#i do not know if he'd ever come back from it

[ghost-proofbaby]

thinking about Eddie being so eager to kiss you all the time and he just gets a little too excited sometimes a little too rough and you bump into something and he cradles you while you giggle cause he can't stop smiling into his kisses

And sure maybe it's a little awkward and teeth knock against each other and he catches your lip in his teeth a little too hard but it's okay cause you're deliriously happy

And it's not about getting to the sex (not all the time anyways) but he's just so happy to have found a safe place to land and he's enthusiastic that he found someone who wants to kiss him just as much as he wants to kiss you

And this time he's not too much and his feelings aren't too big and he doesn't need to tone it down cause you're his person and he's yours

Okay bye ily

mouse. mouse get the fuck back here. MOUSE DONT LEAVE ME LIKE THIS

he's just so happy to have a safe place to land and this time he's not too much and his feelings aren't too big were daggers straight to my heart you come back here right now before i actually bleed out from needing this man so badly.

no but thats exactly it. eddie has spent so long jumping and toeing that line of either trying to cram himself into this bite-sized shape for the ones around him, and just exploding and pretending he doesn't give a fuck that he will never fit into anyone's cup of tea so he'll just make himself even larger, that when you enter his life he just doesnt know what to do about it.

because he starts with his regular tricks of being so over the top, so unbearable, and all you're doing is laughing and entertaining his antics. even playing along at times. and so he retracts a little, turning back into a quiet boy who will shrivel up until he's invisible or easy to love (whichever comes first). but then that doesn't work - and to be truthful, he doesn't even know what his mind's end goal is here because why is he trying to push you away so desperately? - and he's just at a loss. you want him on the thundering days, where he makes his grey clouds everyone's problem and all his lightning is blinding and sporadic. you want him on the quiet days, where the downpour is no longer a roar but a soft drizzle, a bit more silent and a bit more bearable but still there. and he can't tell if it's a joke - he can't decipher if your kisses amidst his rambles are sincere, if you're actually smiling at his jokes because you like him or you're too polite to break his heart. he can't see through those gentle hands you use to caress back his wild hair to be sure that the softest of touches are really just you, or some strange gloves of care that you're only simply wearing for now.

and then one morning, he wakes up, and you're still there, awake before he is and just watching him with so much love. feather-light fingers taking their time tracing over his tattoo on his chest and arms, not noticing he's awake yet as you smile so serenely at him. you're looking at him in a way that he's never really gotten to experience so vulnerably before - like he isn't a nuisance, isn't a mistake. like the universe has so intentionally dropped him into your palms, and you're so aware of how delicate he can be below the surface. and he just breaks.

"i love you"

he'd blurt it out, the first time he's ever said those words to you. it almost feels like the first time he's said those words, period.

he's said them to wayne, in their own way, both a bit stiff in expressing affection and skirting around those words whenever they can for a simply ruffle of hair or unexpected side hugs. he'd said them to his mom, a young boy with shining eyes despite it all, looking at her like she was the world because she was his world.

and... well. that's it. he can count the number of times he's said those words on one hand, and now he's said them to you, and all he can hope is you handle them with as much care as you've handled him.

he hopes you can feel the weight of his heart pressing down on them.

and he thinks you do, when you startle a little, looking up to his lips where those rough words had just fallen from in a cracking tone, and you take your time in awarding him with a smile that could save lives. cure cancer, cure sadness, cure the end of the world even. every cliche possible.

"yeah?" you'd whisper back, and his heart skips a beat, terrified that the next words you say won't be what he needs to hear so desperately. but they are. because of course they are. you wouldn't have been watching him sleep in that way if they hadn't been on the tip of your tongue, "i love you."

not a crash landing, but a soft-padded decent. a slow fall with a cushion to prevent broken bones and more invisible scars.

he kisses you then the way he was going to kiss you every day going forward: pushing forward recklessly, teeth and noses bumping a little, smiles making it nearly impossible. he kisses you like he's coming home after a long day, because he is.

he's home. no boxes in sight to fit into, no cups that'll overflow from all the fizzling feelings pouring out of his chest. you've got him, and he's got you.

[robertsfloyd]

Military Issued

Bradley was warned he'd be given an Omega if he didn't get his act together. He knows what happens to Omegas with military Alphas - he doesn't want to be the reason an Omega goes through that. But he just can't get his act together.

Alpha!Rooster X Omega!Reader

"I don't want one," Bradley growled out for what felt like the millionth time since he'd stepped foot in Cyclones office.

Nothing about this was right. Being called into the office, Mav standing behind like he had something to do with all of this. Knowing him, he probably did.

"Look, Rooster." Cyclone linked his fingers together and leaned forward in a way that suggested Bradley had no choice in the matter. "You keep flying like you want to kill yourself and you won't give us much of a choice,"

"No."

Every word out of his mouth had been a growl since they'd made the suggestion. No, he wouldn't. He couldn't. He didn't need an Omega.

Maverick sighed and stepped forward. "This is for your own good, Bradley," he said and Bradley glared like a petulant child. Not a man in his thirties. "I can't lose you, too."

An Omega. A military issued one at that. Most Alphas in the navy could only dream of such a thing. Most met an Omega, couldn't bare to part with them and quit their jobs. A military issued Omega stayed with their Alphas on base, only parting for missions and such. It was cruel on the Omegas, but the military didn't care.

His father had been an Alpha. But Nick had met Carole, the prettiest Omega he ever laid eyes on (as he used to say to Mav) and he wanted out. It was Maverick who convinced him to stay, who convinced him to go to Top Gun.

Bradley remembered when his dad died. He didn't remember details, didn't remember receiving the news. But he remembered his mother's screams.

Before they found out what had happened, she was screaming. She was holding her chest and crying out in pain as it felt like her soul was ripped in two. Her alpha ripped away from her.

It was a miracle it didn't kill her.

He didn't remember his fathers funeral, he didn't remember Maverick grabbing his mother to stop her from throwing herself into his fathers grave.

But he did remember the hospital visits. He remembered his mother laying in a hospital bed, in that sterile room, the scent of chemicals burning his nose.

He remembered sitting there alone, the doctor telling him that his mother should be dead, that she was alive for him.

How many omegas went through this? Bradley began to wonder as he got over. How many Alphas were so loyal to their country that it ended up killing their Omega?

He didn't want to be responsible for that.

For a single day, Bradley got himself under control. He stopped flying like he had no reason to come home, started flying semi-sensibly (but you don't become a navy pilot to fly sensibly).

But it only lasted a day. The next day, he was back to his old shit. Back to trying like he wanted to die, back to flying like he wouldn't have cared if he crashed. Back to flying like nobody would miss him.

***

An unmated Omega, you were given two choices. Remain unmated and unsafe, or do what your friends had done and sign up for that programme.

Looking back, you should have done more research into the programme. You didn't know what you were signing up for, who you were giving your information to. You certainly didn't realise it was the military.

An unknown number contacted you. As any smart Omega would, you tried to look up the number before you answered the phone. But you couldn't trace this one. Looking at your friends, you raised your eyebrows.

"Just answer it," your friend said. "If its someone weird, just hang up."

You nodded along and swiped your finger across the screen. "Hello?" You asked, pressing the phone to your ear.

The woman on the phone gave your name in a questioning tone.

"This is she," you answered, scratching at your knee.

"I'm from the US Navy. We saw your profile and we would like to give you the opportunity to be a Military Omega."

Military Omega. Your frowned deepened as you tried to decipher the meaning of those words. Military Omega. You didn't think Omegas were allowed in the Military.

"What is a Military Omega?"

Your friends gasped at you, eyes going wide. You tried to look at them, to see whether you should hear this woman out or hang up now.

"Its a sweet gig," the woman said, dropping that air of professionalism she had around her already. "Military Omegas are given an Alpha to take care of them, somewhere near the Military base where your Alpha is stationed to live and a weekly allowance. Really, what else could an Omega need?"

A Military Alpha. An Alpha that would leave you alone when he was sent away. You would have somewhere to live provided for you, money sent to you just for being a Military Omega. It did sound like a sweet gig, you thought.

"Can I have some time to think about it?"

"You have until the end of the week." She left a number, one you quickly wrote down, and hung up.

You looked at your friends. They stared back at you, waited for you to say something. "Girls," you started, folding your hands in your lap. "What do we know about Military Omegas."

***

Sitting in an office, a fan above your head, you stared at the man across from you. Definitely an Alpha; you could tell that by his size alone.

He was fucking huge.

If you had less of a leash on your thoughts, your mouth would have been watering. Big Alpha man with big Alpha muscles. To top it all off, he had a pretty face, a moustache that should have been ugly but looked so damn good on him.

He looked like he wanted to kill you.

You stared back at him, waiting for something from him. You had introduced yourself, waited for him to do the same. But he was silent, staring.

You opened your mouth, but he finally said soemthing.

"I'm not scenting you."

You swallowed. A big, sexy, Military Alpha, and he didn't want you. Ouch. "Okay," you said, but, really, you didn't know what else to say. You had made the trip all the way to California to become a Military Omega, and your Military Alpha didn't even want you.

This couldn't get any worse.

You looked up as the door opened and another man walked in. Not an Alpha, you noted by his scent, but definitely Military. "Jesus, Rooster," he said and let out a whistle. "If you don't want her, can I have her?"

"Shut up, Hangman," Bradley said through a growl.

'Hangman' laughed to himself as he strode over to you. Just three steps and he'd walked the length of the table between you. It was nothing at all, but enough that you couldn't reach out and touch the Alpha before you. "He's an old grump, isn't he, sugar?" He asked as he held out his hand.

You cracked a smile, not entirely sure if you should be laughing with him. Taking his hand, you shook it. "I'm Jake. I'm no Alpha, but it won't matter when you're with me," he said and winked.

Suddenly, he was pulled back. Bradley hooked his finger around Jakes colour and pulled him away from you. "Out," he said through a growl. "Get out."

Holding up his hands, Jake walked out of the room. He let the door shut behind him and you released a breath. Maybe the scent of angry Alpha would finally dissipate now that Jake was gone.

But then you heard the lock click.

"Wait!" You cried and climbed out of your seat. Rushing over to the door, you tried to pull it open. Nothing. Locked.

"Bagman!" Bradley roared as he stepped up behind you. You removed your hands from the door handle when he grabbed it and began to pull. But it was a military base. Of course it was Alpha proof.

"Shit," he grunted.

You were conscious of just how close he was to you. He hadn't gotten this close to you... ever. It let you see just how pretty his eyes were, how delicate his brown curls were. Jesus, he was so pretty.

He stared at you, his chest heaving. His nostrils flared as he breathed in the scent of you. "Fuck," he grunted. "Shit, you smell..."

Good. You smelled so damn good. His eyes seemed to glow brighter as he looked at you. His hands reached out and grabbed you, pulling you close.

You whimpered as you hit his chest. He pressed his nose against your neck, moustache tickling you slightly. But you didn't laugh. Not while he was scenting you.

Stumbling back, Bradley pulled you with him. He sat back in his chair and pulled you on top of him. You whimpered as he continued to scent you.

Tipping your head forward, you scented him back. Holy fuck, he was intoxicating. Your fingers gripped his shoulders as your eyes fell shut. You could have gotten drunk off of his scent, you realised.

When you tried to pull away, Bradley released a growl. So, you continued to scent him. You returned your head to rest against his shoulder and scent him. Pure Alpha, that's what he was. Pure Alpha and you couldn't get enough of him.

His arms wrapped around you, not letting you go. Not that you wanted him to let you go. In that moment, you couldn't imagine anything worse than him letting you. You rubbed your head against his scent gland, trying to cover yourself in his scent. The scent of your Alpha.

The door opened.

Bradley let out a growl and you released one to match. Although yours was the higher pitched growl of an Omega. "Scenting is going well," somebody said. You didn't care who it was, you just wanted them to leave yourself and your Alpha alone.

Swallowing, they backed up and left the room. "Mine," Bradley growled as he nosed at your scent gland. "Mine."

a/n: i can't believe this is the first time i'm writing for my favourite man! i know i'm an f1 girlie but big men just make me ugh! like, i'm not even into COD but my friend and i have been talking about the cod men bc they're so hot 😭

[hy6erion]

hiii i have a request! could we get some pervert!jayce who stays up late at night touching himself to the thought of you? i wanna know what he fantasizes about ;__;

thank you ily!!!

𝐉𝐚𝐲𝐜𝐞 𝐣𝐞𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮

⇢ 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭, 𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢, 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐭! 𝐉𝐚𝐲𝐜𝐞, 𝐯𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬, 𝐨𝐛𝐬��𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧/ 𝐟𝐢𝐱𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤 ⇰ 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝/ 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐲

It's late. The lab is empty, and he's alone-just him, his thoughts, and the unbearable ache between his legs. You left hours ago, but your presence lingers, burned into his brain, into his skin.

The way you stretched before you left, arms above your head, spine arching just enough to make your shirt ride up. The sliver of bare skin, the subtle dip of your waist. The waistband of your pants sitting low, teasing him with just a hint of something lower.

You didn't even notice what you were doing to him. Didn't notice how he'd stopped mid-sentence, lips parting, gaze shamelessly trailing down your body.

Didn't notice the way his hands clenched into fists, nails digging into his palm, the only thing keeping him from dragging you back and pressing you against his desk.

You'd smiled at him before walking away. Something simple, something casual. But it wrecked him. That fucking smile. Like you weren't the reason he was going to spend his entire night restless, hard, and frustrated.

Like you weren't going to be the reason he ends up here, in his chair, breath heavy, cock in his hand, pumping slow strokes because his mind won't let him think about anything else.

Like you hadn't just left him with an impossible craving, an ache so deep it burns, curling low in his stomach, making it impossible to think about anything but you.

His hand tightens, his thoughts spiral. He imagines you just like that, bare and waiting for him.

How easy it would be to pull you close, press his mouth to your stomach, kissing his way lower. How he'd peel your clothes off, watching the way your body shivers under his touch.

The sound you'd make when he finally drags his lips between your thighs, tasting you, groaning against your skin because you're better than he ever fucking imagined.

Would you be shy about it? Would you squirm under his gaze, cheeks burning as you try to press your thighs together?

Or would you be bold, spreading them wider, teasing him with that wicked little smirk that drives him insane?

His grip on himself is rougher now, jerking faster, chest rising and falling in sharp breaths.

He groans at the thought of stretching you open, watching as you take him inch by inch.

The way your legs would wrap around his waist, your nails digging into his shoulders, clinging to him like you'd fall apart without him.

Your body rocking up against his, desperate, breathless. Your voice cracking when you whimper his name-"Jayce, please."

Fuck, he wants to hear it. Wants to hear you beg for him, wants to make you desperate, make you so fucking needy that you can't think about anything but him.

He knows exactly how he'd fuck you. He'd start slow, deep, making sure you feel every inch of him. He'd murmur against your lips, his voice rough, telling you how good you feel.

He'd push your legs further apart, watching the way your back arches, watching the way your mouth parts with every thrust.

And then he'd ruin you-gripping your hips, pounding into you, swallowing every gasp, every moan, every desperate sound you make.

He'd make you scream his name, make you sob from pleasure, make you come so hard you're shaking beneath him.

Would you be able to take it? Would you let him fuck you until you can't think, until you're wrecked and whimpering, begging him to stop because it's too much-but he knows you don't really want him to stop?

He's Close. Too Close. His strokes are faster, sharper, chasing the edge as his muscles tense. He groans, head tilting back, sweat beading along his brow.

His other hand grips the armrest, knuckles white as he imagines how tight you'd be, how perfect, how fucking good.

His name falling from your lips. The way you'd beg for more, for him. The way you'd look at him after, wrecked, ruined, utterly his. But fuck—he can't stop there. Not in his head.

Would you let him take you again, even after the first time?

Would you let him flip you over, press your face into the pillows, pull your hips up and push himself back inside, even when you're still sensitive?

Would you let him fuck you like that—his hands gripping your waist, his weight pressing down against your back, his breath hot against your ear as he tells you how fucking perfect you are?

Would you let him come inside? Fill you up, let it drip out of you, let him push it back in with his fingers, his cock, keeping you full because you're his?

Would you let him keep going?

Would you take it? Would you let him wreck you completely?

And then he's gone. His breath stutters, his body tensing as he comes, hot and thick, spilling over his stomach.

He shudders through the aftershocks, his name still echoing in his head, your touch lingering like a phantom on his skin.

His heart pounds, his body lax, utterly spent—but his mind is still filled with you. Even as he cleans himself up, the heat still lingers.

Because tomorrow, he'll see you again.

And he already knows-he won't be able to stop thinking about you.

[cryptidbear]

YES! YOU GET IT!!!

The angst of it all is just perfect, honestly.

the back and forth between his kids ending up as robins or vigilantes in general.

the fear of finding them dead like he did Bruce.

the fear of not returning alive to his kids like Bruce did.

But seeing younger him in them when they fight to be robin or anything else-

the same way he used to fight Bruce.

and he knows he can't keep doing it alone, knows Gotham needs a light he can't give to them now that he's Batman, something that only Robin could give.

but that fear is so deeply rooted that he feels stuck in place, unsure of what to even do.

I have some notes i wrote down back when i was brainstorming the au-

Jason wants to be a hero- he wants to fight alongside Dick. He wants to help Crime Alley- his home, and better it.

Dick's heart seizes in fear and he absolutely forbids it, a hard no. His foot is down. "I can't lose you too, Jason. I can't lose another family member, I can't watch someone I love die to crime another time. Just... grow up a normal kid. Please."

Jason is angry at this answer, his hands clutching into his hoodie as he shouts with tears in his eyes, asking Dick how he thinks he feels watching Dick go out all alone as Batman and coming back looking like a damned corpse? If Dick dies... then Jason is all alone again. He's afraid of another parental figure dying.

Dick is left reeling as the young boy storms off, his heart dropping into his stomach, stuck between a rock and a hard place, feeling like the weight of everything was finally crushing him.

But he doesn't take back what he says. It hurts, but he doesn't want to see Jason ever get hurt. He doesn't think he can handle it. He doesn't think he could survive it.

He's lost enough already, hasn't he?

And then one night, Jason steals Dick's old Robin costume from his early days from the display case, wrinkling his nose as he dawns the pixie boots. Because pixie boots, really Dick?

And he's sneaking out once Dick has left for patrol, long after the young boy was supposed to be asleep.

the suit is ill fitting but he feels light as air as he stumbles his way across rooftops, using his skills he'd learned while living on the streets to prowl unseen by Batman.

Or, at least he thinks he's being sneaky, until Dick is snatching him up by the bright yellow cape, and in a loud angry voice he's never had directed at him from Dick, the older male lets his anger gets the best of him. Yells at him on some random rooftop, all the emotions and fears he's kept bottled up for so long spilling out as he sees Jason in his old Robin suit.

He says things he doesn't mean, things he immediately regrets as he see's Jason's heart break and tears bead up in Jason's eyes.

watches with dread as the young boy just breaks down in a way he never has before right there on the rooftop, and before Dick can even apologize, the boy has run off, quick as lightning.

It takes two excruciating hours before he finds Jason hidden somewhere in Crime Alley, still sobbing and curled up, tucked away in some hidden corner, soaked from the rain.

Dick collapses in front of the boy and just draws him tight to his chest, covering the shivering boy with his cape and warming him up, his back against a wall and the tiny boy cradled in his lap, his head tucked beneath his chin.

they don't speak for a long while, silent as they both try to process their own emotions, as Dick tries to navigate something he never thought he'd have to.

"I'm afraid of losing you like I lost him." he admits, quiet in the wind as he holds the boy closer, almost desperately like he's afraid he'll disappear if he doesn't. "I just finally started living again... and i can't lose the one light I have."

its silent for a while once more, Dick weighing his options on what he should do,

Jason speaks up next, speaking of the way crime alley needed help, help that Batman couldn't give on his own. Things that he just couldn't understand without growing up there.

Dick listens to his son, listens to the passionate way he speaks, listens to how Jason opens up about Catherine, and about the gangs and how its barely livable there anymore.

Dick can't deny him anymore after that.

He breaks and gives in, a small, wet laugh leaving his lips. "There's no one else I'd rather be my robin." he whispers.

They don't discuss it anymore that night, Dick carrying the boy back to the manor.

They both end up with bad colds and Alfred scolds the both of them, but he doesn't leave the boy's side the whole time, trying to make up for his mistakes. for all the hurt he caused.

Once they're better, Dick lays out the rules, trying to find solutions to make them both happy.

School will be Jason's number one priority, and Jason can only do short patrols on weekdays, longer on weekends.

He would not go out until he had a few months of training, except to keep watch for Batman.

Dick would take him on patrol through crime alley, and they would work together to figure out what they needed to do to help.

He was not allowed on missions or to fight any super dangerous fights- no matter how much he wanted to. not until he was on the field for a long time, thank you very much.

Jason hates some of the rules, but he finally relents after a long time debating over it, knowing that Dick had some good points, even though he's never tell the man that.

Dick lets Jason redesign the robin costume to suit him better, and the first thing Jason does is add pants. he was really fucking cold in Dick's outfit and he didn't like it.

Jason becomes crime alley's Robin, recognized as one of their own. It starts to slowly blossom under his guidance, bit by bit over the years.

(one day I'll actually write this fully fleshed out as a fic and not just 3 am rambles, lol)

(and one day i'll write about the other kids too, i just haven't written past like, Jason and Tim meeting for the first time bc i'm brainstorming chapter by chapter oops.)

Lying awake at 5 am thinking of the au I planned out where Batman dies before Dick ever becomes Nightwing, so Dick becomes Batman and he ends up adopting all his siblings instead.

19/20 year old Dick Grayson staring down at a like 10-13 year old Jason Todd trying to steal his tires and understanding why Bruce took him home that day at the circus.

Dick Grayson staring at Jason who brought home a young Tim and feeling like he can never let Tim go, or maybe him finding the young boy taking photos one late night.

Dick finding out about (baby!) Damian and stealing him. That's *his* son now.

Him finding Cass and just accepting he has a daughter too. Doesn't even fight it anymore.

Duke? He just sighs and wraps the kid up in a blanket. Alfred's already got a room set up for him by the time they're back at the manor.

Eventually, Tim and Steph date and break up (she gets to finally have a good time as Robin PLEASE) but Dick gets said when she stops coming to family dinner. She starts coming again bc she can't stand the puppy dog eyes. She's his unofficial daughter.

Barbara and Alfred just watching all this go down and staring to place bets on when they think another shows up.

Dick but he just inherits his father's adoption problems.

Ft uncle Clark and aunt Lois with (baby!!!) Kon and eventually a baby Jon.

Ft an unholy amount of angst almost every damned chapter.

[luvrrszn]

behind closed doors

BROTHER'S BSF!THEO NOTT x FEM READER (18+)

summary you're his best friend's little sister—off-limits, right?

warnings smut, theo's mean, fluff, angst i guess, idk

a/n guysssssssssss new week new obsession......soz send help

masterlist

being your older brother's best friend, theo was at your house all the time.

that meant he'd see you almost every day. the most gorgeous girl he'd ever seen, floating around. so close yet so far, always out of reach.

he knew he'd never be able to have you, no, your brother would never allow that. so he did the only other thing he could think of—be mean to you.

so he tormented you every day. called you names, even waited on your bed for you to come home so he could insult you about something new. you suspected it was just his way of getting to see you every day.

he acts like you're the biggest pain in the ass, just his best friend's annoying little sister. but the second nobody's looking? his hands are on you.

—

sleeping with him is casual, no strings attached. theo sneaks out of your brother's room at night after he's fast asleep, making sure that he never ever finds out what's going on.

when your brother is finally out of town for the weekend, theo still comes over. the two of you are watching a movie on the tv in your room, lying on your bed. his arm is wrapped around your shoulder, your head leaning against his chest. his other hand traces up and down your inner thigh under the blanket.

it's one of those rare moments in the in-between.

in-between fucking and being at each others' throats.

theo's hand slips lower, toying with the waistband of your pink lace panties. he traces over your wet cunt, chuckling under his breath, "amore mio, you're dripping, just for me, huh?"

"shut u—" you're immediately silenced when theo plunges two long fingers into your pussy.

a smug smile spreads across his face, “you’re squeezing me so tight, you’re gonna break my fingers aren’t ya? if your brother knew how much you think about me, he’d probably hex you himself.”

“t-theo, stop talking about my brother and start moving your damn fingers.” you pants, writhing against the palm of his hand, aching for some friction against your clit.

“as you wish, amore mio.”

—

one night, you’re sneaking back in after a party. your hair is disheveled, makeup smudged, slightly tipsy and boots in your hand as you try to close the front door as quietly as possible.

theo is the last person you expect to see. you curse under your breath. why is he always in your damn house?

the open kitchen layout gives him the perfect view of you sneaking back in at 3am. he’s leaning against the kitchen counter, grey sweatpants hanging low, black tshirt hugging his biceps. he drinks from a glass of water, a dark look on his face.

you roll your eyes as you put your boots down on the floor, preparing yourself for what’s to come.

“a bit late, isn’t it, piccola?”

you roll your eyes and brush past him, opening the fridge to grab some orange juice. gulping down the juice, you reply, "it's really none of your business, nott."

wrong answer.

before you can react, he's in front of you, blocking your path. he's so much taller, broader than you. the amused glint in his eye is gone.

"see, that's where you're wrong," he murmurs, tilting your chin up with two fingers so you meet his gaze, "it is absolutely my business, because we wouldn't want you messing around with young, dumb, horny boys would we?"

his forearms rest on either side of your head, pinning you against the refrigerator.

"oh yeah? and what are you?" you scoff.

"oh, bella, you already know the answer to that."

and you do. he's stronger, older, perhaps even more mature (when it comes to anything other than you) than whatever company you're keeping.

"i swear, you'd better not tell my brother about this." you groan, ducking under his arms as you beeline for the sink.

"there's no such thing as a free lunch, piccola."

and that's how you end up on your knees in your bedroom, short skirt hiked up as you gag around his fucking massive cock. his hands are tangled in your hair, mercilessly forcing you to take in every inch of him. tears stream down your face, spit pooling at the corner of your mouth. you look like a mess, but at that moment as theo looks down at you through half-lidded eyes, he swears he's never seen a prettier girl than you.

you look up at theo and take in the sight before you. his head is thrown back, hair messy. his jaw is clenched, and he smirks at you. you run your hands over his chest and toned abs, clawing at his biceps.

he's perfect.

—

oh, and when he catches you at a party?

it's over.

he drags you out by your wrists, forcing you into his blacked-out mercedes. he's driving well over the speed limit, desperate to get off the road before he loses his shit.

he'd seen you dancing with some guy you knew from down the street, dress too short, too tight, too low-cut.

he has one hand on the steering wheel, another running through his hair as his jaw clenches.

"didn't take you for the easy type, but i guess i shouldn't be surprised. you're not special, you know. boys will say anything to get them what they want."

his words hit like a slap. your stomach twists, and for a second, all you can do is stare at him, lips parted and heart pounding.

you want to ask what the hell he's talking about, but you already know.

he saw you dancing with that guy. saw the way his hands slid down your waist, how he leaned in close and whispered things in your ear. how you let out that sweet laugh, one that always made theo want to say "fuck it" and just kiss you in front of everyone. he saw the way you let it happen.

and he hated it.

and now he's punishing you for it.

when you remain silent, he continues, "you looked fucking ridiculous in there, you know that?"

and you feel so silly. to think that that evening, you'd picked out your favourite dress, made sure your makeup looked good, just in hopes that theo would notice you at that party.

"you're being cruel, theo. stop it." you murmur, turning to stare out of the window. you don't even notice that you've started crying.

when you finally notice, you wipe it away quickly. you hope that theo didn't notice, but of course he did. at that moment, he pulls into the driveway of your house, turning off the engine.

theodore nott has seen a lot of things—but he has never seen you cry like this. and definitely not because of him.

and it makes something in his chest clench.

"oh, for fuck’s sake—" his voice drops, no longer sharp but still frustrated. he drags a hand through his hair, exhaling harshly, like he’s angry at himself now, too.

for a moment, he doesn’t say anything. he just stares at you, at the way you’re biting your lip, blinking rapidly, trying so hard to hold it in.

then? he moves.

his hand reaches for your thigh, fingers curling around it, grounding. not forceful, but firm.

"hey." his voice is softer now, rough but not cruel.

"don't do that. don't fucking cry over me."

you try to shift away, but theo's grip tightens. not rough—just enough to make you stay.

"i didn't mean—fuck." he sighs again, shaking his head.

his thumb brushes against your knee, almost like a reflex, and for the first time ever, he looks uncertain.

"look at me."

you don't. you can't.

so he makes you.

his fingers curl beneath your chin, tilting your face towards him.

he isn't angry anymore. not at you. not really. his jaw is still clenched, his brows furrowed, but now? he looks almost desperate. like he wants to fix everything he's done, but he doesn't know how.

"i didn't mean it like that, bella."

you sniff, voice shaking slightly, "then how did you mean it?"

and that's when he just sighs. a weak, defeated sigh escapes the big bully of a man.

"i just—fuck, i don’t want to see you with other guys, alright?"

"why? we're not anything. you've made it clear, multiple times."

silence follows. his grip tightens.

then, he finally speaks. rough, low, honest.

"because i want you to be mine."

for a moment, you just stare at him.

his confession hangs in the air between the two of you. you're still hurt, still pissed. but something inside you shifts.

"say it again." your voice is quieter now, still laced with frustration but weaker.

theo's jaw clenches. he’s not used to being this vulnerable. but he doesn’t look away.

"I want you to be mine."

and then he moves. his hand slides to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair. he hesitates for just a second, like he’s giving you a chance to stop him.

but you don't.

so he kisses you.

it's not soft. not at first. it’s heated, desperate, full of all the tension that had been boiling between you. his grip is firm, like he’s afraid you’ll pull away. but you don’t—you kiss him back just as fiercely, hands tugging at his shirt, anchoring yourself to him.

it’s messy and overwhelming and everything you’ve both been pretending not to want.

when he finally pulls back, both of you are breathless.

"we’re so fucked," you whisper.

theo smirks, brushing his thumb across your swollen lips. “yeah. but you like it.”

and the worst part?

you do.

[f1lovr]

LOUD AND CLEAR | LN4

pairing: lando norris x fem!deaf reader

summary: the 4 times that fans noticed the way lando was with you and the 1 time they finally realized why.

warnings: none i don't think

1.the garage whispers

fans noticed things, they always did, but sometimes their reasons were a little bit off, like with lando and his girlfriend.

you had been in the mclaren garage one day. while lando's world was loud, yours was quiet. you were completely deaf, you had cochlear implants but sometimes during race weekends they would get overwhelmed with the loud noise making it harder to process what was happening.

one thing that lando never failed to do though was lean closer for you to hear him. his head falling down so his lips were by your ear, making sure your implants could pick up what he was saying.

"you okay?" he asked you, his voice soft and gentle but still loud enough for your implants to pick up easily, his hand gently resting at the small of your back.

you nodded your head with a smile, "just loud" you say softly.

he nodded his head knowing you hated when he fussed over you and that if you got overwhelmed you'd either tell him or you would leave so he knew you were okay.

his hand came up to tap his heart 3 times, not exactly sign language but a sign that you both had started doing, the simple act saying "i love you."

you smiled and tapped your heart back before saying a small goodbye to him as he left to go get ready for qualifying.

the small whispers and acts didn't go unnoticed by fans though, their theories being far from the truth though.

user1: the way lando's so in love with her user2: watching them whisper to each other feels so intimate user3: WHAT DID HE SAY TO HER?

2.his little taps

lando didn't ever call for you, even when you could hear him. every time he wanted your attention he would simply tap you, a small shoulder tap, the squeeze of an arm, tap on the wrist, just something small.

one time that it was noticed by fans was when you were walking into the paddock together. lando had gotten stopped by some fans and as if on instinct his hand had come to tap your shoulder to get your attention

you turned to him with a small smile, watching as he didn't say anything simply gesturing to the group of fans letting you know he had stopped to sign some stuff, standing and waiting for him to finish with the fans before you guys continued. nothing had been said between the two of you, just silent communication which definitely caused an uproar between fans.

user1: why did bro tap her instead of calling for her user2: he's so in love he needs her to feel him before he speaks user3: they're actually so cute, the way he didn't have to say anything and she knew.

3.face offs

even when you were wearing your cochlears sometimes it was hard to hear so lando would always face you when he spoke so you could read his lips easier.

dinner? he was sat in front of you. talking with fans? he made sure you were stood in front of who was talking to you if you were with him. interviews? if you were watching he was always facing you in some way so you could see his lips.

fans picked up on the pattern easily. the way he always stood in front of you before he started speaking, or the way he'd turn your head, it confused them for sure not knowing the reasoning but they still speculated.

user1: lando being a soft boyfriend for the 200th time. user2: the way he always makes sure she can see him, i love them your honor :( user3: they're so in love it's sickening

4. the signs

it was a no brainer that lando would learn sign language when you guys started to date, despite being able to hear him with your implants he still wanted to learn so if you weren't wearing them he could communicate.

the moment the fans started noticing was during a podium. lando had just finished in P2 and while he was up there he had signed "i love you" to you. from there the fans had started noticing the smaller moments.

the small signs in the garage when he was talking to you, the random signs in interviews as if someone was watching that he wanted them to see.

a favorite clip would be during one of lando's twitch streams though. he was playing a game but suddenly had paused it turning to look in the doorway. you were off camera so they couldn't see you as you stood trying to get lando's attention without disturbing him.

what they did see though was the way lando turned to you and instead of saying anything he had signed with his hands, a silent conversation just for the two of you.

"sorry guys, just checking something," lando had said after turning back to the stream when you had left, leaving the fans confused.

user1: WAS HE SIGNING? user2: since when did lando know sign language? user3: was he signing to Y/N?

+1 the time where everything clicked.

you had been with lando in the paddock one day during a race weekend. at this point you were deaf to the world because the batteries for your implants had died. you were stood scourging for your spares in lando's bag when fans came up, getting lando's attention and trying to get yours.

they were confused when they called your name and you didn't answer until lando tapped you making your head look up from where it was buried searching in the bag on his back, a huge smile coming to your face when you notice the fans.

"hi!" you say as you come to stand at lando's side.

"she's deaf, she can read lips though so just make sure you're facing her when you speak," lando explained, signing with his hands.

the fans' mouths dropped, everything making so much more sense to them, the whispers, the small taps, the way he was always faced to you, the way he knew sign language.

while you talked with fans, taking a couple times to ask for repeats, lando was searching in his bag for your batteries, changing them out for you before a gentle hand came to your shoulder to not startle you as he put them on for you, the noise of the paddock filling your ears as they connected.

the both of you finished talking with the fans, taking a couple pictures with them before saying goodbye, knowing the announcement was about to break the internet.

user1: omg she's deaf it all makes so much more sense now. user2: STOP HE LEARNED SIGN LANGUAGE FOR HER user3: lando "i'd learn another language for her" norris user4: they are actually so cute

everything clicked for the fans after that day, and suddenly lando's love for you was so much bigger, because he didn't just love you, he understood you, and did everything he could do so you could understand him.

[acmeangel]

♡ Levi visits your tea shop, and over time, your relationship turns from strangers to having your own little family. But, will the war tear him away from you?...

♡ NSFW, minors DNI ♡ Canon!Levi x Female!Reader ♡ Also features Postwar!Levi ♡ One shot, a mix of fluffy & angsty ♡ Word count: 8,061 ♡ Summary: Levi had been visiting your tea shop for a while, and while he didn't say much, your young son idolized Humanity's Strongest Soldier. You were a single mom, a widow, and it made your happy to see your son so excited. Over time, Levi began to talk to you more and more, until a romance sparked. He'd grown to love you and your son, but after marriage and another baby, the situation within Eldia grows darker, the Rumbling on the horizon. During the chaos, you don't know where Levi has gone -- will you two ever reunite?

Levi had always been quiet when he stopped by your tea shop in Trost. It wasn't often that he paid a visit — his focus was usually fused to the Survey Corps — but he couldn't resist the specific blend of black tea leaves that your shop carried. He'd muttered dryly before that yours was the only cup of black tea that didn't "taste like it'd been diluted in sewer water."

His visits had become predictable. He’d slip into the shop with soundless steps, order his tea with the fewest amount of words possible, toss some coins onto the counter (always including a tip), then sit at a table by the window and sip his tea, his gaze drawn to some far-off distance outside. When he'd leave, he'd always bring his tea cup back to the counter with a dull clink and leave his table as clean as it was when he'd arrived, the chair pushed into it. And that would be that.

You never disturbed his quiet — you figured that with him being a Captain in the Survey Corps, surely he'd come to your shop craving a scarce brief moment of peace and solace.

Your small, six-year-old son, however, had taken on his dad's exuberant and excitable nature, rather than your reserved one. It was one of the things you adored most about your son; it felt, to you, like the spirit of your late husband had planted a little seed within your son, like a small blossom that was finally beginning to bloom.

The way your son laughed with his head thrown back and eyes shut, the way his eyes widened and sparkled when he'd ramble on about whatever new hobby he was interested in (much like his father, he could never settle on just one thing), the way his small hands would fly through the air when he spoke — it was all him, your first and only true love.

It was four years ago, now, that your husband had passed unexpectedly. Your son was only two years old at the time, and as the years went on, you could tell that he was remembering less and less about his father. The weight on your shoulders grew heavier as it felt like it was up to you, solely, to keep his memory alive and treasured.

Even though you were still young, you’d sworn yourself to a life devoid of romantic love. You couldn’t fathom ever falling for someone new; nor could you imagine someone else ever understanding you or loving you the way that he had. A life of just you and your son, together, was all you’d ever need.

So, when Levi would stop by your tea shop, your son would act just as lively and uninhibited as your husband would have.

"Mommy, mommy." His little, pudgy hand would tug on the sleeve of your shirt as he looked up at you with big saucers for eyes. "It's Humanity's Strongest Soldier. He's back, he's back!"

"I know, darling," you'd coo, your hand stroking your son's hair to try and calm him as Levi walked through the door. "Be polite. Don't disturb him."

Trying to wrangle your son's enthusiasm always proved impossible. He’d climb up onto the counter — which you'd told him countless times not to do — so that he could get a better view of the fearless Captain.

"Captain Levi." He'd smile widely, revealing missing front teeth, as he beamed at Levi. "Did you just come back from a mission? What was it? How many Titans did you kill?"

Levi would always frown at this — not because he didn't like your son, but because he didn't like being idolized for being violent. His life was one he wouldn't wish upon anyone, and he didn't want the kids in town to look up to him, or anyone else in the Scouts.

"Hey." You'd shoot your son a stern look. "Enough questions, don't be rude."

"Don't worry about it," Levi would say, dryly, his tired eyes drifting from your son back to you. "Black tea. The usual kind."

"Sure." You'd nod and smile softly, your eyes catching his for a brief, but lingering moment, stuck in their depths — those eyes that always reminded you of the night sky during a storm, swirling and tumultuous.

You'd make Levi his tea and hand it to him, which would earn the faintest "Thanks, Y/N" before he'd take his seat by the window. Occasionally, your son would sneak over to him and ask him question after question, his small hands gripped onto the edge of the table, until you'd notice and lift him up, carrying him away with an apologetic look toward Levi.

Once Levi would leave, your son would blabber to you for the next day or so about how "strong" and "brave" Levi is, to which you'd nod along, appeasing him, your lips tugging into a smile now and then, happy to see your son so excited.

That was how Levi's visits to your shop had always gone, for months on end; it was a predictable routine.

That was, until one day, as he was ordering his usual black tea, you'd interrupted him. Usually, you’d be too busy trying to reign in your son to really talk to Levi, but Levi had visited earlier than usual that day, and your son was still at school. 

"I actually just got a shipment of a new tea," you'd said, your eyes meeting his, a flicker of curiosity in your gaze. "It's rooibos tea. Similar to black tea. You might like it?"

A crease formed between his brow as he studied your face for a moment, taken aback by both your offering and your consideration of his tastes.

"Fine," he nodded, curtly. "I'll try it."

Your lips turned upward with slight surprise before forming a full smile, as you began brewing his tea. You handed it to him moments later, in an ornate ceramic teacup painted with simple lines and wavy vines, which he grabbed from you by the rim. 

He took a sip from it while still standing at the counter, not waiting to sit down, as if wanting to test it before committing the next half-hour or so to sipping it. As he took his long, slow sip, his eyes didn’t leave your face once, his narrowed, somewhat unenthused gaze piercing into you. 

“It’s good,” he said, finally, lowering the cup from his lips. “Thanks, Y/N.” He fished around his pocket for a few coins, which he placed down on the counter as always. 

He turned away to head for his table by the window, but paused for a moment, his lips pressing together slightly as he examined the teacup more closely. 

“Where’d you get this set?” he asked, the tone of his voice revealing nothing, as he turned to face you again.

“Oh,” you tilted your head as you tried to remember, caught off guard by the question. “I don’t remember exactly, but most of the tea sets are from a shop just down the street.”

“Hm.” He nodded slowly, his eyes still fixated on the teacup, his fingers gently tracing over the designs. “It just reminds me of one from when I was a kid.”

With that, he shook his head as if ridding his mind of the memory, and made his way to sit at the table, his head turned out the window. You couldn’t help but stare for a moment, noticing the way his fingers tapped the rim of the teacup, how the afternoon light settled onto his face, making his pale complexion look warmer, more amiable. A silence settled into the tea shop, only interrupted by the occasional bubbling of boiling water and the clanging of teapots and cups. 

“It was my mother’s tea set,” he stated, plainly, seemingly out of nowhere. The sound of his voice drew your attention, but when you looked over at him, he was still staring out the window; only the curve of his cheek and the angle of his jawline were visible to you.

You approached him, slowly, lingering by the table, your hands clasped behind your back. 

“Your mother?” you inquired, your tone gentle and inviting, as you moved a bit closer. “Are you close with her, then?” 

“No,” his voice dropped low, scarcely above a whisper. “She’s dead.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you offered, which earned only a subtle nod from Levi. You paused for a beat before continuing. “It seems like your mother and my husband have similar tastes. He’s the one who picked that set out. He liked the vines.” 

His head turned toward you, a raise to his eyebrow as he looked up at you, warily. “Husband, huh? What, he doesn’t help you out around here?”

“He used to,” you sighed softly, before adding, “he passed a few years ago.”

His eyes flickered with a brief awareness before meeting your gaze, a look of mutual understanding passing between you two. 

“Sorry to hear that,” he said, echoing your sentiment. 

“Thanks,” you said, and decided to sit down in the chair across from him at the table. “That’s actually the last teacup still fully intact from that set. I dropped the box it was in during a move a couple years ago.” 

“Oh, yeah?” He glanced down at the teacup, turning it in his hand. 

“Mmm.” You nodded. “But, have you heard of this concept called kintsugi?” 

He shook his head, bringing his eyes back up to yours, waiting for you to explain.

“It’s this art form,” you began, “where you take broken pottery or ceramics and repair them by putting the pieces back together using gold lacquer. So you can still tell that the item is broken, and it doesn’t look the same as it originally did, but it doesn’t matter. Because now, it’s this new, exquisite golden thing, even though its brokenness is obvious. Anyway, that’s how I repaired the other pieces from the set.”

You nodded toward a shelf behind the counter, which held the rest of the tea set; teacups and a teapot, repaired with gold shimmering in the cracks between all of the broken pieces. 

“Hm,” he nodded slowly with approval, the sides of his mouth slowly moving upward into a small smile.   

Your relationship with Levi had truly started there — with a shared understanding of loss, brokenness, and grief. Each time he visited your tea shop, which had become more frequent, he’d share a little bit more about himself and his past. It usually wasn’t much, and you’d often have to fill in the blanks and read between the lines, but you could tell that he actually trusted you with this information and, at least, felt assured that you’d understand him. 

Over time, the conversations would last a little bit longer and expand into topics outside of your shared losses; you’d tell him about your son, stories about interesting customers who had stopped by, memories about your childhood and your family. He’d share, too, usually anecdotes about his life in the Survey Corps, telling you about the “brats” he spent his days with, griping about their individual personalities with a fond sort of annoyance. 

The romantic aspect of your relationship trickled in slowly — it began with the time Levi had reached across the table and placed his hand onto yours without a word or a change in his expression. And from there, it evolved into these subdued touches here and there; a hand on the small of your back, him fixing an out-of-place strand of hair when you’d wear it pulled back, his leg brushing against yours under the table and not pulling away. 

The first time he’d kissed you, he’d been staring at your lips for almost the entire time you had been talking that day, as if magnetized to them. 

“Levi,” you’d said, finally, a slight exasperation in your voice. “Either stop staring at my lips or do something about it.”

His expression faltered and an actual blush rose to his cheeks, as if he didn’t realize you’d actually be able to notice his staring. But, it was just the push he needed, because he then leaned over the table, cupped his hand onto the side of your face, and planted a soft, but firm, kiss onto your lips. 

“Is that what you had in mind?” he asked, pulling back slightly, his lips still almost touching yours as he searched your eyes. 

“Yes,” you whispered, leaning forward and pressing your lips to his once again. That kiss was all it took; from there, you were in. And he was, too. 

As your relationship continued to flourish, he’d started visiting you at home, not just at the tea shop. He’d sit with you on your couch, running his fingers through your hair as the two of you caught up with each other. He’d help you out with all of the tasks that he knew were a burden on your shoulders with all you juggled, between raising your son and running the tea shop. He’d even started to warm up to your son and made an effort to talk to him, albeit somewhat awkwardly at first. Your son, however, didn’t notice any discomfort from Levi — he was just thrilled to have Humanity’s Strongest Soldier in his house. 

When Levi had actually gone with you and your son to visit your husband’s grave on his birthday — a supportive, nonintrusive gesture — and had placed a simple bundle of flowers on his gravestone, you knew that there was something different about him. Something worth keeping around in your life for a long time. He understood you and all of the complexities and brokenness that came with you; he had his fair share of his own. You realized that, together, maybe you could become whole again. 

Levi was nothing like how your husband was; and, in turn, the love you experienced with him was completely different. It was slower, softer, subtler. It was exactly what you didn't realize you'd needed — something tender and gentle to begin mending your once-broken heart. Levi, without even trying, had put the pieces of you back together in a way that was completely new. You'd been changed forever, and for once, it didn't feel like such a bad thing.

So, when he asked you to marry him, he did it in a way that was just as soft and subtle. You were sitting on the floor of your living room — a humble, but cozy space — playing with your son, who always had a way of coming up with the most elaborate pretend plots.

Levi followed along the best he could, occasionally asking a clarifying question to your son, his brows pressed together in serious contemplation. Your son would provide an equally as serious answer, explaining, in depth, the inner workings and rules of his pretend world.

During a moment of quiet, while your son rummaged around a chest for different toys to play with, Levi had simply looked at you, his usual armor cracking to reveal an honest vulnerability, and said, "I could get used to a life like this. With you. Both of you."

Your lips curved up into a smile and you tilted your head, your expression melting at his words. "I think that can be arranged."

"Think you'd consider marrying someone like me, Y/N?" The corners of his lips twitched, the smallest, self-deprecating smile on his face.

"Yes," you'd said, quickly, without even having to think about it. It was one of the easiest decisions of your life. "I won't just consider it. I'll do it. Happily."

Your son interrupted the tender moment, handing new toys to you and Levi, explaining the new, complicated rules of the next game you were about to play together. Levi listened intently, but his gaze caught yours for a moment, a knowing, affectionate glance exchanged between the two of you.

Your wedding was a simple one. You knew that Levi didn't care much for having a ceremony at all to begin with — if it were entirely up to him, you'd have forgone the whole ordeal. But, for you, he was willing to do just about anything (though he drew the line at dancing).

Between your collective eagerness to get married and Levi's unpredictable and hectic life with the Scouts, you didn't spend too much time or energy planning the wedding; fussing over the details and frills didn't matter much to either of you, as long as you got to be together by the end of it.

You'd invited only your closest family and friends, and kept the ceremony brief, exchanging simple vows. The only thing you'd cared about was the look on Levi's face when he saw you, in your simple, elegant white dress, carrying a bouquet of wildflowers, walking down the aisle toward him; he smiled a soft smile, his jaw clenching with emotion, his eyes focused on you with such intense reverence, it was as if nothing in the universe existed apart from you.

For most of the reception, Levi had sat at your table, observing as you laughed and talked with all of the guests; he was content just from seeing you glowing with happiness.

You'd convinced him, halfway through the night, to dance with you to a slower song; begrudgingly, and unable to say no to you, he obliged. You could sense the discomfort on his face as his eyes darted around the room as the two of you swayed to the music, feeling the eyes of the guests burning into him.

"Levi," you whispered, low enough so only he could hear. "Close your eyes. Pretend it's just you and me."

He nodded, and closed his eyes, his head resting onto your shoulder as his movements became smoother, more fluid. He sighed softly, holding you close, lost in your touch.

By the end of the night, your son had crashed after eating too much cake; he was curled up, asleep, with one of his grandparents. Fortunately for you and Levi, they'd offered to watch your son for the night to give you and Levi the alone time you'd so desperately been wanting.

You and Levi were sitting at your table, watching your guests move around the dance floor, your head rested on his shoulder while you absently scraped the frosting off of your plate.

"What do you say we get out of here?" Levi asked you, his lips pressed to your hair, with the slight raise of an eyebrow. "Don't think anyone will miss us too much. They're having too good of a time without us."

You giggled, rolling your eyes affectionately. "I knew you'd want to leave early," you whispered softly, knowingly. "But lucky for you, so do I."

Levi practically whisked you away the moment you finished your sentence. By the time you'd returned to your house, you were cradled into his arms as he kicked open your bedroom door, the room shrouded in the ethereal glow of moonlight.

"Levi," you laughed, as he hastily moved toward the bed, gently laying you down onto it, "slow down, relax."

"I can't," he replied, as he stood next to the bed, looking down at you, in awe at the sight of you in your wedding dress, your hair cascaded onto the bed below you, your delicate face becoming angelic in the pale purple moonlight. You were officially his forever. He released a quiet, adoring sigh as your hand trailed up his forearm, pulling him down onto you. His body settled onto yours, fitting together perfectly, his eyes taking in every inch of your face before his head dipped to the crook of your neck.

"Hey," he whispered, his lips brushing up your neck to your ear, his hands moving up your thighs under your dress, his touch worshipping your skin. "I didn't want to say my real vows in front of everyone. They didn't need to hear that. It's just for you. So, Y/N, here's what I promise you. I promise that I will love you until my last breath, and I'll protect you, no matter what it takes. Nothing will ever happen to you as long as I'm alive. I promise to always come back to you, no matter where duty takes me. I promise to love your son as if he were my own. You're it, Y/N. You're the light in my darkness, the only thing I'm sure of, the reason I've even still got a heart left at all. Don't ever forget that."

Your throat constricted as he spoke, trapping all of the words you wanted to say back to him, your mind lost between his loving whispers and the feel of his hands pressing against your skin.

"Levi," you managed to whisper, the word coming out as a shallow, wanting breath.

His lips pressed onto your neck, kissing and nipping at your tender, sensitive skin.

"You don't need to say anything," he whispered, low and husky, the words muffled against your neck. "Just be with me."

It was all he ever asked for, really — these moments alone with you. And because they happened more seldom than he'd wanted, he savored every second. He’d committed every detail of you to his memory, etched into his mind permanently: the individual flecks of colors in your eyes, the varying sounds and tones of your voice, each and every one of your idiosyncrasies and mannerisms.

His hands moved further up your thighs, his thumbs tracing over the scalloped edges of your soft lace panties. Your breath hitched, your hips instinctively pushing upward into his touch. His hands slid away, not quite to tease you, but because he was in no rush.

He lifted his head from your neck to look at you, his gaze attentive as it moved from your eyes to the curve of your cheek, to your lips and down the slope of your neck and shoulder. His hands moved out from under your dress to your shoulders, slowly pulling down the sleeves of your wedding dress.

"I love you," you whispered — you couldn't help it. You'd have said it a thousand times in that one moment, if you could've.

His hands paused their movements for a moment, his eyes crawling back up to yours, all of the tension in his face completely released.

"I love you too, Y/N," he whispered back, his voice barely audible over the sound of your beating hearts, as his lips lowered down onto yours.

He kissed you like he needed you as much as he needed air to breathe. His lips molded perfectly to yours, his teeth gently tugging onto your bottom lip before diving in deeper, his tongue sweeping out to taste yours.

His hands continued sliding off your dress, his fingers brushing against your bare skin as he did, leaving sparks in their wake; once the dress fell softly to the floor by the bed, his hands worked their way across every inch of your body, showering attention onto every curve.

His kiss became hungrier, strands of his hair brushing against your forehead as a groan formed in the back of his throat.

Your hands rose to his shoulders, pushing off the jacket of his tuxedo before working to unbutton his shirt, tossing it to the side. Your hands traced over his muscles as they moved and flexed; your fingers affectionately grazed over the familiar scars and bruises that decorated his body.

A subtle gasp fell from his lips, captured by yours, as his hands trailed down your waist to your hips, once again resting on the soft fabric of your panties.

"God," he murmured, breaking the kiss for a brief moment, just to tilt his head down and look at your body beneath his, "you're so fucking beautiful."

His fingers tugged at the hem of your panties before sliding them underneath, between your folds, feeling the warmth and wetness that met him there.

Your head tilted back slightly and you bit your lower lip, breathing out sharply from your nose. His eyes snapped back up to your face as his fingers began to tease your slit, running up and down it before circling your clit with a gentle pressure.

You gasped softly, a low moan building within you, your eyes shutting with pleasure. You weren't sure how he did it, but even the simplest touch from him made you fall apart.

"Good," he whispered, reveling in how eagerly you responded to his touch. He increased his pressure on your nub, his thumb circling it as two of his fingers slipped inside of you with ease, earning a loud whimper from you.

His fingers pumped in and out of you, curling up against your most sensitive spot, his thumb remaining pressed against your clit as he coaxed pleasured moans from you. As your thighs began to shake, a familiar spark building up within your core, his free hand grasped onto your hip, steadying you, as he increased the pace and intensity of his fingers.

Your hands reached out, grasping for his shoulders as your body began to tense, the release building intensely within you, on the verge of exploding.

"Come undone for me," he whispered, his fingers pumping into you with untethered force, your juices coating and squelching against his hand. And you did — your walls clenched around his fingers as you poured out pleasure. Your back arched upward, your legs shook uncontrollably, and your fingers dug into his shoulders as you cried out, a ragged, gasping whimper, too strained with pleasure to make a real sound.

His fingers remained buried within you as you rode through the waves of release, only pulling out of you once your back settled back onto the bed. Before you could open your mouth to say a word, his hands had already pulled his own pants off, his hardened length springing free, pretty and pink.

"C'mere," he muttered, his hands sliding under your waist to gently pull you upright. He hoisted you onto his lap, your bare chest pressed to his, the warmth of your skin emanating into each other. His hands crawled up your back then gently around your neck, his thumb rubbing gently across your throat, then up to your lips.

"Levi," you whispered, muffled under the pressure of his thumb, your eyes locking onto his, strands of your hair stuck to your forehead with sweat. "Show me how much you love me. As your wife."

"My wife," he echoed, as if the words were the most decadent thing that had ever been on his tongue. His hands moved down to grip onto your hips, bringing your legs around him as you sat in his lap.

He lifted your hips up, pausing for a moment to meet your gaze before slowly lowering you down onto his cock, a soft groan parting his lips.

Your head tilted to the side as he filled you up, stretching out your walls completely. His head dipped to your chest, kissing your skin as he began to thrust, slowly and sensually, your hips moving in perfect harmony with his.

His fingers sprawled across your hips as he guided your motions as you rode him, his tongue and lips devouring your skin, moving between your nipples, sucking and tugging on them. Your hands gripped into his hair, causing him to growl faintly.

His eyes closed and he panted softly as he pushed your hips down onto his with increasing intensity, your clit pressing down onto his skin with each thrust, causing you to moan and writhe against him.

"Fuck," he panted, his grip on your hips tightening as he picked up the pace, practically slamming your hips down onto him, the muscles in his arms tense and rippling.

"L-Levi, I'm- I'm," you moaned, swallowing as your body began to reach its second climax, still sensitive from the first one, your hands slipping from his hair to wrap tightly around his back as your legs began to shake again.

He groaned, a low, primal sound, as he held your hips in place and pounded up into you with unrelenting movements, sending you spiraling over the edge. Your head collapsed into his neck, your moans and cries quieted against his skin, your teeth grazing his skin.

"Y/N," he moaned, a strained sound as he thrust into you one final time, his knuckles turning white as they held onto your hips, as he poured out deep inside of you.

He collapsed back onto the bed, bringing you gently down with him. One of his hands cradled the back of your head as you rested it on his chest, the other tracing patterns across your back, his touch soothing.

"My wife," he murmured, satisfied, his chest heaving with exertion and his body glimmering with little beads of sweat that looked like stars under the moonlight.

For the following year, that was how you'd spent most of your nights with Levi, when he had the chance to come see you between missions and duties.

He'd spend the first part of evenings with you and your son, listening intently to whatever new hobby or interest your son wanted to talk about, and playing with him on the living room floor or out in the yard. Levi would lean against the doorway as you'd tuck your son into bed, listening in with a tender expression as you read a bedtime story.

It didn't take long for your son to grow attached to Levi, and not just as Humanity's Strongest Soldier. The first time he'd asked Levi to read his bedtime story instead of you, Levi had stood frozen for a moment, blinking as he processed the question.

He'd cleared his throat slightly and nodded, his movements a little stiff as he pushed off the doorway and took the storybook from you, sitting down on the edge of your son's bed. He'd studied the page of the book for a moment before beginning to read, your son's eyes watching him with wonder and adoration. As Levi continued reading, he became more relaxed, the crease between his brow fading away, the words flowing more smoothly.

About halfway through the story, your son had drifted asleep, the sign of a job well done. Levi's lips curved into a small smile, and he nodded, contentedly. From then on, your son requested bedtime stories from Levi every time he visited.

And after your son was fast asleep each night, Levi would wrap his arm around your waist and pull you to your bedroom to show you just how much he loved his wife.

It wasn't much of a surprise, really, when you'd found out you were pregnant shortly after. When you'd told Levi during his next visit, you weren't sure how he'd react — he was away often and you hadn't exactly planned for a baby yet. You also knew that he'd had a troubled childhood and had never had a real father figure; he never seemed sure that he was doing the right thing when it came to your son. The danger and uncertainty of the world around you and his position as Captain only added to his inner doubts about whether he'd make a capable father or be any good, or worthy, at being a proper role model for anyone, let alone a child.

But as he'd spent more and more time with your son, he'd grown used to the idea of having a kid around — and actually even it. As he became more comfortable in his role in your son's life, he'd begun telling your son more stories about his life, trying to guide him and teach him lessons to keep him on the right track (and prevent him from a life of fighting and violence).

So, when you told him that you were pregnant, it was like you saw a spark of life ignite within his eyes as he scooped you up into his arms and buried his face into your neck. He didn't have to say it — he was happy.

Throughout your pregnancy, Levi tried to visit you more often to take care of you; he hated the thought of you doing absolutely anything alone while you were carrying your baby. When he was around, he barely let you so much as stand on your own.

He'd handle all the caretaking when it came to your son, he'd deep clean your house so you wouldn't have to worry about it, and he'd bring you endless cups of tea. He'd forced you to hire someone else to take over your tea shop temporarily, practically begging you when it came down to it, insisting that standing on your feet all day wasn't good for you or the baby.

After nine months of Levi sternly doting on you, your baby finally arrived. Levi made sure that he didn't miss this moment, shirking his duties and obligations for the first time since you'd known him.

"If they can't function without me for a day, those brats are more pathetic than I thought," he'd grumbled as he held your hand while you laid on the bed, after you'd asked him for the hundredth time if it was okay for him to be there, sweat sticking to your skin after coming down from your latest contraction.

"Now stop asking," he'd added, "None of that is important. This is all that matters." He squeezed your hand, reassuringly.

When the baby finally came, and the doctor announced that it was a little girl, Levi's shoulders tensed slightly, as if he hadn't considered the possibility of having a daughter. When the doctor wrapped her into a tiny bundle and handed her to Levi, he took her into his arms with a hold so hesitant and delicate, like he thought he might break her if he held on even a little bit too tight.

"Oh," he whispered, his eyes darting all over her face, taking in her pouty lips, scrunched nose, full cheeks, and barely-opened blue-gray eyes. His jaw clenched and unclenched over and over, the vein in his forehead becoming visible as his eyes welled with tears. He blinked repeatedly, causing the tears to stream down his face.

"What the hell?" he whispered, a subtle tone of disbelief in his voice as he glanced down at you, blinking repeatedly, seemingly bewildered by the tears on his cheeks. "Is this normal?"

You laughed affectionately, nodding gently. "Yes, Levi. It's normal."

"Ah," he nodded, swallowing, his misty eyes returning down to his baby daughter, fixating on her little face so intensely, you weren't sure if he was ever going to look away again. His hand, with the slowest movement possible, reached up to her face, his finger brushing against her soft, delicate cheek. You were sure in that moment that nothing, nothing would ever come between Levi and his baby girl.

The first year after your daughter was born were as blissful as they could have been. Levi had continued making sure to spend more time away from the Scouts, as much as he possibly could, to be with you, your son, and his brand new baby girl.

When Levi couldn’t be around, you weren’t entirely alone to take care of the baby. Your son, who now claimed to be grown up at the age of seven, claimed that he was the “second in command” man of the house. He’d mimic Levi in the way he walked around the house, the specific way he would hold his little sister, and even in the way he’d hold a bottle or spoon while feeding her. Most recently, your son had even insisted on getting the same haircut as Levi (though he hadn’t yet gotten used to having strands of hair falling in front of his eyes).

And when Levi was there, he’d practically never let his daughter out of his grasp. At every meal, he’d prop her onto his lap and feed her little bites of food that she could eat (he figured it had to taste better than the baby food he called “mushed crap”). When he’d unwind on the couch with a cup of tea or a book, he’d have her held to his shoulder, her little head tucked against his neck. Overnight, when she’d cry, he’d always jump out of bed first to go tend to her — and he’d stay with her long after she was settled back to sleep, simply holding her or watching over her crib. He’d even willingly handle her most rancid of diapers — he claimed that he’d spent so much time around horse shit and Titan carnage that it didn’t bother him, and his need for cleanliness always left her perfectly spotless and cared for.

Even with his overprotective, doting behavior with his daughter, it was never like he neglected you or your son when he was around. When the baby would be napping, or when you’d finally take her for a change, he’d spend every other moment either sitting by you and holding your hand, or playing with your son.

Your little family had just fallen into this quasi-routine when Levi’s visits started to become more infrequent — the situation within the Survey Corps had grown more dire, and though Levi spared you of the details to not worry you, you knew that something terrible was waiting on the horizon. He’d become a bit more tense and distant with each of his visits, though you could tell he was trying to suppress it for the sake of you and the children. 

Eventually, once it had been weeks since Levi had last visited, you began to worry, bordering on panic. You’d tried to calm yourself, reminding yourself that Levi was busy and that his missions were unpredictable — you’d tell yourself that he was likely just on a mission that was taking longer than usual. 

When your son would ask you when Levi was coming home next, or your toddler daughter would babble about wanting “Dada,” you’d field their questions with reassuring platitudes about Levi’s importance as Captain and his strength and resilience. But as the weeks continued to stretch on without so much as a letter from Levi, there was nothing you could say anymore to soothe their worries or yours. 

You’d tuck each of the children into bed at night, soothing them to sleep with gentle words, promising them that Levi would surely be home soon, even though you knew that your son, at least, was beginning to not believe you. Your daughter was easier to manage in terms of worries, but you feared that if Levi stayed away too long, she’d begin to forget him. 

Once the children were safe and sound in bed, you’d stay awake, standing at your bedroom window, staring into the night as if you would bring Levi back to your doorstep with sheer need and willpower. But, he never returned. When the thought that Levi might actually be dead entered your mind, you pushed it away immediately; you couldn’t bear to think that way for even a second, let alone say the words out loud. You knew that Levi’s work was dangerous, and you knew that ever since Marley came into the picture, things for him had become more complicated and precarious than ever. You knew about what Eren had done to Marley, and you knew about the Jaegerists, and you knew that Levi was mixed up in all of it. Still, you refused to acknowledge that something deadly could really have happened to him. 

As the weeks stretched into months, you’d forced yourself to maintain a calm face and strong exterior for the sake of the children. They’d both crawl up into your lap each night, looking up at you, as if your eyes would reveal answers as to where Levi had gone and why he wasn’t coming back. 

You’d look down into the big, sparkling eyes of your children, a look that both warmed and broke your heart; you saw both of your loves, your first and Levi, looking back up at you.

You thought to yourself, as your heart shattered in your chest, Is this my life? Destined to carry the hearts and spirits of people I love, without ever getting to truly be with them?

When The Rumbling began, you couldn’t believe that it was actually happening — that all of humanity, aside from Eldia, could be wiped out, the world flattened. You tried your best to steel yourself from the fear and devastation that coursed through your veins and consumed your every thought, trying to protect the children from the cruel reality and danger that loomed outside. You’d forced them to stay inside the house with you the entire time, and you held them close, trying to distract them in any way that you could, while your mind drifted to thoughts of Levi.

You knew that if Levi was out there, somewhere, he’d surely be in the frontlines of this impossible battle to stop The Rumbling; you knew that he was in grave danger, more than ever before, more than you’d ever thought was possible. The situation was grim and futile, but you knew that Levi wasn’t one to give up or back down — he’d lost too many comrades, seen too many sacrifices to quit at the final moment and let all of their deaths have been in vain. You knew he’d sacrifice his own life if it came down to it, and that thought terrified you more than anything else. 

When The Rumbling had eventually ended, it wasn’t clear what, exactly, had happened — you’d heard too many conflicting rumors and theories about who was there and who had survived, that you didn’t want to believe anything too quickly. As Eldia, hesitantly, became safe again, you waited, still, for Levi to come home, but he still hadn’t. You forced yourself to continue being patient, to not give up hope; most of the other Scouts still hadn’t returned yet, you reminded yourself. 

As the weeks continued to pass, Eldia began to return, bit by bit, to a state resembling normalcy; far from recovered, but relieved that the war was finally, officially over. 

“Does this mean Levi is coming home now?” your son had asked you, his eyes filling with hope, a smile daring to form on his face. 

You swallowed, hard, trying to maintain composure. “I don’t know, sweetheart,” you admitted, bringing your son into a tight hug. “I hope so. We’ll see, okay?”

Weeks later, when there was a knock at your door and you opened it to reveal a man you’d never seen before, wearing a plain black suit, you weren’t sure what to expect. You cracked the door open, just barely, as your kids scurried up behind you to see who was there, your son hovering behind you and your toddler clinging onto your leg. 

“Uh, hi,” you greeted him, a look of uncertainty on your face. “Can I help you?”

“You’re Y/N, right?” he asked, his voice soft and kind as he double-checked the address of your house and glanced down at the children hiding behind you. “I’m Onyankopon. I’m a pilot, and I’ve been helping out with the Scouts for a while.”

Your eyes widened at the mention of the Scouts, your heart racing in your chest as you prepared yourself for anything — good news or bad. 

“Yes,” you answered hastily, “I’m Y/N. Is it Levi? What happened? Is he okay?”

Onyankopon held his hands up, palms facing you in a soothing gesture. “Levi’s fine. He’s alive, Y/N.”

You gasped, your hand flying up to your mouth in shock as your body began to tremble slightly, unable to process the emotions that swirled through your mind and the intense relief that threatened to pour from your eyes. 

“He- He’s alive? L-Levi’s okay? Really?” you asked, your voice struggling to get the words out, your vision blurring with tears. 

“Where is he?” your son asked, urgently, his head poking forward to look up at Onyankopon. 

“He’s in Marley,” Onyankopon said slowly and calmly, trying not to overload you with information. “That’s why I’m here, actually. He sent me here to come and get you. He…,” he paused for a moment, contemplating how much to reveal, “needed my help with it.”

You didn’t waste any time; the prospect of seeing Levi again, finally, after all the time and uncertainty, was enough to set you into motion immediately. You gathered the few belongings that you and your kids needed, and you were out the door immediately, hurriedly following behind Onyankopon. 

A short journey later, you’d arrived in Marley — you were too focused on the thought of Levi to gawk and stare at the unfamiliar sights of the city that normally would’ve left you awestruck, even through the destruction and rubble surrounding you. Your gaze remained intently fixated on Onyankopon as he guided you through the hectic streets, before you approached a somewhat damaged building. Onyankopon led you down the winding hallways, before opening the doors to one of the rooms and stepping aside, revealing Levi inside, his back turned to the door. 

“Levi,” Onyankopon said, “we’re here.” 

Levi’s head snapped around, and your eyes widened as you saw the state of him, wondering what injuries he had endured — the wheelchair, his glazed-over white eye, the fresh scars on his face, the missing fingers — but you didn’t care. He was there, he was alive, he didn’t seem to be in any pain, and he was just as beautiful as you’d remembered him. Nothing else mattered in that moment; everything else could wait until later. 

Before you could manage to get a word out, or shake off the shock of seeing him, your son ran over to him first, propelled by urgent eagerness and relief. 

“I missed you, Dad,” your son said, his eyes shutting as he wrapped his arms around Levi — it was the first time he’d ever referred to Levi as ‘Dad.’ Levi’s eyes snapped up to you, misty and glistening, his throat tightening slightly. You nodded, a tender, encouraging motion as you walked over with your daughter in your arms, your heart swelling with warmth and affection. 

“I missed you too, son,” Levi said, his voice rough with feeling as he returned your son’s hug, his arms trembling faintly, his hand ruffling his hair. As your son released Levi, Levi kept an arm on his back, a subtle, reassuring touch. 

Your daughter extended her arms out to Levi as you got closer, babbling, as you set her down into Levi’s lap. Her tiny hands gripped onto his shirt and she looked up at him, smiling and giggling.  

“She’s not… scared… to see me like this,” he whispered with disbelief, his expression softening even further as he gazed into his daughter’s eyes, seeing nothing but love and affection looking back at him. 

As your daughter nuzzled her head into his neck, as she always did, you knelt down next to him, your lips and hands trembling slightly as you took a long, close look at him. 

“Levi,” you choked out, your hands rising to his face, cradling it gently, your fingers gently resting on his new scars. Your eyes locked into each other, filled with unspoken emotion and relief. 

“Y/N,” he echoed, his head tilting into your touch, his brows twitching involuntarily as he became overwhelmed at the sight of you and the feeling of your soft, warm hands touching him. Your thumbs swept under his eyes, absorbing the few tears that had broken free from his eyes. 

You leaned in and kissed him softly and gently, your lips returning to where they were meant to be — against his. He released a shuddering breath that melted against your lips, the fear and worry that had consumed you both for so long dissipating into the air. 

“Thank God you’re all alright,” he whispered as he broke the kiss, his voice fraught with emotion as he extended his arms out and pulled the three of you close to him. “My family.”

As you buried your face into Levi’s neck, inhaling the familiar scent of his skin at last, your mind, inexplicably, went to the broken tea set on the shelf in your tea shop — the tea set that had ignited your entire relationship with Levi, all that time ago. You thought of it as you looked at your family; broken, yes, but healing and more beautiful than ever before. 

Masterlist

Requests are OPEN!

Requested by @alebrasil0101

taglist: @leviykwim @wittyjasontodd (message to be added!)

[kamospeach]

too many white lies and white lines .ᐟ

plot: bestfriend!satoru helps his best friend get over her crush on Ryomen Sukuna

content warning: angst, mentinos of: drug and alcohol use, violence, fingering, oral f!recieving, piv sex, domestic violence

peachy's yap: wc 1.2k.ᐟ no thoughts except Gojo. this just a short little thought! just tryna clear out my drafts sighhh.

bestfriend!satoru who can't fathom why you're not together already. who waits for you, anywhere at any time, no matter how weird-looking or sketchy it is.

bestfriend!satoru shows his love by holding you in his arms during group movie nights or having you sit in his lap when there were more than enough seats. or when he kissed your cheek when you were leaving his house to go down the street to yours.

bestfriend!satoru knew you didn't see him like that, and you didn't feel the butterflies like you felt with sukuna.

bestfriend!satoru understood how you felt, ryo was tall and muscular and totally your type.

bestfriend!satoru, suguru, and you who were born in the same year. your parents were best friends and made you all have a tight-knit friendship. years later, you acquired more friends like shoko, utahime, sukuna, and kento, who always brought along haibara.

bestfriend!satoru and suguru's would drive you all to a party or even a small diner that was open late at night. tonight you were all heading to a club which was a new scene for you. you used this as an an opportunity to seduce sukuna into wanting you.

bestfriend!satoru was forced to sit in the front with utahime. you clung onto sukuna's muscular arm, staring up at his chiseled jawline with heart eyes. you even follow behind him as you walk to the front door of the club. but sukuna made it obvious you weren't his interest. he's feet in front of you as you talk to the back of his head.

bestfriend!satoru knows of your energy-depleting crush on sukuna. his arm snakes around your waist placing a kiss on your forehead in comfort. you once again not noticing the gesture was romantic and not platonic.

"you think he'll ever notice me satoru?" you asked and he shook his head.

"i don't think so, love. ryo only treats women as toys it's better you don't get involved with him anyway. i'm sorry to disappoint you."

bestfriend!satoru rubs small circles on the exposed skin of where he held your waist. you both walked into the club, of course, on the VIP list due to the status you all held. 

"well i just thought maybe since we've been friends for so long, he'd treat me... differently," you admitted and he nodded. satoru hated to admit it but you were bringing the mood down.

"hey let's not think about it okay? we wanted a night out so let's enjoy it." he smiled and you nodded walking in sitting in the section.

bestfriend!satoru said to enjoy it but this is not what you thought he meant. the coke, the shots of liquor that never stopped coming, some passed out, eyes rolled to the back of their heads.

bestfriend!satoru was more surprised, sukuna, who was a fuckin' unit was high head thrown back. eyes bloodshot white powder under his nose as he twitched lightly here and there.

bestfriend!satoru, suguru, and you looked at each other in absolute horror these were not the people you thought you knew. you three slipped out of the club not wanting to 'disturb' their high. honestly, the night felt like a fever dream to you and you were in utter shock.

bestfriend!satoru could see the fear on your face, probably from the way utahime reached across the table trying to bring her key to your nose. you slapped it away looking at her incredulously as she grew angry. she yelled at you saying 'do you have any idea how much a pinch of this cost!' you not caring to know, only shrugged refusing to even look at the white substance on the table.

bestfriend!satoru held your waist as suguru asked if you guys were coming to his place and you shook your head. you really wanted to lay in your bed and reel in your thoughts.

bestfriend!satoru knew that was what you needed. he wanted to be everything ryomen sukuna couldn't be for you. he wanted to be your savior and tonight that's what he'd be.

"i got her." he smiled and suguru nodded walking over to his car.

bestfriend!satoru took you home offering to come in and stay with you and you of course said yes. he sat on your bed while you took your shower looking around the room he's slept in many nights before.

bestfriend!satoru listened to you rant about the night as he watched you get dressed. hardon pressing against his pants as he watched you jump to put on those small shorts that barely covered your ass. he really wished you kept them off.

bestfriend!satoru opened his arms inviting you to lay with him your cheek pressed against his chest. no tv no lights just you wrapped in satoru and the darkness.

bestfriend!satoru who was feeling bold and knew you needed a distraction slowly rubbed your back moving lower and lower by the minute. your eyes had adjusted to the dark and you could see his big blue eyes looking at you.

bestfriend!satoru moved his hand to your ass gripping it as you moaned. you loved the feeling of his soft hands on your ass. the way he rubbed slowly some of his fingers grazing under the shorts.

bestfriend!satoru couldn't hold back anymore as he flipped the both of you over. pressing the tent of his hard cock on the prominent imprint of your pussy on your shorts. he ground his hips into yours groaning at the feeling.

"is... is it okay for me to fuck you?" he asked and you nodded needing him just as bad.

bestfriend!satoru knew you did this because you wanted to get over sukuna. but he didn't care. he didn't care you were only letting him pull down your shorts and panties because you wanted to get over sukuna.

bestfriend!satoru didn't care that you were only letting him finger your needy wet pussy and suck on your hard nipples because you wanted to get over sukuna.

bestfriend!satoru didn't care you were only letting him taste your sweet pussy and you only squirted in his mouth saying how much you loved it because you wanted to get over sukuna.

bestfriend!satoru didn't care that you let him fuck your tight cunt senseless because you wanted to get over sukuna. or that you yelled out 'fuck ryo' while he fucked you because you imagined sukuna and not him.

bestfriend!satoru didn't care that you let him nut in you and you told him you loved him. didn't care that you clung to him like a koala and whispered how good he made you feel just because you needed to get over that man. ryomen sukuna.

ex-bestfriend!satoru did care when you went to sukuna the day after and got with him. he did care when sukuna took you on dates and told you how much he loved you.

ex-bestfriend!satoru did care when sukuna told you that you couldn't be friends with satoru and suguru anymore. he cared when he saw your energy-depleted face around town

ex-bestfriend!satoru did care when sukuna forced you to stay in the house at all times. he cared when you texted him and told him that sukuna was drunk and you were scared he'd hit you.

bestfriend!satoru did care when he bursted into your apartment beating the shit out of sukuna. he cared when he saw your shaking body hiding in your closet.

bestfriend!satoru did care when you told him you loved him and he couldn't deny he still loved you after everything the two of you had been through.

[jadegrey711]

So, I have just binged School Spirits and thank goodness for the fact that season 2 is here when I started!! Needless to say I am in love with Wally Clark, and I hope to write more of him in the future. I am also rusty at writing. This is my version of Wally talking you through it and a bit of overstimulation kink. You have been warned.

*NOT MY GIF*

If you like my stories you can check out my sideblog @jadegreywriting​ to see all of them and my masterlist without filtering through my main blog.

I own all rights to this story and do not give permission for my stories to be published, translated or reposted anywhere else. The only places I have published my stories is here on Tumblr and on my AO3 account (LadyAuthor711) 

This story is for 18+ ONLY. It contains sexual themes that are not suited for younger audiences so if you’re under 18 my blog and this story is not for you. Please make sure to read at your own discretion and remember that you are solely responsible for your content intake. 

Wally Clark, Our golden boy. Was the sweetest dead person you had ever met; you loved the way he reached for you. The way he'd grab the back hoops of your jeans and bringing your body to his chest. The way he would place a kiss on the top of your head, and resting his chin there sometimes, while he inhaled your scent. He was the definition of a golden retriever boy but God damn did he have a dirty mouth, and he loved to use it.

"You're so beautiful you know that?" He smiled, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip, those deep brown eyes shining back at you.

You let out a gasp, as you felt Wally push slowly into you again and as he did, he slid that thick thumb of his past your lips and onto your tongue.

He hummed low in his throat. "You like that don't you baby?"

You nodded eagerly, sucking on his thumb. He smiled at you, "That's my girl. Now come on you can come on my cock another time, can't you?" he punctuated his question with another slow thrust, watching your face twist in sweet agony as he stretched you out.

"Wally-" You moaned out.

"Come on baby, give me another one. I love watching you gush underneath me." He said against your neck, peppering your neck with small kisses, before trailing his tongue down your neck to the dip of your collarbone. "I love when my baby gets all whiny when she's overstimulated."

"I can't Wally." You whined, reaching up to his thick dark hair, trying to pull him away from you, to stop his sweet torture.

He chuckled, grabbing your hands and pulling them above your head. "You say that every time baby, and every time I end up getting another two more out of you." He smiled kissing underneath your jaw, his thrusts becoming quicker.

"Wally." You gasped.

"Mmm, say my name honey. I love it when you moaned out my name like a prayer. I just can't get enough of you and this pretty little pussy." He gasped, his thrusts coming quicker, harder. He placed both of your wrists in one of his hands, and palmed your breast.

You watched mesmerized as his golden chain bounced against his sweaty chest as he fucked you.

"Come on baby, cum for me. I'll take such good care of you, you know I will." He breathed into your shoulder, his free hand snaking in between your bodies to rub at your clit.

"Wally!" you screamed, trying to move away from him but you were trapped under him, at the mercy of his pleasure.

"Going to take such good care of you honey. Gonna keep you forever. I wanna feel you crumble under my cock every day, if I can manage it. I want you like no man has ever wanted someone before." He growled against your skin. "Cum for me honey." he said as he rubbed her clit harder, the extra stimulation was too much and you felt yourself falling over the edge, feeling helpless as you fell into the honey trap of Wally Clark's arms.

Wally let go of your wrists as he came with you, your fingernails digging into his back, as you both rode your climax. "That's my girl." He smiled sweetly, his body pressed onto yours his heat almost unbearable, as both of you tried to catch your breath as you came down from your high.

Once his breathing even out, Wally lifted his head from the crook of your neck and had a big dopey smile on his face. "I think you can take one more."

[pennyellee]

𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐗𝐈𝐑 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰

title: ELIXIR pairings: mafia hoseok x female reader genre: dark romance, smut, porn with plot, 90s, arranged marriage, childhood friends to lovers word count: 22K/tba release date: 02.18.25 beta read by one and only @chaoticpuff17

prompt 1: "And I won't be satisfied till we're taking those vows" prompt 2: you were apparently promised to the heir of Jung's criminal empire since birth, not that you ever took that ongoing inside joke seriously. You grew up alongside the said man, yet your mind is conflicted about upholding your part and saying I do until one drunken night reveals a lot more than you'd like.

warnings: minors dni 18+ | explicit language, hurt men's ego, mild yandere behaviour (warnings were reduced to avoid spoilers)

author's note: ionoiafhoianfoaif, yalllll, I was writing this like foreveeeeerrrrr. So this is where it all basically started in my head when I created the retelling of what happened around the year 1996. Still, somehow Champagne Confetti and Anubis got out first, mainly because I will continue them, but this is one shot exclusively (I'm open to filler tho). Why? The story of Princess and Hoseok never dies throughout both the fics that are already out and those that will only come. Mainly with Anubis' chapters, you'll get to see them. I'm just as nervous to put this out as I am with every fic but very excited to throw Elixir in the world. I'm simultaneously working on my MA diploma thesis so bear with me when I'm radio silent, but I love you all! I appreciate you reading my stuff my good little fairies ♥ I'll see ya at Hobi's birthday! ♥ Enjoy!

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain depictions of violence, bloodshed, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, and old social norms and traditions, which we do not condone.

main masterlist 𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐗𝐈𝐑

Winter 1995 You spotted Hoseok seated at the table, a serene picture of composure, his fingers curled around a steaming cup of coffee he enjoys in the mornings.

He looked up at your approach, his eyes locking onto yours. There was no trace of anger on his face, no sharp edge to his expression. If anything, he seemed calm, almost disarming.

"Hobi—" you started before he quickly interrupted you.

"Sit down," he said a bit more firmer than he'd want to, gesturing to the seat across from him.

You hesitated for a moment before lowering yourself into the chair, acutely aware of the weight of the moment. A plate of food sat before you, untouched. Your stomach churned, but the thought of eating felt impossible.

"Are you?—"

"I'm not mad, no," he cut you off gently, surprising you, as if he knew what you were suggesting before you even managed to let those words roll on your tongue.

"So?—" you echoed hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper. You didn't know what to expect now. Maybe it would be better if he'd be mad and you knew that you have to make it better just like it used to be, instead he is not showing any kind of position in this situation and that was making you uneasy beyond comparison.

Hoseok leaned back in his chair, exhaling deeply.

"You're still here. That's what matters to me for now." He began, his tone measured. For now. Hoseok was always skilled at this—at saying something that sounded kind but felt like a command.

"I panicked," you admitted softly, the honesty slipping out before you could stop it.

"I know, baby, you chose wrong—" he replied, his gaze unwavering.

"—twice," he added fuel to the fire, salt to the wound. But you knew why. He wanted you to submit to him, and he needed to work overtime to do so.

"You need to show me you're willing to make this right, love," you swallowed hard, the tightness in your throat making it nearly impossible to respond. His aura and magnitude of how he could move you however he liked now was overwhelming. You cannot run away, not when he dragged you back to this place instead of his brownstone at 57th street. You're not only under his surveillance here, but the Kkangpae and the rest of the family.

“What’s it gonna be? Cuz’ I can’t fucking pretend anymore–” 

His gaze dropped to the table for a moment before he reached into his pocket. You stiffened instinctively, already guessing what he was about to do. Sure enough, his hand emerged clutching the familiar black velvet box. The sight of it made your chest tighten.

"Hoseok," you said softly, your voice trembling with unease. "Please—"

"I don't think I will be so forgiving if you'll choose wrong for a third time, Princess." He ignored your plea, opening the box to reveal the ring again. The one you'd angrily thrown at him that fateful night when he tried to force it down your finger after you explicitly said no to him.

The one that symbolised everything you were not ready to accept, but you had to. It glimmered in the soft light of the room, deceptively beautiful.

"I'm done asking," he said firmly, his eyes locking onto yours. Your breath hitched, but before you could speak, Hoseok reached across the table and took your hand in his. His touch was warm, grounding, yet the weight of his action was suffocating.

You tried to pull your hand back, but his grip tightened—not painfully, but enough to make it clear you weren't going anywhere. With deliberate precision, he slid the emerald ring onto your finger.

"There," he said, his voice softening just enough to send a shiver down your spine. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

You stared at the emerald ring, your mind racing. It looked almost serene on your finger, as if it had always belonged there. Hoseok sat back, satisfied, his lips curling into a faint smile.

Before you could respond, the soft thuds of certain leather shoes announced another arrival.

"Joon-ah!" Hoseok greeted, leaning back in his chair. "I assume there's news?"

Namjoon glanced at you briefly, then back to Hoseok. "Yes. We've made progress with the Anubis situation. The distilleries have been secured, but the reports of interference need attention."

"Anubis situation?" You echoed Namjoon's words. Hoseok's smile didn't falter, but there was a subtle shift in his demeanour. His gaze flicked to you, and for a moment, you thought he might dismiss your question. Instead, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his fingers interlacing.

"Nothing for you to worry about," he said smoothly, his voice laced with a quiet finality that suggested the topic was closed.

Namjoon, however, wasn't as careful with his expression. His brow furrowed ever so slightly, a crack in the façade of calm efficiency he usually wore. It was gone as quickly as it came, but you caught it, and it only fuelled your curiosity.

"Anubis is my responsibility, Hoseok, you cannot—" you pressed, your tone sharper now. You'd learned long ago that brushing things under the rug only meant tripping over them later.

"Not anymore."

Hoseok's words cut through the room with an authority that left no room for argument. He leaned back in his chair, exuding an air of complete control, his eyes locked on yours with a quiet intensity.

"What?!" You breathed out rather loudly now.

"Not anymore," he repeated, slower this time as if daring you to challenge him. And challenge him you did.

"Hoseok," you tried again, your voice quieter this time, laced with both frustration and fear. "This isn't—"

"I gotta punish you somehow, Princess," his one was calm, almost casual, but the weight behind his words was anything but. Your stomach churned as his lips curved into a faint, disarming smile—a predator's smile hidden beneath a veil of warmth.

"Punish me?" you repeated, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to steady it. "Exactly for what you gotta punish me, Hoseok?

"For running," he said, the amusement in his voice doing little to soften the hurt he felt inside. "For throwing the ring. For abandoning me this morning after we made love last night—"

You opened your mouth to argue, but he cut you off with a raised hand. "Don't misunderstand me, Princess. I'm not angry. But actions have consequences."

Your heart pounded against your ribs, the rhythm chaotic and uneven. His calm demeanour made it worse. It took one wide-eyed glance for Namjoon to excuse himself and quickly retreat to Kkangpae's office to leave you two alone.

The sound of the door clicking shut behind Namjoon seemed louder in the heavy silence that followed. Your eyes darted to it, half-hoping for an interruption, but it was futile. Hoseok's gaze was fixed on you, unrelenting and unreadable, trapping you in this moment.

"Hoseok," you began, your voice trembling. "This isn't fair. You can't just—"

"I can," he interrupted his tone steady but brooking no argument. "And I will. You know I don't take betrayal lightly."

"Betrayal?" you repeated, the word stinging as it left your lips. "Is that what you think this is? Hoseok, I—"

"You ran," he said simply, leaning forward, his elbows resting on the table. His fingers interlocked, creating a casual posture that only heightened your unease. "You left me, you threw the ring at me, you abandoned what we're building. Call it whatever you want, Princess, but to me? That's betrayal."

Your breath caught, the weight of his words pressing down on your chest. "I needed time," you whispered. "Time to think, to—"

No, you needed Mark. But you also needed your best friend.

"Think?" Hoseok's laughter was soft, almost amused, but it didn't reach his eyes. "What is there to think about? You're mine. You've always been mine. And this?" He gestured to the ring now firmly on your finger. "This makes it only official."

"You can't force me to—" you said, the defiance in your voice surprising even you. This was never a discourse you or Hobi ever had. Everything was thought to be just platonic. Not for him.

"To what?" he asked, cutting you off again. His tone was low, dangerously calm. "To wear a ring? To stay by my side? To stop running every time things don't go the way you want?"

You flinched, the truth in his words hitting too close to home. Hoseok sighed, his expression softening just enough to make your heart ache. You were running each time you did not feel like the family was doing you justice. And each time it was Hoseok who came to talk sense into you. But this is different. You are not kids anymore, or teenagers. This is serious. Hoseok is serious this time.

"You know what Anubis means to me—"

"And you still thought it was something you could just walk away from?"

You clenched your fists, your nails biting into your palms as the urge to argue warred with the fear.

"I didn't walk away from Anubis," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I needed space, Hoseok."

"You said you were tired, love."

"You misunderstood—" Hoseok shook his head slowly, cutting you off once again, his gaze hardening.

"I never wanted it to come to this," Hoseok said, his voice softening as he reached across the table, his hand brushing against yours. "But you forced my hand, Princess. And now, you don't get to run anymore. Not from me. Not from us."

"But Anubis—"

"It's still yours. But until you learn your place, Namjoon will suffice."

You bit your lip, caught between the suffocating desire to fight back but all you could do is shut your mouth and obey, telling yourself that this is only temporary.

He was, indeed, not mad.

.

.

.

.

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝟎𝟐.𝟏𝟖.𝟐𝟓

©pennyellee. please do not repost

tag list: if you want to be notified once the full story is up for reading, you can write in the comments and I'll create a tag list!

Don't be a silent reader, let's be friends chummers! ♥

lots of love, p.

[petersasteria]

Hey, It's Been A While - G Dragon/Kwon Ji Yong

Pairing: GD x Reader Summary: long time partners that don't have the same goal

A/N: i just want to say that it's been a while since I've written a fic and this is my first time writing for GD sksksks I've been wanting to write for a while now and I just want to thank @ldydeath @thanosscross @loveesiren @welcometoyunosworld @dollzites @natalicss for inspiring me to write again <3

He was your whole world. You were his. Everything seemed right until it wasn't.

A year into your relationship, everything was still phenomenal. It was like the honeymoon phase never ended. He treated you right and he did right by you. You pampered him when he was tired and he always sent you updates when he was at work. He even started sending you food, knowing that you always forgot to eat on time.

God, you were in love with this man. After your first year together, you knew he was the one. You knew in your heart that nobody could replace him and you hope that he felt that too.

Years go by and suddenly, you've been dating for 9 years. Everyone was pestering you to get married already, but Ji-yong never asked... not yet. Your relationship with him was never rocky and despite multiple breakup rumors, it remained stronger than ever. It stood the test of time and Ji-yong liked to prove people wrong all the time. He brought you to events all the time and he would be the one to send you those shitty rumors first before anyone else would, just so the two of you could make fun of it.

God, he was in love with you. He loved every single moment he shared with you. It was weird because he figured that he was the only man in the world who falls in love with you even more when you're angry. He absolutely loved you when you were angry because he loved seeing your real emotions toward things that angered you. He loved supporting you when you got angry. If you were cussing someone out during a rant, he'd do the same thing because he knew that you'd look at him, laugh, and forget what you were even angry about which annoyed you a lot, but he knew you were thankful. Your first year together was the best year he ever had. He wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

Years go by and he's still so madly and sickeningly in love with you. He would never want to hurt your feelings that's why when rumors started going around about your breakup, he'd make sure to send it to you first attached with a cruel joke that only you two would understand. He'd smile to himself when you give it a 'haha' react and reply with another joke. It'd be enough to put him in a good mood.

Lately, he's starting to notice something different about you. You were a little bit sad, but he didn't know what to do and it scared him because he'd usually know what to do and what to say. He could read your expressions so well and it killed him that he couldn't read it now. For the first time in 9 years, he couldn't understand what was wrong.

To remedy the situation, he took you out on a date in a very expensive restaurant. He didn't care how much he'd spend. He just wanted to see you happy and to know if something's wrong. He wanted to make you feel better.

Obviously, that action didn't register the same way to you. He wanted to talk to you and ask what's going on, and you thought he was proposing. Of course, none of you knew what the other was thinking during the time both of you were getting ready in the same room. He glanced at you as he put his cufflinks on and smiled when he saw you smiling to yourself. 'My girl's back.' He thought. You looked up at him as you smoothed out your dress and smiled, "Ready to go?"

The whole ride going to the restaurant was quiet. It was a comfortable kind of quiet. The soft music filling the car and the reflection of the lights coming from the street lamps and shops illuminated your faces perfectly. He wanted to take multiple pictures of you then and there to make it his new lockscreen, but he didn't want both of you to get injured because he was too busy driving. Despite having a lot of money, he didn't feel the need to hire a driver because he thinks that going on drives with you is intimate no matter where you go.

You arrived at the restaurant and got seated at the best table with the best view. You scanned the menu, ordered your food, and smiled at each other. "Um, it's been a while since we went on a proper date. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love staying in, but I just feel like dressing up with you and going to a fancy place for a change. If that's alright?" He asked, anxious for your reply. He didn't know why he was anxious around you. He guessed that maybe he didn't want to upset you by saying the wrong thing.

"That's perfectly fine, Ji." You smiled shyly, thinking he's nervous about his proposal. "I'll go wherever you go. We've been together for so long, I can't even remember what it's like to function without you."

Both of you laughed and agreed. You started talking about your job and how you're eyeing for that big promotion because the pay is better and the office is bigger. He just kept listening and laughing and only talking when he was curious about one topic or if he had any opinions or views about something you said. At one point, he couldn't help himself because of how your face was perfectly illuminated by the light coming from the restaurant's warm, dim lights. He asked for you to pose as he took multiple pictures. Some of it were candid shots of you asking him to stop because it was taking too long. Despite all the magazine-worthy photos he took of you, he chose the most candid one as his lockscreen because it took him back to when you first met.

"I'm really glad that you're smiling again, Y/N." He said as he toyed a little bit with his dessert's toppings using his dessert spoon. Your head tilted a little bit to the side as you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. What was he talking about?

He looked at you and said, "Oh, I mean it's nothing bad... I hope. Um, recently, I noticed that you were sad and you had this expression I couldn't read and I panicked because I didn't know how to fix it and you've never been so closed off like that with me. Now that you're smiling and laughing, it makes me feel better that you're feeling better." He breathed and smiled a big smile, "I'm really glad you're feeling better. You can tell me if I've done anything to upset you, you know that right?"

You nodded your head and said, "You did nothing wrong, actually. I guess I was just a bit sad because of what people are saying about us... or about me."

His eyes went dark and said, "What?" He wasn't aware that people were saying stuff about the two of you or about you, specifically. It angered him that people were trying to breakup the one relationship he cherished the most. He felt betrayed and backstabbed. You nodded and said, "They said that you didn't really love me and that I'm just a placeholder for when you meet your true love."

He was so hurt that you said that so casually. "Anyway, I don't believe it anymore because it's ridiculous! Especially now that it's happening." You said giddily. He chuckled in confusion and shook his head slightly, "I'm sorry, what's happening?"

"You know..." You said in excitement. "No, I don't know actually." He said with genuine confusion.

"Oh. Is this not what I thought it was?" You asked in a small voice, feeling absolutely mortified and embarrassed.

"What are you on about, my love?" He asked. He didn't understand. He didn't have a clue at all.

You gave him a tight-lipped smile and said, "Let's just go home."

As soon as you got home, you marched straight to your shared room with Ji-yong quickly following behind. "Hey, what's going on? Please tell me. You know that I don't like to be kept in the dark about things that concern our relationship."

You looked at him as you took off your shoes and earrings. "Fine. We've been together for 9 years and you still haven't proposed. Why?"

He chuckled, "Is that it? Is that why you're so upset? I can answer that right now."

"Okay. Please enlighten me."

"I don't believe in marriage and starting a family, Y/N." He said coolly. "I thought it was obvious? I mean, we have a great relationship going on and I absolutely adore you and everyone knows that. I just don't feel the need to put it on a piece of paper. You're the only woman in my life and I'm the only man in your life and it's always been that way. Everybody knows that."

Your heart shattered into a million pieces. "What?" was all you said. He shrugged and sat down on your shared bed, "Yeah. I thought you knew? I'm sorry if I didn't tell you. I genuinely thought you knew this whole time." You shook your head and started crying.

You sat down on the bed next to him and started crying. He pulled you in for a hug, but you pushed him away. He was hurt that you did that because you never pushed him away before. "What's wrong?" He asked, rubbing your back and pushing your hair away from your face.

You looked up at him and said, "I don't think I can go on this way."

"What do you mean?" He panicked. Is this it? Is your relationship ending after 9 beautiful years?

"We have different goals. I want to get married and have kids, Ji. I find it so selfish of you to not tell me and expect me to be okay with it now. If you told me that 9 years ago-"

"You would've left immediately, I know you would. Please don't leave me now. We're doing so great." He pleaded.

"Ji-yong, please-"

"Will you marry me?"

"What?" You looked at him like was crazy.

"You wanted to get married, right? I love you too much for you to walk away. Let's get married and have kids like what you've always dreamed of. How many kids do you want? We can move out of here and find a more quiet place for us to start a family and-"

"I don't want you to hate me."

"I could never hate you, Y/N. Don't be silly."

"Oh, but you would. You'd resent me for marrying me because you never wanted to get married. You'd resent our children because you never wanted to have children. We want different things in life and maybe we were just meant to meet, but not destined to be with each other."

"Y/N, I love you. Please marry me."

"You're just asking me that because you want me to stay, not because you want to marry me. Ji-yong, my love, it's okay. It'll take some time, but I hope you find someone who has the same goal as you."

Those were your last words to him before you parted ways. Your breakup was called the "breakup of the century" because it shocked everyone.

-

It's been 2 years since then and Ji-yong heard that you were getting married and that you were pregnant. He was truly happy for you because you got what you wanted, but it killed him to know that it's not him you're marrying and it's not him who's fathering your child. He was invited to the wedding and so are Daesung and Taeyang. They didn't want him to go because they knew it would hurt his feelings, but he assured them that he'll be fine. He moved on... a little bit.

He hoped to talk to you, though.

He wandered around aimlessly through the halls and hoped that by sheer luck, he finds your dressing room. He spots a group of bridesmaids and he switches on his charm and asks them if they were your bridesmaids. They said yes and he immediately asked where your dressing room was.

They led him there before leaving. He could hear you singing softly to yourself, indicating that you were alone. After all this time, he still knew you like the back of his hand. He smiled to himself and knocked on your door.

"Mom, please calm down. For the nth time, I don't need water!" You said through the door. He chuckled to himself before opening the door.

"Sorry to disappoint. I'm not your mom." He said softly. His gaze immediately falling on your beautiful face matched with your perfectly styled hair, then on your white wedding dress.

"Ji-yong."

"Y/N."

"You're here! Wow." You said in surprise. "Um, please sit." You motioned for him to sit on your couch and you sat down next to him.

"You look beautiful, Y/N." He smiled. His smile reached his eyes and you gave him a shy look. His compliments still gave you butterflies.

"Thank you. I'm glad you could make it."

"I'm sorry, Y/N." He said. "I'm sorry I couldn't be the man you needed me to be. Now that I look back, it really was shitty of me to tell you that I didn't want to get married and expect you to accept it. It was also shitty of me to propose to you just for you to stay, and you were right. I would've hated you and I don't want to hate you because I love you so much. In fact, I love you so much that I can't let you go."

"What are you saying?"

"I don't know what I'm saying." He chuckled bitterly. "I want you to be happy with me, but I can't make you happy because I can't give you what you want. He makes you happy and I hate that. I don't want you to leave him because I would never want to breakup a family... that's not who I am."

"I just wish that I was different. I wish that I believed in marriage, so that you wouldn't marry that guy and have his child. I wish it was me you came home to. You'll always be the love of my life, Y/N. I screwed up, but I never lied to you. I've done a lot of shit in my life, but loving you and being with you is different. I meant what I said that day when I told you that you're the only woman in my life."

He pulled out his phone and showed you his lockscreen from that night at the restaurant. "See? I never changed it. I'll always love you and it'll stay that way until my last breath."

You stayed quiet. Why was he saying all this?

"I love you. I respect you. I already care about your kid and I haven't even met them. I guess what I'm saying is, something in my gut tells me that we're definitely destined to be together and in some fucked up way, I hope it's true."

"I'm confused." You told him.

"Get married, Y/N. Go. I'm not stopping you. I'm not a cruel person and I know how hard you've worked in planning all this. I know you so well, after all. I'm just saying that one day, I know you'll come back to me."

"What if you're wrong?" You asked. "I love my fiance."

"I know you do. Just not the same way you loved me. Our 9 years wasn't a joke. We're basically married at that point." He smirked. "You deserve a happy marriage, Y/N. I know you're happy."

He stood up and walked to the door. "I just have this terrible gut feeling about that man that I can't shake."

With that, he left the dressing room.

--------

A/N: I planned on smth very angsty, but I couldn't stop typing until it led me to that ending HAHAHAHA

[killinqpills]

★─── yandere sagau. ii

𝐋𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄.

𝕽𝗘𝗚𝗥𝗘𝗧 doesn't really go away at all. It's almost like a stain against our skin, and the longer you leave it to fester without wiping it away, the faster it'll seep into your bones. Until eventually, it drips onto your souls and becomes permanent, a haunting reminder of a tragedy you created for yourself.

"why did you do it?"

Venti asked without a thought or anger, an emotion he ironically feels like he's drowning in, but for some reason couldn't express. Perhaps it's because he realizes that he's already shattered, held together only by false hopes and endless what if's, bitterness might as well leave him scattered against the ground like ashes in the winds.

But he didn't know who to be angry at. The easiest answer would've been himself, but his cup of self loathing was already full to the brim, practically overflowing without a sense of direction.

Besides, the blame had always been easier to pin on someone else when we're reluctant to hate ourselves a little more. It's a small mercy we grant our hearts, the fleeting lie that we're still redeemable, with flaws and all.

Venti prays, no matter how selfish it would be, that you'd be returned to his undeserving hands once more, swearing on everything, that he'd cradle you gently this time.

What amusing thought, right? He, a god who his people once prayed to, now kneels on the grounds himself and begs for salvation. Like a lost lamb blindly searching for its shepherd whom it ran away from, desperate to make it back to them.

Back to you.

"why didn't you stop me?"

Zhongli asks him, just as dully.

A question for a question, because neither of them knew the answer to either one. Or perhaps they did, but the weight of the truth was simply far too heavy for them to carry.

He feels everything yet nothing at all.

That's a lie though, there's something unbearably ugly simmering at the very bottom of his heart, on the edge of boiling and spilling all over him like it did all those years ago; despair.

It felt just as heavy as it did when you first left.

Although at that time, you had left on your own, disappearing off of the face of teyvat while those who you've left behind scrambled to keep you alive through their own means. Endless tales were woven through the silks of history, and everyone made sure it'd remain to be one of the few things left unaltered by time.

And now you're gone once more, away and out of his reach and there he was, begging for you to return despite being the one to cause it.

Zhongli might've been many things, but he was not made to be gentle.

He was sharp and pointed to every edge, and although time had done its job to soften his jagged thorns, blades that are blunt and rusted tend to hurt the most.

He's nicked you more than enough times in the past, as the young, prideful god he was, stubborn and violent. Unused to your gentleness in a world that seemed to thrive in conflict, yet still so enraptured of the way you brush off the sting so easily, letting him close despite it all, over and over again.

"I miss them." Venti utters, no more than whisper, something you could almost disregard as a small gush of wind in the night. But the quiet confession would be the loudest thing Zhongli would ever hear in his decades of living.

Grunting, Zhongli looks away, eyes unreadable as he gazes blankly at the sorry excuse of a land that's been left to spread after the false creators death.

. . .

A violet cry was heard behind him, as violent as the winds became as Venti raised a weapon against the creator.

Gasping, Furina watched horrified as an arrow fused with anemo flew through the air with an almost violent whistling sound, then, a body slumps.

The grating laughter that once infested her ears now is nothing more but a deafening silence, like waiting for the inevitable worst to come, but being unsure of what exactly it is.

"You─.." Ei muttered, stunned.

There, sitting on a golden throne like a looming shadow, once the oddity which called itself the creator, was now nothing more than a corpse with an arrow embedded in their chest. Dark, thick and almost obsidian colored blood oozing out from their wound.

Then, panic struck.

"We.. we've committed a grave sin!"

Once the unnamed man shouted such words, the archons watched as their people scrambled to leave, pushing against the other and screaming their heads off in hysteria.

At lost for words, they could do nothing more but try and fail to calm them down with gestures and soundless pleas because their words simply get lost in a sea of anguished cries.

"T─this can't be!"

"The creator will punish us!"

"No─ no! I did not even want to be a part of this!"

"Please, I don't want to die!"

At that moment, something catches Xiao's eye. Turning his head to the throne, he observes as the corpse bloats ever so slightly, skin rippling as if something wretched was wiggling beneath it, attempting to pierce through the skin, as though it was about to:

"Explode." He gasps in realization.

When a god dies, their divine power is released back into the world, often causing significant environmental changes and disruptions, while their consciousness fades away, effectively marking their death.

"Get away from the throne─!"

His shout echoes above all other voices, effectively catching the other's attention. But by then it was already too late, in horror he watches as the body erupts, causing him to close his eyes on instinct despite knowing that doing so wouldn't shield him from the impact.

...

Zhongli closes his fist, it trembles slightly, aching ever so slightly from overexerting himself to create a shield large enough to prevent anyone it can reach from being exposed to the utter chaos he sees now.

A large patch of land now lay wasted, covered in a dark substance that looks as though it's spreading ever so slightly, like water that spills without end.

Clearly, not everyone had managed to avoid being hit by it. Bodies upon bodies lay in the substance, looking almost as though they're melting into it in a sick and twisted way. The false creators final display of possession over something that was never theirs in the first place.

Your body was in there too.

Swallowing vile down his throat was no easy task this time.

Xiao, who barely managed to escape, stands beside him, head titled down and unable to look at anything or anyone without being overwhelmed with shame and guilt.

Zhongli could not bring himself to comfort him this time, for they're simple two souls drowning in grief, he's unable to keep the other afloat without the threat of being submerged himself. All he could offer now, was a silent apology.

"Is there no way to get rid of it?"

Ei asks, coming up beside them with Yae following suit, the pair walking in sync with heavy expressions on their faces. Venti shrugs, almost bored, but they knew not to take it as that, for this was the bard expressing defeat.

"Let's just hope we find a solution, before it gets rid of us."

He says casually, looking back towards the wreckage, the others following in suit. They watch anxiously as the substance spreads, looking as though it was trying to devour everything in its path, vile and unforgiving, things you never were.

For a moment, Zhongli wonders what would've happened had you not descended as quietly as you did in your mortal body. But unlike Venti, Zhongli was not content with settling on endless what─if's.

Shuffling, Yae notes the way the grass beneath her feet seemed rotten, dried and dead as though they're no longer able to rise with life. Actually, looking around, she realizes that everything seemed awfully.. dead.

Everything looked gloomy, the air was cold and lacked sunlight, the trees wilted and some if not most had already fallen, not a single animal in sight, not even a soft chirp from a distant bird, or a cricket from an insect to be heard.

"At this rate, it doesn't seem like we'll be able to live long enough to see that."

She sighs grimly, and with a quick look around, nobody else could find it in themselves to argue otherwise.

From afar, paimon worriedly gazes at her surroundings, feeling utterly helpless at the outcome of mankind's greatest mistake. Her heart aches as her eyes darts from one place to another, not liking the way everything just seems so devoid of life.

Aether stands near her, observing as well, but instead of despair like many others, his stare was contemplative.

Things have been rather difficult for the last few days, the citizens briefly exposed from the dark substance began falling ill one after the other, and although food and medicine had yet to become scarce, with the rate of natural life beginning to dwindle all across teyvat, everyone knows it'll just be a matter of time before everything starts going downhill.

Not like it hasn't already, though.

"Is. . . is this really it?"

Paimon's voice quivers, tears welling up in her eyes as she floats closer to the traveler for comfort.

Is this how it's gonna end?

There's an unsettling silence that engulfs them for a moment.

"No."

Startled by his sudden words, or rather, word. Paimon whips her head towards Aether, stunned and equally confused at his seemingly unwavering resolve.

"wha─ what do you mean?" She asks hesitantly.

For a moment, Aether refused to answer, perhaps too caught up in his own inner thoughts which were a mess of indecipherable words and unsure possibilities. But then, he opens his mouth.

"A god who willingly died at the hands of their own creation─"

He pauses.

"Do you truly think that such a person who loves more than anything, would allow this to happen?"

Conflict struck Paimon and she feels a sinking pit at the bottom of her stomach. Defeated and ashamed, she lowers her tearful gaze to the ground.

"No, but that kind of mercy.." Her voice trembles, struggling to let the words fall from her tongue.

Aether turns to look at her, a look of grim understanding that she shares being passed between their gazes.

"It's not something we deserve."

Your love, the kindness that flows through your veins, the warmth in your eyes, the pureness of your heart, your nature which remains merciful.

All of which we are undeserving of.

The truth had never tasted so bitter in Aether's tongue before. Somewhere, deep─ deep down, he hopes you are truly dead.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 :

Woah?? my lazy ass actually made a part 2? surprise.

Anyways this is a lot shorter than I would've liked it to be, but honestly I'm at lost on what to write. Thanks to those who reblogged / commented and stuff, it was a great source of motivation.

Stay tuned for more (maybe)

Taglist : @n0tmentallystable @iris-arcadia @starboye @sims-4lifers

[venustrvck]

MICHAEL KAISER x F!Reader

card: the hierophant; domestic life. wc: 0.7k

❥ Valentine's Event co-written with @saetiate

It's the morning after your last photoshoot in Munich. You're stretched out on the couch, coffee in hand, acrylic nails tapping periodically over your coffee mug. You've got your back against the armrest and your legs on Kaiser's lap, with his crown-hand over them. His other hand holds his own coffee mug, a plain white ceramic with The Gentleman's Dream by Antonio de Pereda printed on its front. it's a mug you got him for the painting's peculiarity and eerie look.

You're pleased to note that he's using it. The painting looked packed with symbolism, and with Kaiser's interest in philosophy, you thought that he might like it. It seems you were right.

(When you come from nothing, when you dig your nails into the walls to fight your way up, the material gains feel secondary to the feeling of winning. The fame, the gain, none of it is permanent. But the knowing of who you are, what you've done, what you've caused others to feel — that memory lives endlessly.)

Your own mug is also one you brought him, this one a sleek black except for its front, which is hand-painted with thorns. You take a delicate sip of your coffee. Your eyes track his face and… Kaiser is beautiful in the morning light, once his bed-hair has been combed into submission anyway, and you do love seeing him in the thin material of homewear. To think that once, you would've missed this.

Sunlight streaks through, highlighting the line of his cheekbone and shadowing his jaw. His eyes are trained up-front, so you're getting an eye-full of his side profile… balancing your mug on your lap, you take your phone out with your other hand and snap a shot. "You could've been a model."

It's high praise from you.

Kaiser turns to look at you, face angled high, sunlight catching his throat, "Maybe you should've been a photographer."

It's clearly a jibe at you taking his photo without permission, but you ignore it. Kaiser was always a bitch in the mornings. He was a bitch most of the time, really.

"No way, I wanted to be on screen."

You take another sip of your coffee. You remember being young, seeing him on the screen for the first time after he'd disappeared into god-knows-where, until the shape of a young boy on the streets of Berlin was nothing more than a faded memory to you. He was there on that shitty coffee house's TV, name plastered upon his back, off to the greener pastures of Germany's fields, running across them like he belonged there. You remember the way your stomach churned with resentment.

"I hated you back then, you know," you reminisce, and Kaiser's eyes bore into you. "When I saw you again on that flat screen. I burned. We were supposed to rot in these sewers together, so why were you there and why was I still rotting?"

Back then, you truly hated him. A knife lodging itself into the underside of your ribs with the heat of betrayal. It didn't make much sense. You didn't know Kaiser well-enough for the capacity for betrayal to exist at all — you only saw Kaiser from afar, gutter-rats on the same street. Yet, there was the understanding that you were the same, cast aside from this world, fated for the same death. Kaiser… betrayed that understanding.

It's what a merciless ocean must feel like, seeing a ship safely held together even after the storm.

It lit a fire in you. Years later, you came to be on the same stage, your name and face practically synonymous with German high fashion. You became a household name in the fashion capital of the world, having made yourself in Escada before contracting your modeling away to Dior.

Because if he, of all people, can make it out alive, you can too. Better than he can.

Kaiser's eyes watch you like the cutting edge of sapphires, and he's within reach again, the both of you sharing same world. Except now, you're closer than you'd ever been before. Now, he sits across from you, bathed in the kind morning light.

His eyes dissect you relentlessly, a scalpel slicing through your words to try and get at what's underneath. You decide to have mercy on him and throw him a bone, "I wanted that for myself," you say, picking up your conversation, "In hindsight I should thank you, you gave me the drive to claw myself back up."

Kaiser turns to his mug, at his next sip, the corner of his lip curls up into a smirk, "You've already paid me with your body."

You hit him with a pillow.

The coffee stains his white shirt, personally, you think he deserves it.

[lost-in-fandoms]

Daniel takes sugar baby!Max for a spin on a very nice car. This comes from nowhere and goes nowhere. 700 words of no plot just vibes. (Disclaimer: I don't know anything about cars).

"This is...a car."

Max wishes he could take back his words as soon as they're out of his mouth, but in his defense he was asleep until 5 minutes ago and now he's standing in front of a 1963 Ferrari Spider that looks like right out of a movie. And he hasn't even brushed his teeth.

Daniel laughs, pushing his sunglasses up into his tousled hair, one arm draped over the back of the free seat to lean towards Max, the picture of perfect relaxation.

"Sure is, baby! Are you coming for a spin?"

It's only because Max knows him that he feels the doubt hiding right under the light tone of his voice, and it's yet another ridiculous thing Daniel does. As if Max would ever say no to him.

"Give me a second," he says, because he's insane, instead of jumping straight into the car.

He rushes back upstairs, thanking his reflexes for reminding him to grab the keys while he had been stumbling out of the door, still blinking sleep out of his eyes, Daniel's voice saying come down, baby, I've got something to show you! ringing in his ears.

He brushes his teeth as quickly as he can while hunting for some clothes that aren't the faded t-shirt and shorts he wore to bed, and then attempts to flattens his hair while tugging a sweater on. Two minutes later he's flying down the stairs again, still pocketing his wallet and keys, one shoe untied.

Daniel is on the phone when Max closes the building's door behind his back, but he smiles brightly, gesturing at him to get in the car.

Max takes one extra second to just run his hand along the passenger side door before opening it, sinking in the leather seat with a sigh. Everything feels expensive. He feels expensive.

It's not the first time he's been this close to this amount of money since he's started this...thing with Daniel, but he doesn't love helicopters and fancy meals as much as he loves cars.

"Ready to go, or do you need one more minute?" Daniel's voice startles him from where he'd been staring at the details on the dashboard, and he feels himself blush, feeling once again way too dumb to be allowed outside. He hadn't even realised Daniel had finished his phone call.

"Fuck off," he says, automatic, before blushing deeper. Daniel only laughs though, and reaches for his leg, squeezing his thigh.

"We have time baby, don't worry," he jokes. There's something in his voice though that tells Max that if he was to ask for ten more minutes idling at the curb just to be able to stare at every piece of the car, Daniel would be happy to say yes.

It knocks the breath from his lungs more than the car had. Well, maybe not more, but close enough.

"Where are we going?" he asks, finally buckling in and turning his head to meet Daniel's eyes through the sunglasses that have been lowered again.

"Just for a drive, and then if you still have time for me, for lunch."

Again, as if Max would say no.

When the car comes to life, Max shivers, the purr of the engine making his spine tingle, and Daniel laughs again.

"Knew you'd like it," he says.

Max doesn't reply, too scared to open his mouth and have a moan come out instead of words. Daniel's hand returns to his thigh, higher than before, and Max knows it's impossible to hide how he's half hard. He shivers again.

"Do me a favor?"

Max looks at Daniel again, already nodding, and grabbing his phone when the other points at it.

"What am I doing?" he asks, unlocking Daniel's phone without having to ask for the password, his fingerprint working giving him yet another satisfied thrill.

"Find me the fastest route to go somewhere isolated in the hills, will you?"

Max frowns, confused, but navigates to the maps app obediently.

"How isolated?"

"Isolated enough that I can fuck you on the car's hood."

Max drops the phone.

[sosa2imagines]

My girl.

Warning- Soft dark Bucky and Steve, manipulate, spiking drink, planning and kidnapping maybe?, possesiveness, jealousy, 6.6k words.

You tug at the hem of the black dress Natasha had lent you, feeling a little out of your comfort zone but enjoying the way it hugs your curves. Even Thor, your ever-blunt best friend, had taken a moment to whistle in appreciation when he saw you. “Damn, Sweets, if I wasn't already taken...” he'd teased with a wink, earning a playful slap from Wanda.  

You laughed, shaking your head, “Thank you, but come on lets go, Natasha is waiting for us!!!”

Now, inside the nightclub, you were mesmerized. The music was pulsing through the air, vibrating under your skin, and the flashing lights created an electric energy that makes it impossible not to get caught up in the atmosphere. Wanda and Thor were already pulling you towards the bar, but your gaze lingers, scanning the crowd.  

That’s when you see them.  

Two men, both wearing baseball caps, an odd choice in a place like this. One has short blond hair, his face sharp yet friendly even under the dim lighting. But it’s the other one who catches your attention. Dark brown hair falls slightly into his eyes, piercing blue beneath the brim of his cap. He’s leaning against the bar, his expression unreadable, yet there’s something about him... something dark, something intriguing.   

You quickly look away when Thor hands you a shot, grinning widely. “To a great night!” he declares. You, Wanda, and Thor clink glasses and down the shots, the burn spreading warmth through your veins. Laughter bubbles out of you, as Natasha joins and drags you to the dance floor, and soon you're lost in the music, swaying and spinning with the beat.  

Little do you know, the two guys in the caps were watching you.  

The blond one, Steve, nudges his friend with a knowing smirk. “See something you like?”  

Bucky’s lips curl at the corner, his eyes never leaving you as you move effortlessly to the music. The lights catch on your skin, your smile lighting up your face in a way that sends a spark through him.  

“Yeah,” he murmurs, his voice low and dark. “I do.”  

The music pulses through your body, and you let yourself get lost in it, swaying and twirling under the flashing lights. Laughter spills from Wanda and Natasha as they dance beside you, their energy infectious.

But despite the music and the crowd, your thoughts drift back to those two guys.  

Curiosity gets the better of you, and you glance back toward where you first saw them, only to find the spot empty.  

Your brows furrow slightly. You could’ve sworn they were there... 

Before you can finish the thought, some movement catches your eye. They're closer now. Much closer.

The dark-haired one with those piercing blue eyes stands near the edge of the dance floor, his gaze locked onto you like he’s been watching your every move. The blond one leans in to say something to him, but Bucky doesn’t react, his focus entirely on you.  

You swallow hard, a strange mix of excitement and nerves fluttering in your chest.  

And then it happens, gradually at first. The more you move, the closer they seem to get. Each beat of the music shortens the distance until, before you realize it, there’s a presence behind you.  

A warmth at your back.  

Your heart stumbles in your chest as you turn, and suddenly, he’s there. The dark-haired stranger stands close, almost too close. The sharp angles of his jawline, the way his eyes pierce right through you, leave you momentarily speechless. Up close, he’s even more devastatingly handsome, and your brain screams at you to keep it together.  

He offers you a small, almost sly smile and reaches out, taking your hand in his. His grip is firm but gentle, sending an unexpected thrill down your spine.  

“I'm Bucky.” he says, his voice deep and smooth, laced with something that makes your breath hitch.  

You blink, trying to ground yourself, “Y/n…” you manage, feeling warmth rise to your cheeks as you force yourself to meet his intense gaze.  

The moment lingers, and with a shy smile, you turn back to Wanda and Natasha, hoping to gather your scattered thoughts. They’re both watching with matching grins, their expressions practically screaming “we saw that.” Your cheeks heat further, and you shake your head, laughing nervously.  

It isn’t until you try to raise both hands to gesture at them that you realize something.  

Bucky was still holding your hand.  

Your eyes flick down in surprise, and when you look back up, there’s an unmistakable glint of amusement in his gaze. He gives your hand a light squeeze, as if testing whether you'll pull away.  

You don’t.

Bucky tugs lightly at your hand, a silent invitation to follow him. Just as your feet begin to move, a familiar voice cuts through the music.  

“Whoa, whoa, where do you think you're going?”  

You turn to find Thor standing there, arms crossed and an amused yet protective look on his face. His gaze flickers to Bucky, sizing him up with that big-brother energy you’ve grown used to.  

“Just to the bar.” Bucky says smoothly, but there's an edge to it, like he's not used to being questioned.  

You introduce Bucky and Thor to each other.

Thor’s eyes narrow slightly, looking at Bucky, before turning to you. “Stay where I can see you, yeah?” His voice is light, but you know he’s serious.  

You roll your eyes with a playful smile. “Yes, Dad!”  

Satisfied, Thor gives Bucky one last look before heading back to Wanda and Natasha, who are too busy dancing and whispering to each other to notice much.  

You finally let Bucky lead you through the crowd, feeling the warmth of his grip as he weaves effortlessly through the pulsing bodies. The bar is busy, but he navigates it like he’s been here a hundred times before.  

“This is Steve…” Bucky says, nodding toward the blond guy in the cap you noticed earlier.  

Steve offers a friendly smile, his blue eyes warm. “Nice to meet you.” he says, tipping his drink slightly in greeting.  

“You too…” you reply, offering a small smile.  

Bucky leans in a little closer, his voice low against your ear. “What’ll you have?”  

You wave him off, feeling a little awkward under his gaze. “Oh, I’m good.”  

Bucky raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with your answer. “C’mon, something.”  

You glance around nervously, then mumble, “Uh… orange juice?”  

The moment the words leave your mouth, you regret it. Your brain practically screams at you, “Who on earth orders orange juice in a nightclub?”  

Steve stifles a laugh behind his drink, and Bucky just smirks, his eyes glinting with something you can’t quite place. “Orange juice, huh?” he muses, signaling the bartender. “Classy.”  

You groan, covering your face for a second, “I panicked, okay?”  

Bucky chuckles, leaning a little closer, “Don’t worry, doll. I like classy.”  

Your heart does an embarrassing little flip at the nickname, and before you can come up with a response, he hands you the drink. The way his fingers brush yours sends a spark of warmth up your arm.  

Before you can sip, Bucky’s hand returns to yours, leading you further away from the crowded bar area. You find yourself in a quieter corner of the club, where some people are lounging, some are smoking, and the music feels a little more distant.  

Your nerves kick in again, but Bucky’s presence is oddly steadying. His gaze never leaves you, like he’s figuring you out piece by piece.  

“So,” he says, leaning against the wall, “what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”  

You take a tiny sip of your orange juice, trying not to cringe. “Apparently... making excellent drink choices.”  

Bucky laughs, and you realize then how soft his smile can be despite the dark edge lingering beneath it.  

You glance around the dimly lit corner of the club, your fingers tracing the cold glass of your orange juice. The air here feels heavier, laced with smoke and whispers of conversations that don’t quite reach you. Bucky stands close, his eyes never leaving your face as if he’s studying every flicker of emotion.  

“Do you smoke?” he asks suddenly, his voice low and rough, cutting through the haze around you.  

You shake your head, offering him a small smile. “No, not really my thing.”  

He nods, then tilts his head. “Mind if I do?”  

You glance at him, the way he stands with such quiet confidence, and shrug. “I don’t mind.”  

With a smirk, he pulls out a cigarette and lights it with practiced ease, taking a slow drag before exhaling the smoke in a way that somehow makes your heart stumble. The glow of the cigarette highlights the sharpness of his features, casting shadows across his jaw.  

You find yourself mesmerized…again.  

And then, in that same soft, dangerous voice, he says it.  

“You’re my girl now,” he murmurs, his eyes cutting through the smoke to meet yours. “If anyone comes near you... I’ll fucking kill them!”  

Your breath catches, and for a split second, your mind flashes to your ex. He never said anything like that to you. Not once. Your brain screams at you to stop thinking about him, to stay in the present, but it’s too late. The comparison lingers.  

You shake it off, letting out a soft laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “Is that so?” you tease, tilting your head. “Then prove it.”  

Bucky’s lips curve in a way that makes something tighten in your chest. Without another word, he takes your hand, still warm from before and leads you back toward the bar. The music grows louder again, pulsing around you like a heartbeat, and just as you start to feel the weight of his words settle in, Thor intercepts you.  

“Alright, sweets” Thor grins, grabbing your hand before Bucky can react. “Time to dance.”  

You throw a quick glance over your shoulder at Bucky, but Thor’s already twirling you into the crowd. Wanda and Natasha cheer, and soon you're moving with them, laughing and letting the music wash over you.  

But it doesn’t last long.  

Before you know it, a familiar grip wraps around your wrist, not gentle this time. Firm, almost painfully tight. Bucky. He doesn’t say anything as he pulls you away, but the intensity in his hold is enough to make your heart race for a different reason. He’s not asking. He’s taking.  

You barely manage to throw Wanda a glance before you’re dragged through the crowd again, your feet struggling to keep up with his pace. The air between you thickens, and it finally hits you. You’re not just his girl now.  

Bucky Barnes is possessive about his girl.  

Your skin tingles under his touch, and for the first time tonight, a little voice in the back of your mind wonders just how deep that possessiveness runs.  

You don’t notice the way Steve watches from the sidelines, a slow smirk tugging at his lips, as if he knows exactly what’s going on inside Bucky’s head. As if he’s seen it all before.  

Bucky’s grip on your hand loosens as he finally stops, and when you look up at him, expecting to see the same intense expression from moments ago, you’re met with something entirely different.  

A soft smile.  

It’s disarming, almost as if the possessiveness he showed just seconds ago never happened. His blue eyes are calm now, gentle even, and it throws you off balance. You’re not sure how to react. Should you call him out? Ask what that was about? Or just... let it go?  

Your heart is still racing from how easily he dragged you away, but before you can decide what to say, Steve steps closer, and Bucky turns his attention to him. Their conversation is low, their words blending into the pulsing music, and for a moment, you’re left standing there, trying to process everything.  

Meanwhile, back at the dancefloor, Thor is anything but calm.  

“I don’t like it,” he says, eyes narrowing as he watches you with Bucky from across the room. “I don’t trust his intentions.”  

Natasha, ever the observant one, nods in agreement. “Did you see how he pulled her away? That wasn’t... normal.”  

Wanda, though quieter, presses her lips together in concern. “Y/n didn’t seem to mind too much, though.”  

Thor lets out a frustrated sigh. “That’s the problem. Guys like him? They have a way of making it feel like it’s okay... until it’s not.”  

Natasha’s eyes darken slightly, and she exchanges a knowing glance with Wanda. “We need to step in before this goes any further.”  

Wanda nods. “I have an idea.”  

Before long, Natasha and Wanda are weaving through the crowd toward you. You’re still standing with Bucky and Steve when they reach you, their smiles bright but calculated.  

“We’re just gonna steal her for a sec!” Natasha says smoothly, looping an arm around yours before Bucky can protest.  

Bucky’s jaw twitches slightly, but he nods, letting them take you. “Don’t take too long.”  

You let them pull you away toward the restrooms, barely registering the way Bucky’s gaze lingers on you as you disappear into the crowd.  

Inside, Natasha closes the door behind you, and Wanda immediately turns to you, her eyes full of concern. “Alright, spill. Are you okay?”  

You blink, caught off guard. “Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”  

Natasha raises an eyebrow. “Sweetheart, he dragged you off the dancefloor!”  

You let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of your neck. “Okay, yeah, that was... intense. But he’s…I don’t know, it’s weird. He’s intense but then... soft?” You groan, pacing a little. “And I’m not even drunk, so I can’t blame it on that, but part of me just... wants to be around him.”  

Wanda’s eyes soften. “You sure it’s not just the mystery?”  

You sigh, leaning against the counter. “Maybe? I don’t know. But I’m fine. Really.”  

Natasha exchanges a look with Wanda, not entirely convinced. “Just... be careful, alright?”  

Meanwhile, outside the restroom, Steve watches as Bucky takes another slow drag of his cigarette, his eyes fixed on the door you disappeared through.  

Steve sighs. “Buck, you gotta calm down.”  

Bucky doesn’t answer immediately. He exhales smoke slowly, his eyes still on the door. “She’s mine.”  

Steve shakes his head, crossing his arms. “You barely know her.”  

Bucky finally looks at him, and for a brief moment, there’s something dark in his expression. “I know enough.”  

Steve watches Bucky carefully, noting the way his jaw tenses as he stares at the restroom door. The silence between them stretches until Steve finally breaks it.  

“What’s going on in that head of yours, Buck?” he asks, his voice low but firm. “What’s the plan here?”  

Bucky flicks the ashes from his cigarette, his lips pressing into a thin line. “She’s mine.” he says simply, as if that alone explains everything.  

Steve raises an eyebrow. “And?”  

Bucky’s eyes remain fixed on the restroom door, his expression unreadable. “I’m not gonna rush it. She’ll come to me.”  

Steve lets out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “And if she doesn’t?”  

A smirk tugs at the corner of Bucky’s lips. “She will.” His voice is full of quiet certainty. “We wait. We watch.”  

Before Steve can respond, the restroom door swings open, and you step out with Wanda and Natasha. You look more composed now, but your eyes instinctively search for Bucky. When you find him leaning against the wall, his gaze unreadable, something inside you twists unexpectedly.  

Before you can take a step in his direction, Thor is suddenly at your side. “C’mon, sweets…” he says, slinging an arm around your shoulder and leading you straight back to the dance floor. His grip is firm but not overbearing, a silent reminder that he’s keeping you close. Wanda and Natasha follow, shooting Bucky a subtle glance.  

Bucky watches, his expression darkening as Thor keeps you firmly within the group, away from him. His fingers tighten around his cigarette before he flicks it to the ground and grinds it under his boot. He doesn’t take his eyes off you, but he makes no move to come closer. Instead, he leans back against the wall, arms crossed, his attention shifting to Steve.  

“What’s the plan now?” Steve asks, watching Bucky carefully.  

Bucky’s lips curl into a slow, almost dangerous smirk. “Wait and watch.”  

Steve nods knowingly. “You’re playing the long game, huh?”  

Bucky’s eyes follow you as you laugh at something Thor says, but there’s a flicker of something in your expression, something almost hesitant. “She’ll come to me,” Bucky murmurs, as if it’s inevitable. “She’ll start missing me soon enough.”  

And maybe he’s right. Because as you dance with your friends, trying to enjoy yourself, you can’t help but steal glances in his direction. Every time you do, he’s already looking away, ignoring you as if you don’t exist.  

And for some reason, that stings.  

You know you shouldn’t feel this way. Thor and the others are just looking out for you, making sure you’re safe. But there’s something about Bucky’s sudden coldness that unsettles you. You can’t explain it, but a small part of you feels... bad.  

Kindness.  

It’s one of your biggest weaknesses. Your friends adore that about you, but they also know it makes you vulnerable. People can take advantage of it.  

And as much as you try to shake it off, that little voice in your head wonders if Bucky is counting on that very thing.  

You sway half-heartedly to the music, but your mind isn't on the beat or the flashing lights. Your eyes keep drifting to where Bucky and Steve are standing, and every time you see Bucky deliberately looking away, something inside you twists.  

Natasha nudges you gently. “Sweets, stop.”  

You blink, pulling your gaze away. “Stop what?”  

“Being you!” Wanda chimes in with a teasing yet serious look. “You’re too kind. You always feel bad when you shouldn’t.”  

Natasha nods in agreement, crossing her arms. “Kindness is great, but not when it keeps you up at night worrying about people who don’t deserve it.”  

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “I can’t just switch it off, Nat.”  

Natasha rolls her eyes but smiles knowingly. “Yeah, yeah, we know. Doesn’t mean we won’t try.”  

They both mean well, and you know they’re right. But it’s easier said than done. Your kindness is part of who you are, for better or worse. And right now, it’s gnawing at you, making it impossible to focus on anything else.  

Meanwhile, across the club, Steve watches you carefully before turning to Bucky. “She’s getting restless,” he says, sipping his drink. “You counting on that?”  

Bucky smirks, tapping his fingers against the table. “Of course, I am.”  

Steve exhales slowly, leaning in slightly. “Why her, Buck? There’s plenty of girls here tonight. Hell, there have been plenty of girls before her. What makes this one different?”  

Bucky's smirk deepens, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. “She’s not like them,” he says simply. “She’s got... a softness. But not weak. She’s got fight in her too.” He pauses, his gaze locking onto you from across the room for the briefest moment before he looks away again. “And she doesn’t even realize it.”  

Steve shakes his head with a knowing chuckle. “You’re obsessed.”  

Bucky’s smirk fades slightly, replaced by something more dangerous. “I don’t do half-measures, Steve.”  

Steve leans back, watching Bucky with careful eyes. “Yeah... I know.”  

Back on the dancefloor, Thor notices the way you keep sneaking glances in Bucky’s direction, the way your shoulders sag with indecision. With a heavy sigh, he leans down, his voice gentle but firm.  

“Alright, doll,” he says, using the nickname Bucky had claimed as his own. “Go.”  

You blink up at him in surprise. “What?”  

Thor gives you a knowing look. “Go back to him. But stay where I can see you.”  

A wave of relief washes over you, and you can’t help but smile. “Thanks, Thor.”  

He ruffles your hair playfully. “Just don’t make me regret it, yeah?”  

With a nod, you turn and make your way back toward Bucky and Steve, your heart pounding with anticipation. You don’t notice the way Bucky’s lips twitch as he watches you approach, like he knew this moment was inevitable.  

Steve watches you approach with a knowing smile, nudging Bucky slightly with his elbow. “Told you…” he mutters, amusement dancing in his voice.  

Bucky doesn’t respond. Instead, he leans against the bar, his expression unreadable as you finally reach him.  

You stand there for a moment, waiting for him to say something, anything. But he doesn’t. He doesn't even look at you.  

“Hey…” you say softly, but he doesn’t react.  

You clear your throat and try again, a little louder this time. “Bucky?”  

Still nothing.  

Frustration bubbles up inside you, but you push it down, giving it one last shot. “Are you seriously going to ignore me all night?”  

Silence.  

Something sharp twists in your chest, and with a sigh, you take a step back. “Fine,” you say, your voice steady despite the sting of disappointment. “If you don’t want me here, I’ll go. I’ll leave you alone, just like you want.”  

Before you can turn away, his hand shoots out, wrapping around your wrist. The grip is firm but not rough but possessive, in a way that sends a shiver down your spine.  

“I don’t like being ignored.” he says, his voice low and dark, his blue eyes locking onto yours.  

Your breath catches in your throat. “I wasn’t ignoring you…” you murmur, suddenly feeling the heat of his touch.  

His lips twitch into something that’s almost a smirk. “Apologize.”  

You blink up at him, your heart racing. “I…what?”  

“Apologize,” he repeats, his thumb brushing lightly against your wrist.  

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real bite to it. “Fine. Sorry, Bucky.”  

Satisfied, he tugs you closer and starts leading you toward the dancefloor. You don’t resist, letting him pull you into the crowd. The music pulses around you, and before you can fully register what’s happening, his hands find your waist, drawing you flush against him.  

There’s no space. None. His body is pressed firmly against yours, and your heart pounds wildly in your chest. The heat between you both is undeniable, and your mind is racing, screaming at you to think straight, but it’s impossible with him this close.  

“Relax…” Bucky murmurs near your ear, his breath warm against your skin.  

You try, but it’s impossible. His hands grip your hips, guiding you in sync with his movements, slow and deliberate. Your skin tingles under his touch, and every time your body brushes against his, your pulse spikes.  

After a few moments, he leans down, his lips ghosting over your ear. “I wanna do something for you.”  

You swallow hard, shaking your head slightly. “Bucky, there’s no need for that.”  

He grins, and the playful banter begins. “I didn’t ask if there was a need.”  

“Seriously, it’s fine.”  

“Let me.”  

“No.”  

“Yes.”  

And then, without warning, he silences you the only way he knows how.  

His lips crash against yours, stealing your breath and every coherent thought in your head. The kiss is firm, confident, and leaves no room for argument. Your hands instinctively find his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.  

When he finally pulls away, his blue eyes flicker with mischief, and he winks at you. “Told you I’d do something for you.”  

You’re left standing there, breathless and stunned, as the music pulses around you, but all you can focus on is him…just him.  

Bucky leads you through the crowd, weaving past dancing bodies and flashing lights until you reach a secluded corner of the club. The music is quieter here, the atmosphere darker, more intimate. You stand close, the space between you charged with something you can't quite name.  

For a while, neither of you say anything. You shift awkwardly under his intense gaze, biting your lip as you wait for him to speak first. Eventually, he does.  

“I like you.”  

The words are so simple, so unexpected, that they make you laugh. “Really?” you tease, arching an eyebrow. “Just like that?”  

Instead of answering, Bucky takes a step back and, to your horror, cups his hands around his mouth and shouts, “I like her!”  

Heads turn, eyes land on you both, and you feel heat rush to your cheeks as you frantically reach for him. “Bucky! Shut up!” You hiss, tugging at his arm.  

He grins, utterly unapologetic, and takes it a step further. “I REALLY LIKE HER!!!!”  

You slap a hand over his mouth, eyes wide in mortification. “Okay! Okay, I believe you! Just be quiet, you goof.”  

Bucky chuckles against your palm, his eyes twinkling with mischief. Slowly, you lower your hand, and before you can say another word, he kisses you again.  

This time, it's slower, deeper, less about teasing and more about something real. Your hands instinctively find their way to his chest, your palm resting over his heart. You can feel the steady, strong rhythm beneath your touch, and it does something to you. A soft sigh escapes you, and Bucky’s lips curve into a smile against yours.  

When he finally pulls back, he presses his forehead against yours. “Come with me…” he murmurs, his fingers brushing against your waist.  

Your heart skips a beat, but reality crashes in just as quickly. “I can’t…” you whisper, shaking your head. “I came here with my friends. Thor won’t let me just disappear.”  

Bucky’s jaw tightens, and for a split second, there’s something dangerous flickering behind his eyes. “I don’t take no for an answer, doll.”  

Before you can protest, his lips are on yours again, stealing your breath, your words, your logic. You feel his arm tighten around your waist, holding you close, keeping you in his orbit.  

What you don’t see is the way he locks eyes with Steve over your shoulder. There’s a silent exchange, a plan forming without words. Steve nods subtly, a smirk tugging at his lips as if he knows exactly what Bucky is thinking.  

You’re too lost in the kiss to notice.  

You try to pull away, your hands pressing lightly against Bucky’s chest, but he doesn’t let you go. Instead, he tilts his head, a playful yet dangerous glint in his blue eyes. “You think I’m stupid, don’t you?” he says, his voice low and laced with something that makes your stomach twist.  

Your eyes widen in surprise. “What? No, of course not!”  

Bucky hums, unconvinced, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your waist. “Then why won’t you come with me? You think I can’t take care of you?”  

The guilt hits you like a truck, and you immediately shake your head, your voice softer now. “Bucky, that’s not it at all. It’s just… my friends. Thor won’t let me go that easily, and I don’t want to worry them.”  

Bucky stares at you for a beat, then his lips curl into a smile, his hands sliding up to cup your face. He leans in, his forehead resting against yours, and makes a face, his eyes wide, mouth open like he’s about to devour you whole.  

You burst into laughter, swatting at his chest. “Stop that, you’re ridiculous!”  

He grins, his thumbs gently stroking your cheeks. “But you love it,” he teases.  

Your laughter fades into a soft smile, and for a moment, you forget everything else. But what you don’t see is the way Bucky’s eyes flick over your shoulder, locking onto Steve.  

Behind your back, Steve nods, the plan silently set into motion.  

And just like that, you’re already one step closer to exactly where Bucky wants you.  

Just as you’re starting to relax in Bucky’s hold, a familiar voice cuts through the moment.  

“There you are!” Wanda’s voice is laced with amusement and just a hint of suspicion. She strides over, her eyes flickering between you and Bucky with a knowing smirk. “Come on, we’re not letting you disappear just yet.”  

You sigh, reluctantly stepping back, but Bucky doesn’t let you go so easily. His hand stays wrapped around your wrist, and he tilts his head at you with a playful pout. “You really think I’m stupid, don’t you?”  

You blink in confusion. “What?”  

He leans in, voice dripping with faux hurt. “That’s why you’re not coming with me. You think I’m some idiot who can’t handle Thor.”  

Wanda laughs, crossing her arms. “It’s not about you, Barnes. Thor’s just… let’s say, protective about his friends.” She glances at you. “Right, dear?”  

You nod quickly, grateful for Wanda’s backup. “Exactly. I don’t want to cause drama.”  

Bucky smirks, but there’s something sharp beneath it, something calculating. “Drama? Doll, I’m all about drama.”  

You roll your eyes, about to respond when Wanda grabs your hand. “Come on, let’s go.”  

Just as you turn to leave, something shifts in the air. Steve, who had been lingering nearby, subtly moves into position, blocking Thor and Natasha’s view of you both. The timing is perfect.  

Bucky doesn’t let go of your wrist. Instead, he pulls you back suddenly, spinning you right into him. “Not so fast…” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear.  

Your heart stutters in your chest, but before you can process what’s happening, Steve casually bumps into Wanda with a distracted, “Sorry, miss.” causing her to stumble and momentarily break her grip on your hand.  

In that split second of distraction, Bucky tugs you further into the crowd, his grip firm but playful, as if daring you to resist.  

“Bucky…” you start, but his grin is all you get in response.  

Steve watches from a distance, arms crossed and an amused look on his face. The plan was working.  

And deep down, despite the warnings ringing in your head, you don’t really want to stop him.  

“Bucky, what are you doing?” you whisper, breathless as he pulls you deeper into the crowd. The flashing lights dance across his face, highlighting the mischief in his blue eyes.  

Instead of answering, he leans in and kisses you. Soft at first, teasing, before deepening it with a possessive edge that makes your knees weak. Your hands instinctively grip his shoulders to steady yourself, but your mind is screaming at you to get back to Wanda and Thor.  

When he finally pulls away, his lips brush against yours as he murmurs, “Still wanna leave?”  

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to regain control. “I have to go…” you insist, your voice lacking the conviction you wish it had. “Wanda and Thor are looking for me.”  

Bucky’s grip tightens just slightly, his fingers tracing over your wrist. “Stay.” he says simply, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.  

You shake your head, trying to find your footing in this whirlwind. “Bucky, I can’t just…”  

He tilts his head, watching you closely, and then with that signature smirk, he says, “Just for a little while. We’ll stay in the club, I promise.”  

Your resolve wavers, the intensity in his gaze making it impossible to think straight. After a moment, you sigh in defeat. “Fine. Only in the club.”  

Bucky’s lips twitch in victory. “Good girl.”  

But what you don’t realize is that Bucky’s promise means nothing, not when he’s already made up his mind. While you’re distracted, his eyes flick over your shoulder to where Steve stands near the bar. A single nod passes between them, silent and calculated.  

You may think you’re staying, but Bucky has other plans.  

Just as you begin to relax in Bucky’s presence, the music pounding in your chest like a second heartbeat, a familiar voice cuts through the haze.  

“There you are,” Thor’s deep voice rumbles from behind you. His expression is firm but not unkind as he reaches for your arm. “It’s time to go home, Sweets.”  

You glance up at Bucky, feeling the tension in the air shift. For a second, you consider arguing, just a little, but something about the way Thor is looking at you makes you nod instead. “Alright, you say softly.  

Bucky’s jaw tenses, but he doesn’t stop you. Not yet.  

Just as you turn to follow Thor, Bucky appears at your side, holding out two glasses. “One for the road?” he offers, his voice smooth, his smile disarming. He hands one glass to Thor and one to you.  

Thor eyes Bucky suspiciously before taking a sip. You hesitate for a moment, but under Bucky’s expectant gaze, you take a small sip too.  

Before you know it, Bucky has his hand on your lower back, steering you gently away from the dancefloor. “C’mon, just for a second,” he says, his voice low and persuasive. “One last moment before you run off.”  

You follow him, oblivious to the subtle exchange of glances between him and Steve.  

The club lights flash around you, and you’re too caught up in the conversation to notice Thor’s steps faltering behind you. Steve quietly steps in, keeping Thor distracted just long enough for Bucky to guide you further away.  

It isn’t until you reach the quieter edge of the club, near the exit, that you realize something is off.  

“Bucky,” you say, blinking as you look around. “Where are we going?”  

Bucky smirks, his hand firm around yours. “Told you, doll. I don’t take no for an answer.”  

Panic rises in your chest, and you yank your hand away, taking a step back. “I have to go back to my friends.”  

Bucky doesn’t let you get far. He grabs your wrist again, his grip just tight enough to make your heart race for an entirely different reason. “Apologize,” he says, his voice lower now, laced with something darker. “For trying to leave me.”  

Your pulse hammers in your ears, and suddenly, the warmth in his eyes seems a little more dangerous. “Bucky…” you whisper, trying to pull free, but he refuses to let go.  

Behind you, Steve stands with his arms crossed, his smirk never fading. He knows exactly how this will play out.  

Your heart pounds as you take a step back from Bucky, trying to create some distance, but you don't get far. Your back collides with something solid, someone solid.  

Steve.  

His arms snake around your waist, holding you firmly against him. You freeze as he rests his chin lightly on top of your head, his breath fanning over your hair. The casual intimacy of the gesture makes your stomach twist, and you can feel the smug satisfaction radiating off him.  

Bucky watches the scene unfold with a lazy smile, his eyes dark with amusement. “Relax, doll,” he murmurs, stepping closer. “I already told you, you’re my girl now.”  

You shake your head, your voice shaky but firm. “Bucky, you promised. You said we’d stay in the club.”  

Bucky’s grin widens, his fingers reaching out to brush against your cheek. “Yeah, well... there’s been a slight change in the promise.”  

You stiffen, your mind racing. Steve's arms tighten subtly, his hold secure but not forceful. Yet.

It’s clear he’s enjoying this, the way his body presses against yours, his voice a low murmur in your ear. “You’re way too tense,” he says with a chuckle. “Loosen up, doll.”  

You swallow hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “Thor will come looking for me...”  

Bucky’s expression softens into something almost pitying. “Thor?” He tilts his head. “Sweetheart, he won’t be coming for you.”  

Your brows furrow. “What do you mean?”  

Steve chuckles from behind you, his grip tightening just slightly as if to keep you in place. “Let’s just say... he’s taking a nap.”  

Your stomach drops. “What did you do?”  

Bucky waves a dismissive hand. “Nothing too bad, doll. He’s fine. Just a little... distracted.” His smirk deepens. “That means it’s just us now.”  

Your pulse races as realization sinks in. They had planned this from the beginning.  

Steve finally releases you, only to grab your hand with a firm grip, and Bucky takes your other hand, his thumb stroking over your skin in a way that feels both soothing and possessive. Together, they lead you toward the exit.  

You glance back over your shoulder, searching for a way out, for Wanda, Natasha, anyone, but the crowd of strangers swallows the dancefloor whole, and just like that, you’re outside.  

Under the cool night air, Bucky leans in, his lips grazing your ear. “Told you, doll. No one’s taking you from me. You are my girl now!”  

Taglist- @imyourbratzdoll @blackhawkfanatic @ordelixx @sapphirebarnes @ilovetaquitosmmmm

@differenttyphoonwerewolf @vicmc624 @thezombieprostitute @nekoannie-chan

@mrvl-addict @mercurial-chuckles

@emerald-writes @caplanbuckybarnes

@redbloodedgurl @cjand10 @chemtrails-club @slutforchrisjamalevans @gracescor3

@ghostlythinggoingaround @princezzjasmine @3xclusivemariii @ephemeral-oasis @zuri-767-666

@geeky-politics-46 @dexter99 @calwitch

@caplanreblogsfics @winterslove1917

@pono-pura-vida @renegadesgirl1991 @iwudbutnah @ghalouha @sebastians-love @saranghaey @greatmistakes @baw1066

@bucks-babe @lolzies123r @kandis-mom @purplecolordeer @avioletkurt

@pattiemac1 @lovely-geek @hzdhrtss @kpopgirlbtssvt

[theyluvpeach]

too high to care.

you and chris smoke together, stuff ensues. client!chris x dealer!reader blurb!!

warnings.ᐟ.ᐟ: not connected to your vibes are off. sub!chris... you saw this coming. softdom! reader. bj. praise. use of ma. thas it :)

He's so screwed. The only reason he's in your apartment is because Matt said he was busy, so you extended his invitation onto him. He just wanted to relax a little bit is all, but as he stepped foot into your apartment, he remembered even though that you annoy him you're hot as hell.

How is he supposed to focus on you telling him what you're putting in the joint if your panties are peeking out from your shorts? They're pink with lace that he'd love to run his finger along—

"Chris!"

"Huh?"

"You're not even listening to me! I could be putting whatever in this."

"Nah. You're not evil enough for that." You roll your eyes. His heart feels like it's going to jump out of his chest. He's so glad you didn't catch him staring.

Everything was going well. You guys passed the joint back and forth a few times, and surprisingly, you aren't someone who's super talkative when they're high. The most you did was stare at him from your side of the couch and giggle whenever he asked why you were staring.

"Chris?"

He looks to you. "You're pretty." You mumble. "You're high as fuck."

"I have a high tolerance." You say, slowly crawling towards him. It makes him gulp.

Your shift lifts off your chest, giving him the perfect view of your lacy pink bra— A matching set? Are you trying to kill him?

"Like... really pretty." You say, pausing your movements and stopping in front of him, just for a moment to stare at him, before you're settling in his lap.

His hands find themselves on your hips.

"Kid." Comes out weak and breathless. "Has someone ever called you pretty before?"

"...no." it'd be a whisper if you guys weren't so close. "I'll do it more often then." You say, moving to take off his hood, he stops you. "What are you doing?" He searches your eyes, trying to find an answer for all your actions.

"I wanna see something."

This time, he lets you take off his hood. You give him a smirk before you start running your hands through your hair. "What are you—"

"S all tangled....just let me." He shuts up quickly, flushing as you comb your hair hands through his hair. He flushes.

"Are you blushing?"

"Shut... shut up." It makes you giggle, making him even more embarrassed. He's not used to this, gentle treatment. It's different....a good different.

"Chris." You say, tilting his head to meet your gaze. "Wha-" is all Chris gets out before you're kissing him. Before your hands are slipping under his hoodie and touching his chest, he lets out a soft moan. He feels you smile against his lips.

You're both high, and even though you say you have a high tolerance, he doesn't know how much he believes you because of how red your eyes are. You guys shouldn't be doing this.

But, even then, he still lets you pull his hoodie over his head as he lets out soft pants. "So pretty, Chris." You mumble, shifting your position so you can kiss down his stomach.

His cock twitches in sweatpants. The praise, the kisses. Its too much for his brain to handle. "Mhn- wait— Kid—" He stutters out, grabbing your hair to make you look at him.

"Hey—" How is he supposed to resist you when your lips are jutted out, so dangerously close to the bludge in his sweatpants? "......you really want this, huh?"

"Wanna make you feel good." He bites his lip. He's imagined those words leaving your mouth so many times it's humiliating, "Do you want....?" You ask, tilting your head at him.

Of course he does. He nods. "Cmon. Use your big boy words."

".....want you to make me feel good." The way you smile at him makes him wanna cum right then and there. "Good boy." Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

An embarrassing, needy whine escapes from his lips. He's turning to putty in your hands. You press a soft kiss to his bulge before slipping off the couch onto your knees, making him throw his head back.

"You're so pretty," He can't take the way you're cooing at him, the way you're looking at him with red, lust filled eyes. "So, so, pretty for me, baby." He hisses as his cock slaps against his stomach, finally being freed from his precum stained boxers.

This is all so new. He's never not been the one in control in the bedroom, but here he is. Letting out whimpers because you're calling him pretty.

His hand finds its way back into your hair as you press sloppily kisses up his length. "Y-you're killin' me here, kid—" When you finally make it to his tip, his hips buck against your mouth. He can't take this anymore. He's so hard it hurts.

"Please." He says, low and whiney. "Please?" You tease him. "Do anything, please, please."

You continue your taunting kisses, "I am." He squirms under your touch. "N-no— you're teasing me."

"I'm not," You say, completely letting go of his weeping cock. "You want me to get you off? Use your words." Chris looks at you with teary eyes.

"Suck me off, use your hands—God, do anything just make me cum, please? Please?" The smirk he receives is devilish. "That wasn't so hard was it?"

Chris whines. "Ma, please." You decide to take pity on him, stroking him. "Ah....go...d..." His eyes roll into the back of his head. "Feel good?" He moans loudly. "Y...yeah—"

When you take him into your mouth, he almost screams. "H-holy shit— Wai— wait—" He moans, grabbing at the couch cushions. You eye him, watching the way his face contorts in pleasure.

"If you keep— doing—t-that! M- m gonna cum—!" You hum around his cock, taking him deeper in your mouth. Before you pull off, watching his spit-slicked cock leak pre-cum. "Already?" You say, going back to stroking him.

The tears that pooled in his eyes, escape. You tilt your eyes at him. "You've never been treated like this...have you, Chris?"

"N....no." He chokes out, being interrupted by a loud moan. The way your eyes twinkle at his words makes him bite his cheek. "M gonna make you cum," He watches you press a kiss to his tip, again, as you stroke him. His hips buck against your lips. "But you gotta beg first."

Beg....? Beg? You want him to beg? Chris has never begged in his life. Saying please is one thing, begging on the other hand—

"No!" You stop stroking him. He whines at the loss. "C'mon, Pretty Boy. If you don't beg you're not gonna cum."

He hates you. He hates you so much. "I...please? Needa cum.... Been...been a good boy, haven't I?" He mumbles, his cheeks turning as red as cherry tomatos. He almost screams when you start stroking him again, "There ya go, Pretty."

"Cum— cum— I-I—" His eyes roll back into his head once more, "Gonna!"

You take him into your mouth again, and that's his last straw. "C-cumming!" You keep your lips wrapped around his cock until you're sure he's done cumming, it's a rough swallow.

You're sure if he came anymore, you would've started choking. You press a soft kiss to his inner thigh, and he pants looking at you with hazy eyes.

"You alright, Pretty?"

"I....shut.....mokay." He mutters. You stand up, "Gonna get you a towel n clean you up." He nods slowly before his eyes flutter shut.

He's asleep when you come back.

tags 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚: @inspiredangel @whore4mattsturniolo @dominiqueansel-blog @sosasturns