#i almost skipped this prompt but here it is!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sugoroo · 3 months ago

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SHARING IS CARING!

ʚɞ summary: satoru agrees to share his girlfriend with kento for one night to help ease some of the stress he’s been under lately! but that doesn’t mean he’s going to make it easy for his co-worker.

warnings: fem!reader, voyeurism, cuck!satoru, oral (m receiving), breast play, penetration (p in v), fingering, pussydrunk nanami, squirting, praise kink, 18+ minors dni.

wc: 7.1k

despite how much satoru enjoys teasing his co-worker kento nanami, he can see how much stress the other man has been under lately. it’s clear from the heavy bags underneath his eyes, the way his back is almost permanently hunched in exhaustion.

the white-haired sorcerer spent an embarrassingly long amount of time in his office brainstorming different ideas to attempt to cheer nanami up. his usual go-to for anyone else would be to buy them some sweets, but he has a feeling that wouldn’t be too appreciated in this situation.

and then, after his phone buzzed with a newly received text from you: his pretty little girlfriend who was currently waiting for him at home — a lightbulb lit up in his head.

he could give you to nanami to cheer him up.

well, when he says ‘give’, of course he really means lending you to nanami. a one-time only gift (that must be returned after use) as it were.

and satoru will unarguably be present to observe the entire interaction too — he has to make sure nanami treats his sweet girl the way she deserves, after all. if the other man was to leave you unsatisfied, he would very possibly have to hollow purple him.

(and he also wouldn’t be completely opposed to watching his much-too-uptight co worker unravel before his eyes, either. but he’ll keep that part to himself.)

pleased with his newest idea, satoru practically skips along the halls on the way to nanami's office, a wide grin stretched across his lips and anticipation buzzing throughout his body.

"hellooo, nanamin!" he coos obnoxiously once he arrives outside his co-worker's office, craning his neck to peek his head around the doorway. "you in here?"

nanami audibly sighs at the sound of the white-haired man's voice, glancing up briefly from his desk with an unimpressed look pulling at his visibly exhausted features. "yes, gojo, i'm clearly in here. what is it you want this time?"

satoru holds up his hands in mock surrender, his grin never faltering as he steps fully inside the office. it's clear he's up to no good (even more so than usual), given the way he's practically vibrating on the spot with excitement.

"well?" the blonde man prompts impatiently, his eyes already cast back down to the various piles of paperwork splayed across his desk. he's evidently in no mood to deal with satoru's mischief.

"now now, don't rush me!" he huffs in response, his lower lip jutting out in an overdramatic pout despite knowing nanami isn't even looking in his direction right now. "this is a very... sensitive topic. so i'm gonna need you to pay suuuper close attention. got it?"

at this, nanami looks up from his papers, his annoyance slowly morphing into cautiousness. "sensitive how? this better not be about you wanting to know how many people i've bedded in the past, because i already told you that i will never dignify such a shameless question with an answer."

"what? no! it's not about that," satoru chuckles amusedly, before tapping the bottom of his chin with a slender finger in a theatrical display of thought. "....although, i really should find out the answer to that eventually."

nanami rolls his eyes all the way to the back of his head behind his goggles, bringing two fingers up to rub his temple. "i don't have time for this, gojo. whatever it is you came here to ask, will you just spit it out already?"

"alright, alriiight!" the white-haired sorcerer whines petulantly, sauntering further into the office and leaning his elbows against his co-worker's desk like he owns the place. "so, i've noticed you've been under a lot of stress lately—"

"which is none of your business, might i add." the other man deadpans bluntly, his lips set into their usual tight line as he regards satoru.

"sure. but, as your co-worker and friend, i've decided to make it my business," he retorts without missing a beat, waving a pale hand dismissively in nanami's direction as he continues speaking. "and i've come up with the perfect solution to cheer you up!"

nanami raises a blonde eyebrow at this, visibly still cautious but (hopefully) a little curious now. "oh, have you now?" he mutters tightly, attempting to hide the subtle interest hiding under his tone. but satoru notices, because of course he does.

"mhmm," satoru croons mischievously, his grin morphing into a little smirk as he leans further across the desk. "would you like to hear it, nanamin?"

the interest in his colleague's expression is gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by irritation yet again as he releases a deep sigh. "i'm not in the mood for your games, gojo. are you going to tell me or not?"

"ugh, fine," the white-haired man groans dramatically, rolling his eyes behind his blindfold. "can't blame a guy for trying to build up a little suspense."

satoru rifles around in his pocket for a few moments before pulling out his phone, instantly thrusting the device directly into nanami's face with absolutely no context.

"what—" nanami begins, his words quickly trailing off into an unintelligible sound of some description once he catches sight of the picture being displayed on his colleague's lock screen. "oh."

"like what you seee?" he coos obnoxiously from behind the phone, tilting his head to the side in an attempt to get a better view of the other man's reaction. "just kidding - i know you do."

"this... is that your girlfriend?" the blonde man croaks out, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically flustered. "and why is that your lockscreen, for the love of god?"

satoru just shrugs nonchalantly, jerking the phone back towards himself and taking a moment to admire the photo of you. it's your pretty body, completely bare on his bed, perky breasts on full display and smooth legs spread wide to reveal your abused pussy which was just oozing with ropes of his goopy cum.

"yes, it's my girlfriend," he hums proudly, shoving the device back into his pocket before fixing nanami with another wide grin. "and why not? it's not like anyone else sees it except me. until now, obviously."

"right," the other man breathes out, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallows thickly in a poor attempt to try and compose himself. "and, pray tell, why did you feel the need to show me that?"

satoru huffs dramatically, as if having to actually explain the proposition he's come up with is taking a serious toll on him. "come onn, nanamin. use that brilliant brain of yours! i say i have a way to relieve some of your stress, and then i show you that picture..."

nanami visibly tenses as the realization of what his colleague is suggesting washes over him, his eyes narrowing into cautious slits. but he doesn't want to get ahead of himself, just in case he misinterpreted his words, so he settles for saying — "is this another one of those highly unamusing pranks of yours, gojo?"

the white-haired man rolls his eyes yet again, leaning even closer over the desk and tilting his head to the side in a playful manner. "you really think i'd show you a naked picture of my girl if this was just a prank?"

as much as it irks nanami to admit, even to himself, his co-worker does has a point there.

"touché." he grumbles under his breath, trying his best to keep up his uninterested façade despite how obviously affected he is by seeing that picture of you; needless to say, he thinks satoru is a very lucky man.

"that's all you're gonna say? touché?" satoru repeats incredulously, throwing his hands up in the air theatrically. "no 'yes please, gojo, i'd love to get me some of that'?"

"first of all, i would never say it so crudely," the blonde man retorts with his nose wrinkled in not-so-subtle disgust, shaking his had faintly. "and second of all, i'm not the sort of man who takes what doesn't belong to him."

satoru snorts out a loud laugh at this. "ugh, drop the serious act for a minute, nanamin! it's not like you're stealing her away from me or anything. i'm just offering some... one-time only stress relief, that's all."

"whatever you say, gojo," he mutters dismissively, waving a hand in his direction before rubbing his temple yet again. "even if i was to consider such a proposition, have you asked your girlfriend if she would be willing to participate?"

"yeah, sooo, about that..." satoru responds in an elongated hum, bringing a hand up to scratch the back of his neck somewhat sheepishly.

"satoru—"

"wait, wait! just let me explain," the white-haired man squeaks hurriedly, waving around his hands theatrically. the rare use of his first name from his colleague clearly shows just how annoyed he is at this point. "i was so excited when i came up with the idea that i kinda-maybe-definitely forgot to ask her."

"why am i not surprised?" nanami huffs bluntly, clearly losing whatever interest he may have begrudgingly gained when he saw the photo.

but just before he can return to his work, satoru quickly speaks up again. "hey, wait just a minute! she's my girl, and i know my girl. she'll say yes."

nanami pauses for a few moments, silently cursing the way he's actually considering this insane proposition. but there's two facts he can't deny — one: he has been under a lot of stress lately, and he wouldn't exactly mind releasing it. and two: satoru's girlfriend is incredibly attractive.

much to his chagrin, he doesn't have a good reason to say no.

"...alright."

and that's how kento nanami finds himself standing outside your and satoru's apartment a week later, his fist hovering just above the door as he attempts to process what's awaiting him on the other side.

he can't quite believe he's actually going to 'release his stress' by using satoru's pretty little girlfriend who he's never even met before today. but he knows that not going through with it isn't an option — especially when he'll have to endure his colleague's relentless teasing afterwards.

so he knocks.

and it's you who opens the door, dressed in nothing but one of satoru's old shirts that is definitely much too long for you, the baggy fabric practically swallowing you whole as you stand before nanami.

"oh!" you gasp in realization as you look up at him, a small smile spreading across your lips as you kindly extend a hand to the man in front of you. "you must be kento! toru's told me a lot about you."

nanami, much to his own embarrassment, takes a few long moments to recover from the sight of you. somehow, you're even more beautiful in person than you were in that photo on his co-worker's lockscreen (despite being much more... clothed now.)

"ahem. yes, that's me," he murmurs after swallowing roughly, taking your hand in his own to give it a quick shake. he tries not to let his eyes linger too long on the size difference between them; how your hand practically disappears beneath his. "all good things, i hope?"

"oh, of course." you chuckle softly, stepping to the side and opening the door a little wider in a silent initiation for him to come inside. this is it — his last chance to just blow this whole thing off and drive home.

but he doesn't take that chance.

instead, he shuffles inside with a polite smile in your direction, pulling his other hand from behind his back to reveal a bouquet of flowers he'd bought on the way over here; he wasn't exactly sure what was an appropriate gift for someone else's girlfriend who was going to let him have sex with her, so he settled for some simple roses.

you close the door behind the two of you, your eyes widening when they fall on the flowers. how very... gentlemanly. you hadn't expected him to bring any type of present tonight — from what you'd gathered from satoru, this was going to be a very transactional exchange.

"sorry... is this too forward?" nanami mutters a little awkwardly, toying with the petal of one of the roses. "if you don't want them, i can go put them back in my—"

"no, no! they're beautiful," you say quickly, grasping the bouquet from him with a warm smile stretching across your lips. "it's really sweet of you. i just wasn't expecting it, that's all."

the blonde man seems to relax slightly at this, his tensed shoulders slowly deflating and a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. it's clear he's never done anything like this before; but then again, neither have you.

but when satoru had come to you with the idea of helping out his thoroughly overworked colleague and friend, who also happened to be quite handsome (in your boyfriend's words), you couldn't help but agree.

and satoru definitely underestimated kento's appearance with that measly description. he's more than quite handsome — he's gorgeous, with those well-kempt blonde locks and that ridiculously sharp jawline that could probably cut glass.

...let's just say you're not having any last minute regrets about agreeing to this.

"so, how about you go and make yourself comfortable in the living room while i put these in some water?" you suggest kindly, gesturing to doorway on the left as you head in the direction of the kitchen with the bouquet in your hands.

nanami nods in agreement, ducking his head to fit underneath the doorframe as he saunters into the living room of your apartment. it's cozy and small, with little trinkets that just scream satoru gojo scattered around the area.

of course that man has to make even his living room as chaotic as he is.

he plops down onto the couch, his still somewhat tense body sinking into the comfortable material. he feels more relaxed already than he has in months — it must be something to do with the warm atmosphere in your home (or the promise of what's to come.)

his respite doesn't last for long, however, because satoru comes bounding down the stairs, his blindfold askew and his grin wide when he notices nanami sitting there in his living room. "heyyy, nanamin! you're actually here! i figured you'd chicken out last minute, honestly."

the blonde man rolls his eyes behind his goggles, shooting his colleague a thoroughly unimpressed look in response to his statement; as if he hadn't just been considering 'chickening out', as gojo put it, moments ago outside the front door.

but he doesn't have to know that.

"well, i didn't." he settles for sighing bluntly, raising a neatly trimmed eyebrow when satoru drapes himself across the couch next to him like an oversized cat, practically taking up every inch of spare space.

"what's that look for?" satoru snickers obnoxiously, slinging his lanky legs over nanami's lap as if it was the most normal thing in the world. "this is my house you're in right now, remember? i can do what i want."

before nanami can even think of replying, you start padding into the room, shooting your boyfriend what can only be described as a disapproving look. "toru, stop harassing our guest."

the white-haired man lets out a petulant whine in response, grasping your hips as soon as you draw close enough and pulling you down onto his lap. he buries his face in your neck, grumbling. "i'm not harassing him, baby! it's just our usual banter. riiight, nanamin?"

"right." he chuckles lightly, exchanging an amused glance with you over satoru's head at the other man's antics. he's more like a young, whiny child than a full grown adult; especially when he acts like this.

"hey, stop smiling at him!" satoru huffs overdramatically in protest, looking up at you from your neck with one of his bright blue eyes peeking out from under his blindfold. "you're supposed to be on my side, pretty girl."

"i am on your side, silly," you say with fond exasperation, bringing a hand up to ruffle his messy white locks affectionately. "are you seriously mad at me for getting along with your friend?"

"no, i guess not." he grumbles in response, nuzzling his face back into your skin like a beloved pet would do to its owner.

nanami can't help but find it fascinating how the strongest sorcerer and most popular teacher at jujutsu tech seems to completely melt in your presence — there must be something really special about you, and he feels honoured to be allowed to have you for himself; even if only for one night.

"so— uh, how does this... work?" the blonde man asks curiously after clearing his throat, looking between you and the manchild snuggling you in his lap with a carefully questioning gaze.

satoru giggles at this, turning his head to give nanami an obnoxiously teasing wink. "how does me letting you hit this..." he drawls playfully, his hand traveling down from your hip to lightly squeeze your ass. "...work, nanamin?"

nanami almost chokes on his own salvia in response to his colleague's blunt wording, but somehow he manages to compose himself (just). "...yes, i suppose. if you insist on being so lewd about it."

you let out a small chuckle at this, swatting your boyfriend's hand away from your ass and giving him a chiding look, to which he just shrugs innocently.

"i think it should be up to you, kento," you hum thoughtfully, resting your chin on satoru's head and peering over at the blonde man with an encouraging smile. "how would you like this to work?"

"ah, well..." nanami begins, finding his brain seems to have short-circuited at your suggestion. he gets to choose how he has you? jesus, how is even supposed to form a single coherent sentence with you smiling at him like that?

"oh, come onn, nanamin!" satoru whines, raising one of his legs from the other man's lap to kick at his chest with one of his socked feet. "want me to give you some ideas? hmm... how about you start with her perfect little mouth? it works wonders, y'know!"

nanami lets a choked sound escape from somewhere in the back of his throat at this, his wide eyes shooting to you for any signs of hesitance. but he finds none, no — you're still smiling at him in such a friendly way, as if your boyfriend isn't signing you up to suck another man off right in front of him.

"is that— can i... are you sure?" he stammers awkwardly, suddenly feeling like an inexperienced teenager rather than a fully grown man.

"it's fine with me," you say sweetly, each word so thick and honeyed, making nanami's head start to go a little hazy. he can already feel his trousers starting to grow uncomfortably tight just from the direction this conversation is going in. "would you like that, kento?"

"would i—" nanami swallows thickly, stopping his words before they can come out sounding too eager. "yes... yes, i believe i would."

satoru grins widely at his co-worker's admission, effortlessly lifting you up from his lap and placing you on the floor in front of the couch. you crawl the rest of the way across the carpet, coming to perch between nanami's manspread legs.

the blonde man audibly gulps when you bring your hands up to his thighs, shifting just a little on the chair to try and hide how much his body is reacting to your proximity.

"phewww... look at him, baby," satoru whistles amusedly with a mischievous smirk as he watches the interaction, obnoxiously pointing to the growing tent in nanami's slacks. "so worked up already."

you tut lightly, shooting another disapproving look in your boyfriend's direction. "stop teasing him, toru. he's probably just touch-starved."

"something you wouldn't understand, gojo," nanami pushes out through gritted teeth, trying his best to keep up his usual collected demeanour even when he feels your fingers graze over his bulge. "not when you have such a sweet little thing waiting for you at home everyday."

"hm. now that is true," the white-haired man hums in agreement, reaching over nanami's lap to give your hair a gentle, loving stroke. "my girl always knows how to keep me satisfied."

you smile warmly up at satoru, leaning your head into his touch slightly while your hand squeezes around his colleague's clothed erection — and, shit. you can tell just how big he is even through these tight trousers.

you've really got your work cut out for you here.

satoru is quick to help you out, grasping a cushion from the couch and leaning down to slide it underneath your knees to make the position more comfortable for you. ugh, your boyfriend is just so considerate— but tonight isn't about him. focus!

with better support on the floor, you reach up to pop open the button on the front of nanami's slacks, looking up at him through your lashes; and, god, he looks absolutely wrecked already. his cheeks are flushed a light shade of pink, and his goggle-clad eyes are staring anywhere but you.

despite how stoic he always was in satoru's descriptions of him, right now... kento nanami looks utterly adorable.

unzipping his fly, the only barrier between you and his monster of an aching cock is his expensive-looking boxers. and while at this point with satoru you'd usually do a little teasing, you figure with nanami, it's better to cut straight to the chase.

he clearly needs it.

so you dip your nails under the waistband of his underwear, carefully tugging it down to reveal your boyfriend's colleague in all of his touch-starved glory; cock just giant as it slaps against his clothed abdomen, all veiny and curved as the reddened tip leaks onto the couch.

"woww, nanamin!" satoru croons obnoxiously, fanning himself with his hand as if he's a prim and proper lady about to collapse from shock. "how big you are."

"do you really have to be here for this?" the blonde man retorts, shooting a glare so deadly in his friend's direction that if looks could kill... your boyfriend definitely would be six feet under.

"oh, absolutely," he drawls back without missing a beat, smirking smugly as he crosses his legs against nanami's lap, as if watching his girlfriend prepare to give his co-worker a blowjob is the most normal situation possible. "i'll be here the whooole time. better get used to it."

rolling your eyes at satoru's relentless teasing, you opt to distract nanami from the white-haired sorcerer's interjections by wrapping a hand around his bare length (let it be noted that you definitely cannot fit his entire girthy base in your grip.)

nanami lets out a raspy, broken groan at the contact, squeezing his eyes tightly shut as he tries to keep himself together. but the way his cock visibly jumps under your touch doesn't go unnoticed by you or satoru.

"relax for me, kento," you coo sweetly, giving him a light squeeze to make sure he's paying attention to your words. "gonna make you feel good, yeah?"

he can only release a few incoherent mumbles in response, his head falling back against the couch when you start to languidly stroke him, moving your hand from tip to base with well-practised movements.

"fuck, that's so hot," satoru groans as he shifts a little closer to get a better view of you working his uptight colleague with your fist, his own sweatpants starting to visibly tent too. "keep going, pretty girl."

you smile again at the praise, your thighs rubbing together subtly underneath satoru's baggy shirt. but he notices it, because of course he does, he knows your body's reactions like the back of his hand. "see that, nanamin? she loves it when you praise her. i hope you're taking mental notes right now."

nanami can only watch in awe as you lean down to press your soft lips to the leaking tip of his cock, his brain completely scrambled already from only a few touches. jesus, he can't believe he almost didn't agree to take part in this; he’s silently thanking his past self for having the confidence to go through with it right now.

"that's... you're doing good— so good." he pushes out, the words more of a garbled mess than anything as his toned hips involuntarily buck lightly into your hand, in search of more and more friction.

a small, satisfied hum spills from your lips at the praise, your tongue instinctively flicking out to lap at the pearlescent rivulets of pre-cum just streaming from his pudgy tip.

it’s not as sweet as satoru’s — it has a bit more of a salty tang. but it’s not exactly unpleasant either, and you find yourself digging the tip of your tongue into his slit to gather more of the interesting new flavour.

"ah!" nanami gasps loudly, the sound escaping from him without permission. his eyes fly open to fall squarely on you as you start suckling on his tip, finding himself being rendered completely speechless at the way you’re making him feel already — and you’ve only just started.

he’s in for a long night.

“yeahh, she’s good, isn’t she?” satoru croons proudly from beside him, reminding nanami of his presence yet again. but he can’t bring himself to be too mad at his colleague when he’s giving him access to his perfect girlfriend with such a sweet mouth.

“mhm,” the blonde man grunts out, his head rolling to the side slightly. he quickly shuts his eyes, not wanting to catch sight of satoru while he’s receiving such intense pleasure; the last thing he wants is to ruin his upcoming orgasm. “you’re a lu— ah, a lucky man.”

“oh, i know i am,” satoru hums smugly, his hand still resting on your hair giving you a gentle push in a silent encouragement to move your head forward. “come on, baby. i know you can take more of him than that.”

with the help of your boyfriend’s guiding hand, you find yourself sinking more of nanami’s thick cock into your mouth, inch by girthy inch until your nose bumps against the small patch of trimmed blonde hair at the bottom of his abdomen.

“oh, fuuuck…” nanami groans roughly, gripping the fabric of the couch so hard his knuckles are whitening as he tries to hold himself back from just fucking into your mouth like a feral animal.

“it’s okay if you want be rough, nanamin,” the white-haired sorcerer murmurs against the shell of his ear, as if directly reading his thoughts. “she doesn’t mind. she’s your stress relief, remember?”

like the gentleman he is, nanami makes sure to make eye contact with you to check for any signs of hesitance first. but when he doesn’t find any; he just can’t hold himself back from thrusting his hips up into the wet cavern of your mouth.

you try your absolute best to kneel there and take it, but you simply can’t help the way you choke around his sheer length when his tip hits the back of your throat with a lewd thwack!, causing both he and satoru to moan in response.

“yeahhh, you look so pretty choking on nanamin’s cock, babygirl.” satoru groans proudly, trailing his spare hand down to leisurely palm the bulge in his own pants as he observes the scene before him.

your boyfriend’s praise makes you audibly mewl around the blonde man’s cock, the vibrations around his shaft making nanami slap satoru’s hand out of your hair to grab it himself, keeping you in place as he continues rutting into your mouth with reckless abandon.

“just like that, just like that.” nanami chants over and over like a mantra, starting to completely forget about any and all stress he has as he loses himself to the overwhelming pleasure you’re giving him.

“you’re close, aren’t you?” satoru chimes in with a satisfied smirk stretching across his lips as he leans in unnecessarily close to nanami’s ear to whisper. “don’t worry about pulling out, she’ll swallow it all.”

his colleague’s lewd words practically send nanami hurtling over the edge, his grip on your hair tightening to a borderline painful degree as he spills rope after rope of hot, thick cum straight down your throat.

it takes a few deep gulps for you to swallow everything nanami gave you, but there’s just so much of it that a few stray drops spill from the edges of your lips and onto the carpet. shit — you’ll have to clean that up later.

“thaat’s it. such a good girl,” satoru purrs warmly, his eyes alight with affection as he reaches down to stroke your cheek with his thumb, enjoying the dazed expression across your pretty features. “i think you broke nanamin, though.”

looking up at nanami, you can instantly see the visual evidence of what your boyfriend means by you breaking nanami.

the blonde man looks completely debauched — chest rapidly rising and falling as he pants harshly in an attempt to come down from the intensity of his orgasm and eyes squeezed shut so tightly it would appear that he's in some sort of pain if you didn't know better.

"you alright there, kento?" you ask half-teasingly, tapping his thigh gently to try and gain his attention. (it doesn't work; he's clearly out of it.)

satoru is grinning like a madman beside him on the couch, clearly more than pleased with how well his girlfriend is doing unravelling his uptight co-worker so far. "aww, what a shame! he's chickening out before he can even get a feel of your tight little pussy."

you huff, lean up to swat at the white-haired sorcerer's arm in an attempt to get him to shut up, which only causes him to scoop you up in his arms again and place a big wet kiss on your lips in retaliation, seemingly uncaring of the lingering tase of nanami on them.

giggling, you attempt to wriggle out of his grip, which accidentally causes your ass to brush against nanami's still half-hard cock as a result; and that seems to snap him right out of his reverie.

nanami's entire body jolts to attention, a low groan leaving his lips as he glances down at where you're unintentionally pressed against him. and, god, if your mouth made him cum that hard that he forgot where he was for a few moments, just how much better must your pussy be?

"finally back with us, hmm?" satoru drawls playfully, reaching around you to punch his colleague's shoulder a little harder than necessary, causing the blonde man to scowl in response.

"quiet, gojo." he mutters under his breath, unable to tear his eyes away from the slip of your panties he can just about see from underneath the hem of your baggy shirt.

oh, what he'd give for just one little taste right now...

"don't even think about it," satoru cuts in, snapping him from his thoughts. oh dear, did he say that out loud? he really does need to get control of himself. "if you taste her you'll get addicted, and we can't have that."

nanami can't help but feel slightly disappointed at this — he's always been the type to return the favour, and not being able to do the same for you makes a subtle frown tug at his lips.

but he knows that he has no right to ask for anything more than what he's being offered, seeing as you're not his. (and it's not like he can complain if he gets to be inside that pretty pussy that's been on his mind since satoru showed him his lockscreen last week.)

"are you just gonna sit there, nanamin?" satoru chuckles in teasing disapproval, shaking his head and lifting up the hem of your (his) baggy shirt to reveal the considerable wet spot painting the crotch of your panties. "or are you gonna hurry up and take care of my girl? you knoow, it's bad manners to leave a lady waiting while she's this needy."

"ahem. my apologies, darling," nanami mutters hoarsely, using every ounce of self-control he has left to forcefully tear his eyes away from your underwear and meet your eyes. he gestures to his lap, giving you the strongest smile he can muster right now. "would you like to take a seat?"

"still so well-mannered." you giggle lightly, although you oblige without question, crawling away from satoru to perch yourself upon nanami's wide thighs. he instinctively reaches out to grasp your hips with two large hands, keeping you steady.

"so... can i—?" nanami mutters quietly to satoru, as if sharing a well-kept secret, and not as if he's asking for permission to touch another man's girlfriend's cunt. jesus, is he out of his comfort zone right now.

"can you touch her? yes, yes, of course," the white-haired sorcerer replies quickly with a dismissive wave of his hand, as if eager to get this underway already so he can sit back and enjoy the show. "oh, and you have to make her cum on your fingers atleast once before you can fuck her. house rules."

nanami isn't complaining about this rule.

he owes you an orgasm anyway, but when he slides your soiled panties to the side and gets an eyeful of your pretty pussy, he feels as if it would be a crime not to put his fingers inside of you.

ever the gentleman, nanami looks up at you from behind his lopsided goggles one more time to check for any signs of hesitation, and when he still doesn't find any, he slowly dips two thick fingers between your folds, caressing your slick flesh.

you release a small sigh at the touch, your eyelids fluttering as a wave of pleasure washes over you. he's careful and gentle with his ministrations; since he obviously isn't familiar with what you like.

but you can tell he's the type to be a quick learner.

it isn't long before nanami has you squirming and whining on his lap, the two fingers he eased inside of your dripping entrance scissoring and exploring your sloppy hole, spreading you open bit by bit.

"mmm, you like that, pretty girl?" satoru asks raspily from behind you, lazily palming his clothed erection again as he observes your reactions to his colleague's touch. "is he making you feel good?"

"y-yeahhh." is all you can get out in your daze, your back arching forwards in an unconscious action when nanami's thumb finds your swollen clit, lightly pressing the rough pad of it down on the puffy bud.

satoru leans back in so his chin is almost resting on nanami's shoulder, his warm, laboured breaths caressing the lobe of the other man's ear. "her favourite thing is when you rub lil' circles on her clit." he whispers, voice low and teasing.

against his will, a shiver ripples down nanami's spine in response to satoru's words, and he finds himself following them like they were a command, his thumb sloppily circling your pretty clit and emitting a soft gasp from your parted lips.

"c-close, kento." you mutter breathlessly, your hips beginning to grind down onto his fingers in search of more friction. satoru is quick to assist, abandoning palming himself and wrapping his an arm around your waist to help you bounce on the other man's digits more smoothly.

"thank you, thank you!" you cry out to your boyfriend, turning your head to meet his lips in an uncoordinated, messy kiss inches from nanami's face. the blonde man finds his fingers unconsciously speeding up as he observes the interaction, fucking you on them hard and fast.

within moments, you're coming undone.

a soundless cry falls from your lips as your body falls limp between the two men, your cunt clenching and unclenching around nanami's fingers in search of something to milk.

"god. she looks even more beautiful when she cums... i-i need to feel her. can i feel her, satoru?" comes nanami's broken voice from somewhere nearby, your blissed out state making your vision swim and your hearing fuzzy.

"woow. called me by my first name and everything!" that's satoru, obviously. he sounds overwhelmingly smug. "if i knew my girlfriend would get you this pussydrunk, i'd have let you have a turn with her ages ago."

their bickering becomes background noise as you bathe in the afterglow of your orgasm, but you vaguely register your baggy shirt being removed and your body being repositioned so you're splayed across the couch on your back.

"darling? do you need a moment or can i..." it's nanami's voice again. you manage to blink one eye open to find him hunched over you, burly arms either side of your head and his blonde tresses sticking to his forehead with sweat. casting your vision down, you can see his cock, flushed and angry with precum dripping from the tip once again, hovering just above your entrance.

"please." you mewl, the word slurred from lingering pleasure as you weakly grind your hips up into his erection, causing him to release a groan from deep in his throat.

"go ahead. give my girl what she wants," satoru grunts from somewhere behind nanami, the slick sounds filling the air indicating that he's finally released his cock from the confines of his sweatpants and started jerking himself off. "and you better give it to her good."

"i will," nanami mutters as he slowly but surely, pushes his monster of a cock past that first tight ring of muscle that is your entrance. "f-fuck— i will."

"i think that's the — ah — first time i've ever head you curse, nanamin." the white-haired man remarks playfully, his hips bucking up into his closed fist as he watches his colleague prepare to fuck his girlfriend. damn, this is even hotter than he expected.

"don't get used to it." he grunts in response, his arms visibly shaking above you as he tries to hold himself back from just slamming all the way into you. but no, he's still a gentleman; even now. he'll start slowly, atleast.

it takes a few long moments for nanami to push all of his ridiculously thick inches into you, and when he finally bottoms out, his heavy balls flush against your ass, both of you moan. he's stretching you out so good, just as much (if not more so) than satoru does.

the blonde man, to his credit, does manage to give you a while to adjust to the new intrusion filling you up, but it isn't long before he snaps, the animalistic side of him coming out as he begins rutting his hips into you like it's his last day on earth.

"a-ah! fuck, kento!" you cry breathlessly, your legs quickly locking around his waist for some type of support as he continues to use you like his own person cocksleeve, the couch rocking back and forth with the suddenly ruthless movements.

"uh huhh," satoru croons as he works his own cock faster, his blindfold discarded somewhere nearby so he can get the clearest view of nanami pounding his girlfriend into the couch. "use her to get rid of all that pesky stress."

"sorry, sweetheart — shit, sorry," nanami pants above you, his body seemingly having a mind of its own as he continues to drive his cock in and out of you, barely giving you a moment to breathe in between the rough thrusts. "can't stop."

you'd tell him it was okay, that it feels good, but right now you can't form a single coherent thought. you're completely and utterly cockdrunk, and there isn't even a doubt about it.

"hey — mmm — she really likes it when you play with her tits while you're fuckin' her." satoru adds helpfully, causing nanami to growl out something akin to thanks in response.

suddenly, a large hand is palming one of your bouncing breasts, squeezing and kneading the supple flesh and making you clench tightly around the cock inside of you.

nanami curses yet again under his breath, his eyes visibly rolling back in his head behind the fogged up lenses of his goggles. "so tight, darling. practically squeezing around me like a v-vice."

at his words, a broken moan gets ripped from your throat, your ankles digging into the muscles of his lower back in an attempt to pull him in even deeper. all you seem to be able to say is "more, more, more."

"that— ngh, that means she's close," satoru gasps out, his cock twitching beneath his fist as he continues to jerk himself off like there's no tomorrow. "rub... rub her clit like y'did earlier again."

instantly complying to the other man's command, two of nanami's thick fingers find your puffy little bud again, rubbing uncoordinated circles as he continues to pound into you like an animal in heat. jesus, he can't even remember what he was stressed about anymore.

"o-oh, shit!" you almost scream, the stimulation on your sensitive bud and the repeated slams of nanami's pudgy cockhead against your g spot driving you half-insane with pleasure. you can feel an all-too-familiar coil start to spool in the depths of your stomach, threatening to unravel at any given moment.

"yeah, that's it, baby," satoru praises breathlessly, his own orgasm approaching as he continues grinding into his fist like a desperate virgin. "cum all over nanamin's cock for me."

the dual sensations of your boyfriend's words and the thrusting of nanami's sinful hips has you spiralling uncontrollably over the edge, your second high of the night somehow even more intense than the first. you barely even have time to register the liquid just spraying from your cunt and soaking nanami's heavy balls where they're slapping against your ass with a lewd thwack! each time.

"god, so perfect, can't last—" nanami rambles in a very pussydrunk manner, his movements suddenly growing considerably more uncoordinated and sloppy as he struggles to find the strength to hold himself up. "gojo, where can i...?"

"not inside," satoru responds firmly, his voice the most coherent it's been since he started jerking himself off. it's clear there's no room for argument on this one. "that's for me only."

nodding shakily, nanami manages to pull his throbbing cock out just in a nick of time, rope after rope of his goopy cum splattering across the supple skin of your stomach, the stream going on for so long it seems like it'll never stop.

somewhere behind the blonde man, a low, raspy groan is the tell-tale sign that satoru has just finished too, probably coating his own hand with his sticky release.

it's silent for a few blissful moments, all three of you just basking in the afterglow of your respective orgasms. but of course, satoru gojo is a man who can never stay quite for long, so he says—

"hey, maybe we should do a threesome next time."

"next time?" nanami chokes out weakly, barely managing to lift his head up to glance over at this colleague with two raised eyebrows.

"yeah, next time," satoru shrugs nonchalantly, as if the proposal was nothing short of normal. "i know i said i'd only let you do this once, but... sharing is caring, right?"

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

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elixirfromthestars · 11 days ago

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By The Warmth Of The Oven

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Summary: You are baking cookies for the Avengers holiday party when a certain super solider comes into the kitchen tipsy for the first time...

Word Count: 1.1k

Warning(s): none. pure fluff. tipsy bucky.

Prompt/Event: @the-slumberparty december daze -> is it those cookies that smell delicious or is it you?

a/n: This fluffy drabble is my holiday gift to you my dear Bella @nickfowlerrr ♡ In honor of Can You Feel It? being the first of many beautiful fics I read of yours 🥹🩷 Thank you everyone for reading! ₊˚⊹♡ Likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated!! ♡♡♡

bucky masterlist ♡ || fluffy winter drabbles masterlist ❆

“Smells good…” Bucky’s voice comes out of nowhere from behind you as you grab another tray of chocolate chip cookies from the oven. You glance over your shoulder to find him sauntering into the kitchen, making his way over to you.

“Freshly baked cookies always do,” you reply with a gratified grin, placing the tray on top of the stove so the cookies have some time to cool off before you plate them. Your friends had already gone through three batches of them and they practically begged you to make more. It was a nice feeling, almost rewarding in a way, knowing something you made was so loved by your friends.

“‘m not talking about the cookies, doll,” there’s a bit of a slur in his cadence that catches your attention at the same time that your heart skips a beat at his words. You turn to him to see he’s staring at you with a dreamy smile and a twinkle in his eyes, propped up against the counter by his elbow. You frown at his unusual nonchalant demeanor. You’ve never seen him act this way before.

Your head tilts slightly as you examine him a little closer. There’s a bit of a sway to his stance and his cheeks are tinted pink. “Bucky, are you drunk?” Almost immediately he shakes his head at your question, “No. I can't get drunk,” he replies with an obvious tone, and yet the pouty frown on his face tells a different story.

“Right, you can’t…” you affirm, mulling it over for a moment,“Unless…did Thor give you some of his special Asgardian liquor?” You ask, stepping slightly closer to him, the apples of his cheeks getting rosier in response.

“I took a shot. I started feeling funny and came here—felt safe,” he mutters that last part reluctantly, sharing something with you he wouldn’t if it weren’t for the alcohol in his system.

“In the kitchen?”

“With you.”

Your amusement is replaced with a soft expression at his response. He most likely hasn’t felt the effects of alcohol in decades and a part of him doesn’t know how to cope with the resurfaced inhibitions. The fact that while feeling unwell his first instinct was to come looking for you—it made a warmth spread throughout you that could easily rival the heat of the oven.

You reach out to cup his cheek, soothing the flushed skin with your thumb. He instinctively leans into your touch, his eyes shining with a gentle vulnerability that causes your heart to squeeze in your chest. You and Bucky have always had a flirtatious friendship for as long as you can remember, but it's never gone past that. Seeing him so openly affectionate with you stirs emotions deep within you that you aren’t sure you’re ready to bring to the surface.

“I don’t think the alcohol is going to stay in your system for long, Buck. How about we do this…you wait for me here while I go out and serve the cookies I baked,” his eyes widen slightly and you can tell he wants to protest until you add, “I’ll bring back some hot chocolate for us to share and we can enjoy it along with some cookies while we wait for that liquor in your system to wear off. How does that sound?” You suggest softly and you can see the way he thinks it through before he agrees with a nod.

He doesn’t take his eyes off of you as you plate a few dozen cookies on decorative plates, leaving a handful behind for you and Bucky to share. You make sure to quickly take them out to your friends and serve up two piping hot mugs of hot chocolate before making it back to the kitchen in no time.

When you meet back with Bucky you find him sitting on the counter where he watches his legs as he swings them lazily to and fro. You observe him fondly for a moment longer than necessary. Trying to commit to memory how carefree and unguarded he is at this moment. When he notices you his face lights up in a way that makes you feel like the most precious person on earth.

“Here, as promised,” you hand him a mug of hot chocolate which he takes eagerly—too eagerly—as he immediately goes for a sip of it. Before he can, however, you stop him, placing your hand as a barrier between his lips and the mug. His mouth ends up pressed into your palm, and you ignore the heat that finds its way to your face at the softness of his lips brushing against your skin.

“Bucky, it's scalding hot! You’ll burn yourself! Wait until it cools down a bit, please.”

“It’s not gonna burn me, doll. I’m a super soldier. Watch—”

“Bucky!”

You use the cookies as leverage to coax Bucky into waiting for the hot chocolate to cool down before he drinks any of it. For the next hour or so, you enjoy each other's company. Between the sweet treats and the lighthearted conversations, time flies by in a heartbeat.

Then, while in the middle of a discussion over your last mission, Bucky does something that completely takes you by surprise in the best way possible—he kisses you. It’s short, but profound in the way he pours everything into it. Every flirtation you ever questioned could mean something more was proven here with this kiss, that it had meant so much more for more than just you.

You’re speechless when he pulls away beaming as if his heart might burst.

“Looks like I was right.”

“Huh?”

“I asked myself what was sweeter. You or the cookies. I knew it'd be you,” he states as a matter of fact, drinking up the way his words affect you as much as the kiss had. There’s a part of you that doesn’t believe him, but it's not because of him, but more so because you think you must be dreaming.

“That's the liquor talking.”

“I've sobered up a while ago, doll.”

You search his eyes for the truth of it all and you find it. This is real. This isn’t a dream. And the yearning that burns bright in his eyes is one you know all too well. It’s the same one reflecting in your eyes as your gazes lock on one another.

“I still think the cookies are sweeter,” you whisper, your eyes shining with a playful challenge despite the way your heart races in your chest with anticipation. He catches on, licking his lips as his flesh hand snakes its way to the back of your head to cradle it gently.

“‘m gonna prove you wrong, doll,” he declares in a huskier tone as he pulls you in for another kiss. And that night, by the warmth of the oven, Bucky continues to kiss you until he successfully proves you wrong.

#glimpses of love in the snowfall #elixirs snowfall daydreams #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky imagine #bucky fluff #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes oneshot

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dksfml · 2 months ago

Text

off my face - yjw

pairing: jungwon x reader genre: soulmate au, mega FLUFF word count: 6.6k summary: in a world where each person has a soulmate mark indicating where they will be touched by their soulmate for the first time, there’s jungwon—the soccer team captain you’d like to be ruined by forever—who has no soulmate mark at all. what does that make you, someone whose mark has changed color because of him? author's note: finally!! here's your most awaited blond jungwon fic that i skipped sleep for<3333 inspired by this amazing prompt my friend sent me.

One touch and you got me stoned. Higher than I've ever known. You call the shots and I follow. Sunrise, but the night still young. No words, but we speak in tongues. If you let me, I might say too much.

You sat near the front row, posture perfect, eyes narrowed as Professor Min’s lecture on ancient mythology took a surprising turn. Today’s topic wasn’t just history—it was soulmate lore, the mysterious marks everyone was born with, and the myths that surrounded them. The professor’s calm, seasoned voice filled the room, but the air buzzed with barely contained excitement. Everyone was alert, even the usual back-row whisperers, captivated by the promise of something rare: a sanctioned discussion about their most private marks.

“These soulmate marks,” Professor Min began, his gaze sweeping the room with a faint smile, “are said to be the final traces of a bond forged in a past life. Legends tell us that in each lifetime, we may be separated from our soulmates, lost to distance or circumstance. But the marks,” he gestured to his own faintly darkened palm, “are said to be the soul’s way of leaving a trail—a reminder.”

A murmur rippled through the room. Everyone had a mark, a small patch of inky darkness, as distinct as fingerprints, mapped out on their bodies. Some had them on their palms or fingertips, waiting for the day a handshake or brush of fingers would light up that mark with color. Others had them in more curious places, whispering of fated touches in the most unlikely moments.

"The legend says," Professor Min continued, "that these marks were painted by one’s soulmate in a past life, a vow made in hopes to meet again, to find each other across time."

You clenched your pen a little tighter, the faint tickle of wonder battling the urge to keep your expression blank and unfeeling. You’d always kept your interest in soulmate marks private. They seemed so full of mystery, and the idea of your soulmate waiting for you somewhere was oddly… reassuring. You glanced down, conscious of the mark behind your knee, hidden like a strange secret that even you could barely understand. What kind of first touch would even reach there? The thought was both amusing and baffling, and you stifled a wry smile.

Around you, other students leaned in to chat, loud enough that their conversations blended into a steady hum. Your classmate Arin nudged her friend, laughing as she displayed the faint mark on her palm. “I’ve been dying to know who’ll shake my hand one day,” she whispered excitedly, her eyes glimmering with hope.

But your gaze drifted just beyond Arin, landing instead on a familiar figure lounging in the middle row with his legs stretched out, looking every bit like he was born to disrupt things without lifting a finger. Jungwon. Handsome in a way that seemed almost unfair, with striking, dark eyes framed by lashes that cast subtle shadows on his cheeks, and hair the color of midnight that fell in soft, tousled waves. He had this effortless, magnetic presence that drew people toward him, like he knew he didn’t need to try.

As captain of the soccer team and one of the most well-known faces on campus, Jungwon somehow managed to look both sharp and relaxed, as if the attention his looks or reputation brought him meant nothing. You’d been crushing on him since last year, an avid fan always present at his games, cheering him on like a lovesick fool. Whenever he scored a goal, you felt your heart leap, and you couldn’t help but unleash your inner fangirl, your excitement spilling over as you screamed his name. Right now, he seemed half-listening to his friends, a hint of a lazy grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he leaned back, eyes drifting up to the ceiling before refocusing on his friends. It was that easygoing confidence that made him impossible not to notice—and, for you, impossible not to think about.

It was a boy from his friend group, Jay, who interrupted the class chatter by slapping a hand down on the table and teasing, “Come on, Won. You don’t have a soulmate mark, my foot. No one gets off that easy.” The comment was light-hearted but loaded, and more than a few students turned to look.

To your surprise, Jungwon didn’t react with one of his usual witty comebacks or careless shrugs. Instead, he just rubbed the back of his neck, a hint of something almost vulnerable flashing across his face. “No, really,” he insisted, almost apologetically. “I don’t have one. I checked a million times as a kid.”

Your pen paused mid-note, and a slight, irrational disappointment prickled in your chest. It was hard to believe, especially about someone like Jungwon, whose very presence seemed destined to leave a mark on others. Soulmate marks might be rare, but someone like him not having one? It felt impossible, like a missing piece that no one noticed until it was too late.

For a fleeting moment, you wondered if maybe he just hadn’t found it yet. After all, some people only discovered their mark when it finally turned to color. Sometimes it wasn’t a visible spot on the skin but something far subtler—a shadow in the hue of their lips that would only brighten after a first kiss, or a darkness lingering in an eye, invisible until the gentle touch of someone wiping away their tears brought it to life. The thought sent a strange warmth to your cheeks as you glanced back toward him, wondering if Jungwon’s missing mark was just waiting for the right person to unlock it.

Still, he looked surprisingly honest, a faint hint of sadness clouding his otherwise bright gaze. For someone so magnetic, it was as if he was caught drifting in space, without any tether connecting him to anyone at all.

“Alright, alright,” Jay relented, raising his hands in surrender but laughing all the same. “Guess someone’s too cool to be fated to anyone, huh?”

The professor’s voice cut back in, and you forced yourself to refocus, though your mind lingered on Jungwon’s quiet expression and the flicker of something in his eyes, something both resigned and deeply private. Could he really be alone in a world where everyone else was bound to someone?

“Imagine having your mark on your knuckles,” Arin whispered beside you with a grin, oblivious to the moment that had just passed. “You’d probably knock your soulmate out before you even realized they were ‘the one’!”

Another round of laughter scattered through the room, like a shared inside joke. The air felt charged, as if everyone were suddenly curious about each other’s marks, glancing around with new eyes. You let out a small sigh, tapping your pen against your notebook with a faint smile. As much as you tried to keep up the class president, model-student act, the idea of soulmates fascinated you in a way you’d never quite admit.

When the bell finally rang, the room filled with that familiar end-of-class chaos. You started packing up, keeping your head down—until you noticed Jungwon slinging his bag over his shoulder, looking effortlessly put-together, as usual. He laughed at something his friend said, his expression relaxed, his dark eyes flickering with amusement. But you couldn’t help catching the faintest flicker of something else in his gaze as he glanced at his friends—like a momentary, unguarded look that felt… wistful?

Okay, maybe that was just you being overly imaginative.

You let out a little huff as you slung your own bag over your shoulder, shaking off the strange pity you’d felt moments before. So what if Jungwon didn’t have a mark? You barely even knew him. Well, you kind of knew him, but from a distance—and with way more daydreams than you’d like to admit. Still, it was silly to wonder about him, right? With your head full of these thoughts, you walked out into the hallway, lost in a world where maybe, just maybe, he was wondering about you, too.

And as you brushed past a group of friends, laughing and shoving each other, your hand slipped over the back of your knee, where your own mark was hidden—quiet, waiting, and as mysterious as ever.

The sky was an endless blue, stretching wide over the school field as your class spilled out onto the grass for PE. With the teacher conveniently on vacation, today’s instructions were simple: enjoy the free time. Most of your classmates took to the field, breaking off into little clusters for a lazy game of soccer, light stretches, or simple gossip sessions by the bleachers.

As class president, you took it upon yourself to ensure no one went too far or caused trouble. Your duty, as you saw it, was to survey your classmates from a slight distance, keeping an eye out with the calm, serious gaze you’d carefully perfected. Yet even from the sidelines, your eyes found themselves drifting toward a familiar figure on the field, drawn to him like magnets.

Jungwon was at the center of the field with his friends, casual and relaxed, but his every move carried an elegance that made your pulse skip. He was laughing at something his friend said, his eyes crinkling as he kicked the soccer ball back and forth, the glint of a confident smirk tugging at his lips. His ease on the field was mesmerizing, a mixture of strength and grace that made it hard to look away.

You reminded yourself to focus, scanning the field to check on the other groups. But before you could pull your attention back entirely, a voice called out, and you saw Jungwon pivot to chase the soccer ball—only for it to ricochet off his foot, headed directly toward you with alarming speed.

In the split second it took you to react, you felt a sharp thud against the back of your knees. The impact sent you stumbling forward, knees buckling beneath you as you tumbled to the ground. Pain flared up where the ball had struck, but it was drowned out by the shock of it all.

“Oh no—are you okay?” Jungwon’s voice was breathless with concern, his steps hurried as he reached you. You barely had a chance to process his arrival before he knelt beside you, face flushed and clearly panicked. His hand hovered awkwardly as if afraid to touch you, his usual calm replaced with something far more vulnerable.

“I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to— Are you hurt?” he stammered, his voice unusually soft. He reached out gently, his hands carefully brushing against your arm as he tried to help you up. “Can you stand?”

Your mind struggled to catch up to the moment, and it took everything you had to keep your stoic demeanor intact. Jungwon was close, closer than he’d ever been, and the intensity of his worried gaze was unexpectedly disarming. Even as pain pulsed through your knee, you couldn’t help but stare, captivated by how intensely he focused on you, as if everything else in the world had fallen away.

“I’m fine, really,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. But as soon as you tried to stand, pain shot up your leg.

Jungwon’s expression shifted to one of determination, and before you could protest, he slid one arm under your knees and lifted you up, his other arm around your shoulders. The world tilted as he held you in a firm, steady grip, his face barely inches from yours. “We’re getting you to the nurse. No arguments.”

You blinked, momentarily stunned by his closeness, by the warmth radiating from him. “Oh—okay.” The words left your mouth almost on instinct, your brain still catching up with the fact that Jungwon was carrying you, his focus set entirely on you. His hands brushed your arm as he adjusted his grip, and you felt a strange warmth bloom under your skin, something unfamiliar and electric.

The walk to the nurse’s office was quiet, but you couldn’t ignore the way his gaze flickered to you, the gentleness in his expression as he murmured, “Sorry again. I’d never forgive myself if I hurt the class president.”

Your lips parted, searching for something to say, but the way he looked at you—soft, maybe even a bit shy—left you wordless. All you could do was nod, your heart pounding louder with each step as you held onto the feeling of his arms around you, wondering if he could hear it too.

It wasn’t until you glanced down that you noticed it—a faint shift of color beneath your knee where the ball had struck. The mark, once hidden and dark, now radiated a subtle but unmistakable bright yellow hue, soft and warm against your skin.

You froze, eyes wide, as the realization settled in. Jungwon was still mumbling apologies, unaware of the discovery you’d just made. Only he could have caused the mark to change; he was the only one who had touched that spot. The idea left you breathless, your mind scrambling to make sense of it all.

In the clinic, the nurse examined your knee with a quick, professional assessment. “You’ll be fine,” she declared, sending you off with an ice pack and a faint smile. But your thoughts were still racing, tangled up in the startling realization that Jungwon might actually be your soulmate.

The whole walk back to class, you replayed the moment in your mind, trying to make sense of it. Maybe it was a coincidence. Perhaps someone had brushed the back of your knee at some other time, and you simply hadn’t noticed. But deep down, you knew the truth—the mark had only changed when Jungwon touched you.

And when you returned to class, he was there, hovering near the door with a worried frown. He looked up as you approached, eyes bright with relief.

“Are you okay?” he asked, a slight smile breaking through the concern etched into his features. “I was worried about you.”

Your heart skipped as you nodded, doing your best to keep your voice steady. “I’m fine. Just… a bit shaken up, that’s all.” You felt the weight of the new secret pressing down on you, but you forced yourself to smile.

Jungwon’s shoulders relaxed, and he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck in that effortlessly charming way of his. “I’m glad. I’ll be more careful with my aim next time.”

You smiled back, feeling the weight of the mark’s new color, of the quiet truth only you knew. As Jungwon returned to his seat, your gaze drifted to the back of your knee, where the mark lay hidden under the fabric of your clothes, now touched by color—by him.

In the days following the incident on the field, the world seemed to shift around you, humming with an energy you couldn’t quite shake. The back of your knee, where Jungwon’s touch had changed your soulmate mark to a soft, distinct yellow color, was a constant reminder of the possibility that your crush—Jungwon, the ever-handsome and kind soccer captain—might be something even more significant than you’d ever dared to imagine.

“How’s your knee?” he asked, his voice warm and tinged with that familiar gentleness that made your heart stutter.

“Oh, it’s fine, really!” You waved it off, attempting to tuck your leg further under your desk, hoping he wouldn’t notice the faint new color to the mark that still lingered behind your knee.

Jungwon didn’t seem to buy it. “Are you sure?” he asked, his brows furrowing as he leaned down, intent on seeing for himself. Before he could get a closer look, you tugged your skirt down a little farther, hiding the mark as best as you could.

“I’m sure, really,” you insisted, trying to keep your tone casual. “It’s just a little sore, nothing to worry about.”

For a moment, he hesitated, his gaze lingering on you, unreadable. Then he nodded, standing up with a quiet, sheepish smile. “Alright. I’ll trust you, but only if you promise to let me know if it starts hurting again.”

You managed a nod, clutching your books a little tighter to keep your hands steady. “I promise,” you said, hoping he didn’t notice the flicker of nerves in your eyes.

Your third shared class of the week was English, and just as the teacher assigned the day’s group work, the class began to shift into pairs. Coincidentally (or so you told yourself), the seating arrangement placed Jungwon near you that day.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft as he approached. He offered you one of his signature, heart-stopping smiles. “Mind if we pair up? I mean…if you’re okay with it.”

With an effort to keep your expression neutral, you nodded. “Sure,” you replied, your voice steady even though your heart was anything but.

Settling at a table near the window, you both pulled out your notebooks. The task was straightforward—analyzing a poem about soulmates. You caught a breath at the irony, and Jungwon, seemingly unfazed, began reading the passage aloud. His voice, low and calm, wove through the words as you listened, though your mind kept wandering to his every movement, the way his eyes flickered thoughtfully over the page, how his fingers held the pencil lightly but with intention.

“What do you think?” he asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You cleared your throat, willing your focus back to the assignment. “I think…well, it’s romantic. But it’s also kind of tragic, right? There’s always this sense of waiting—like, what if they don’t meet?”

Jungwon’s gaze flickered up, lingering on your face a little longer than necessary. “Yeah, that’s true,” he agreed, his voice thoughtful. “The idea that you’re waiting your whole life for just one person…it’s a lot of pressure.”

He paused, eyes settling on you, as if searching for something beneath the calm exterior you held so tightly. “Do you… believe in it? Soulmates, I mean?”

Caught off guard, you looked down, your fingers tracing invisible patterns on the edge of your notebook. You thought of your parents, of their own lovely story about finding each other through their marks, and how you’d grown up with those tales of destiny. And now, here you were, sitting with the very boy who might be your own fated match.

“I think,” you began slowly, “that I want to believe in it. My parents…they have one of those classic stories. It’s hard not to believe in soulmates when you’ve heard stories like that all your life.”

He nodded, listening intently. “I get that. I guess…sometimes I wonder what it would be like. But it’s hard to picture when you don’t…you know, have any marks yourself.”

The quiet sadness in his tone took you by surprise. You’d never considered what it might be like to go through life without a soulmate mark, to feel like something intrinsic was missing, a feeling that destiny had passed you by. Suddenly, your thoughts flickered back to the legends the elders told—how markless people were said to carry the weight of unrequited love from a past life, doomed to wander without a soulmate to mark them in this one. The idea hung heavy in the air, mingling with your sympathy for him.

“Maybe it doesn’t matter, then,” you murmured, almost to yourself. “Maybe people without marks find their person too, in other ways.” You couldn’t help but think that perhaps Jungwon was one of those souls, burdened by a love that never came to fruition.

The silence that followed was heavy but not uncomfortable. Jungwon seemed lost in thought, his gaze drifting out the window as he considered your words. And just then, a strange sense of comfort washed over you, knowing that even if he was unaware of it, you shared a connection that went beyond what either of you could see.

“Maybe,” he said finally, and then he flashed you a lopsided grin. “Well, even if soulmates are real, maybe it’s a good thing I’m mark-free. I don’t think I’d want someone to find out I was their soulmate because I hit them with a soccer ball.”

His laughter rang out, and you couldn’t help but join him, but beneath the mirth, your heart clenched. You wanted to tell him everything—to reveal the secret that could bridge the chasm between you. But as the words formed on your lips, fear gripped you. What if you were wrong? What if he truly didn’t have a soulmate mark, and this moment of connection was just a fleeting illusion?

So you swallowed hard, plastering a smile on your face that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Well, let’s just keep that between us, then,” you replied, hoping to mask the anxiety swirling inside you.

Inside, the truth weighed heavy, a secret that felt more like a burden than a bond. Keeping it hidden seemed safer, easier—even if it left you feeling like a ghost, drifting alongside him but never truly reaching out. The thought of him being one of those markless souls—the ones who carried the pain of a love never realized—made you ache. You didn’t want him to feel that emptiness, and yet, here you were, hiding a truth that might shatter the fragile connection you shared.

Perhaps it was better this way. Better to hold onto your heartache in silence than risk shattering the bond you had built, no matter how tenuous it felt. As you returned to the assignment, the bittersweet taste of longing lingered on your tongue, mixing with the thrill of possibility, leaving you torn between the hope of what could be and the fear of what might never come to pass.

Finally, during your biology class, your teacher assigned a laboratory cleaning rotation. By the luck of the draw—or maybe a twist of fate—you found yourself paired with Jungwon. It was supposed to be a simple task, but as the two of you gathered supplies and began tidying up the classroom after hours, you felt the weight of every quiet moment.

Jungwon appeared beside you as you straightened a stack of textbooks, arms full of markers and erasers. His casual, laid-back attitude only heightened the quiet thrill that being near him sparked in you. As he handed you an eraser, your fingers brushed slightly, and you pulled back quickly, heart racing.

"Are you always this… serious?" Jungwon teased, his lips curving into a half-smile. "I mean, you don’t have to look like we’re cleaning the whole school."

You rolled your eyes, fighting back a smile. “It’s just how I work. I take tasks seriously.”

He nodded, still smiling. “You’re impressive, you know. It’s like…you’re always so composed, like nothing rattles you.”

Caught off guard by his observation, you froze momentarily, not sure how to respond. Behind your serious exterior, you were anything but composed—especially around him. Before you could answer, he turned away to tidy the bookshelves, leaving you wondering if he’d picked up on the effect he had on you.

After a while, Jungwon returned to the task at hand, dusting off a few of the windowsills. It was quiet for a few minutes, the sounds of your combined effort filling the room. You both worked in sync, a silent rhythm that had developed without either of you realizing it. And then, with an abruptness that caught you off guard, he spoke again.

“Hey,” he said, hesitating. “I know this might be a weird question, but… where’s your soulmate mark?”

The question hung in the air between you, heavy with implications you weren’t ready to unravel. Your heart thudded as you carefully set down the books you’d been holding, gathering your thoughts.

You felt a flush creep up your cheeks. "Um, it's… it's on my knee," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. The intimacy of the moment made you shy, and you instinctively shifted your weight, the hem of your skirt falling to cover your knee even more.

Jungwon raised an eyebrow, curiosity glimmering in his eyes. “Oh? Is it… already in color?”

You hesitated for a brief moment, weighing your words. “Uh, yeah,” you replied, biting your lip. “It changed a while ago. But it’s not a big deal.” You left out the part about him possibly being your soulmate, feeling the weight of that truth settle heavily in the air between you.

His expression shifted slightly, disappointment flashing across his features before he masked it with a casual smile. “That’s cool,” he said, his voice a bit quieter now. “I guess… it must be nice to have that certainty.”

“Yeah,” you said, trying to keep the mood light despite the sudden heaviness in your chest. “I mean, it’s comforting, I suppose.”

But beneath your words, a sense of longing stirred. You noticed how his gaze faltered for a moment, and it struck you then how much he had hoped for something different. He had seemed eager, maybe even hopeful, and the realization stung a little.

Jungwon cleared his throat, breaking the silence that had settled over you both. “So, um… did you see the last soccer game?” he asked, trying to steer the conversation in a different direction. “I think we really need to work on our defense.”

His attempt at lightheartedness felt slightly forced, and you could see a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. Still, it was nice to see him trying to shake off the heaviness from moments before.

“Yeah, I caught a bit of it,” you replied, grateful for the shift in focus. “You guys played well, though a couple of those goals were pretty close calls.”

He chuckled, the tension easing just a little. “Yeah, I think I almost gave our coach a heart attack with that last-minute save,” he said, grinning. It was an infectious smile, and you found yourself smiling back despite the weight still resting in the back of your mind.

The annual school festival arrived faster than expected, and the campus buzzed with activity and excitement. Classrooms were transformed into themed booths, hallways were draped with handmade decorations, and students wore colorful festival shirts and badges, their faces bright with paint and laughter. You found yourself stationed at the face-painting booth, brush in hand, ready to tackle the endless line of eager students.

You’d always enjoyed events like these—participating in the festival offered you a rare chance to relax and feel connected to your classmates outside of the usual seriousness you maintained as class president. Here, you were just another student, painting stars, hearts, and stripes on familiar faces.

“Hey, what’s up? Need a painter?” your friend Taeyoung called out to the next group approaching your booth. You followed his gaze and felt your heart skip when you recognized Jungwon and his friends heading your way, laughing and jostling each other. He wore a loose festival shirt with sleeves rolled up, a casual look that somehow made him even more handsome. You quickly glanced down, suddenly hyper-aware of your paintbrushes and the paper towels you clutched a little too tightly.

The booth was busy, and with most of your fellow painters occupied, it didn’t take long for Taeyoung to pair Jungwon with you. “Hey, Y/N, looks like you’ve got a VIP customer! Captain Jungwon wants to be a canvas today,” he said, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he nudged Jungwon playfully.

Jungwon chuckled, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes—an eagerness mixed with a hint of shyness. “Yeah, I guess I’m in your hands now,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “No pressure, right?”

You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your composure as your heart raced. “Uh, right! No pressure at all,” you replied, your voice a little too bright. “What do you have in mind?”

You forced yourself to meet Jungwon’s eyes, fighting back the nervous excitement bubbling in your chest. “So… what would you like?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

Jungwon’s usual confident smile softened a little, and he seemed slightly hesitant, rubbing the back of his neck, a gesture that made your stomach flutter. “Maybe a couple of stars on my cheeks? And… maybe a small cat on my forehead?”

You stifled a laugh at his request, realizing that behind his composed demeanor, he had a playful side you hadn’t seen before. “A star and a cat. Got it,” you whispered, dipping your brush into white paint. You reached out carefully to steady his face, tilting it slightly toward the light. Your fingers lightly touched his cheek, and you couldn’t ignore the spark that jolted through you at the contact.

Jungwon closed his eyes briefly, letting out a small breath. You tried to ignore the slight flush you felt creeping up your neck, focusing on drawing a perfect star on his left cheek. You painted in silence, but every so often, he’d open his eyes and glance at you, making your heart race each time.

With one cheek finished, you moved to the other side. He leaned in closer, giving you the perfect angle. The space between you seemed to shrink with every second, the sounds of the bustling festival fading into a distant hum. You were hyper-aware of everything—the faint scent of his cologne, the warmth radiating from him, and how your fingers gently brushed his skin. When you finished with the stars, you pulled back slightly to look at your work, meeting his gaze as you did.

“They look good,” he murmured, his voice softer than usual.

You swallowed, breaking eye contact to reach for a new brush and dip it in black paint. “Now for the cat,” you said, trying to stay calm. “Hold still.”

You carefully moved to part his hair at the center of his forehead. As your fingers brushed through his bangs, you froze, your eyes widening as you saw something strange—a small patch of his dark hair was shifting, lightening to a soft honey-blonde under your touch.

“Um… Jungwon,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath as you stared at the transformed lock of hair falling against his forehead. “Your hair…”

“What about it?” He turned to you with a hint of confusion, glancing up as if trying to catch a glimpse of the change. “Did I mess it up?”

You shook your head, the words tangling in your throat as disbelief washed over you. “It’s… it’s changing color.”

He blinked, clearly caught off guard, then brushed his fingers through the area you’d touched. His movements stilled, the warmth in his expression fading, replaced by something deeper—something unreadable. The air thickened around you, a heavy silence filled with unspoken questions.

“Are you sure?” he asked quietly, his gaze searching yours as if trying to decode the truth hidden beneath your surprise.

You nodded slowly, your heart racing. “Yeah, I… I thought it was just the paint at first, but… it’s definitely not.”

The realization hung in the air, electric and palpable, igniting a spark of tension that sent shivers down your spine. Jungwon’s fingers gently traced the newly lightened strands of hair, his expression a mix of wonder and trepidation. You could feel your pulse quicken, an exhilarating rush flooding through you as you grasped the meaning behind this strange phenomenon.

Time seemed to stretch in that moment, each heartbeat echoing like a drum in your chest. Here he was, the boy you’d admired from afar, unexpectedly transformed before your eyes. Jungwon—the one who had unwittingly painted your world in vibrant colors, now literally changing right in front of you.

Suddenly, self-consciousness washed over you like a cold wave. You averted your gaze, stepping back instinctively. “I—I should go finish with the others. They’re probably waiting for me…” Your voice wavered, betraying the rush of emotions threatening to spill over.

Before you could dwell on it, a paint container wobbled on the edge of the table, knocking into your elbow. In your panic, you stumbled, sending brushes and colors sprawling over yourself. “Oh no!” you yelped, scrambling to clean up the mess.

“Y/N, wait!” Jungwon exclaimed, his eyes widening in surprise. He stepped closer, his hand closing around yours, halting your frantic movements. “Stop. Just breathe.”

His grip was steadying, grounding you amidst the chaos of your racing thoughts. “Let’s find somewhere quiet, okay? You need to clean up.” His voice held a calmness that contrasted sharply with the storm inside you.

You felt a rush of warmth at his concern, but your mind spun with confusion. “But… the booth—”

“Trust me,” he said, his gaze unwavering, a silent promise passing between you. “Just for a moment. Let’s talk.”

With a nod, you allowed him to guide you away from the festival’s noise, your heart racing not just from the moment, but from the undeniable connection building between you. The thrill of discovery was tempered by the anxiety of what it all meant, and yet, in Jungwon’s presence, you felt something shift—something new and exciting, just waiting to be explored.

He led you through a quieter section of the campus, where the walls were lined with colorful murals painted by students, the air filled with the faint scent of paint and creativity. The laughter and chatter from the festival faded into the background, replaced by the gentle rustle of leaves overhead and the distant sound of music drifting from the booths.

As you turned a corner, Jungwon paused, the air around you suddenly thick with anticipation. He glanced around, ensuring you were alone, then leaned against the cool brick wall, his posture relaxed yet focused. His gaze locked onto yours, intensity radiating from him. “My hair… it’s slowly turning blond. Isn’t this what soulmate marks are supposed to be like?”

His words hung in the air, electrifying the space between you. You felt the weight of the moment press down, your heart racing like a wild drum in your chest. “Right… your soulmate mark,” you stammered, the tremor in your voice betraying the chaos inside. “I didn’t want to say anything because I thought it might just be a coincidence, but now… it's all starting to make sense.”

Jungwon stepped closer, the seriousness in his expression deepening. “You mean you knew?” His voice was low, the edge of urgency evident. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

The air crackled with tension, and you felt your pulse quicken. “I didn’t know it was you! I thought—” you cut yourself off, frustration bubbling within you. “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship or make things awkward. You’ve been my crush longer than you’ve been a friend. Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep things from being awkward with you, especially when my mark changed?”

Jungwon’s expression shifted, vulnerability breaking through his confidence. “Your mark... is it.… when did it change? Am I—was it before… or after we met?” His voice was tight, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air.

You took a deep breath, feeling the memories rush back. “The day you carried me to the nurse’s office, you idiot.”

He blinked, taken aback by your response. “Wait… that day? But I thought...”

His expression softened slightly, the intensity in his eyes shifting as he took a step closer. You held your breath as he knelt down, his fingers hovering over your soulmate mark. The moment felt electric, a mix of vulnerability and anticipation coursing through you.

“Can I…?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, giving him permission to touch it. As his fingers brushed against your skin, a shiver ran down your spine. Jungwon chuckled softly, the sound breaking some of the tension between you. “Can you believe this? It feels just like yesterday when I accidentally hit my crush with a soccer ball at her knees,” he said, shaking his head with a bemused smile. “The same crush I’ve wanted to approach since 10th grade but was always too afraid to mess up, especially with how she glares at boys.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the image of a younger Jungwon fumbling with his words as he tried to impress you suddenly vivid in your mind. “I didn’t mean to scare you off,” you admitted, your heart swelling with warmth. “I thought you were just… confident, you know?”

He shrugged, a hint of shyness creeping back into his demeanor. “I try to be. But it’s hard when you’re crushing on someone who’s out of your league.”

“Out of my league?” you repeated, incredulous. “Jungwon, you’re the captain of the soccer team! Everyone looks up to you.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’m not nervous around you,” he replied, his gaze locking onto yours, sincerity pouring from his words. “It’s different with you. You make me want to be better.”

The air between you thickened with unspoken emotions, each heartbeat echoing the connection that had always been there, waiting to be acknowledged. You both stood on the edge of something monumental, the laughter of the festival fading away, leaving only the two of you and the promise of what lay ahead.

The next day, Jungwon strolled confidently down the hallway, his head of hair transformed into a stunning honeyed blonde that turned heads with every step. The shift was striking—bold, noticeable, and oddly fitting—making it seem as though he had always intended to embrace this change. Whispers and awestruck glances followed him like a gentle wave, yet beneath that cool exterior, you could see the spark of mischief in his eyes, especially when they met yours.

“Wow, he really went all out,” Arin murmured beside you, her voice a mix of surprise and admiration. “He must’ve bleached the whole thing. I didn’t think Jungwon had that in him.”

You nodded, trying to maintain your composure while your heart raced. “Yeah… surprising, isn’t it?” you replied, though a smile betrayed your nonchalance as you watched him navigate the crowd like he owned the place.

Unaware of the true significance of his transformation, your classmates continued their commentary. “Looks good on him, though,” one girl remarked, her tone infused with genuine admiration. “Like he was meant to have it all along.”

Jungwon seemed completely unfazed by the attention, wearing his new look with a blend of pride and ease, as if his blonde hair was a badge of honor that only you understood. It was a mark that connected the two of you in ways that no one else could fathom—an intimate secret wrapped in boldness.

As the hallway thinned out, he lingered by his locker, his casual demeanor slipping just a bit as he caught your gaze from across the hall. He lifted a hand, brushing back his hair with an effortless charm that sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach—a subtle nod to the secret you shared.

You walked over, your heart pounding just a little faster than usual. “It suits you,” you said, keeping your voice low, the air between you thick with unspoken words.

His eyes softened, gratitude shimmering in their depths. “Good to know,” he murmured, his tone low but filled with warmth. “After all, it’s your fault it looks this good.”

A faint blush crept up your cheeks at his words, and before you could respond, he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice even more as he added, “And don’t worry. The secret’s safe.”

In that crowded hallway, with laughter and footsteps echoing around you, it felt like you and Jungwon were enveloped in your own little world. His blonde hair, like a silent vow, was a reminder of what only the two of you understood: a hidden connection, pulsing with promise and anticipation, waiting to be explored.

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ellecdc · 7 months ago

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rosekiller & their 'platonic' girlfriend

rosekiller x 'platonic' girlfriend!reader when they find out it's not exactly platonic

CW: Evan & Barty threaten someone's life, Barty says he's in love and will die a lot

A/N: ........ I'm finally trying Evan out guysssss 😮‍💨🫣, prompt based off of this post and this post

click here for part two

“Wow.” Sirius called as he looked you up and down salaciously in a way you knew was solely for the purpose of riling Barty up. “I almost didn’t recognise you without your third, L/N.”

You were wholly incapable of biting back a scoff and an eye roll as you used your arm to stop Barty from approaching the troublesome Black. “I am the third, Black.”

And of course where there was Sirius Black, one could be certain that James Potter wasn’t far behind him. “Not with the way you walk those two like dogs.” He called as he sidled up beside Sirius with a cocky grin.

“It’s not like that- Salazar’s saggy balls, why am I explaining myself to you rotten dugbogs?” You grumbled as you grabbed Barty by the arm and continued the way you had been going before the interruption.

“It could be like that you know?” Barty flirted, earning him a smack in the arm.

“Sod off.”

You had found friendship in Barty and Evan after the two of them had already started dating.

Were they flirty with you? Sure.

Did the three of you spend a lot of time together? Yes.

Did you have some…fun from time to time? Absolutely.

But you weren’t together; at least not in the way that everyone seemed to suggest.

“Where are we going now?” Barty asked happily as he allowed you to guide him through the castle.

“We’re looking for your boyfriend; he promised to lend me that book he was telling me about.”

Barty barely had time to make a hum of acknowledgment before the two of you turned a corner to the sight of Evan Rosier.

Evan Rosier….who was currently holding a poor Ravenclaw bloke up against the wall by the collar of his uniform shirt.

“Oh yay! We’re fighting!” Barty called happily as he all but skipped towards his boyfriend.

“Rosier! What are you doing!?” You hissed as you tried to catch up to Barty’s longer strides.

“Yeah Rosey! Why are we killing Fenwick today!?” Barty asked enthusiastically.

You watched as Evan’s jaw twitched before he answered. “Heard him talking about shagging L/N at the Hufflepuff party tonight.”

Barty made an understanding hum as if saying ‘fair enough’ which you did not understand nor find ‘fair enough’ at all, whilst poor Fenwick seemed to swallow nervously.

“So what?” You asked then, causing all three boys to look at you bemusedly.

“What do you mean so what!?” Barty asked you incredulously.

“Well…” You started, really not understanding what the sodding hang up here was. “We’re not together?” You stated in the form of a question as you gestured between you, Evan, and Barty.

Evan stood there staring at you with furrowed brows for approximately half a minute (still with Fenwick pinned against the wall, mind you) before a brief look of understanding crossed his face.

“Circe’s fucking tits.” He breathed out disbelievingly before turning to look at Barty “We’re in love with her.”

A confused sound was caught in your throat as Barty threw his hands up in exasperation. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you lot, but no one ever listens to Barty!”

“Last week you fucking told me you were in love with inventor of bellbottom jeans, Junior, how the hells am I supposed to know when you actually mean it?” Evan hissed back at him.

“I literally told you that I would die if anything ever happened to Treasure, how in the fuck is that platonic?!”

“You told me you were going to die when Laurie and Jo didn’t end up together!” Evan shouted back.

Barty’s face turned severe as he leveled Evan with a look. “How dare you bring that up right now; you know I’m still grieving.”

“For the love of Merlin- Rosier! Put Fenwick down.” You barked at him, surprising both boys from their argument and alerting them to the fact that they were still holding their classmate hostage.

Evan turned back towards the bloke and muttered a threatening “Stay the fuck away from her, got it?” as Fenwick nodded quickly and all but sprinted the opposite way down the hall once Evan finally released his grip.

Barty let out a pleased breath as he clapped his hands together excitedly. “Well! What do we do now?”

Evan stalked over and grabbed your hand, surprising you with the tenderness of the touch coming from someone who still looked so murderous.

He slowly bent down and pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead before he was leading you by the hand towards the Great Hall.

“We’re going to go and make sure the rest of the sodding school knows she’s ours too.”

You felt your cheeks heat up not entirely unpleasantly as you listened to the sound of Barty cackle happily from where he was trailing behind you.

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justgiulia · 11 days ago

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HIII I HAD A THOIGHT THAT HAS BEEN KILLING MY MIND AND I NEED TO TELL IT TO SOMEONE OTHERWISE IM GNA EXPLODE

get this . everyone chilling at ramshackle dorm doing their own thing, yuu (and grimm by extension), ace and deuce sitting by the table talking about whatever crosses their mind

Eventually the conversation escalates to birthdays and holidays and ace asks how old Yuu is. Azul interjects with saying Yuu's age from the contract they signed a few months ago, but then Yuu pipes up and tells them that they're one year older than that.

Theres a small moment of confusion until it dawns onto Deuce that Yuy's birthday was a month or two ago and they never spoke a peep about it. Not even to grimm!! And when asked, Yuy makes an excuse like "that was when __ was kind of close to overblotting and I didn't want to make it about me because that'd be so nitpicky—"

It was based off an audio i heard and idk if i want to write it into a short drabble for myself i probably cant since im only on book 2 ueue). But like. its a fun prompt methinks. what would all of them do when they find out Yuu deliberately didn't say a thing about their birthday

🎊

You didn't tell them about your birthday?!

characters: Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Azul Ashengrotto, Grimm.

author's note: let's just pretend I didn't just post a request from almost 2 years ago 😭 I'm deeply sorry. also, I apologize for not uploading anything this month but I'm working on something big 🙏

warnings: none

Ace Trappola

For his Immediate Reaction, he is offended in the most dramatic way possible. He gasps like you’ve committed the ultimate betrayal.

Once he processes that you skipped celebrating because of an overblot situation, Ace feels a bit guilty. He won’t outright admit it, but his teasing becomes a little softer as a result.

He insists on throwing you an over-the-top, borderline ridiculous party.

“I’m talking about party hats for everyone and cake so big Grimm can’t finish it—well, maybe.”

His idea of a celebration is half a joke, but you know he’s secretly serious about making it memorable and deep down, he’s touched by how considerate you were and wants to make sure you never feel overlooked again.

Deuce Spade

Deuce is visibly upset, almost like he’s the one who forgot your birthday, feeling terrible for not realizing sooner.

“But Prefect, birthdays are important! You deserve to be celebrated!”

He gets way too worked up about making it up to you, like it’s a mission, he might also wonder if he’s a bad friend for not noticing your birthday had passed. He’ll pay more attention to your subtle hints in the future (even if you weren’t giving any).

"I won’t let this happen again. Next time, we’ll do something amazing. I swear.”

You swear his sincerity makes you feel just as guilty for not telling him.

Azul Ashengrotto

Acts unbothered on the surface but lowkey blames himself for not catching on sooner, especially since he prides himself on knowing useful details about everyone (and blackmailing them).

Azul will subtly try to make it up to you in his own way. Maybe he gives you a small but meaningful gift with a nonchalant...

“Consider this a late birthday present.”

He might tease you about this later saying something like...

“Oh, Prefect, you wouldn’t hide something as important as a birthday from us again, would you? It’s not wise to keep secrets from your allies.”

But the teasing is his way of showing he cares.

Grimm

“You didn’t even tell me, your best pal?! Unbelievable!”

He paces around the room dramatically, occasionally glaring at you with exaggerated betrayal.

As much as he tries to play it off as annoyance, it’s clear he’s genuinely hurt that you didn’t trust him with such important information.

“I live here! I’m supposed to know these things!”

His solution to everything is cake.

“Alright, let’s bake a cake right now. Wait, no—you bake the cake, and I’ll taste-test it!”

Grimm will insist on celebrating your birthday retroactively, even if it’s something small. He’ll demand a party and act like it’s all for you, but deep down, he just wants to feel like he’s making things right.

Overall, they argue over how to properly celebrate your next birthday. Ace wants chaos, Deuce wants heartfelt, Grimm just wants food, and Azul suggests something elegant but practical.

Despite their differences, they all agree on one thing: they’re not letting you keep secrets like this again. You can expect everyone to be hyperaware of your birthday next year—and they’ll make sure it’s unforgettable.

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skeltnwrites · 23 days ago

Text

Deck the Halls ⋆⁺❆₊꙳‧❅⋆࿔

With Eddie stuck in the hospital, the boys help you bring Christmas to him. 3k

a/n - for the amazing @littlexdeaths twelve days of promptmas! <3

“Mike, stop pulling so hard.”

“You’re holding it too high!”

Lucas scoffs. “It’s literally dragging on the floor.”

“It’s literally not–”

“Guys!” Your snow-slick boots squeal on the linoleum as you spin. “You’re gonna get us caught if you don’t stop arguing.”

“But he–”

“I wasn’t–”

“Both of you! Shut up!”

The scowl Mike gives Lucas is met with equal disdain. But he rolls his eyes and heaves the Christmas tree in his arms up a notch. You resume down the hospital hallway, hauling the front end of the tree with four grumpy teenagers in tow.

You can’t be that annoyed. Dustin, Lucas, Will, and Mike are all here with you of their own volition in this stuffy hospital very early on Christmas morning. And they all have a piece of your heart for doing so.

You adjust your grip on the tree. No matter how you hold it, the bristles poke your waist, and the bark stamps itchy lines into your palms. But you remind yourself of Eddie. Of his hospital room with white walls, white sheets, white machines, white everything. And that’s just not right, not on Christmas.

So you’re bringing the holiday spirit to Eddie this year. Between the five of you, there are three backpacks brimming with unused tinsel, lights, and ornaments, and a pine tree as tall as Lucas.

You’d have decorated earlier if you could’ve. But Eddie procrastinated until Christmas Eve to fix the lights on your roof and in his haste, his heel skidded on a patch of ice, and he tumbled off the house in a rather cartoonish display. It wasn’t funny then, but you can laugh now knowing he’s passed out on painkillers and recovering just fine. Still, two broken ribs were enough to hold him for observation and visiting hours ended before you could scrounge anything festive together. So here you are, slinking through the emergency room past receptionists, nurses, and hospital security in the middle of the night.

You raise a fist, prompting the boys to freeze. The click-clack of heels echoes from around the corner, growing louder by the step. “Back, back, back,” you order.

Mike backpedals straight into Will’s chest and Dustin steps on Lucas’ foot. The tree lurches backward as they all grapple for balance. It’s a clumsy scuffle nowhere near quiet. If whoever’s there didn’t hear you before, they certainly have now.

You try the nearest door handle and swing it open. By some miracle, the room’s unoccupied.

The boys follow your lead, bags jingling loudly with each frantic step. They shove the tree through the doorway at an angle and a branch snags on the frame.

“Wait– stop, stop!” Dustin whisper-yells.

Mike rams it through again, a flurry of pine needles shaking loose and fluttering to the floor.

“Stop,” you bark, “Turn it first.”

They’re a smart bunch but they lack teamwork skills when you so desperately need it. Several pairs of hands fight to maneuver the tree in opposite directions. And all four of them squeeze through the doorway with it, snapping a branch in half and shaking another sheet of pine needles free.

You sweep the tree remains inside with your foot– though there’s certainly still evidence in the hall– and pull the door closed behind you. The cheap window blinds crinkle as you steer them aside, just enough to see past the door.

The heeled woman is either blind, deaf, or committed to minding her own business because she strolls by the door like it’s any other. You slump against the wall, turning to flash a thumbs up at the kids as soon as she’s out of view. You’re matched with a quartet of yawns, skipping from one frown to the next.

“Almost there,” you encourage. It’s not a lie, per se, but it’s not very close to the truth either. This might be harder than you imagined.

The elevator is too risky, so you take the stairs. But hauling a whole tree up four flights of stairs is no easy task. Mumbled complaints overlap and echo in the stairwell and by the top, your arms and legs are protesting just the same.

The door whines as you crack it open, and you peer through the gap to scope out the area. There’s a nurse's station in the center of the floor manned by the same woman you’d seen earlier. Eddie’s room is on the opposite side; there’s virtually no way to sneak past without her seeing.

You turn around, eyes locking with Dustins like they’re two bullseyes.

He crosses his arms and cocks his head. He knows the look you're giving him and he doesn’t like it. “What?”

“I need you to distract the nurse.”

He says your name through a sigh, but before he can actually disagree, you yank him by the sleeve and thrust him through the doorway.

The nurse’s head pops up from the desk immediately and Dustin shakes himself into character.

“Help!” he shouts, promptly clearing his throat. “I need help– it’s my, my mother! You must help her,” he whips his head left and right. “Over here, in the elevator!”

The nurse doesn’t move. She tries to speak but Dustin interrupts her.

“No! She won’t make it! Please– hurry!”

The woman scrambles out of her seat and jogs after Dustin. He’s not very convincing, but he’s a better actor than the rest of you. And he’s very committed once he’s in it. Dustin’s cries persist, eventually distant enough that your adrenaline loosens its grip. You fling the door open, pinning it with your foot. The boys hustle through, following your pointer finger down the right corridor. You trot back ahead, escorting them right up to Eddie’s door.

The sharp, sterile scent of disinfectant imbues the frigid air in his room. The machines are off so the quiet hangs heavy. It’s the opposite of warm in every sense possible. And the little bit of it still spilling in from the hall is quickly cinched as someone shuts the door.

You grope around the darkness, staggering over to the inky shadow you recall to be a chair. Your fingertips brush the scratchy fabric, and you let your bag slip from your shoulder, landing softly on the seat.

A splash of light from the window catches one side of Eddie’s face. His lashes kiss the hills of his cheeks and his mouth is hinged open, exhaling a string of soft snores. It’s very cute, though, the kids’ expressions don’t reflect the same fondness.

“We don’t have all day,” Lucas mocks, parroting your exact words from earlier when you’d urged him to get in the van before all the heat escaped.

Your gaze sours when it reaches the boys. “Shut up. Help me stand the tree up.”

Lucas snickers, planting himself on the other side of the tree. You lift the trunk so Will can slide the base under and Mike goes prone on the floor to screw it in.

“Hurry up,” Lucas complains.

“I can’t see!”

“Shhh!”

Will pulls a flashlight from his bag and points it at Mike’s hands. The final screws are tightened and the boys let go.

You give the trunk an affirming shake before retracting your own hands. It remains upright, even after a few optimistic steps back.

If you think decorating would be the easiest part of this mission, you’d be wrong. It’s much too dark to work, even after Will situates his flashlight so it’s highlighting most of the tree. And keeping quiet might be impossible when you’re forced to mediate petty teenage arguments every five minutes.

Mike and Will are hunched over a wad of string lights on the floor, unknotting opposite ends when Lucas waves his much neater spool of lights. “Uhh, we can’t use those. I brought rainbow ones.”

Will tuts at the other boy. “So? We can use both?”

“No, it’ll look stupid.”

Will beckons you over with a growing frown. You’d swear these kids never graduated middle school if you hadn’t gone to the ceremony. The older they get, the more they fight, it seems. But your patience is thinning with each wave of attitude you receive. You’d asked for their help as their friends, not their babysitters.

“Use both,” you decide, hands pressed into your hips.

“But it won’t match!”

“It’s fine, Lucas.”

He rolls his eyes very blatantly at you. It takes every ounce of self-restraint not to drive him home then and there.

But the sound of the door handle rattling steals your attention. It jerks up and down but the door doesn’t open; one of the kids must’ve locked it. Your heart springs up into your throat, your eyes swinging around the room for an escape plan. The lock will only buy you so much time and there’s no way to safely exit through the window and—

“It’s me!” Dustin shouts, popping into the window frame. His lips are nearly touching the glass and he’s fogging up the pane with his breath.

“Jesus,” you mumble, clutching your chest as you march up to the door.

Dustin scrambles in, chest heaving with a glare aimed right at you. “You would not believe how much stamina that woman has! I mean she just kept going. I thought, I lost her, and then–”

You slap your palm across his mouth. “Shhh!”

His wide eyes follow yours to Eddie.

Eddie sighs, lips smacking as he straightens a leg across the sheets. You’ve never been so thankful to be dating such a deep sleeper.

“Sorry,” Dustin whispers.

You shove him further into the room. “Go. Be quiet.”

Dustin grabs the tail end of the lights in Will’s hands. Together they wind the cord around the bottom half of the tree. Lucas dresses the top half in rainbow bulbs, still sulking as he works.

You squat beside Mike to help him sort the ornament pile. One you brought quickly catches your eye. It’s a clay guitar pick Eddie made in middle school art class, an instant favorite of yours. You take it and hang it front and center, filling the gap in the middle of the tree where they ran out of lights.

One by one, the tree is stocked with a rainbow of mismatched ornaments. There's something from each of their homes– family photos and elementary school crafts and trinkets of every size. It’s a wild assortment but a very special one too.

Dustin is determined to hang the star– puts up a case that he was used as bait and thus deserves it– though, no one was going to argue against him in the first place. He climbs onto Mike’s back, arms stretching as far as they’ll go.

“God, you’re heavy.”

“Stop complaining. Get me closer.”

“I’m trying.”

Mike staggers closer and Dustin snatches a fistful of the top. The entire tree lurches toward him, ornaments clinking in his wake.

“Wait– careful,” you urge.

Dustin lists dangerously forward, jamming the star through the bristles.

From beside you, Will hums disapprovingly, “It’s crooked.”

Dustin’s tongue curls over his lip as he adjusts it. “Now?”

“Still crooked.”

"Now?"

Your hands hover out in front of you like a net but you are not as prepared to catch him as you look. “No, it’s fine. Just leave it.”

Dustin releases the tip and the whole tree reels back. His arm shoots back out to steady it, but a handful of ornaments swing off and onto the floor. Miraculously, none shatter, but they bounce away in a ripple of clinking.

Your focus jumps over to Eddie. He’s squinting vaguely in your direction, head tilted off his pillow with curls plastered to one cheek.

A breathy chuckle reverberates through your chest. “Merry Christmas!”

“Wha…”

The kids mimic you in their own broken choir of wishes but with half the enthusiasm you delivered.

Eddie’s eyebrows weave into one crooked arch. He attempts, and quickly fails, to prop himself up on his elbows, making a sullen sort of sigh on the way down.

You stride over to the bed, landing on the edge by his sheet-wrapped thigh. Your hand slips behind his shoulders and you offer a half smile. “Surprise?”

He winces into a sit, a hand flying to his chest. Pain folds back into confusion as his eyes flicker across each face in the room. “I don’t… Why?”

“So you can celebrate, silly.” You hook a finger under the hair stuck to his face and tuck it behind his ear.

His lashes flutter closed as he melts into your palm, slowly bending until his forehead meets your shoulder. “Sorry, ‘m so tired.”

Despite the overdramatic gagging going on behind you, you accept the embrace, running a ginger hand up his spine where his gown has billowed open. “Don’t be. Didn’t mean to wake ya. It’s early.”

His nose sweeps a cold line across your collar. “How’d you get in? Place is like a prison,” he mumbles. “Already tried to escape.”

“No, you didn’t,” you snort.

“No,” he admits, lips turning against your shirt. “You snuck in? Snuck a whole Christmas tree in?”

You lean away just enough to nod, pride softening the edges of your grin.

“And you managed to do that with Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum times two.”

“I’m sorry– Who face-planted off a roof again?” Dustin cracks.

Your sudden laughter is corked with Eddie’s palm. He glares– or tries to anyway– but you know his tells. The way one corner of his mouth twitches through his frown. How he tilts his head when he’s secretly amused. “Don’t laugh at that,” he says, utterly unconvincing.

The rest of your laugh is swallowed, but the levity doesn’t fade. You peel his fingers off, gently carrying them to your lap like they might be broken too. “It’s true. You did.”

“Whatever.”

“Don’t pout.” You tip your head, mirroring him on purpose. “Do you like it?”

His gaze tapers back up to the scene behind you, eyes glowing with red, green, and gold. “No, I love it,” he says honestly.

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm. I can’t believe this. How’d I get so lucky? Hmm?” Eddie pinches your side, cutting off your giggle with a swift kiss.

“God, gross!”

You whip your head toward the source. “Lucas, you literally have a girlfriend.”

“Yeah, but you’re kissing Eddie.”

“What? You don’t think Eddie’s pretty?” Your fingers clamp either side of his face, cheeks squishing into his puckered lips like a fish.

Eddie stares blankly at Lucas, but the second his eyes bound to yours, you both burst into laughter.

“Don’t make me laugh, babe. Fuck,” he hisses, doubled over in amusement and equal pain.

“Sorry, sorry,” you amend, hands gently sandwiching his. “Oh– Let me get your gift.”

He’s curious but he still sulks as you leave, chasing the lost warmth as you slide off the bed. “A gift?”

“Mhmm,” you say, unzipping the front pocket of your bag. You fish out a small box wrapped in glossy paper with a puffy, red bow.

He gives it a good shake when you pass it to him and a knowing smirk at the noise it makes.

“Open it.” You beckon the kids closer, taking your prior spot on the bed. “It’s from all of us.”

The paper falls away under Eddie’s eager hands, a smirk growing and growing until it suddenly falters. Pure shock washes over him as he gawks at the gift. A limited edition, glow-in-the-dark set of dice he’s been talking about for months.

His eyes shoot between you and the dice several times before he asks, “Where’d you even get these? They sold out like immediately.”

You shrug, nonchalance slipping. “Know a guy.”

He rolls his eyes, giving your shoulder a good jostle. And his gaze shifts across every person in the room, thumb absentmindedly roving across the box's label. “Thank you, guys.”

“They come with one condition,” Dustin says.

“What’s that?”

“You have to resurrect Virehart the Vengeful.”

Eddie groans, burying his smile in his free hand and shaking his head. “I told you guys I’m not doing it.”

“Please, come on! That’s our only condition,” Will tries.

“He literally had like two lines.”

“And they were badass!” says Dustin. “A blade is only as sharp as the courage behind it,” he recites in a voice much deeper than his own.

“Oh my God.” Eddie waves a dismissive hand. “Fine, fine.”

The boys celebrate with a chain of cheers. Eddie steals your fingers back amidst all of the yelling, a doting little look in his eyes. Forget the dice, you’re the real gift to him.

The fuss very promptly ends when someone clears their throat. You all turn in unison, finding the same nurse from earlier. She sighs, hands planted on her hips with a disapproving shake to her head.

Eddie chuckles nervously. “Merry Christmas?”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things #thetwelvedaysofpromptmas 🎄#thetwelvedaysofpromptmas #skeltnwrites

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hotshotsxyz · 3 months ago

Text

doctor, doctor, give me the news

(buddie) (1.4k words) (8x05 spec) y'all i think i kind of went off with this one

Tommy flinches. It’s a quick, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it thing that he quickly turns into a playful cringe, but for a second, it was real. It was real and Buck saw it and he doesn’t know how to unsee it.

He pulls his phone out and opens the camera so he can see it for himself, and okay, yeah, it’s not great. But also—they’re both firefighters. Buck’s seen way worse than swollen, red skin, and he’s sure Tommy has too.

“Afraid of the curse now?” he asks lightly instead of voicing the thought.

“Um, yeah, I think you’ve convinced me,” Tommy replies.

Buck squints at his own image. “What do you think it is?”

“Other than a curse?” Tommy asks.

Buck nods.

“Honestly, Evan, I have no idea. Maybe we should call in some back-up.”

“What?” Buck asks, brow furrowing. “Like some kind of curse breaker?”

Tommy snorts. “Like someone with a little more medical training,” he replies.

“Oh, yeah that—that’s probably a good idea,” Buck says. He feels himself flush even redder.

“You want me to call Hen? Or Chimney, maybe?” Tommy asks.

Buck shakes his head. “They’re taking the kids to a haunted hayride today. I’ll text Eddie.”

Tommy’s nose wrinkles a little, and Buck can’t help but wonder which part of what he just said Tommy didn’t like. He types out a quick message.

SOS. curse real. need paramedic diaz asap

Eddie’s reply is almost instantaneous and comes in three short messages.

not a paramedic

and curses aren’t real

I’m on my way

Buck looks up from his phone. “He’ll be here soon,” he says.

“That was fast,” Tommy observes.

Buck shrugs. For a second he considers sending Eddie a selfie, something to prepare him for the not-so-pleasant sight of his face, but he—

He kind of wants to see if Eddie flinches, too.

Eddie’s key turns in the lock and Tommy shoots Buck an odd look. He’d try to parse it, but he’s really starting to feel how much his face hurts and he kind of just wants Eddie to hurry up and fix it. He stands and walks past the stairs in time to see him shut the door.

“Ouch,” Eddie hisses as soon as he catches sight of whatever it is his face is doing now. It’s not a flinch. If anything, he sways forward like he might at a scene. Assessing. Ready to jump in as soon as he’s formed a plan.

“Yeah,” Buck says. “Told you I’m cursed.”

Eddie lets out a light laugh. “Mm, I think I’m supposed to be the one making the diagnosis here,” he says.

He ushers Buck to the kitchen table, sets his med kit down, and pulls out a chair for him.

“Gee,” Buck says, “A guy could get used to this kind of medical care.”

Eddie grins. “Doctor Diaz, at your service,” he says, holding out a hand for Buck to shake.

Buck huffs a soft laugh and takes it. “I’ll be a good patient, I promise,” he says.

“Don’t start lying to me now,” Eddie replies, eyes twinkling.

Across the table, Tommy chokes.

Buck drops Eddie’s hand and looks over at him. “You okay?” he asks.

“Mm,” Tommy hums. “Just uh—got some spit down the wrong pipe.”

Buck frowns but doesn’t push it any further. He looks back at Eddie and finds him rummaging through his kit with a pen light between his teeth. He makes a triumphant noise and turns to Buck.

“Alright, let’s see,” Eddie says softly.

He steps into the space between Buck’s legs, and Buck’s brain kind of just—freezes.

“Look up for me?” Eddie prompts, and when Buck doesn’t—can’t—immediately comply, Eddie presses two fingers beneath his chin and guides it up until suddenly the only thing Buck can see are Eddie’s eyes. “Thought you we’re going to be a good patient,” Eddie murmurs.

All at once, Buck’s brain unfreezes, skipping right past calm and into hyperdrive. Because—because—he’s looking at Eddie and Eddie’s thumb is skating across the skin that’s just beneath the worst of the swelling and Buck can feel it and surely Eddie’s touched his face before except—except—no, Buck’s pretty sure he hasn’t but now that he has Buck’s never going to be able to forget the way it feels because he knows it should hurt, it should, but it doesn’t and he kind of never wants Eddie to stop touching him and that’s—that’s—

“—hurt?” Eddie asks, only Buck misses 90% of the question so instead of answering he hums vaguely and watches Eddie’s face twist in sympathy.

Eddie starts dabbing something on Buck’s face, hydrocortisone maybe, or triple anti-biotic—whatever it is it feels cool and nice and as Eddie concentrates on his task he bites down on his lip and suddenly Buck can’t look at anything else, can’t look at the furrow in Eddie’s brow can’t look at the ceiling can’t—

“You think he’ll live?” Tommy asks dryly.

Buck feels like he’s been doused with cold water.

Eddie’s lips, those lips that he still can’t bring himself to look away from, twitch into a small smile. “Depends,” he says. “Has anyone figured out how to break the curse?”

It punches a laugh out of Buck’s chest, the kind that comes out in a single syllable and with a rush of air. Eddie takes a step back and finally Buck feels like his brain is returning from the stratosphere, back to its baseline level of chaos.

“So—” Buck tries, but it comes out rough. He clears his throat. “What’s uh—what’s the diagnosis.”

Eddie frowns. “Honestly? It kind of looks like spider bites.”

Tommy’s chair clatters back, and when Buck looks over he’s suddenly standing.

“Babe?” Buck asks, but it feels gummy and unfamiliar in his mouth.

“I, um—not a fan of spiders,” he squeaks.

Eddie blows out a soft breath that Buck’s pretty sure only he could recognize as laughter.

“You don’t have to stick around,” Buck says, and he swears he means stick around the loft, but—but—“I’m okay, I’ve got the second best doctor in Los Angeles looking after me.”

“Second!” Eddie exclaims, mock affronted.

“Hen,” Buck replies with a shrug.

Eddie heaves a dramatic sigh. “You’re not wrong.”

Tommy looks between them, a deep furrow in his brow. “Yeah,” he says. “I’ll uh—I’ll head out.” He backs toward the door, then pauses as he gets a hand on the knob. “See you tomorrow?” he directs at Buck.

“’Course,” Buck replies, and he’s pretty sure if Tommy had asked him that this morning his reply would’ve sounded soft and sweet to his own ear, but now Buck doesn’t hear much of anything at all.

Tommy nods once, and then he’s gone.

Buck looks back at Eddie, and god, he tries. He tries so hard not to notice the long line of Eddie’s legs where he’s leaning against the table, not quite sitting on it. He tries not to think about that soft curl, the one that makes an appearance more often than not these days, the one that rests against his forehead. He wants—he doesn’t—Eddie’s not—

Buck stands abruptly, except Eddie never did take more than a step back and now they’re practically nose to nose and Buck isn’t sure if he’s still breathing. Eddie’s head tips to the side and Buck—there’s not a thing he can do to stop the freight train that is his imagination, and oh, he can see it. He can feel it.

All at once he’s sure that if Eddie Diaz were to lean in and kiss him—right now, or a year from now, or a decade—if Eddie kissed him, Buck would be ruined in every sense of the word. He’d never be able to kiss another person without seeing Eddie, feeling Eddie, tasting Eddie and—

He wouldn’t want to.

Buck takes a stumbling step back and knocks into his chair, making it clatter the same way Tommy’s had. And fuck, for a second he didn’t even—

“Buck?” Eddie asks, all concern and kindness and wide brown eyes.

“Fine!” Buck says. “I’m fine. You—you, uh—do you want—” Me? Us? Something terrifying and perfect and permanent and “—water?”

Eddie’s brows knit together. “Sure,” he says. “But sit back down. Let me get it.”

“Okay,” Buck breathes. He sinks into his chair.

Eddie grabs two glasses out of his cabinet without even pausing to think and fills them with the Brita he already knew was in Buck’s fridge and snags a coaster that he bought before placing one of the glasses in front of Buck.

“Seriously,” he says, settling into the chair closest to him and leaning forward, “are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Buck says, and he’s honest to god not even sure if he’s lying.

#911fic #911 fic #buddiefic #buddie fic #911 #buddie #fic #911 spec #911 spoilers #abbie writes #this just like. fell out of my brain

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navybrat817 · 5 months ago

Text

On the Rocks

Pairing: Bartender!Ari Levinson x Female Reader

Summary: You're not sure why Ari doesn't seem to like you, but you two have to work together.

Word Count: Over 2.4k

Warnings: Tension, coworkers, bit of grumpy and sunshine, misunderstanding, future smut, Ari Levinson and he's slightly rude at first (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: More Beach Fun Nonsense! Hope you lovelies enjoy this intro to my Gin and Bear It AU. @spectre-posts requested bartender!Ari to Go for a Swim (smut) with prompt #13 in bold. TECHNICALLY not smut, but there will be smut in future parts. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You weren't one to brag, but you were good at your job. You showed up on time and stayed late if necessary. Never dropped a tray or drink. Didn't skip out on cleaning or any other tasks. And not only were you attentive with your customers, you showed just enough skin to keep it professional and never went home with anyone at the end of the night. Your work ethic helped you earn the respect of just about everyone at the establishment.

Except for Ari Levinson.

You eyed the gorgeous bearded man behind the bar, your blood rushing faster through your veins. He didn't spare you a glance. He hardly ever did. Everyone else who worked there got a smile from him. Even a smirk. But you? An unimpressed look was what you got on a good day. You chalked it up to you being a new member of the staff, until the barback who started after you received kinder treatment from him.

To be fair, it wasn't like Ari hated you. He didn't seem to particularly like you either. For the life of you, you couldn't figure out why. Maybe there wasn't a specific reason. Some people just didn't mesh well. It didn't stop you from treating him like every other coworker. The two of you had to work together whether he liked it or not.

“Hey,” you smiled as you stopped at the bar and set your tray down. You waited a second for him to acknowledge you, but he kept drying glasses. “Three Jack and Cokes, please.”

That got Ari's attention. He didn't have to greet you, but you both had a job to do. You waited in silence while he made the drinks. He didn't look at you, but you looked at him.

He was in good shape. Great shape, in fact. With his large and somewhat intimidating size, you were surprised he wasn't a bouncer. He was a good bartender though. He wouldn't have a job there if he wasn't.

It wasn't right how attracted you were to him since he never seemed to give you the time of day.

“Thanks,” you said when he set the drinks on the tray for you.

He grunted and turned to put the bottle back.

“You know, we’ve been working together for almost three months. One of these days you may actually carry on a conversation with me instead of answering me with random sounds,” you teased.

“I'm here to work, not chat,” he said over his shoulder, his deep voice sending a wonderful shiver down your spine despite his statement. “You should do the same.”

You sighed when you picked up the tray. “I’m just trying to be friendly.”

Like always.

“Don't need friends.”

It was a bit of an odd statement. You said friendly, not friends specifically. “Aren't Steve and Bucky your friends?” You asked. They were two of the other bartenders. Best friends and good to the rest of the staff. Protective, too, always quick to jump in if a customer got mouthy or handsy.

Ari’s jaw clenched as he faced you, but you didn't cower. “Yeah, they are.”

You may not have cowered under his gaze, but you sure as hell felt small the longer he looked at you. “But you don't want to be my friend,” you said.

“I don't need more friends,” he said dismissively as your stomach dropped. You wished it didn't hurt to hear that and you had to blink rapidly when you felt a familiar telltale burning in your eyes. “Anything else?”

Plastering a smile back on your face that didn't quite reach your eyes, you straightened up. “Noted. We aren't and won't be friends,” you said before you added with more bite than you intended, “And don't worry, Ari. I don't need anything from you.”

He must've noticed the shift in your tone, too, since his jaw clenched harder than before. You walked off before he had a chance to say anything, cursing yourself inwardly at your tone. You shouldn't have let his dismissal get under your skin. Besides, he was right. You were there to work and your customers needed their drinks.

So, why did it bother you so much that Ari didn't want to be your friend? It shouldn't matter. There were lots of people who worked together who never talked or saw each other outside of their jobs. You wished he would've given you a chance, but you’d respect his decision.

For the rest of the night though, you planned to avoid him like the plague.

As your shift went on, you felt Ari’s eyes on you. Instead of looking back at him or giving him a smile like usual, you ignored him or acted like he wasn't there. You didn't stop at his end of the bar, going instead to Steve to get your drinks. For the first time since you started working there, you had Ari's full attention.

And for once, you didn't want it.

By the end of your shift once you wrapped up just about all of your tasks, you were ready to get out of there. “Any plans after closing?” You asked Steve, counting out tips for him.

“I might be seeing someone,” he smiled gently, his gaze flickering to a woman sitting alone at a table.

You raised an eyebrow. Patrons hit on the guys all the time, but it was rare for them to take anyone home. “Well, I hope you have a good time,” you said before nodding over to Bucky who was sitting at the bar, too. “Isn't it your night off?”

Bucky smiled softly. “It is, but my girl should be here in a few minutes. We won't stay long.” His girl has gone through some heartbreak before she rolled into town and the brunette quickly became her knight in shining armor.

“You have fun, too,” you said, sliding off the stool with a sigh.

Steve’s brows pinched. “You okay?”

“I will be,” you said, not wanting to lie to him and pretend you were fine. You also didn't want to get into what was going on. Feeling sorry for yourself didn't do you any good and everything would be okay tomorrow.

“You sure?” Steve swung his head toward Ari. “You think I didn't notice that you haven't been back to that end of the bar?”

You glanced in that direction, inhaling sharply as you met Ari’s gaze. He crossed his as he stared you down, tension as thick as fog. All you could see were the blue of his eyes and you had to look away so you didn't lose yourself.

“Just an off night. Nothing to worry about,” you said, pushing over Steve’s cut. “And I’m out for the night unless you need anything else.”

Bucky and Steve exchanged a look. “Need one of us to walk you out?” Bucky offered.

“No, I’m good,” you said, sighing again when you realized you’d have to pass by Ari to leave. You also had to give him his tips. “Enjoy the rest of the night.”

Ari stood in the same spot as you walked toward him, your heart beating erratically. One day he may not make your heart race like that. “Night,” you smiled sadly, setting his tips down on the bar and walking on.

You grabbed your bag from the backroom and headed out for the evening with your keys in hand, shivering at the slight chill in the air. It wasn't until you were about halfway to your car that you heard footsteps behind you, making you tense up. Maybe you should've had someone walk you out.

“Hey.” It was Ari. “Wait up.”

You stopped and turned to face him with a quizzical look. “Why? Do you need something?”

Ari looked up at the night sky and ran a hand through his long hair, but didn't reply. You were two seconds away from walking to your car when you heard above a whisper, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” You asked when he met your eye. “Sorry for what exactly?”

“I was an asshole to you earlier,” he replied, surprising you as he took a step forward. “Been kind of an asshole to you since day one when you've been nothing but friendly.”

“Yeah, I know,” you said. Why did it matter now?

A stricken look crossed his features before he put up his mask again. “Why were you so nice to me then when I was an asshole to you?”

You shrugged, trying to convey that it wasn't a big deal. “Because I had no reason to be rude to you, Ari,” you replied. It was that simple. “I was upset earlier though and I did avoid your side of the bar, but it’ll be fine tomorrow.”

“But-”

“You don't have to like me. You really don't,” you told him, the words bittersweet. “But we do have to work together. So as long as we’re civil to each other, it’s fine.”

You fought the urge to step back when Ari took another step forward. There was usually a bar between the two of you when you stood near him. Up close with nothing between you showed just how large he was. And he smelled good, too, because of course he did. “I never said I didn't like you.”

“Maybe not with words, but your actions kind of said it for you. Seriously, there’s an obvious difference in your demeanor with me versus everyone else,” you pointed out.

“Yeah, there is,” he agreed, his blue eyes full of regret. At least he acknowledged that.

“Not to mention, you just said tonight that you didn't need more friends. Between that and your attitude, the natural assumption is that you don't like me,” you said. What else were you meant to think?

He nodded. “I can see why you’d think that, but I'm sorry.”

Both of you stayed quiet for a moment. You weren't exactly sure what to say. “Okay, well. Apology accepted, I guess. Good night.”

“Wait,” he said when you began to turn away. “Do you really wanna know what I thought about you when you started working here?”

The skeptical look was back on your face. “I’ll admit I'm curious, but I won't just stand here if you’ll continue to be an asshole to me.”

He chuckled. Did you actually make him laugh? “I wouldn't expect you to,” he said, taking a breath. “This might get me fired if you complain.”

“Just say it, please,” you half begged. “Whatever it is, it can't be-”

“I wanted to bend you over the bar and fuck you ‘til you screamed my name.”

You sputtered, an embarrassing sort of sound. It wasn't what you expected to hear. Ari Levinson wanted to fuck you? Since the moment you met?

“You what?” You asked, wanting to hear him say it again.

“I want you and I’ve imagined fucking you all over the bar every day since you started working here. The tables, the booths, the office, against the wall, even in the bathroom stalls,” he spoke, his voice deep and confident as you tried not to whimper. How were you already wet? “But not just that.”

You bit your lip. “What else?”

His gaze softened. “I think about your smile. You have such a beautiful smile.” You did whimper this time. Since when was praise so important? “And how you giggle at bad jokes. And how you sway your hips to the songs you like. And how you're just so fucking kind, even to those who don't deserve it.”

“You like me?” You asked.

“Yeah,” he whispered.

You held up a hand, your head spinning from his confession. “Wait. Hold on,” you said, trying to get your bearings and not throw yourself into his arms. You needed to have some self respect. “You’ve been an asshole to me because you like me?”

Why do men do dumb things?

Ari winced. “Not my smartest plan, I’ll admit, but I thought pushing you away before anything happened was the best move.”

“Why though? Why push me away?” You asked.

He clenched and unclenched his fists. “I don't like to mix business with pleasure. Been there, done that.” It wasn't a secret that Ari was single, but there was a story there. “But that doesn't excuse being cold toward you. And if you’re willing, I’d like to start over.”

You searched his gaze for sincerity and found it. “So would I.”

His expression softened more, relieved. The fact that he wanted to try gave you hope for things moving forward. “And maybe we can grab a coffee at the diner? Just talk?”

Your eyes rounded. Was Ari asking you out? “When? Now?” You asked.

He smiled. “If you’re free.”

You smiled back and shook your head. “Nope. Sorry, Ari.”

Ari's smile fell immediately. “No?” He repeated the word in disbelief. You were in disbelief yourself. “No you aren't free or no you don't want to hang out with me?”

“Any other day, I’d love to have a coffee with you and talk or for you to make good on that promise of bending me over the bar and making me scream your name. But tonight?” You batted your eyes for good measure. “No, I don't.”

“Oh.” Ari blinked and cleared his throat. “I guess that makes sense after how I acted.”

“It makes perfect sense. A quick apology doesn't get you off scott free for how you treated me,” you told him, taking a step closer yourself this time. “So change my mind.”

“Change your mind?”

“Yeah. Let's start over like you suggested and you find a way to change my mind. I'm not saying you have to be overly friendly during our shifts, but treat me a little better. Show me why I should give you a chance and ask me again later,” you answered, gliding your fingers along his forearm once you were close enough. “And I'll still be nice to you. I promise.”

“So, you want me to woo you?” He smirked after a moment, one that nearly made your panties melt. “I can do that.”

You giggled. “I think I deserve it.”

“You do. And my first step in mending things,” he said, offering his arm as he stepped back. “How about I walk you to your car?”

“You may,” you smiled, linking your arm with his. You felt him flex a bit and you almost giggled again, a spring in your step as you walked. One day you’d feel him pin you down with that strength. You’d be patient though.

After all, he promised to woo you first.

How do we think he'll make it up to you? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x female reader #ari levinson x you #ari levinson x y/n #ari levinson #bartender!ari levinson #bartender!ari levinson x reader #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson fic #ari levinson imagine #ari levinson fanfic #chris evans #chris evans x reader #x reader #navy's beach fun nonsense #gin and bear it au

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crheativity · 1 year ago

Note

Hello! Mind if I send in a request? How about some headcanons for the reader making cute little plushies for the overblot squad?

SUMMARY: You decide to make plushies for the overblot squad. How do they react?

WARNINGS: None that I am aware of!

COMMENTS: ANON I want you to know that this prompt randomly smacked me over the head at like 10 pm a couple nights ago and I have not been able to get it out since even though I haven’t been able to write until now. I hope you enjoy it!!

Part two - Prefect making the plushies clothes and accessories - can be found here. Part three - their reactions when the plushies are stolen - can be found here.

Riddle absolutely loves it, please don’t mistake his silence for displeasure. He thinks it is skilfully made and quite adorable, really! He’s just… a little concerned. Does making a plush toy of the Queen herself count as sacrilege…? He’s racking his brains for any rule or law that would prohibit this adorable little toy’s existence, yet none come to mind. Does that mean he gets to keep it…? He really hopes so.

After a few days of diligent research into the matter, he determines that keeping such a cute thing is not against the law, and is overjoyed to find that he gets to keep it. After some deliberation, he decides to leave it on his desk - out of view from Cater, who would almost certainly want to take some “cammable pics” for Magicam. This way, the toy can sit on his desk and remind him of his studies… and also of you. Almost every time he sits down, he finds his eyes wandering to it and can’t help but smile.

Heh, this is kinda cute. He doesn’t mind the plushy at first - it’s cute, but he finds the expression on your face as you give it to him much cuter. Of course he’ll keep it - it’s soft and squishy enough to be a pillow, so he’s eager to try it. Especially if it means skipping class.

As he attempts to fall asleep next to said plushy, however, he realises something - the plushy smells like you. He’s a beastman, with a heightened sense of smell. Even if the plushy doesn’t smell at all, it still smells of you. As a result of this realisation, the plushy now lives on his bed. He begins to find it frustrating to sleep without it, although he’d never be caught dead sleeping in the grounds with it. You’ll just have to replace it then instead.

(Ruggie has so many blackmail photos of Leona sleeping with the toy prepared just in case)

Prefect, this is magnificent! Imagine the money you could make off of these! Hm? What do you mean they aren’t for sale-? It’s just for him…? Oh. Give him a moment, his brain just crashed. He doesn’t quite know how to respond. He loves it, and he loves you even more, but that doesn’t mean his brain is capable of forming a response, especially when you give him a big smile. Give the poor guy a minute.

He leaves it on his bed. This man definitely cuddles it while he sleeps. He gets easily distressed when it isn’t there. After a rough day at work or school, he’ll talk quietly to the plush until he feels better. If worse comes to worst, he’ll hug the toy and cry as he needs to. He loves it so much. It’s almost a new friend to him - something he finds great comfort in.

(The Tweels are no longer allowed in his room. When they inevitably come in anyway, he swears them to secrecy.)

Is that the Sorcerer of the Sands… as a plushy? For him? Thank you, Prefect. Jamil doesn’t have a whole lot of plushies - he never particularly saw the point. But he’s absolutely charmed by this one — and by you. And the fact that it’s the Sorcerer of the Sands? You definitely knew him well. He’s smiling and shaking his head as he takes the plushy. You’re so cute, it’s so endearing.

At first, Jamil isn’t quite sure what to do with it. He can’t quite sleep if it’s on his bed - it reminds him of you too strongly - so he settles with leaving it on his desk. Occasionally, in his rare free time, he’ll sit at his desk and play with it, like a grown adult finding a lost but treasured toy again. It always reminds him of you. When life calls him back, he’ll set the plushy aside for now and get to work. It will be waiting for him.

Just like you, he hopes.

Prefect! He didn’t know you could sew. It looks amazing! It’s for him? You’re very sweet, he’s very in love. He loves the plush toy so much, no matter if it has any imperfections. It was made by you, of someone he looks up to, for him. He hates to sound like Rook, but to him, that makes it the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

He’s so proud of you. Vil is taking that plush EVERYWHERE. It’s always in his bag no matter where he’s going. Anytime someone questions it, he shuts them down immediately. No one will dare slander something that his beloved made for him. In fact, he uses every opportunity to sneak the plush into photos for Magicam. Whether he’s holding it, it’s nearby or in the background, it’s always there. People start looking for it in all of his pictures.

If you’re okay with the plush being online, that is.

If you’d rather it stay private, he’d kiss your forehead or hand and tell you he understands. The plush toy then stays in his room, on his vanity table. Looking at it makes him feel like a teenage schoolgirl. He supposes it’s alright to indulge in such silliness occasionally, hm?

Wow, you made him a marketable plushy? Of one of the Great Seven? He wasn’t expecting you to have such a normie hobby. Oh, but that’s not a bad thing. He’s extremely grateful, but extremely awkward - does this mean he has to get you something now? What kinda thing would you like? Ah, wait, was that not the appropriate thing to say? Ortho’s giving him the “shut up and be polite” look.

Please don’t be offended if it seems like he doesn’t like it when he receives it. He actually really, really does. He decides to make it his new “gaming buddy”, making him a little custom headset and fake controller and sitting it next to him while he games. He’s stunned to silence when the lil guy’s presence improves his gacha rolls by, like, a LOT. He was already taking pretty good care of it, but now he’s being WAY more careful with it.

Occasionally, Ortho will catch him talking to it. Idia genuinely loves the plushy - and you - a lot. Even if Idia doesn’t quite know how to show it, Ortho does - by recording Idia’s conversations with the toy and showing them to you. Idia is mortified.

Oh? My child of man made me this… adorable plushy? My, how generous of you. He’s absolutely in love. If you thought he was attached to his tamagotchi, just wait and see. Malleus is NEVER letting the plushy leave his presence. Lilia had to take it away to clean it once and it stormed for a week. He loves it so much - and you so much more.

He absolutely treats the plushy as a human, and asks the others to do the same. Occasionally, he (or rather, Lilia using his phone to assist him) will send you a photo of him and the plushy doing something together, such as having a tea party or a picnic. Almost always with the caption, “Dear Prefect, would you care to join us? Kind regards, Malleus.”

♥Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it!!♥

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rinhaler · 7 months ago

Note

I’m begging you to write a bimbo x Toji fanfic

IM ON MY KNEES PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE IM BEGGING YOU🙏🏻��🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️

Been in a BJ mood so enjoy some 69ing xoxo

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, bimbo!reader, pet names (princess, sweetheart, baby), daddy kink, spanking, 69ing, messy blowjob + pussy eating (duh), head pushing, praise, dumbification, degradation, age gap, exhibitionism ig?

words: 2.1k

“He’s not here, sweetheart.”

The bass of his voice rattles throughout your nervous system. And before you know it, you’re squeezing your thighs together and biting your lip as you look up at him, the way he almost entirely fills the space between the door frame. A slow smirk beginning to play on his lips as he watches you.

You’ve had a crush on your best friends dad since the first time he brought you over to hang out. He didn’t seem particularly interested in you, at first. Not until your skirts got shorter and your tops became skimpier.

“We had plans…” you pout a little, glossy lips shimmering in the afternoon sun. He clears his throat, adjusting his stance a little as he continues to look down at you.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, a little more curtly than intended. “And what plans were those?”

“Mm,” you hum, flicking through your texts to pull up your thread with Megumi. “Wanna hang out on Thursday? I can get us some booze and we can relax around the pool. My dad will be at wor— wait, you’re not at work?”

“Because it’s Monday, baby. Not Thursday.” he laughs a little as he shows you the date on his own phone. “Got a little confused there, huh? He’s at the library with the pink haired one, he ain’t here.”

“Oh…” you pout again. “’m sorry. I guess I should be studying too, I’ll go meet him there. See ya later Mister Fushiguroooo~!” you smile before beginning to skip away.

“Hey,” he calls after you. A grin quickly spreads across your face before you turn to face him again. He kisses his teeth, looking you up and down slower and more purposefully than ever before. He curls his finger, prompting you to come closer. “You’re all dressed for the beach, not the library. You can come in ‘n wait for him here, baby. You even brought your li’l swimsuit in your bag, huh? Come on.” he tilts his head as he walks inside.

You follow him hurriedly, closing the door after yourself when you enter. He doesn’t wait around for you, jogging up the stairs and shutting the door loudly after himself. You huff, wondering what the point of coming inside was if you’re just gonna be waiting by yourself anyway.

It doesn’t deter you, though. You dip into the downstairs bathroom and change into your swimsuit, sauntering outside to set up a lounger so you can at least catch a few rays before Megumi gets back.

You lay back, immediately feeling your skin heat up as the sun burns down onto your still body. There’s a lack of breeze, and the warmth soon becomes suffocating.

But soon enough, the sun disappears. Your eyebrows scrunch at the sudden change, your body plunged into shade and your temperature drops. You open your eyes, your best friends obscenely large father blocking out the ball of fire as he stands above you.

“Here, keep hydrated.” he orders, putting down a fruity looking cocktail filled to the brim with ice by your side. His white, open shirt begins to billow from a brief gust of wind, and he takes his seat with his own drink on the lounger beside yours.

He wasn’t avoiding you after all, he was getting changed.

You lean over, taking a small sip of the cocktail by your side. “Oh shit, that’s so yummy. Did you make it?”

He smirks again, but keeps his eyes closed as he lays back under the shade of his parasol. “Nah, the butler did it.”

“Really?” you ask, excitedly.

He can’t help but laugh at your naivety, turning his head to look at you. “No, sweetheart. Have you ever seen a butler around here? Course I made it.” he tells you, drinking in your bewildered expression as how gullible you are begins to dawn on you. “You ain’t too bright, are ya?”

“That’s—” you speak instantly, but put your drink back down to soak up the sun once more. “Mean.”

“Awe, sorry darlin’,” he smiles at you, but you don’t see it. “At least you’re pretty.”

He angles his head to face the sun, while yours snaps to look at him. You can’t hide your wide, cheesy smile as the words race through your mind.

At least you’re pretty.

At least you’re—

“You think I’m pretty?” you blurt out, though you feel no shame as the words leave your mouth. It’s the best thing you’ve ever heard another human being say to you in your life. Megumi’s hot dad thinks you’re pretty.

“You’re not that dumb, are you?” he faces you, finally, running his tongue along his top row of teeth. “You’re a gorgeous little thing, that’s for sure. Gonna give an old man like me the wrong idea, walkin’ around in a skimpy swimsuit like that.”

“The wrong idea?” you tilt your head at him. “I dunno what you mean, Mister Fushiguro.”

“Mmm, I betch’a don’t. I love li’l airheads like you.” he sneers. “Or maybe you know exactly what I mean, ‘n you’re just pretending to be dumb.”

You pout again as you think about what he’s saying. He watches you as you try and understand his words, the notion of pretending to be anything utterly perplexing you. He doesn’t take his eyes off you, though he’s a little surprised to see you roll onto your side so you can look at him properly.

“… Are you flirting with me?” you wonder.

“Hah,” he snickers. “You’re really tryna get me in trouble, huh? Would ya like that?”

“… uh-huh…” you nod slowly, biting your lip again. You watch as he smirks at you, adrenaline running through your veins as you wonder where this is heading. Is he simply teasing you?

“Have you got a li’l crush on me, sweetheart? That’s real bad. Remember who I am? Your best friends old man.”

“You’re not an old man,” you try to assure him. But he can only laugh at your idiocy once more. “Had a crush on you forever…” you admit, getting up from your lounger and walking over to his. You decide to take the risk, moving each of your legs on either side of him before slowly lowering yourself.

He bites his own lip, aged scar pulling deliciously as he smooths his hands over the curves of your waist. A grunt rumbles through his throat as you barely move, lightly humping against his stiffening cock.

And in an instant, your bikini is soaked.

You rut your hips more, and more, until he holds you still.

“Wanna fuck.” you whimper, and he starts to tut.

“Mmm, me too. Maybe next time.” he thinks, cock flexing as he imagines the feeling of your tight walls wrapping around him so perfectly. “Wan’ you to put that empty head of yours to good use.” he tells you.

A dazed expression decorates your face as you try and decode what he means. But instead of leaving you confused, he carefully pushes you away from his growing bulge so he can pull out his leaking length.

“Go on, princess. Suck me off.” he tells you.

You’re too astonished by the sight of his cock to even move. A beautiful thickness with a gorgeous curve you can only use as a fantasy for future reference as you imagine it hitting and stretching every spot inside.

He’s amazed that you don’t need to be told twice, however, you soon position yourself to take his length into your salivating mouth. You look up at him with wide, wet eyes as you kiss and suck his tip. Only looking away to spit into your hand, using it to jerk him off whilst you continue to suck like your life depends on it.

He can’t take his eyes off you, even taken aback as you further pull down his beach shorts to free his balls. He’s besotted at the sight of you, completely and wholly lovestruck as you produce enough saliva to completely soak his length, spittle dripping and sliding as it drenches his cock and balls. He winces as you cup them, licking up and down his cock before you suck one into your mouth.

All the while, your eyes are on him. Never before has he felt embarrassed whilst receiving head. But right now, he feels entirely at your mercy. He holds your gaze, though, intent on overriding the feelings of embarrassment as you turn him into a grunting and groaning puddle.

“Fuuuuuck, sweetheart,” he grins, chest heaving as you don’t let up on him. Your fist becomes a blur, and even still, he can’t stop himself from thrusting into your grip. “Pretty little girl… look s’cute with your mouth full’a my cock.”

You moan, at that. The praise overwhelming you enough to release one of his balls from your mouth before you go back to sucking him off. You take him deeper and deeper, as deep as you can take him without showing any signs of gagging.

“Such a good cocksucker for me, baby,” he tells you as he starts to push your head down on him. “Knew that an airhead like you would be a fucking pro.”

“G-Got such a big dick, daddy.” you tell him as you push off of him, desperate to tell him. He drags you up closer to him, kissing you sloppily as your body presses into his. You lie comfortably in his embrace in the shaded spot, moaning into his mouth as you grind down on his cock. “P-Please fuck me.”

“Oh, princess… does your little cunt need daddy’s attention?” he wonders, kissing you again. “Told ya, I want my cock sucked.” he slaps your ass. “Move, go on.” he orders, though despite his instruction, he begins to manhandle you.

You’re soon positioned so you’re practically sitting on his face while his throbbing cock is back in yours. He moves the material of your bikini into the crease of your thigh and gives your pussy a light spank.

“Don’t stare at it, sweetheart. Suck my cock, now.”

You immediately do as you’re told, taking him down your throat while he teases you enough to have you trembling. Touching anywhere and everywhere except where you need him most. Until finally, he places a delicate kiss between your sodden folds.

“Baby, she’s drooling. You really do have a crush on me.” he chuckles. He wastes no more time, after that, burying his face between your thighs and slurping up your lewdness. He moans into your folds before he shoves two fingers into your clenching hole.

His cock falls from between your lips, then, and you moan loud enough for the entire neighbourhood to hear you. He slaps your ass again, and it’s hard. “Shut up.” he warns. “I won’t let you cum if you do that again.”

The warning is enough to make you focus yourself on his pleasure. His mouth is making your toes curl and your head become emptier than even he thought possible. Tears begin to flow from your eyes as you do all you can to prioritise him and keep your moans to yourself.

Your throat tightens and constricts the more you withhold. You can’t control it fully, still humming around him. It’s somewhat calculated, yes. But the thought of being caught or ratted out to Megumi is making him a little more cautious. Then again, if he really didn’t wanna be caught, he wouldn’t be fucking his sons best friend in the backyard.

He pulls away, still curling his fingers into your g-spot as his face shimmers from your sticky folds. “Can’t believe you called me daddy you little slut,” he spanks you. “That’s right, isn’t it baby? You’re daddy’s dumb little slut.”

“Mhmm!” you mewl. “Mmm, mmm, mmm~!” you whine as you begin to unfurl. Your cunt squeezes hard enough to almost break his fingers, though it doesn’t deter him from devouring you whole. He begins to thrust up into your mouth, and he shoots ribbon after ribbon of hot white cum between your drool soaked lips.

Neither of you move, both exhausted from the overwhelming release.

“Wh— Did that just… happen?” you ask, breathlessly.

“Sure did,” he laughs, slapping your ass as he does. “You need to give me your number, baby. I gotta be able to text you when Megumi ain’t home.”

“Hm…” you consider it. “Why would I come over again when Megumi isn’t here?”

“God, princess, you really can’t think why? Daddy wants to be able to split your pussy open on his cock whenever he wants. Don’t want Megumi home for that, do ya baby?”

“N-No…” you sigh dreamily, closing your eyes as you finally move to lie comfortably beside him. “You better fuck me next time!”

“Next time?” he grins. “Megs won’t be home for a few hours. I’ll fuck you in a few minutes, sweetheart.”

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soleilapproves · 1 month ago

Text

“Do you even like me anymore?”

The sheets of bloodied tissue resting in your trash bin would make anyone think that an amateur murderess resided in your apartment. Lucky for you, the nauseating smell of rubbing alcohol and your boyfriend were driving you in that direction anyway.

Bloody and bruised, Sukuna winced as you dabbed antiseptic on a particularly gnarly gash on his bicep. “Of course, I do. Why’d ya- ow -ask me that?”

“I dont know, maybe it’s because you don’t listen to me when I ask you not to race those stupid criminals that hang around gas stations or it’s because I barely see you cause you’re off driving to another city for fun. You barely call or text—move your arm a little—Yuuji asks me how you’re doing, and you guys live in the same house. So, I’m sorry if I’m starting to wonder if you still love me.”

They say that the silence is the loudest sound to exist. It envelopes and engorges a person against their will. You can’t avoid it. No matter how hard you try to press your clammy palms against your ears, you are bound to hear its loudness. And you always hated that about it. You hated that silence with Sukuna was unbearable. Almost deafening.

The man was known for his mean streak- a plight you had to accept when both of you began your relationship, but you could only handle so much.

He was speechless after your tangent. What could he say anyway? He unapologetically loved what he did no matter how much you disproved of it.

“Look, y’know I can’t abandon my bike. I’ve had it since—“

“—since you were in high school, but that doesn’t mean you abandon the people you love for it. Get your head straight, Sukuna. I’ve been asking you spend time with me for weeks and every time your excuse has something to do with that damn bike or some street fight you plan on getting into. You skipped dinner with my parents for that stuff”

“It’s cause I had bruises from my last fight.”

“And what does that say about you?”

Normally when you had your hands on your hips with your face contorted angrily, Sukuna would’ve pulled you right on top of him, ignoring the pain all over his bruised body. But he had to look past the lust to understand why you were mad at him.

“Okay, I promise I’ll tone down the fights. But I can’t let go of my bike.”

You sighed and packed up the first aid kit, prompting Sukuna to get off your bed and follow you to your bathroom.

“I’m not asking you to let go of anything, you idiot. I’m asking you to be safe— something I’ve been asking you to do for ages.” Your eyes were brimming were tears, and you were worried that your next few words would come out through pathetic whimpers. The last thing you needed is to let him know how much he has emotionally affected you because of his actions.

“Okay, I promise this is the last time. Hell, I’ll even smoke less.” His hands trailed up your arms while you were still facing the cabinet.

Lies. Both his promises were lies. He had promised to stop smoking months ago but you could still taste the bitter tobacco in his kisses.

“No.”

“What do you mean ‘no’? Like, should I go to the emergency room if I get hurt or-“

“No, I mean, this is the end of it. I can’t do this anymore.”

—

Might delete later.

Update: nvm, here’s part 2

main masterlist

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winterarmyy · 1 year ago

Text

Welcome Home, Daddy

The aftermath of when Bucky accidentally relapsed into the Winter Soldier.

Summary: Bucky was over the moon when he discovered that Y/N was pregnant with his child. But, when the danger that lurks in dark threatened to steal his family away, a fellow soldier decided to come home.

Note: Highly recommend to read 《 Welcome Home... Soldat? 》 for backstory. But, you can also read this as a stand alone (though you might miss some call backs on the soldat's behaviour if you skip)

Pairing: winter soldier!bucky x female!reader

Words: 7.1k++ (bare with me, please)

Warnings: graphic violence, torture, blood, gore, deaths, dark undertones, sudden fluff, tiny bit of angst, google translated russian, and just so much detained anger exploding around, soldat is just deadly yet adorable in this one (i can't even handle it, and i'm the author), this event takes place far in the future after what happened in 《 Welcome Home...Soldat? 》

A/N: Looks like we have the winner for the poll 👀 Who's ready for our lovely soldat to make his appearance again? I know I'm not, but here we are. So, strap in and let's do this!

P/S: Also, I might as well make this as my submission for the seven writing event hosted by @nickfowlerrr 💌 Check out the event masterlist and support the writers by reading and reblogging their stories!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

They say the wrath of a fighter may threatened a heinous war but the wrath of a lover will let the earth drenched in bloody gore. And if a fool was daft enough to tore a lover from his other half, then they might just court themselves right into the hands of death.

And this couldn't be more true, especially if we consider the crime that the soldat was currently committing. Surely, the blood pooling on the floor will forever leave a grim mark that'll haunt the people who ever witness it.

"Where is she?" the soldat prompted the frail woman, limping on the chained chair. Despite the horrid situation, he sounded rather calm when he spoke.

How unfortunate it was for Elle to be associated with Hydra yet to also be so exposed to the dangers of the ghost himself, the Winter Soldier. Hydra may have their suspicion about the soldat making a move, but she didn't expect that she would be involved in the mess of this ordeal.

The cold metal of the soldat's vibranium fingers, particularly his index and thumb, latched themselves on another one of her nails. Her mouth slacked open but no sound was able to be formed when the soldat mercilessly ripped her nail right off her finger.

And oh, the pain was beyond any kind of injury that she had ever experienced, not a even a bullet through her flesh could be compared to this agony of a torture.

He harshly grabbed Elle by the back of her neck, forcing her to watch the blood leaking from the reddened flesh of her fingers, "I asked you a simple question, су́ка (bitch). Where the fuck is she?" The soldat's patience had been running thin and rage had clouded his judgements.

He needed to find her. His precious Родная (darling).

No matter whose neck he needed to slay or whose blood that have to be shed dry. He had to bring his darling home; no matter what it takes.

Unfortunately, it had been almost a month since he lost her.

And no one saw it coming.

Who would've thought that the old Hydra compound that the team raided were meant to be a part of a plan to weaken the Avengers. It was just a distraction filled with unexpected traps and triggers. By the time they flew home, the team were already tired and injured as the result of the raid.

So imagine the desperate struggle and utter panic that Bucky had to go through the moment he stepped his foot into the comfort of their home and had to witness Y/N's exhausted figure fighting for her life.

Hers and the baby's inside.

After hitting the 2 months mark of pregnancy, Bucky decided that Y/N shouldn't be involved in any high stake mission anymore. At first, she only laughed to his statement, thinking he was surely joking but when his stern expression didn't flatter, that was when she reliazed Bucky was not open for negotiation.

Y/N knew it was way too early to settle into her maternal leave but after having a long conversation with Bucky, they both agreed to keep her missions strictly on low-risk stakeouts and desk works at the tower.

It was supposedly be some kind of a precaution for her, to keep her and the baby safe, away from any type harm that might come their way. But, that certainly back fired.

When Bucky's burning anger had pumped him full with high stream of adrenaline, it was as if he went into an auto pilot; a murderous one at that. And soon enough he managed to take down half of Hydra's best agents that joined the mission of collecting Y/N from the tower.

For a moment, it seemed like luck was on their side, at least it felt like it.

It lasted only until Bucky saw how harsh the kick of the enemy landed on Y/N's hip, and how she managed to shield her stomach seconds before her body slammed down to the ground.

That was when fear crawled into his pumping nerves and the roots of it ran extremely cold.

And that was all it takes for Hydra to distract Bucky then immobilize him on the spot with a replica of the Sonic Taser developed by Stark Industries a few years back.

Bucky grunted painfully in protest of the high pitched sonic frequency from the device that overloads his nervous system. His body couldn't help but to slowly paralyzed its movements as his skin turned pale and the strain in his blood vessels became visible.

On the opposite side, Y/N could be seen being forcefully dragged away by a few of the Hydra agents that was left. There were couple of nasty injuries torn all over her body yet she was still stubborn on fighting back.

While she was being pulled farther away from him, she shouted his name loud and desprete, "Bucky!" Hot tears broke from the corner of her eyes as she desperately reach out her hand.

It felt as if she was right there when Bucky's hand was reaching back towards her. Like, a little bit of a push would've been enough to catch her but alas fate was not planning to be merciful.

Bucky's menancing eyes never left her wavering ones as Hydra tortured Bucky by stealing a part of his soul from him; and no one really knew how his heart clenched and torn to the fact that he was helplessly useless when Y/N needed him the most.

And when he only managed to scream back Y/N's name, he was forced to watch her wailed as she was unwillingly being taken away.

The moment when Bucky drowned himself in regret and rage, that was when the Winter Soldier took over his consciousness.

Unfortunately for the soldat, his mortal body was already worn out from all the intense fight that happened prior; he was knocked out right after he took over the body.

But in those few seconds before the darkness consumed him, the soldat managed to catch a glimpse of his darling. He saw the image of her; teary and bruised in the hands of those who created him. The very same monsters who uses him for despicable things.

That was all that he needed to see in order to break those chains around the dark pandora residing deep within his being.

The team was absolutely not ready to deal with the soldat again, this time without Y/N to tame him. Especially when his demands were unrealistic for them to fulfill.

It's been nearly 3 weeks since the incident and they had failed to locate Y/N; repeatedly. Even if they did manage to get some kind of an intel, all the of bases they had raided were basically bunch of abandoned spaces that Hydra used to occupy.

So of course the soldat was agitated. He had every right to be, more so when he thought of the increasing risk of his darling getting hurt in the hands of Hydra. And at this point, those scumbags were just messing with their minds. Especially with his.

"Listen, we're doing our best here, soldat." Steve tried to reason with him but it only fueled the burning flames within the soldat, "ты делаешь недостаточно! (You're not doing enough!)" He spat harshly that he didn't even noticed that he uses Russian language. It seemed like the unkempt irritation had conquered the chaos of his mind.

So that very night, the soldat decided to do this on his own; thus he ran away from the tower in search for his darling. He had to. Especially when he knew precisely why the Avenger was not able to find Y/N as quickly as they should be.

It was because they were the good guys. They were the heros, they were the light. And the soldat was not. In fact, he was the very opposite.

Unlike the Avengers, the soldat was not planning to play nice and soon enough he managed to find a lead.

Which bring us to this very moment in which he successfully snuck into a Hydra agent's home to interrogate her.

But, in contrast of those Hydra troops that attack the Avengers Tower a few weeks ago, Elle was not even involved in the mission of retrieving Y/N. She was actually on a solo mission to infiltrate a certain high school to collect informations on Peter Parker. Hydra suspected that he might be involved with the new hero appearing in Queens.

However, even if she was not a part of the team mission, she knew bits and pieces of the overall plan, especially the whereabout of the main character herself, Y/N.

However, the appearance of the Winter Soldier in her temporary house was completely unexpected.

It felt like it was just few moments ago that the intel on Y/N's location reached her ears. Then, she distinctly remember the glimpse of those murderous eyes glaring into her soul. Next thing she knew was everything went pitch black.

Even if it was temporary, however it felt so surreal.

The darkness surrounding her.

The bone rattling cold.

It felt like death itself.

But unfortunately for her, the soldat was far from stopping.

Elle was fraying at the edges while the soldat crouch to her level. Even if she could barely reconstruct the unclear and blurry images through her dazed eyes, however, that didn't stop the soldat from maiming the dying woman's soul through his unforgiving gaze.

"Wake up..." he growled as he yanked her face upwards, "...we're not done yet."

It took a while for Elle to finally adjust to the light, after being in the dark for – how she felt like – so long.

After the light hits her vision, the striking pain came next. The pulsing pain surrounding of her right eye, her broken nose, her busted lips, her bleeding skin; neck, chest, arms, and almost every part of her limbs.

Everything were – slowly but surely, in each cuts and bruises on her skin – blooming its pain into existence.

How can she skipped all of this when she lost her consciousness?

Perhaps that was how she managed to stay alive as long as she had. By running away from the misery; from her reality.

Elle whined in pain but her voice suggested that she might already torn her throat apart when it sounded more like a broken grunt. Her disoriented gaze fell into her aching fingers, each were missing its nail; the tips of them was where the icky blood trickled from and had shaped a pool of blood on the floor where she rested.

The dim lighting from the room reflected on the surface of the deep-red puddle, revealing the resemblance of it to a mirror. And the blurry image looking back, was the soldat, with a sinister expression on his face.

This game, that they're playing.

It hardly seems fair to one of them. To be tortured if not speaking the truth? That's simply unjust; but if we're talking about fairness, then none of those injuries could ever be compared to the pain Y/N might be going through at this very moment. Every second of Elle's useless stubbornness was costing Y/N's safety.

And the soldat didn't like that. Not one bit.

"You mentioned Spain? Where exactly?" In one swift, harsh motion, the soldat thrust his knife through her thighs, "FUCK!"

The loud scream of pain that tore from Elle's throat was probably the last coherent word that she uttered as the torture continued.

The soldat pulled the knife out and stabbing it into the open wound, he listened to Elle's gasp for a moment, relishing her breathless pleading and the tears now openly streaming down her face.

He stabbed again, twice, each was quick and deep, not caring about the blood that spurted out across his face.

At this point Elle was just a puddle of blabbering mess; streams of saliva pouring out her mouth, sobbing, gasping for air; mixture of grunts, moans and whispers of curses and pleas were all spouted incoherently.

Anger.

Frustration.

Rage.

Wrath.

Even hatred.

The soldat was feeling it all.

It was consuming him, devouring any sanity that was left of Bucky's moral values. The eerie glint in the soldat eyes suggested that he was not planning to stop until she gave him what he wants.

God, if it wasn't for chilling atmosphere around her, Elle might just mistook that she was actually in hell.

"Pyrenees!" She cried out. The soldat instantly stopped when she confessed. He waited for an answer and right on cue, she spoke again, breathless and almost silent as the fear that engulfed her prior refused to release her from its haunting grip. And truthfully she doubt that it will ever let her go, "T-there a secret base n-near the Irati forest."

She exhaled a shaky breath as she pleaded, "S-so please. Please stop this." The was tired of the pain and the numbness that came after. And the soldat knows it.

The room was left silent momentarily, as if he was actually considering her plea but alas he already had plans for her all along, "Shame. You should've killed yourself before I came here."

As he finished the last word, the soldat viciously plunged his knife deep into her neck, digging the sharpness of it through the delicate flesh until it reach the base of the blade.

Elle gasped in response, her hands scrabbling around in effort to break free, to stop all of this. But considering the situation she was in, there was nothing she could do about it other than to take it as it was given to her.

When the motion finally stopped, the soldat simply walked away from the scene as if it was a complete norm for him to behave as he was. He didn't even thought of cleaning the mess he left behind. Or hide the corpse somewhere.

Isn't he afraid that he might leave his tracks for the police to find?

Why would he?

This has been his life for decades on end. His sole purpose of living was to kill. So best believe that the authorities will never be able to link the soldat or Bucky to this crime.

Not today, not ever.

Through the days that Y/N was locked deep within Hydra's base, she hadn't been treated the worst. In fact, the sick and twisted agents and residents in the facility was more than willing to care for her.

This was all because they wanted her baby.

It was always sickening to hear them referring her child as merely a tool for their success. And the way they worship Y/N like she was a gift from God to fulfill their purpose, was beyond insanity.

"Oh, to have the privilage of bearing the offspring of the Winter Soldier. To be able to create the perfect weapon, unlike the father. It is just honorable."

It made her stomach churned with pure disgust whenever she heard those types of comments floating around her.

Besides the eerily digusting behaviour of the agents, there was also the regular check-ups and the lab tests that she needed to attend. Out of all the things she had to endure these past few weeks, the medical check-up has always dreaded her the most.

There was this constant debate within her troubled mind; of the possibility of Hydra manipulating her baby's health and genes by inserting unknown substance into her.

"Come on, mama. On the bed." The doctor said as he patted his rubber gloved hand on the surface of the rigid single bed.

She always found it vile that the people here calling her by that nickname. It tickled her throat in a way that she wanted to puke all the tasteless gunk that they had fed her with.

As she laid on the bed and let the process went on as it usually do, the doctor suddenly stopped everything that he was doing. At first she was weirded out by the irregular act of the man, but when she felt the vibration on the ground and the rushing footsteps from the floor above her, she knew exactly why the doctor suddenly froze on his spot.

And the emergency siren that shortly blared after, had only confirmed her speculation.

But mostly, it was the panic in the doctor's eyes that gave him away; then when Y/N noticed the man scrambled to search the drawers from one of the cabinet, she knew that he was up to no good.

The second that the doctor's hurried his steps towards her with a syringe in his hand, Y/N's body immediately recoiled. She quickly stopped him by grabbing his wrist and twisted it back until the syringe dropped from his hold.

The man cursed under his breath and decided to take her by force when he grabbed a handful of her hair, almost dragging her out of the bed. Y/N shrieked painfully while her hands blindly grabbing the silver tray by the bed next to her.

She then slammed it hard against his head, and watched the contents on the tray fell and scatter onto her. She took quick skim over all the tools and saw a potential weapon for her defence; a scissor.

"Stay still, mama. Or the baby will get hurt." The doctor foolishly threatened.

Maybe it was her defence mechanism or maybe it was just her motherly instinct kicking in but something just snapped inside of her when he said those words. There was this incredibly strong urge to either fight or take flight.

Of course she could easily slipped away and make a run for it but she just couldn't risk it. Especially when her baby's life was currently at stake. So, after a short moment of hesitation, she swiftly grabbed the scissors and surge it through his ribs. The man wailed in pain as he staggered off the bed and fell onto the floor.

You'd thought a single yet firm stab through the guts was enough to quench Y/N's need of fighting back but no. Apparently, the haywire of her nerves had drove her feral and she needed him to be soulless by the time she walk out the room.

That had forced her to nearly jumped on him like a predator pinning on a meek prey and the lack of struggling on the victim's side had only gave her full control to dominate him.

Then all of the sudden, the doctor felt another strike of the pain, digging into the flesh of his chest.

He woefully cried in extreme pain while Y/N did not utter a single word or let out any sound, she stayed silent as she thrusts the scissor in and out his flesh.

Each surge was vicious than the previous. Each stab was gradually speeding up as the motion increases it's number of repetition.

She completely let her emotions took over her sanity.

Until what's left in the room was only the sloshing and splashing sound of blood seeping through every thrust, as she continued to violate the body of the corpse.

Until the calm puddle of blood on floor rippled as the tears that broke from her eyes dropped on it's surface.

And when she realized that the doctor was long dead, that broke Y/N out from her feral state. Realizing what she had done; she shakily loosen her grip on the scissors and scrambled off from the lifeless body.

Her breath was near erratic; it was a chaos of unsteady rhythm as her words was lost at the tip of her tongue. She jolted in shock when the commotion in the facility got louder than before, reminding her that Bucky was there to save her.

Y/N felt a sob choking in her throat as her hands searched her stomach to coax the child in her womb, "It's okay sweet bean, daddy's here for us."

Have you ever heard how ear-ringingly loud it is when it's hailing? How the sounds of the frozen raindrops hitting – the top of your car or the roof of the shades of an outdoor café table – can completely mute your words for anyone to hear?

That has nothing compared to the thundering sounds that echoed throughout the whole facility. The shots were fired from multiple range of stolen guns, all were coming from one moving figure.

The once clean grey and white painted walls of the hallways, were now stained and splattered with the color of crimson. The usually empty hallways, were occupied by the dead bodies of fallen Hydra agents. And the distinct scent of well-kept lair, were effortlessly replaced by the unpleasant and pungent smell; a mixture of blood and sweat.

It was a clear trail of the Winter Soldier's deeds.

This place was supposed to be pristine, but now feels more like how it should be; hell.

While the enemies were roaring into their death, the soldat on the other hand was very much the opposite.

Unlike his foe, it took him very little work from the tips of his tongue and much more on the tips of his gun. When the enemies barked like a dog, the soldat pounced like a wolf; silent and resilient.

By nature, the soldat had never been a patient man, especially when it comes to people harming his darling.

Sure, maybe he can tolerate and play along with people who messed with him, but if one were to touch even a strand of hair of his beloved, then they practically reserving themselves a first class ticket of a one-way trip to hell.

And that unhinged tendencies of his only worsen when wrath was the one reigning his mind while hatred was its ruler. His mind was nothing but a chaos of rampage and vengeance. Seeking nothing but blood and death of his foolish foe.

At this point of time, with the amount of life he had taken from the moment he step foot into the gate of the base, to the very stairs he was currently climbing, one could probably matched his heart rate with the rhythm of the shots formed by the bullets he shot.

Magazine upon magazine he reloaded his gun and waste no less than zero bullet as every shot made was accurately deadly and terrifying fatal to his prey.

As the soldat's feet reached half way up the stairs, a Hydra agent's voice spoke from the lower level, "She's on the LG2, we need a team to come and collect her as soon as poss--" A bullet went straight through the top of his head before he could finish his sentence.

And that was the soldat's last ammo.

While he mentally took note on the intel, his feet was quick to jumped into action and made his way down to LG2. As he entered the hallway, his wild eyes wondered around to steal another gun from a dead man's body.

But he rose into a stand, he felt a tip of a cold steel nudged at the back of his head.

Some would call out the soldat's mistake for letting his guard down in the middle of a battle, but another would definitely ridicule the stupidity of that fool's guts for even thinking that the soldat couldn't counter-attack his weak threats.

However, none of the two man managed to made any move towards each other when there was a faster, more accurate trigger was pulled from someone else, from across the hallway.

And that action left an aftermath of the fool's body to drop flat on the floor, quickly finding it's perfect spot with between the other pile of corpses scattered around.

When the soldat turned around, the sharp of his gaze softened almost immediately.

There she was standing there, in the pastel blue of her 'prison' attire. Her hair was a bit messy even if it was tied, and her complexion looked slightly pale with fatigue but to the soldat, she was glowing like angel; despite the blood on her clothes or the gun in her hand.

She was right there.

His heart.

His love.

His darling.

Her eyes were red and puffy, as if she had been crying for days. Her pouty lips trembled when the soldat stepped closer and closer towards her, tears threatening to fall as if she haven't done that during all the weeks that she had been here.

The soldat's steps grew faster.

So does Y/N's.

Tap taping until they were almost running towards each other.

Until the moment they reunited in the middle.

Catching each other's lips in a desperate and insatiable kiss, the soldat pulled her body tight around the waist as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Both whimpered in a yearning moan, both still had their guns hanging on one of their hands.

So many feelings at once, relief and grief, with each of them had a different story to tell.

The couple kept breaking and mending the kiss ever-so-passionately as if they weren't in the middle of the grave-less cemetery; as if they weren't in the center of the piling corpses.

Briefly opening his eyes, the soldat could see a shadow running towards them. When Y/N heard the footsteps from her back, she knew they need to pull away, but the soldat was firm and stubborn with his hold.

So instead of letting her break the kiss, he groaned in disapproval and pulled her lips back to his. An angry growl vibrated against her lips as he continued to explore her wet and warm mouth.

Caught off-guard she melted to his silent demand, almost forgot that the enemy was right behind her. But, she should've know better when the soldat loosen one of his arms from the embrace and pointed his gun towards the target.

His finger pulled the trigger almost as easily as his teeth tugging into the bottom of her lips. And suddenly the sound of a body collapsing behind didn't matter anymore.

When the soldat felt that he had enough of the sweetness of her kiss, he finally pulled away, at least for now. He whispered dearly, "Родная (darling)..." he cupped her face in his large hands and rested his forehead on hers.

She thought she heard it wrong, but did he just called her darling? It took her a few second to piece it together and realized that this man was not Bucky, that he had relapsed into the Winter Soldier again, "Soldat?"

The soldat smiled and leaned forward to steal a chaste kiss on her lips, "Yes, it's me, мое Родная (my darling)" he cooed as he swept her by her feet, off the bloody ground and carried her in his arm, "I got you, Куколка (little one). You can rest now."

"We're just wanted make sure she's alright."

"You can follow us if you want so just please--"

"Soldat! You're going to hurt her."

The familiar voices leaked through Y/N's ears as she was drifting through her dreamless slumber. Soon enough, the loud commotion of her surrounding woke her up from the deep sleep.

The words that the Avengers were yelling out became clearer as she gained her consciousness, and the ever-changing movements of the soldat, evading every step the Avengers made to get closer to him, made her aware of the way she was resting in his arms; perfectly cocooned in a form of a bridal carry style.

The soldat halted on his spot when Y/N opened her eyes to see what was going on, "Soldat?" She blinked multiple times as she adjusted to the lights. The menacing frown of the soldat melted into a much softer expression, "Родная(darling), you shouldn't be awake yet." He craddled her closer to him as he cooed.

Where is she? How long was she out? When did she changed her clothes?

"What is happening?" She asked as she peered over his shoulder to see Natasha sighing in relief, "Sweetheart, thank god you're awake."

Y/N then looked over to Steve, "You've been gone for weeks, y/n. We got news about your rescue yesterday, and you guys just arrived home. Now, if we could just to take you to the medbay and get you check-up, that'll be great." He briefly explained.

"Yeah, that's all we want isn't it? But, someone just had to be sappy and refuse to let anyone touch you. You know, how it is with the soldier." Tony quickly intercepted.

The soldat didn't pay them any attention now that his darling was awake. He was merely focusing on whispering the sweetest things as he traces delicate trails of kisses on her forehead, her nose, her cheek, basically all over her face.

Sam took it as opportunity to get closer when the soldat was distracted on suffocating Y/N with kisses. But he should learn by now how alert and agile the soldat can be, especially when he have Y/N close to his proximity.

So, when Sam took a step closer, the soldat recoiled almost immediately, putting quite of a distance between them.

"Man, if Bucky has a staring problem, then the winter soldier over here has a hogging problem." Sam accusingly pointed at the soldat, only getting grunts as a reply.

Looking at the current situation, Y/N pondered for awhile. As much as she wanted to get herself check-up, it was also wise to not pressure the soldat to give her away.

Considering what she witnessed at the Hydra base, Y/N knew the risk that comes when we let the soldat dwell in anger for too long.

So she consulted the rest of the team to back down for now, and let the soldat do what he wants. Y/N promised them that she will conviced the soldat to let her get a check-up as soon as possible. But for now, they really need to trust her words.

At first every one of them was reluctant to let her go but in the end they agreed to her suggestion.

When the team spread out and gave some space for the soldat, he didn't waste any time and marched straight to where their bedroom supposed to be. As soon as they arrived at their safe space, the soldat almost threw Y/N onto the bed and swiftly drew a knife from the holster of his thigh as his predatory eyes searched the room.

He refused to move even an inch away from where he stood and remained close to Y/N; shielding her figure with his own.

It was very faint, but the soldat could sensed that they weren't the only ones in the room.

Y/N eyed him curiously, wondering why the soldat was still on edge when he wasn't supposed to. So, she hopped off from the bed and stood on her feet before reaching out to hug the soldat from behind.

"You can put the knife down, soldat. It's just us here." She coaxed but the soldat refused to believe her. He pulled her by the arms, breaking her hug in the process and hold her close to his chest, "There's someone else here."

His actions was rather rougher than he intended it to be; even Y/N was startled by the sudden movement, "Oooff, careful there, soldat. You might give the little one a fright." She chuckled softly as she give her belly a loving rub.

And suddenly his attention was completely focused on Y/N now. Usually his frown symbolized irritation, but this time there was a clear confusion in his eyes. The amount of appalled blinking of his eyes increases when the puzzle pieces in his head started to merge.

The soldat knew that he heard a third heartbeat in the room; that was why he was on alert for threats but apparently he had been closer to the source than he thought was.

In fact, it was right his arms. Or maybe a little bit lower, somewhere around his torso.

Y/N didn't say anything, she simply nodded and smiled up to him as she continued to rub her belly.

When the conclusion finally hits him, the soldat dropped the knife in his hand at the same time he fell on his knees. His gaze never broke from hers, not even a split second, until he was face to face with her tummy.

The soldat leaned one side of his ear closer to her and the thumping sound of the third heartbeat got louder. The discovery had caused him to jolt away as shock decorated his features. He titled his head upwards to Y/N with the same wide, confused look in his blue eyes.

"It's okay, love." She giggled amusingly when the soldat repeated his previous actions. He leaned in and jolted back again as if he couldn't believe what he just heard was real, "Is it... his?" The soldat asked as he implied his existance to be separated from Bucky.

There was a hint of sadness in Y/N's expression when he said it like that. There's been many long conversations that she and Bucky had about the soldat after his first relapse.

Though Bucky was still unsure of his own dissociating self, Y/N on other hand believed that the soldat, this particular man whose drenched the earth with blood just to save her, the same man whose currently on his knees to hear a heartbeat of an unborn child; he deserved a little kindness in his life.

"Yes..." Y/N answered truthfully before she continued, "...and he's yours too."

And that surely knocked the air out of the soldat's lungs, he couldn't tell if she was telling him the truth or was just trying to kill him; either way the butterflies in his chest was suffocating him from the inside.

The soldat couldn't speak a single word; because he didn't know what to say. But there was this beam on his features, light in his eyes, softness on his smile when he dreamily stared at her growing belly.

Y/N took him by his flesh hand and place his palm on her stomach, then she spoke tenderly to the baby inside her, "Wanna say hi to daddy, sweet bean? Say, 'Welcome home, daddy.' "

She knew it was silly, because obviously the child in her womb shouldn't be able to speak, and he was not yet developed enough to be kicking his feet. Hell, they don't even know his gender yet.

But how could she not say it when the soldat looked so damn happy when she did. He looked so peaceful and has this daze and some of those twinkling hearts in those steel-blue eyes of. The soldat sighed in pure joy before he leaned to kiss her stomach.

And as it turns out that was all she needed to do to persuade the soldat to letting her see the doctors. He was there through the whole process, refusing to let go of her hand. It was such a good news to hear that the baby was healthy and there wasn't any foreign substance that might contaminated her during her times in Hydra.

After getting proper medical care and some food in her system, the soldat immediately carry her back to their room to settle down. While she laid on the bed, making up for the lost time to finally get the mental rest she desperately needed, the soldat on the other hand, had made himself comfortable by lying his head on her stomach.

He just couldn't stop; as if he was hypnotised by the melody of the baby's heartbeat. His hand snuck under her shirt, lifting the fabric up to reveal the belly where their miracle resides.

Y/N's droopy eyes followed his actions as she watched how carefully the soldat approached her. Out of habit, her hands absentmindedly rake through the softness of his hair as she held him by the head.

The soldat dotingly caressed the child's sleeping chambers as he leaned closer to it, "...Hi there, little one." he greeted with a quiet and loving whisper.

Immediately, a smile beamed brightly on Y/N's face when the soldat proceed to pamper her belly with countless of tender kisses, "...it's daddy." he introduced himself, as if the baby was able to understand him.

The silence that came after was so sweet and comfortable. And Y/N knew she wouldn't be able to have this without the soldat. She tucked a piece of his loose strand of hair behind his ear when she spoke gently, "Thank you for saving me, soldat."

He briefly lifted his head and smiled up at her, "You know I can't live without you Родная (darling). I will always need you." He declared a truthful confession before turning his attention away. His lips grazed on the skin of her belly as he mumbled against it, "And you too, little one."

Y/N could burst into tears just from this interaction alone but she try not to. She doesn't want to look back at this moment and remember how much she wept, so she blinked her tears away while she watched the soldat spoiled the little buddle of joy inside her with so much endearments.

Even though it was always a happy memory for the soldat when he spend time with his darling, but this... this was rare. And he wanted to cherish it for as long as he could.

The soldat laid on his ears again when he peered from where he had his head rested, his deep gaze captured her attention, "Has he been taking care of you good, darling?" He asked.

The soldat probably had no idea how Bucky adored her; if anyone paid enough attention they might even caught him worshipping the very ground she stepped on.

A breathy chuckle escaped from her mouth as nodded with a drunken grin, "He's the best." She hummed approvingly, "Best husband, and best daddy too." She exclaimed brightly as she glanced at the ring on her finger; it was barely visible through the thick of the soldat's hair.

Surprisingly, the soldat didn't react negatively to her remarks, instead, a proud smile curved on his lips as the pride in his chest overflowed and leaked all through his very being, "Good." He simply said.

The smile lines on the corner of his eyes didn't flatten even when he closed his eyes. For a moment, he tried to silenced everything else around him and focused on the fluttering sounds of the baby's tiny heart.

It might have been the thick haze of lavender smoke in their head or the swarming butterflies in their chest, that they didn't even notice the fatigue that had been slowly taking over them, until the tenderness of their caresses were barely moving.

When the heaviness of her eyes weighted the lids, she sleepily asked the soldat, "Will you still be here when I wake up?" Truth to be told, she was afraid that all of this was just a dream; an escape from reality of the cruel captivity.

The soldat briefly opened his own tired eyes and cooed softly, "I'm always with you, Родная (darling)." And Y/N took it as a promise for her desprete soul to cling on; a ray of hope for her to hold onto, if she ever wakes up in that cell again.

Not long after, both of them lost to the lure of somnolent and their soul quickly drifted into the peaceful dreamland. Soft snores were filling the quiet of the room as their mortal body continued to entangled themselves with each other.

It was safe to say that if Steve would ever barge into the room, he'd probably maxed the storage of his phone with photos of the soldat smushing his face on Y/N's belly as she perfectly curled around him.

Maybe it was the sunlight leaking through the window or maybe it was the intense gaze she felt burning on the skin of her face. Eitherway, it certainly disturbed her from her sleep.

When her body stirred, Y/N realized that she didn't need to open her eyes to know that last night was not a dream, especially when she can feel a pair of familiar arms wrapping around her waist under her shirt.

Y/N slowly peeled her eyes open to see a recognizable ceiling. Her eyes then trailed to her side and met a pair of blue of eyes staring back at her. Her gaze searched for the soul within him and found the semblance of Bucky reflected in his eyes.

Still dazed from sleep, she continued to watch him blinking at her, slowly and silently, like a cat declaring their love to their human. But even then, he couldn't hide the afterglow of the tears on his face.

"Bucky, honey. Have you been crying?" Her voice rasped from lack of use, yet her tender fingers find themselves crawling across his wet cheeks.

It was as if her voice was a trigger, and tears quickly reformed in Bucky's eyes again. Y/N gently pulled him to her chest, one hand threading his hair and another rubbing his back as he sobbed in her arms, "It's okay, Bucky. We're okay." She continued to coax him lovingly.

They spend most of the early morning holding each other close and dear. Then when the tears started to lessen, Bucky finally pulled himself away from her. Y/N wiped the excess tears on his cheeks but he caught her hand underneath his; he relished in the relief of her presence when he sighed to her touch.

Bucky's gaze wobbled in the pool of tears in his eyes but he was still determined to speak his mind "I'm so sorry, doll." He apologized, "I couldn't stop them. Even with this damned serum in me, I still couldn't protect you; both of you." If his defeated voice didn't convey his truth, then the tremble of his touch should be enough.

And Y/N's heart simply shattered for him; what did he meant by that? He did save her though. The winter soldier or Bucky. It didn't matter who but she was here now because of him. She was safe; they both were, "But you saved me, did you not?"

"But, I didn't. The sol--" Before Bucky could even finish his sentence, Y/N quickly cuts in, "The soldat is always going to be a part of you, Bucky. And if he saved me, that means you saved me too." She reassured him.

Seeing the hesitation in his eyes, she continued to persuade him, "And if I could speak for our child, which I absolutely can because I'm his mother, then he would say that he is proud that his strong daddy managed to beat the absolute shit out of those bad guys."

Bucky blurted out a hearty laugh, "I don't think it's good to teach our baby to curse when he is still in your womb, mama." His laugh gradually reduced to a chuckle when he wiped the remaining tears from his eyes.

Y/N simply shrugged to his suggestion, "It's not like he wouldn remember this anyway." She smirked playfully.

Another chuckle managed to slip through Bucky's lips before he lowered his face to her tummy, "And you? How's your play date with Winter, hmm sweet bean?" He mumbled as his lips planted on her skin.

Besides the heartbeat of his child, he could also hear the tiny twitching of the baby's limbs moving ever-so-slightly, "Yeah, I bet he spoiled you with lots of kisses and cuddles, huh? Like he did your mommy?" He continued to coo against her belly, unaware of the shock on his wife's face.

"Winter?" A small smile cracked from the corner of her lips. Yes, she was shocked but that doesn't mean she wasn't pleasantly surprised by it.

Bucky didn't even bother to look up at Y/N's face as he was busy blowing raspberries on her stomach, "If he's going to keep popping up in our lives then we might as well call him something else other than 'soldat', don't you think?" He simply said, marking one last kiss on the small growing bulge on her belly, before working his way back up to her face.

Y/N's heart swelled to his gesture and when he laid his head next to hers, she carefully took him by his cheeks, pulling him in for a gentle kiss, "I think he'd love that, Bucky." She whispered against his lips, feeling his smile in return.

Bucky nudges forward to catch her lips again; kissing her slow and sweet as if his whole world has been waiting for this moment. And when the kiss naturally broke, he tempted her with something he knew she couldn't resist, "Now, how about we grab you both something to bite, hmm?"

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: The use of the title in the fic is suprisingly wholesome despite the insinuation of it, don't you think? Lol. Btw, thank you so much for stopping by and read my work. Leave your thoughts behind for me, I'd love to hear from you!

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