Warm tears contrast with the cold water soaking his face.

Dick went home early that day. The incident struck a chord in him. If he wanted to stop the bullying he had to become better than them, put in the work and effort.

He will be popular, he will be better.

He will never do that cruel prank to anyone. Never

Looking down at his phone as he walks he feels nothing but a cringing sort of pain. He stooped to a level he never thought he'd get to. It was disgusting really.

Dick feels like he's no better than Mac. That he's no hero. The video plays on loop as the man takes in the pained look on your face, he can't bring himself to look at the messages in the group chat.

They're most likely supporting it, congratulating him for doing what they all wished to do.

Hell, if he was in their place he'd probably be celebrating it too. But to be there, to be the reason you reacted that way, is sickening for the young male.

Even now all he can think about is himself, how he feels. God, how self-centered could he be? It's not like he was the victim in this.. But still, surely he can't be the true bad guy in this, right?

Dick had decided against getting driven home, he felt that if he walked to the manor in the rain it'd be enough to be even with you - look, we both ended up soaked! Everything's better now!

He chuckles under his breath at his thoughts - what would Aranea even think of him?

She'd probably be angry at him for his actions but comfort him, telling him the things he needed to hear. That it wasn't his fault, that Y/N was a bad person who deserved it.

Whatever words needed so he could sleep at night really..

Dick finally decides to exit the looping video, the image of you burnt into his mind forever.

He goes into his messages and pulls up Aranea's comm number - he had put it into his phone so they could talk off shift, something she was hesitant about but ultimately caved in.

He types out a simple message. Then another. Then another.

"Heyyyy!!! Are you busy rn??"

"It'd be cool to hang out and patrol together!!"

"Bruce doesn't have to know"

He stares at the messages, waiting for them to be marked as read. 1 minute turned into 5, then 5 turned into 10. Dick sighs and exits out of the message log, clearly Aranea is busy.

He gazes on the chat log "Y/N. 🤮"

Maybe he should message her? Say sorry and try to make it up to her.. Yeah, that's what Aranea would say to do! She was always about communication.

"I know you're probably upset, I get that. I'm super sorry for what I did|

"I know you're probably upset, I get that. I'm|

"I know you're|

"What I did wasn't right. I'm sorry that I did that because you had a different opinion than me. I never meant to make you cry, only angry, I promise!"

Finally happy with the message he sends it off.

Only to remember the wonderful fact that your phone is fried due to the water.

Lucky him. He sighs, fed up with this bad luck streak he's been having.

Suddenly he remembers that he has money! More than you can even imagine!

He can buy a new, amazing phone to make things even. Yes, it's perfect. Surely you'll forgive him now!

He changes course and heads to the nearest electronic store, determined to make things right in his head. The purchase was swift and quick, the best phone he could find in the place.

Now, all he had to do was go to your apartment and give it to you!

Lucky him Tim leaked your address to everyone in the family as soon as he entered your apartment. So, with a high head he makes the slightly anxiety-inducing journey to you.

Knocking on the door of the apartment Dick stands straight as a board. The door opens and on the other side is a woman, she has severe eye bags and (H/C) hair. She seemed to have just gotten back from work. Her grey, lifeless eyes peer at him with suspicion before realizing who he was and smiling brightly.

"Mr Grayson! What a pleasure, is there anything you need?" She asks, Dick internally cringes, there was something about her voice that just grated against his ears.

There was just something so... Off... About her.

Still, he does what he usually does. He smiles and remains patient.

"Hello ma'am, is your daughter available? Something had happened and well.." Dick trails off, he doesn't want to get on Y/N's mother's bad side.

Her mother's eyes seem to cloud over at the mention of an incident, yet her smile remains in tact, if not strained. It's possible you told her already..

"Oh. An incident? What has she done, Mr Grayson?" Her mother asks, dark undertones coat her otherwise curious words. Dick furrows his brows slightly at the sudden change in the woman's mood. "Ah, well, it was my fault. I had played a nasty prank on her and her phone was ruined, I bought a new one to make it up to her!" He shows the brand new phone in it's box.

The woman doesn't look impressed, still, she smiles and hums. "Hm. Well that's lovely! Would you like to come inside? She isn't home currently but I'm sure she'll be home soon."

Something in Dick tells him not to go inside. Something was wrong. Yet, he reminds himself that he is a hero, if anything happens he will be prepared.

So, he heads inside, trailing behind the woman as he takes in the dungeon-like interior. "It's a... Lovely place, ma'am" Dick says, hoping to seem polite. The woman scoffs.

"M/N, my name is M/N. No need for such formalities!" The woman hurriedly states before flicking her hand dismissively "Y/N's room is the second door. You can wait there, or, if you want, you can hang around me!" She smiles sweetly, too sweetly, disgustingly sweetly. It reminds him of eating giant spoons of brown sugar.

He smiles politely, trying not to show his discomfort. "I'll just wait in her room for her..!" He hurries to Y/N's room, shutting the door once he's in. That woman gave him the creeps.

He looks around the small room, holy shit, no wonder you're always so pissy! He'd be pissy too if his room was just a bit bigger than a school storage closet!

The man knows he shouldn't snoop, he's done enough damage. But, maybe, if the guilt doesn't settle he can use information gathered here to help!

Dick makes his way to the chest and looks around, picking up an engineering bit, he isn't too into the whole mechanical side of things so there was no name he could pin it to.

Placing it back he moves to sit on the bed and wait. As he sits on the bed his eyes are drawn to a floorboard that seems to stand out from the rest. He kneels on the floor and digs his nails into the floorboard.

He starts to lift it up when..

RINGGGG

RINGGGG

RINGGGG

His phone goes off, he scrambles to answer the call, not checking who the caller was.

"Dick? Dick, okay, you're the only one that has answered!"

It was Duke, he sounds frantic. What happened..?

"Duke? What's going on? Is everything okay?"

"No, no, something bad's happened! Steph, Cass and I were at a cafe and Y/N and her friends were there as well but some waitress had messed up the orders and Y/N had an allergic reaction - or something like that!" Duke rambles, his words slurring together in a rush.

Dick's eyes widen and he feels the air leave his lungs, forgetting about the floorboard and quickly leaving the room. He'll put the new phone on your bed for when you return.

He brushes past M/N and leaves the apartment. Holy shit your luck was bad, he couldn't help but think.

"Okay, stay calm, are you guys at Gotham City Private Hospital or Gotham City Public Hospital?"

"Private."

"I'll be there in half an hour, it'll be okay."

With that he hangs up and runs out of the apartment complex.

Like hell was he about to let anything bad happen to you before he could make things right!

Taglist:

@rissareader @delias-stuff @hogwarts9 @marsmabe @randomlyappearingartist @coralaura @nervousalpacalady @citrushalo @chericia @soriansick @v0idl1nq @scrumdidiliyumyum @kittykatcreatster @feral-childs-word @anon34570 @shycreatorreview @sunny-sp3lls @fluffypackofships @cynniee @yuyuzi-ling @coffeeaddictxd @starryperson @readermommy @niggrrooo @bunbunboysworld @yanrandom @fluffypackofchips @vanilliona @wizzerreblogs @cens0r3d