#i don’t want to have to bite this shift but that’s seemingly my only option

[drowningbpdbodies]

🎶 So what I’m gonna do now is freak the freak out (anxiety version)

[dirtytomatoedwrites]

THE RESIGNATION

Summary: You can quit. It doesn't mean Rafe will let you.

Paring: CEO!Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

Strictly 18+ No Minors to Interact

Warnings:  18+ Smut. Oral (w receiving) Masturbation (w), Rough Sex, PIV, Creampie, Fluff, Romance with a dash of Angst. AgedUp!Rafe. Not Proof-Read. Enjoy.

Word Count: 2k words

Author's Note: Something a little shorter, lighter and sweet. Happy reading and much love to you all ❤️

Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Please don’t steal or copy bits of my writing or any writing from other writers cause karma will get ya.

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*Buzzzzzzzzz*

“Yes.”

“Y/N is here to see you.”

“Send her in.”

Rafe watches in fascination as you shuffle in, your face taut and serious. Your eyes cast downward, clutching a file. As you tuck an unruly strand of hair behind your ear, he realizes you're nervous. The tension, his silence, makes you even more anxious.

“Sit,” he instructs, motioning to the chair across his desk. Meanwhile, he keeps his gaze on his papers. He continues to read and leisurely sign forms. Yet, he can distinctly feel your eyes on him, both of you fully aware of the meeting's purpose.

For Rafe, the dynamics at play are exhilarating. After finishing his tasks, he lifts his eyes to find you focused on your file, seemingly avoiding his gaze.

He unbuttons his suit jacket and leans back, his fingers drum lightly on the fine-crafted letter in front of him. The paper carries a soft hint of perfume. It smells like you.

There's a part of him that wishes to be cruel, to use biting words he's often used with others in his employ. Yet something about you prevents him. The game of power was always in his favor, but with you, the boundaries become ambiguous, shifting in unexpected ways. With you, it's always been personal.

“Why didn't you tell me you were unhappy?” he asks. His tone is calm, yet probing. You seem taken aback, eyes widening as they search his face.

He decides to try another approach. “It's clear to me now,” he points to your letter of resignation. “You were unhappy at Cameron Enterprises. How long have you felt this way?”

Your surprise is palpable, and he watches you closely, enjoying the tapestry of emotions that flash across your face, each one more captivating than the last.

“Well?” he prods.

You shift, straightening your back. “I am grateful for my time at Cameron Enterprises. Truly I am. The team has been so kind to me, and I'll honestly cherish the friends I've made—”

“But?” he asks, cutting you off, eager to understand.

“But, I believe it's time for me to pursue other opportunities,” you admit, measuring your words. You slowly nod your head, as though you have thought this whole thing out, and now you are not only resolved with the thought but you truly believe it. It’s this sureness, this resolution, that truly makes Rafe react.

“I see,” Rafe says as he presses a button, making the office walls turn opaque. "So, you think you've outgrown us."

“No—”

"No?" he interrupts, rising from behind his desk and walking slowly toward you.

"No. I just- I feel it's time for me to try something... new.”

"Something new," he repeats, his gaze lowers to meet yours while you look up at him. His eyes scrutinize you carefully. “I respect that,” he nods, and as you avert your gaze, he gently hooks your chin with his fingers, prompting you to look him in the eye.

“No, really. I do. What's the point of life if not to grow, right? But let me be crystal clear: leaving here is not an option. So, here's what I'm willing to offer," his voice is as smooth as honey as his thumb strokes your jaw. "First, a five percent raise. But seeing as you’re already on one of the highest salaries here, I suspect that won't really sway you. You’ll also be given a new title.”

"Raf—"

"And to sweeten the deal," Rafe interrupts, "a vacation to any destination you want. You'll be whisked away on the company jet, stay at a five-star, luxury hotel—every need pampered and taken care of. I'll see to that, and we'll get to that, but here's the thing—" he whispers, his voice low and seductive.

"You embarrassed me today—ah, ah, I'm talking," he asserts, his eyes commanding yours into silence. "If it were anyone else, anyone else, no one would have noticed or given a flying fuck. But since it’s you, your little resignation created a lot of gossip. It made us look weak, hinted at instability, and in a Fortune 500 company, that's not going to work. Do you think the board cares about your need to ‘try something new'? Hm," his gaze is drawn to your mouth as you clamp it shut.

"So for those reasons, I'm going to punish you,”he says, while his thumb gently taps your chin. "But how to punish you...” he muses. “That’s the real question.”

Pulling away, he slides his hands into his pockets and, after taking a few steps back, leans against his desk.

"Rafe, you know I was just— I mean I wasn’t trying to—”

"Spare me, all right? I'm not interested in hearing what you have to say. Not right now. What I want..." he said slowly as he tapped a finger to his chest "What I want, is for you to open your legs, yeah? That's what I want."

You're shocked — he gathers as much from the way you gulp, and Rafe can't help but let a smirk of self-satisfaction curl his lips.

"Don't look so surprised. You knew what working for me entailed when you agreed to it. Now, spread your legs. Let me see what I'm shelling out nearly half a mil for."

"Rafe, I… I" you murmur.

Crossing his arms, his gaze locks onto yours signalling the end of the discussion. Hesitantly, and with much caution, you eventually slide your legs apart, your skirt riding up ever so slightly.

"Wider," Rafe commands, "Lean back and open them wider."

Breathing heavily, you do as he asks. Leaning back against the chair, you spread your legs open fully, causing your skirt to ride up to your waist, revealing your panty-covered sex. The damp patch, dark against the bright red fabric teases him.

"Pull your panties to the side. Let me see how wet you are.” he whispers silkily.

You turn your head away shyly but eventually you hook a finger into the fabric and pull it aside, exposing your slick wet folds to his ravenous gaze.

Rafe smiles in approval.

"That's good." he purrs, "Now, touch yourself. That pussy looks like it needs a good fingering " his voice rumbles with authority as his gaze flickers from your face to your exposed weeping slit. You hesitate, breathing heavily while trying to form a protest.

"I… I'm not—"

"Do it," he interrupts firmly.

You hesitate for a few moments, but eventually obey by pushing a finger into your dripping sex. A moan escapes your lips when Rafe lets out a deep groan as encouragement. Your hesitation seems to disappear and you push another finger in.

"Fuck," he hisses. "Add another. I know you can handle it."

You nod slowly and introduce a third, while the middle finger of your other hand gently rub your clit. Sinking into the sensation you open your legs wider for more access, your fingers moving hard and fast.

Rafe groans in protest. “Go slow...This isn’t for you. It’s about what I want, and what I want is for you to tease yourself. You're not allowed to cum. Not yet. Not until I say.”

You whimper but follow his command. You slow your speed til it's teasing almost leisurely and Rafe soaks it all in. The jolts of pleasure that have you mewling, the way your chest rises and fall, breathless, desperate. The way you curl your fingers just enough to make you gasp. It's incredible to watch and as your hips begin to buck against your massaging fingers, Rafe finds himself looming over you, taking in the sight of your ecstasy-filled face and finger-stuffed pussy.

He leans in and kisses you. His tongue lashes yours, tasting your moans and desperation. He pulls away, eyes back on your wet centre, focused on your fingers moving in and out, accompanied by the sweet wet sounds it makes and your hips rising from the chair.

"Go on, make that pussy cum." he orders. In no time, your orgasm washes over you. He can see it build from your core as you shudder and your thighs shake, your breath hitches fighting to stave it off and then it radiates out from the depths of your soul in a moan of pure ecstasy.

Before you can catch your breath, Rafe pushes your hand away and laps at your essence with his tongue. His hands on the back of your knees, push your legs right to your chest, keeping it wide open as he tongue fucks you.

Eating you out was always an appetizer he savored, making sure you had cum at least twice from his efforts, but right now, with his blood boiling with anger and frustration, he's famished and desperate for the main course.

Urgently, he undoes his slacks and lifts your legs even higher, pinning your ankles above your head with one hand. Without giving you time to adjust, he smears his cock with your slick and plunges deep into your tight heat, pressing you into the chair with his body weight as he begins to pound you.

It's a painful position, and he's acutely aware of that. It's deep and aggressively forceful, the type of position that should be approached with care, or ease you gently into it. But right now, it's not about you. Right now he's too riled up to care and so he fucks you without remorse or restraint, reducing you to nothing more than a fuck toy- his fuck toy spurred on by the delicious moans that escape your parted lips.

Your hands cling to the armrests for dear life as you desperately try to maintain your balance. Rafe continues to slam his hips against the back of your thighs, taking pleasure in your inability to move while he plows you deep. You whimper, desperate to escape his grip, but it does nothing to deter him. Instead, he revels in your struggle, knowing that your lack of control will only intensify his orgasm and your own.

"You want to quit..." Rafe sneers. He watches you whimper and feels your pussy tighten like a vice, while simultaneously soaking the front of his slacks. It makes him feral and he redoubles his efforts, fucking you into the chair until it starts to scrape against the cherry-oak floor.

"You want to quit on me?" he strains, while he observes ecstasy wash over your face, your eyes roll back in a pleasure-filled awe. With one hand, he gently taps your cheek to keep you focused.

"You wanna quit on me? Huh?” And he leans in further, his cock repeatedly hits a spot so deep you’re shaking, babbling and barely coherent.

“You're not going anywhere. Not now, not ever," he grunts, "Now fucking cum. Fucking cum.” His ruthless demand pushes you higher until all inhibitions are obliterated. You scream out in surrender, bucking up onto his plundering cock while Rafe releases a guttural moan, filling you with ribbon after ribbon of thick cum.

Several minutes have passed when his movements gradually stops, signaling the ebbing of his energy. He's exhausted, his fervor having reached its climatic end. He pulls out, his balance wavering slightly until his back meets the glass desk behind him. A contented exhale escapes his lips as he takes in the sight of you.

There you are, looking thoroughly fucked out. Your legs are splayed open, a sheen of sweat glistens on your skin, reflecting the aftermath of passion. His cum slowly leaks out of you and you wear it like a carnal badge of honor. Observing your state, he’s acutely aware that his own appearance mirrors yours—fucked out and messy. His clothes is in disarray, his cock is hanging out and physical exhaustion makes his body seek support against the table.

Despite the disheveled scene, a wave of affection swells within him, washing over any remnants of his earlier anger. His chest heaves as he gulps in air, attempting to control his breathing.

"You're lucky I love you," he manages to say, each word punctuated by his effort to recover. His gaze locks onto yours, intense yet softened by the rush of emotions. "No one else has this infuriating, intoxicating effect on me. You drive me to the brink and back," he adds, a playful seriousness lacing his tone as he licks his lips. "For that little stunt, I should fire you," he teases.

Your fingers glide through the cum dripping from your sex, and Rafe can't suppress a sense of pride. He always takes pride in the chaos he creates, especially when you revel in it.

"I've been trying to talk to you, but you've been so distracted lately, you haven't been listening" you sigh, as you try to catch your breath. "What else was I supposed to do to get your attention? Hand me some tissues, will you?"

He pauses, his eyes narrowing as he digests your words, then reaches with a trembling hand for the tissue box on his desk. "When? When did you try to talk to me and I wasn't listening?" he asks. He takes a clump of tissues and hands them to you.

"This morning at breakfast, and last night during dinner. I barely started speaking before you turned the conversation back to contractors and deadlines and even when I gave you a solution, not just one Rafe but two- two concrete solutions you ignored me. It was like I wasn't even there. It's not the first time." you explain, accepting the tissues from him.

"I didn't realize—"

"You did," you interrupt, ensuring your eyes stay fixed on his to underline your statement. "Why do you think I kept singing the song about wanting to make some changes, wanting to try something new. I've been saying it for weeks on and off because this is clearly not working."

“I thought you were talking about remodeling the offices, not resigning from the company. It's a family business—how would it look if my wife quits?" His voice carries a hint of concern, not just for the optics but for the unspoken bond that this business represents between the two of you.

A soft sigh escapes you as you lock eyes with him, a delicate blend of frustration and affection. "Rafe, I don't want to walk away from this," you admit "But I need more than just a title and a desk. I need to feel heard, to be part of this with you, not just in name because I'm married to a Cameron. I want to be a part of the decisions and changes we dare to dream up together."

Rafe's eyes hold yours, a moment of realization dawning upon him. "I see you," he says quietly, the weight of his oversight apparent in his tone. "I'm sorry I wasn't listening. Do you really want to leave? Is that what you truly want?"

His question, earnest and laced with vulnerability, hangs between you, but you shake your head gently. "No, I don't want to leave, Rafe. I just want... more. More involvement, more acknowledgment, and yes, maybe even a little more attention. But leaving? No. This place, with all its madness, is where I belong."

He exhales, the relief evident in the way his shoulders drop slightly, the rigid line of worry softening around his eyes. "Thank fuck for that," he says with a hushed intensity. "Because I can't imagine doing any of this without you. But let's agree on no more 'resignation stunts' in the future, yeah? It's bad press and only makes for bad business—besides, I doubt my heart can take it."

You nod, agreeing, a mischievous glint in your eye as if to say you’ll find another effective way to get right under his skin, because in the end you always do. “Fine. But for the record, I do have some ideas for my office too."

He laughed, the sound rich and warm, and he pulled you into a messy, loving kiss. "We'll discuss it at home, Mrs. Cameron. For now, let's get you cleaned up, yeah?"

"Speak for yourself. You're the one with your dick hanging out."

With a shared laugh and a sweaty kiss, you both begin the task of putting the office—and yourselves—back together, the line between professional and personal wonderfully blurred.

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A/N - See guys I can do sweet 😈 I tried to keep the reveal until the end shhhh 🤭 Thanks for reading x If you enjoyed it please reblog as it supports writers. Until next time ❤️

[ginnsbaker]

Bulletproof

Summary: You're the only Avenger who sleeps in a cell. | Series Masterlist

Word count: 2.9k+ | Tags: Mild Angst, Fluff, Sharing A Bed, Enemies to Lovers

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Gender Neutral Reader

Requested by anon:

could i maybe request wanda x r where the whole team kinda mistreats them and wanda is especially bad. & r saving wanda on a mission, with this: wanda: “How'd you know you were bulletproof?" r: "I didn't. I just knew that you weren't."

Author's note: Thank you to the anon who requested this :) Not sure if this is exactly how you wanted it, but I had fun writing the battle (my first time!) Hope you don't mind I took some liberties ;) Takes place before Civil War.

--

“You don’t have to be so mean to them,” Natasha tells her. 

Wanda's eyes narrow as she continues to fixate on you, her glare seemingly willing the daggers to find their mark. You can sense the energy of her powers tingling in the air, but she maintains control, stopping the daggers just short of their target.

“They need to know what they’re up against,” Wanda retorts, her accent slipping through in a rare moment. “If they’re going to be one of us, they have to prove themselves.”

Natasha moves to stand between you and Wanda, her body language calm but assertive. “They will, in time. But not like this.”

You can feel your heart pounding, but you refuse to let Wanda see any fear in your eyes. Your choice to leave your former life and join this team wasn't made lightly, and you won't be intimidated.

“I'm right here,” you say, stepping forward. “And I'm not going anywhere. If you want to test me, do it properly.”

Wanda smirks, and the daggers drop to the floor, clattering loudly in the silence. “Impressive,” she says, almost as an afterthought.

Steve Rogers, observing from the sidelines, steps in to defuse the situation. His authoritative presence commands respect, and his voice is steady and even. “That's enough for today. We're a team, and we need to start acting like one.”

He looks at you, his eyes filled with understanding but also a hint of caution. “However,” he continues, his tone shifting, “You'll still be sleeping in the cells.”

Your heart plummets, each word from Steve feeling like a blade to your chest. Being sent back to that room, devoid of windows, with only a tiny bed and a comforter too thin to ward off the chill, feels like a betrayal every time. You've spent nights there, shivering and reflecting on your decision to join this team, yet still, you find yourself confined.

“After several months of captivity, even cooking your dinner, you still don't trust me?” you ask, trying to keep the hurt out of your voice.

Steve's expression softens, but his resolve remains firm. “It's not about trust,” he says quietly, his voice carrying a weight of experience and pain. “We've been crossed so many times before, mostly by former HYDRA agents.”

Like you, he doesn’t need to say.

You understand the logic, but it doesn't make the reality any easier to swallow. The sense of being an outsider, the cold isolation of the cells—it wears on you.

Wanda, who had been silent up to this point, suddenly speaks up. “Maybe you should just leave then. If it's so unbearable, why stay?”

The room goes quiet. 

A thousand retorts spring to your mind, but you swallow them down, unwilling to escalate the situation further. The temptation to throw back that it's rich coming from her, considering she's also a former footsoldier of HYDRA, is strong, but you bite your tongue. 

You look at her, stunned by the bluntness of her suggestion, but also recognizing the challenge in her eyes. 

Her words strike deeper than she may realize. Leaving isn't an option you've entertained, mainly because there's nowhere for you to go. No one left in your life to turn to. This makeshift “family” despite their reservation and distance, is all you have.

-

The days that follow are marked by a subtle but relentless isolation. 

In the training room, Wanda's partnership becomes more aggressive than usual. Her powers lash out without warning, her critiques sharp and cutting. You hold your own, but the lack of camaraderie is palpable. Each comment she makes stings, and with every barb, you feel more and more alone.

At meal times, the rest of the Avengers seem to be in their own world, deep in conversation, sharing stories, laughing. You sit at the end of the table, your presence barely acknowledged, a shadow among them. Your attempts to join in are met with curt replies or indifference. You try to brush it off, believing that you should be used to rejection by now. But no matter how much you tell yourself that you're accustomed to it, that you've developed a thick skin, the pain is still there, raw and fresh.

Mission briefings are no better. Your opinions and insights are consistently overlooked. You contribute where you can, but your ideas are dismissed without consideration. You are a tool, a means to an end, not a part of the team. The realization gnaws at you, festering in the pit of your stomach.

Casual encounters with the team become equally disheartening. Tony passes you in the hallway without so much as a glance. Natasha avoids eye contact. Bruce mumbles something noncommittal when you try to engage him in conversation. Steve's assignments are devoid of the warmth or encouragement he shows to everyone else.

Your cell becomes a constant reminder of your status, metaphor for how the entire team treats you. 

You’re both just a weapon and a first-aid kit at their disposal.

Wanda is relentless, her words sharp and her gaze cold. You have no idea why she treats you worse than any of them, why her manner towards you has turned so hostile. You don't understand why you get under her skin without even trying, why she seems to target you with a venom that feels deeply personal.

You were expecting that Wanda would be the one to understand what it feels like to be an outsider, given that you both share a common history as former HYDRA agents. 

As the days turn into weeks, the isolation wears you down. The walls of your cell seem to close in, and a growing determination to prove yourself begins to take hold. 

You'll show them all that you're more than just a disposable weapon.

But underlying that determination is a gnawing doubt, a fear that no matter what you do, it will never be enough to earn their respect, their trust, or their friendship. It's a lonely road, and for the first time, you begin to wonder if Wanda's earlier suggestion might hold some truth.

Perhaps it would be easier to leave.

-

It’s not like you know the extent of your abilities, but they bring you along the most dangerous missions for one thing:

Your healing ability.

On top of your martial arts training, you provide a sense of security to your teammates, knowing that you'll be there to heal them if they get hurt.

Now, you find yourself on one such mission, infiltrating a den of underground supers. These aren't ordinary criminals; they're mercenaries hired to carry out the dirty work of high-ranking government officials. It's a treacherous job, one filled with unknown risks, and you've been paired with Wanda for the operation.

As you and Wanda are attempting to escape, things take a turn for the worse. You find yourselves cornered in an alley, your escape route cut off by a group of armed thugs and a few individuals displaying unnerving superpowers.

Wanda takes on those with special abilities, her eyes glowing red as she unleashes her powers in a flurry of attacks. You, on the other hand, focus on the armed assailants, wielding two-handed pistols with expert precision. Bullets fly, and bodies fall as you both fight for your lives.

But in the midst of the chaos, you notice something that sends a chill down your spine. Snipers, perched on a nearby rooftop, taking aim at Wanda. Even with your healing abilities, you know that a precise shot to the head would be fatal.

“Wanda, get down!” you shout, but she's too engrossed in her battle to hear you. Your mind races, knowing that you have only seconds to act. 

Without a second thought, you turn and run towards Wanda, your body moving on pure instinct. Bullets whiz by your ear, but you keep going, your focus solely on reaching her before it's too late.

You leap into the air, positioning yourself between Wanda and the snipers just as they pull the trigger. 

You hear the distant release of the bullet, muted but deadly.

The world seems to slow down as you brace for the impact, only to feel the bullets bounce off your skin.

You land, unscathed, your mind reeling from the realization that you're bulletproof. But there's no time to dwell on it.

Wanda looks at you, her eyes wide with shock but also gratitude. “How did you–”

“No time!” you cut her off, urging her to keep fighting. “We have to get out of here!”

Wanda's eyes flare with a vivid scarlet as she zeroes in on the snipers in the vicinity. With a flourish of her hands, she uses her powers to locate each of their positions. A pulse of energy emanates from her fingertips, reaching out to the snipers' weapons, and within moments, the firearms disintegrate into dust, leaving the men defenseless.

Seeing an opening, you reach for Wanda's arm, your grip firm but not rough. There's no time to waste, and you start pulling her towards the exit, half running, half dragging her to safety. Her breath is warm on your neck, her body close to yours, as you weave through the maze of alleyways, your heart pounding in your chest.

Once you're at a safe distance, Wanda turns to you. “How'd you know you were bulletproof?”

“I didn't,” you admit, still in disbelief, and much to Wanda’s horror that you almost got yourself killed for her sake. “I just knew you weren't. And if those bullets got to you, I wouldn't be able to heal someone who's already dead.”

Wanda stares at you, her eyes searching your face as if she's trying to see something… deeper. Her lips part, like she wants to say something more, something that's just on the tip of her tongue but won't come out.

That's when you realize that you're still holding her arm, your bodies so close that you can feel her heartbeat. A flush of embarrassment washes over you as you become aware of the intimate proximity. Wanda clears her throat, a delicate, almost shy sound, and you immediately let go of her arm.

The silence that follows your sudden step back is heavy and awkward. You can't help but glance at the spot where your hand had been moments ago, still feeling the ghostly sensation of her arm beneath your fingers.

You look at Wanda, and she's looking back at you, her eyes wide and filled with something you can't quite name. 

And then, without warning, Wanda starts to laugh.

It's a soft, bubbling sound at first, almost as if she's surprised by it herself. Her laughter grows, becoming louder and more contagious, and you can't help but stare at her, your mouth agape, wondering if she's lost her mind.

“What's so funny?” you finally manage to ask.

Wanda wipes a tear from her eye, still chuckling. “I was just thinking,” she says, her nose scrunching, something you haven’t seen on her and you find it quite… adorable. “You're like a shield now. As effective as Steve's vibranium one, maybe even more so.”

The absurdity of the statement causes you to finally join in her laugh, and your heart seems to flutter at the sound of Wanda's glee.

“I don't know about that,” you say, trying to sound modest but unable to keep the smile off your face. “Steve's shield has a bit more style.”

“Oh, I don't know,” Wanda teases, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “There's something quite stylish about being bulletproof. And practical too.”

Was that a compliment?

You shake your head, still smiling, your previous awkwardness forgotten. You're not only pleased at the first light banter you've shared with a teammate but also smiling at something else, something that stirs deep inside you and that you're not quite ready to confront.

Your crush on Wanda Maximoff.

-

The toll of the day's event is weighing down on you and Wanda, but like every mission, you're required to report the details of the mission–successful or not. Your muscles are sore, your mind is weary, but the mission was a success, and you can't help but feel a sense of accomplishment.

Arriving back at the Avengers compound, you follow Wanda into the debriefing room where Steve is waiting. Wanda explains what happened, how you discovered your newfound ability, and saved her life. Her voice is filled with respect and something more, something warmer, as she recounts your bravery.

Steve's face lights up with pride. “You both did well today. I'm proud of how you handled yourselves out there.”

You exchange a glance with Wanda, waiting for something more, perhaps some acknowledgment of your change in status within the team, or even an upgrade to your sleeping quarters. But instead, Steve simply nods, his face turning serious. “Dismissed.”

Wanda's face falls, and you feel a sharp pang of disappointment. You start to retreat towards your cell, the cold, windowless room that's been your home for months, but Wanda's voice stops you in your tracks.

“Wait a minute, Steve,” she protests. “After all that's happened, after all Y/N has done for us, don't you think it's time for a change? A real room, perhaps?”

Steve looks between you and Wanda. You hold your breath, hoping for a reprieve from the isolation you've been feeling.

Finally, Steve sighs, his face softening. “Wanda, if it were up to me, Y/N would have their own room already. But it's not that simple,” he explains, his voice strained. “I still need to place an official request with Tony. He's the one who approves these things.”

You can hear the frustration in Steve's voice, and you realize that he's fighting for you, in his own way.

“Fine,” Wanda says, crossing her arms. “But this needs to be done quickly, Steve. It's not right.”

“I agree. I'll talk to Tony first thing tomorrow.”

As you turn to leave and retreat back to your cell, Wanda's hand on your arm stops you, and you look back at her, surprised by the action.

“Come with me,” she says. Without another word, she leads you towards her quarters. 

Your heart quickens at her words, and you follow her, trying to process what's happening. 

Is she really inviting you to stay in her room?

Once inside her quarters, the reality of the situation sinks in, and a nervous tension takes hold. Her room is filled with personal touches–little trinkets, photographs, her clothes all over the place–that provide glimpses into a life you've only seen from a distance. You feel like an intruder, momentarily paralyzed as you take in the intimacy of her space.

Wanda seems to pick up on your hesitation, her eyes narrowing as she studies you. A smirk plays on her lips as she teases, “Don't look so terrified. I won't bite.”

You chuckle at her remark. “Well, that's a relief.”

Wanda's eyes sparkle with amusement, and she moves further into the room, gesturing for you to follow. “Make yourself at home,” she says. She then goes to the closet and begins to pull out a spare pillow and blanket. “You'll be staying here with me until we sort out a room for you,” she says.

“Thanks, Wanda,” you say softly.

Without further comment, you move to make your bed on the floor, your movements deliberate and slow as you try to give her space and respect her privacy.

“What are you doing?” Wanda asks, her eyes widening as she realizes your intention.

“I'm just getting ready to sleep,” you explain, feeling slightly embarrassed. “I'm quite tired.”

“No, what are you doing on the floor?” she clarifies, a hint of disbelief in her voice. “You're sharing the bed with me.”

“I wouldn't want to impose,” you say, though the offer is tempting.

“You're not imposing,” Wanda assures you, her eyes sincere. “You've earned a proper bed, and I trust you.”

The word 'trust' hits you like a wave, and you feel tears pricking at the back of your eyes. 

Blinking them back, your voice cracks a little as you reply, “Thank you, Wanda. That means more to me than you know.”

“Good night, Y/N,” Wanda whispers, turning on her side to face you.

“Good night, Wanda,” you say, just as softly.

You both settle on the bed, and with a flick of her wrist, Wanda uses her powers to switch off the light.

The softness of Wanda's bed is worlds away from the harsh, unforgiving mattress in your cell. You find yourself sinking into the plush comfort, every muscle in your body releasing the tension from the dangerous mission earlier. The scent of Wanda on the pillows only adds to the incomparable comfort they provide. The difference is staggering, and it contributes to you falling asleep much more quickly than you have in a long time.

In the middle of the night, you're stirred awake by the feeling of Wanda rolling closer to you. Her arm finds its way over your stomach, and her soft snores fill the room. Being ever alert, the small action wakes you, but as soon as you realize it's just Wanda, a smile forms on your face.

You lie there for a moment, taking in the warmth and the gentle pressure of her hand. A soft blush creeps up your cheeks as you place your hand over hers to keep it there.

You've become more than just teammates.

You've become friends.

And maybe, just maybe, something more.

[alienaiver]

Proposals Plus One

Iwaizumi Hajime x gn!reader

warnings: spoilers and references to Godzilla Minus One, it is gender neutral but you are being proposed to ! <3 also iwa gives oikawa the finger if thats not ur thing wordcount: 2.4k content: FLUFF, proposals, genderneutral reader, poc!friendly and body positive reader, Childhood friends to lovers trope, SFW, No use of y/n, canon compliant, post-timeskip, one-shot, established relationship, use of honorifics (iwa-chan is the only one, by oikawa of course), this was supposed to be a drabble hi, also oikawa appears at 5ish am in argentina, i salute him for his dedicated friendship

notes: when i describe iwaizumi watching the movie i basically just described myself LMFAO!!! anyways.. i wanted this to be a let-iwaizumi-experience-my-favorite-movie but it turned into... this! i hope u enjoy heheh <:) <33 PLEASE enjoy my title pun as a reference to Godzilla Minus One!!!!!

Iwaizumi’s hands are not still for more than a few seconds at a time during the little more than two hours you spend in the cinema. They shift between grasping onto his soda or taking the popcorn from you – only to put them back onto your lap, or grasp onto your hand like his life depends on it. Especially during the big, cinematic scenes. When Godzilla starts to charge the atomic beam attack, you hear him take a sharp intake and lean into you, like he really can’t contain his own mortal vessel.

It’s really cute.

You’re glad he brought you along with him, even if you’d been hesitant to begin with.

“Oikawa always goes with you,” you tried to argue, “I don’t want to take his spot.”

Iwaizumi had lowered his gaze and tried to hide his expression when he admitted that Oikawa wouldn’t be in Japan for the release. You genuinely thought he would, so you couldn’t hide the surprise at the admission. “So… you’re not imposing yourself.” he’d grunted afterwards and got up from the dining table, “but you don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

Whenever there’s a big action scene, like when Noriko falls from the open and destroyed train free-fall into a pool of water or when Godzilla destroys the cinema, he leans forward in his seat before he looks at you and even through a dim cinema with lights only emitting from the screen, you can see the stars reflecting in his eyes, his mouth open in a smile you don’t see often on him. Like he can’t really believe what he’s seeing, and he’s checking with you to confirm it.

When the credits starts rolling and people start to leave, your boyfriend puts his palms on his temples as he uses a moment to process what he’s just seen. Then, very slowly like he’s edited into slow-motion he turns towards you. His eyes are wide and his mouth slack, but the more you get into view, the more the corners of his lips tugs upwards.

You laugh and grip his upper arm, squeeze it lightly, “was it everything you needed the 70th anniversary to be?”

The look he gives you is perplexed; almost like he can’t believe that you’re asking him that. He drags his hands down his face, dragging the skin with him and making a grimace, “what’s the time?” he then suddenly ask, real time seemingly catching up to his body as he hurries to check his watch.

“It’ll roll again at 6! That’s in 45 minutes! We can grab a quick bite and then”- he interrupts himself with a cough before he reminds himself and tenses his shoulders -”sorry, we have a reservation.”

You take him in for a minute, your underlip worried between your teeth as you weigh your options. The reservation isn’t important in and of itself; it’s just a small Yakiniku place that ended up being close to the cinema and you’re full from the popcorn and candy anyways.

You hum, dramatically as you pretend to be an actor for the effect. Iwaizumi’s already on his phone, checking the Google Maps route to the restaurant. You fish out your own phone and go to the cinema’s website to buy two new tickets. During the booking you see it’ll be shown in another of their screens, which only makes you smile mischievously.

When the booking’s confirmed, you start to get up with a sigh, “let’s talk about the movie at the restaurant, yeah?” you try to keep yourself neutral as to not give away your plan. Iwaizumi smiles and puts his arms through the sleeves of his light jean jacket. The summer heat is peaking, so he’d only worn it to have pockets.

You grab onto his hand and squeeze it as he gets up next to you, “thank you for coming with me, it means a lot.”

You kiss his him chaste on the lips before you start to drag him out. After you’ve both been by the bathroom, you pass by the snacks and tug at him, “can we go back in real quick? I really regretted not buying that chocolate bar when we browsed before the movie… please?”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes at you but smiles widely and follows you, his other hand already searching his pocket for his wallet.

You grab two different chocolate bars, one you know that he likes and your own favorite. Then you go to the soda aisle and pretend to think it through deeply. Iwaizumi’s eyebrow perks up at your behavior, “what do you need soda for? The restaurant will have drinks. If you want something specific we can pick it up on the way home.”

You shake your head and tighten your lips into a frown, “yeah but look! They have this fun variant of melon soda. Don’t you want to taste?” you point to the small sign next to it, “it’s cinema exclusive.”

Iwaizumi is never really able to say no to you, but he is perplexed about the behavior you’re exhibiting. You bite your lip as you give him a pleading look, fearing your luck’s running out. The puppy eyes makes him shake his head and grab two cups to fill. You kiss his cheek with a laugh.

With renewed drinks and snacks (minus the popcorn, you can still feel the kernels stuck to your teeth) you go to sit down by one of their benches, pretending to tie your laces. Iwaizumi sees that your laces aren’t untied, but he stays quiet.

When you sit back up with a satisfied grunt, you grab your phone from your purse and find the tickets, “look babe! We’re in the middle row seats!”

He squints to look properly at what you’re showing him, his nose crinkling in a way you think is adorable. You wish you’d had a second phone to secretly record this reaction. There’s nothing like it. Warmth and blood rises to his face and makes his ears bright red as his eyes widen, mouth hanging slack.

“What did you- how… when did you?” he asks, clutching at his hair with his free hand. You laugh, proud to see him with revived excitement, “I booked them right after. We’re going to have so many snacks that dinner can be a little later… I’d rather experience that with you than that restaurant!”

Iwaizumi pulls back from you a little with a laugh as he drags his hand over his mouth, suddenly looking unsure of himself. You tilt your head to the side. He says, “but that restaurant’s really… uh… special.” You sigh and reach out for his hand, “yeah but you’re more special to me. We can always go some other time, right?”

You’re suddenly afraid he doesn’t want to watch it again, that it was just the adrenaline of excitement making him say it back when the credits where rolling. He mutters unintelligible words under his breath before he mumbles an announcement, “well now’s a good as time as any.”

He then looks at you, the blush returning as he puts the drinks and snacks down next to yours on the bench, “I uh- I need to call Shittykawa real quick.”

Your eyebrow quirks up at that, but you nod. Maybe he wants to tell him about the movie before you watch it again; this used to be their thing growing up after all.

You sit back down on the bench and take out your phone, scrolling through social media as you wait for him to make his call. You’re surprised when the sound of a FaceTime call starts ringing through the air and Iwaizumi looks annoyed. It’s not an uncommon expression on him, so you’re not sure you’re able to decipher the meaning behind it right now.

“Iwa-chan? That’s early! Doesn’t it take 10 minutes to the restaurant?” Oikawa gasps on the other end, “no way, did you get cold feet!? Iwa-chan!!” he suddenly scolds and Iwaizumi grunts out a shut up and you assume point the camera towards you because Oikawa’s voice greets you, strained and perfectly polite. It’s eerily unnatural when acted towards you and not a fan. Confused, you just wave at him and Oikawa gasps again. “In the cinema? That wasn’t the plan at all! Did you already do it?” he continues on, and you make a grimace to Iwaizumi. What the hell is he talking about?

Iwaizumi snaps at Oikawa and hurriedly moves out of earshot from you, mumbling into the phone. Then he comes back with his back straightened´up and stiff, legs seemingly wobbly under his weight. He puts his phone with Oikawa on the call up against the plant next to you, pointing it towards you. You can see Oikawa lying on his stomach on a bed, eye masks on and no light except for the screen – Argentina’s far behind Japan after all. Before you can ask what he’s doing, he’s jogged back in front of you and practically falls to his knee in front of you, wincing from the pain of landing unexpectedly hard.

You think you’re catching on.

Your breath catches in your throat as you keep your eyes locked onto the man in front of you, suddenly fearing he’ll disappear into thin air and that this is just a dream.

Iwaizumi clears his throat and opens his mouth to start talking before he catches himself and hastily goes through his pockets. He pats the chest pocket an extra time before his nimble fingers slide inside and come out with a blue velvet box. Your hands go to cover your mouth, because it’s the same color as Aoba Johsai’s turquoise.

“Why’d you choose Seijoh?” an angry-looking 15-year-old from your new class asked you during the rounds where you’re supposed to get to know each other. With a strained smile you admit sheepishly, “I loved the colors of the school’s volley uniform.”

When he sees your expression he laughs, “I planned to do this at the restaurant – but you willingly choosing to go to the cinema to watch my … uh, my thing, not once but twice. And in a day no less, well…” he clears his throat and looks away, “it kinda knocked me off my feet. I’ve known for a long time this was going to happen but… when you showed me your phone with that excited expression that I love? It’s like… well, it was like the entire universe conspired to confirm that it has to be you… you know?”

He shakes his head and apologizes for sounding so cheesy before he drags a hand through his spikes. When he looks directly into your eyes after gathering himself, you straighten your back and start nodding. He hasn’t even asked you yet but your legs are shaking with the intense feeling of your response.

He laughs when he sees you nod. The raspy and relaxed one, reserved for you. You stare at each other for a time, admiring each other’s eyes and being in this moment, this time in life carved for the two of you. Then he shakes his head and starts to open his mouth. It must take too long though, because your shared childhood menace of a best friend starts booing. You both look to him and Iwaizumi has a scolding ready on his tongue until he sees the fat tears shining on his screen, Oikawa’s nose red and wrinkled.

Iwaizumi decides to simply give him the middle finger before he turns back to you. He says your name with an embarrassed lilt to his tone and finally, at last, formally asks you;

“Will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

You laugh, unabashed and excited. In your bewilderment you shake your head in disbelief and the raw fear in Iwaizumi’s eyes makes you flinch and yell out a too loud “yes!” to make sure that you were merely reacting to the overwhelming situation in front of you.

People in the cinema are looking, silently clapping and smiling at you both but generally keeping a polite distance. You sniffle and lean towards Iwaizumi, foregoing the ring to fall into his arms. It takes him a moment to process before his arms wraps around you too, pulling you into him so tightly, shaky breaths leaving him as he keeps pawing at your back, your hair, your neck. Like he can’t really believe this is happening, either. You repeat the word “yes” like a prayer, your heart thrumming at intervals you’ve never tried before.

You pull back and wipe a tear from Iwaizumi’s cheek, “you better calm down before we watch it again, huh?”

Oikawa clears his throat from the phone, “the ring, Iwa-chan! The ring!”

Iwaizumi gathers himself and rather forcefully grabs onto your hand before apologizing, letting his finger caress your knuckles in apology. You let him, and he fumbles to get the ring out. It’s a simple one, so very like him. Oikawa chimes in with your exact thought, “he was so panicky at the jeweler! You should’ve seen him!”

You wish you had. Flustered Iwaizumi is your favorite flavor, but seeing him with shaky fingers fitting the ring onto your finger, warms you more than anything else.

You perk up, “is your war finished?” you ask and Iwaizumi’s eyebrow rise for a second before he hears the reference to the movie you just watched and beams, eyes glowing with an excitement you didn’t think could be topped moments before. He leans forward and says yes before he kisses you.

Oikawa cheers and you hurry to pick up his phone and show Oikawa the ring in detail, “you could’ve warned me!” you scold him and he shrugs, “eh, I honestly thought you already knew. And don’t worry, I took plenty of screenshots for your families and friends. There’s even a pretty romantic shot of you hurling yourself into his arms.”

You gasp in feigned insult, “I did not hurl myself!”

Iwaizumi stands before you with his hands in his pockets, a bright smile, “you did kinda hurl yourself.”

“Shut up! Both of you! I’m not taking you into the movie with me! I’m canceling your ticket!”

Iwaizumi pretends to panic but leans down to rest his forehead against you, “you can hurl yourself at me for the rest of my life, I don’t mind. Don’t listen to Shittykawa.”

You shake your head at your two friends.

No, your friend and your fiance. It feels surreal. You wonder how long it’ll take you to get used to. You can’t wait to spend the time finding out.

[atrwriting]

the wolf and the dragon -- aemond targaryen x fem!reader

dark!gangleader!modern!aemond — my weakness

as always, warnings: eventual SMUT!, dark themes, dubcon, dom!aemond, violence, alcohol consumption, drugs

you didn’t have a lot, but you did have one thing — your bar.

your grandfather, a stark, was a rich and influential man, which meant all of his descendants clawed over his belongings when his final will and testament was read. you were devastated, seemingly the only family member who appeared to be sad at the loss when his executor designated which properties of his went to who. you were your grandfather’s favorite, meaning he left you the best and worst property. the best, because he knew you loved him best, and the worst, because he knew you loved it best. the worst, being the bar, which mostly everyone discarded… but you saw all of the good things, and the bad things, and loved that shit brick building more than anything.

so what did you do? you sold the best property to one of your greedy cousins. with the money, you fixed up the bar and the apartment above it. you were able to hire and train adequate staff, and you thought you had covered your bases.

that was until you realized you had left one stone unturned.

the matter of security.

you never thought you would need bouncers because, hell, you were scrappy and your linecook could kill someone with one look. however, one day, not too far long after you had reopened your grandfather’s favorite establishment… you met your rude awakening.

it came in the form of two brothers. aegon and aemond targaryen.

you would never forget the day that they had strutted through the doors and scoped out the place. decked in leather, all black, heavy boots, and tattoos littering what skin they did expose. aegon’s most noticeable characteristic would be his wavy white hair and eye bags, giving off the impression he wouldn’t know a good night’s rest if it smacked him in the face. his brother was the exact opposite… a narrow, focused glare that he place on anything in his path. you had cast a curious glance their way as you stacked glasses once they had finally taken their seat at the bar.

“what can i get for you gentlemen?” you asked you as approached them, pulling your notepad from your back pocket.

“beer for me, doll,” aegon grunted. “and get old man james over here.”

you swallowed. you own stilled as you tried to find the words. “james stark, sir?”

“yes. go get him,” he sighed, obviously annoyed. he ran his hands through his messy hair and stared at you. “he knows i don’t like to wait.”

you quirked an eyebrow. you bit, “you’ll be waiting a bit, i’m afraid.”

“care to share why?”

you pursed your lips. “he’s dead.”

“fuck-“ aegon sighed, shifting in his seat. he threw a wayward and inconvenienced glances all around him before he slammed a heavy fist on the bar. he returned his glare back to you. “and which spoiled brat kid did he leave this place to?”

“his favorite,” you spat. “me.”

the older brother stared at you for some time with a blank expression before a wicked smile came across his face. he laughed, “you’re y/n stark.”

you were about to retort when his brother spoke up. “how did he pass?”

your gaze immediately flicked to the younger brother, who was still a few years older than you it seemed. anger was biting at your tongue, but having two dangerous looking men in your bar, hours before anyone was supposed to arrive for their shift, did not leave you with many options. you sighed before responding, “cancer.”

“our condolences, y/n,” aemond said stiffly as his eye was trained on you.

you sighed, averting his gaze. “what did you two want to discuss with him?”

“matter of supply and demand.” aegon’s voice was breathy and taunting, baiting you to fight with him.

“are you making demands of a woman who stands in between you and beer?” you scoffed.

“that’s your job, is it not?” there was that wicked smile once more. “to serve me?”

“not if i don’t want to,” you spat. “my bar, remember?”

“not if i don’t want you to have it,” he retorted, leaning over the bar.

you rolled your eyes. you returned your attention to the other brother, who you hoped was more sensible. “what is it you want?”

aemond had his hands folded on the top of the bar as his gaze never left you. his attention made you wary, so you pulled a bottle opener from your pocket and began opening two beers. your spite almost prevented you from serving them, but you realized you might not have a choice as you had no idea who you were dealing with.

“we had a certain… agreement with your late grandfather.”

you placed a beer in front of him and his brother. “what sort of agreement?”

“did he tell you anything about this bar when he passed it to you?” he asked.

you narrowed your eyes at him. “wasn’t allowed here during business hours. i know it’s a bad area.”

“so that’s why we haven’t been graced with your swell hospitality until now.” aegon rolled his eyes.

you ignored him. “what is it you want?”

“now to uphold the agreement with its new owner,” he answered plainly. “and to expand on its terms.”

you threw your hands up in defeat. “quit it with the cryptic shit and spill. now.”

aemond leaned forward until he was a few inches from your face. you could smell the cigarettes on his breath, the motor oil on his jacket, and his aftershave. you sucked in a sharp breath before you went to take a step back, but he grabbed your wrist. he held you in place as he spoke, “my brother may enjoy banter with pretty bartenders, but i find this back and forth a complete waste of my time. i’m not a man that likes his time wasted.”

your breathing was shallow as you whispered, “let go of me.”

“are you going to continue being difficult?” he asked, his grip tightening.

“just tell me what you want,” you rasped, trying not to cower under his gaze. your glare was hard, but not nearly as hard as his.

he let go, but remained as close. “we’re allowed to use your place of business as a meeting ground for our own business.”

your brow furrowed.

“for a cut to the house, of course.” the corner of his mouth twitched upwards.

“what is it that you do?” you asked. “what is it he let you do?”

“your grandfather never asked, so i don’t think it wise to tell you either,” he stated. “we’d like to continue our agreement, and also ask to use your basement after hours.”

“and what if i say no?” you immediately asked.

aegon’s smile may have been wicked, but aemond’s handsome smile was no match for the threats that seemed to curl his lips. “your grandfather was a loyal man. you think it wise to destroy that loyalty?”

“you didn’t even know he died,” you spat.

“no,” he admitted. “but his building remained in tact while the rest of the area is usually in flames.”

you swallowed, seriously contemplating his words. it was no secret how bad of a neighborhood this area could be, but you didn’t think it was so bad that you would need biker rejects to keep it secure.

“what was his cut?” you asked.

aemond smiled. he knew he had you.

and that was how your business remained standing and intact.

you always wanted to question it, but you never did.

one night, after you had closed up shop, you walked down your back stairs to enter your bar through the kitchen. you were in pajamas, hoping to locate a nightcap in the dark, when you heard voices from the basement.

great, you thought. after hours business.

you did your best to ignore it, but soon it turned into loud, painful-sounding grunts and cries. they sounded masculine.

a shiver went up your spine.

you tip-toed into the bar area and immediately began fishing for a clean glass. grabbing tequila, you poured yourself a drink.

“little late for jose, is it not?”

you jumped at the voice, almost dropping your glass. you had mostly come out of your sleep-like state from moments before, but your vision was still a tad hazy. your eyes found aemond targaryen at the end of the bar, sitting alone, smoking a cigarette.

you swallowed. “do i want to know what’s going on down there?”

he hummed. “your grandfather didn’t.”

you took a sip of your drink. “can i get you anything?”

he chuckled, a smile playing at his lips. “i’ll let the locals know that you’re running a special on tequila and pajamas.”

fuck. you were in your night clothes. in front of a man who looked as dangerous as ever.

you huffed. “i don’t need leather for everyone around me to know i’m scrappy.”

he laughed. “i’ll have what you’re having.”

you grabbed another glass and stalked towards him. your lips were pursed in annoyance as you gave him a heavy pour, which he took and set down in front of him.

he took a sip. “the locals won’t be happy to hear you threatened a customer with… smiley faces on your pajamas. they might just take their paychecks elsewhere.”

you rolled your eyes. “the ones that know what’s good for them will stay clear, that’s for sure.”

aemond took his drink and slammed it before placing the empty glass on the bar. he grunted before placing open palms on the wood and leaned forward over the bar, a few inches from your face. you could smell your favorite drink on his breath and you inhaled sharply.

“and who do you have to thank for that, sweetheart?” he taunted. “thanks for the drink. it’s time for me to get back to work.”

and with that, he disappeared into the cellar.

[tonesplash]

its thanksgiving get nasty (18+)

pairing: edward cullen x reader

summary: you get bored at thanksgiving dinner. unfortunately for edward you wore sandals

warnings: smut,brief footjob, thanksgiving dinner, edward kind of chokes on corn, reader doesn’t like their family, mild injury, fingering, innappropriate use of vampire speed, technically exhibitionism and public sex?? bad dirty talk, and cousin-shaming, reader is afab and might be described as female im not sure

a/n: i wrote this in 24 hours so any sloppiness is not my fault

masterlist

(c/n)= cousins name

When you told him thanksgiving with your family would be boring, you’d meant it’d be for him, looking forward to his reaction to being on the receiving end of your bloodlines ridiculousness while you’d get dinner and a show. But, as it turns out, your family just so happens to get along with Edward much better than they do with you.

The seating situation is a little unconventional, since because your boyfriend-snatching cousin stole the open seat next to Edward before you even made it back from the bathroom, leaving your only viable option directly opposite of him. On the bright side, you had the option of kicking his leg when he’d said something to embarrass you.

 Bless his soul, he’d done his best to bring you into the conversation but apparently, anything you had to say about your relationship had been relayed verbatim to the family group chat you weren't even in by your mother. So, after the third time you’re talked over by the aforementioned horny cousin or some other nosy relative on you’re bored out of your mind.

Everyone had gotten over your piss poor table manners years ago, or were just completely ignoring you at this point because there were no protests when they’d brought the turkey out and you’d stayed slumped low in your seat like a child in church.

Twitter had stopped refreshing ten minutes ago, and when you finally resigned yourself to tuning back into the conversation, your mother was showing Edward your baby pictures again. Idly swinging one bare foot under the table, your bare toe grazes the drape of his dress slacks under the table when you get an idea.

 You’d lost a sandal earlier after Edward had pinned it under his shoe in a vain attempt to stop your pinching and dirtying of his slacks with your filthy soles. You scoot a little further forward in your seat to reach out and press your arch flat against his shin.

Edward doesn’t visibly react, just shifts his leg away, leaving yours to slip to the floor until you reach up again to plant your heel on the seat of the chair. The conversation lulls for a moment as everyone says grace, and he uses the opportunity to grab your ankle and send you a warning glare over the top of your phone.

You meet his gaze and boorishly eat a spoon of mashed potatoes, shrugging as if he couldn’t read in your mind exactly what you were about to do. 

Your cousin asks about his mom car again and when you roll your eyes Edward flicks the outside of your fibula, sure to bruise, and you crinkle your nose, pinching his marble thigh between your toes as best you can through the material.

“Well my father thought it was necessary for my siblings and I to-” 

While he talks, he's soothing the spot he flicked, playing in the stubble leftover from your shoddy shave job this morning, and the absent affection gives you the final motivation to further push your luck. You tease the seam of his left leg with the very tips of your toes, coaxing the unnatural heat of the venom to build in the crotch of his pants, the coolness of the rest of him making it seem even hotter in comparison.

He inhales on a forkful of corn, almost taking it down the wrong pipe, and you fight a smile around the bowl of the spoon as he flawlessly recovers and finishes the thought. You idly wonder if you could be that smooth someday. For now, you press further, pressing a toe against the seam over his cock, stroking up and down as slowly and consistently as you can while stretched under a table because who would’ve thought that footjobs are kind of an athletic feat. 

Edward taps insistently at your leg, harder than he normally would, and you have to hold back a laugh at the idea of him splitting the table because he can’t take a little footsie action. You press forward again, arch encompassing his hardness through the fabric, toes curling against his pubic bone when-

“Ho-oly shit!” Searing pain shoots up from your ankle, and you double over, using everything in you not to shout, Edwards dawning mortification going unnoticed as everyone at the table turns to you at your unexpected outburst.  

“(Y/n)?” Your mother doesn’t seem that happy to have dinner interrupted, and you clutch your stomach as a quick cover.

“Uh, my bad.” You snicker nervously at the sudden attention, bravado gone. Your face feels red-hot. “I actually need to use the bathroom, I think,” you lick your lips and slide out of your chair. “Lady problems.”

The table erupts in a cacophony of gags and groans as the notion of a menstrual cycle is brought up in casual conversation, and it gives you the perfect cover to retreat to the upstairs bathroom. It takes you a minute to make it up the stairs without causing a scene, and just as soon as you close and lock the door behind you and settle down to weep in peace, he’s there, jiggling the doorknob like it’s a drug bust.

“Let me in.”

You’re apparently taking too long because as soon as your injured foot touches the floor, he forces the lock and slips in, shutting the door a little too fast to pass as human. 

“Jesus! Edward, are you trying to lose our deposit?” You lean around him to check for a handprint but he doesn’t respond, wordlessly setting you up on the counter, kneeling to examine your injured ankle, cool fingers soothing to the sore skin. You sit in silence, idly swinging your other leg to distract yourself.

“How'd you make it out?” You can't imagine they’d let the guest of honor go so easily.

“You forgot your bag, I told them I’d just bringing it up to you.” He places your bag next to you as evidence. “Maybe you should start carrying menstrual products for when you actually need them.”

Of course, he breaks your foot and wants to lecture you on responsible uterus care. Edward sighs, taking your foot with the gentlest touch and whispering a kiss into the skin. “It’s only a sprain, but I’m still sorry.” 

“S’Okay.” Your face burns, not expecting his guilt. “Serves me right, huh?” You titter, poking his side with your uninjured foot. He swipes it up before you can start again, halfheartedly laughing with you. 

“Let me wrap it before you get any more ideas.” You hand him the compression wrap from the medicine cabinet, and he gets to work. The wince you give at the pressure is more reflex than anything, but the anxious expression on his face tells you he wasn't going to let this go easily. 

“Y’know…” You poke at him again. The playful contempt in his golden eyes gives you the go-ahead to make your case. “If you’re really feeling torn up about it, seeing you wow my family like that got me a little riled up.”

“Really.” Edward kisses the secured wrapping and releases you, standing to frame you against the counter.

“I’m serious, impressing them isn’t easy, (C/n) is probably shaving in the guest room to steal you from me right now, just thinking about it has got me a little hot under the collar.” You run your hands over his back and through his hair, nuzzling into the crook of his throat.

“You’re laying it on pretty thick, don’t you think?” His hands smooth over your exposed thighs sending a shiver up your spine. You think you've got him, but he's such a tease sometimes you can never really be sure.

“Depends. Is it working?” You still, bracing for some line about ‘responsibility’ and ‘your family waiting for you.’

But then his hands are under your skirt, hooking into the sides of your underwear and pulling them down your thighs, leaving them to free-fall to your feet. You clutch his auburn hair in your fingers at the shock of open-air against your cunt.

“Do you think I could let you go back to that table smelling like this?” His sweet breath washes against your ear as he huffs a soft laugh. “I’d rather not go downstairs and pretend to care about football when I know you’re here, hot and ready for me.”

You can’t resist him any longer, pulling him close and kissing him with the desperation of a woman who needs to be back downstairs before dessert. His thumb teases over your cunt at first, swirling over your swelling clit and teasing your hole before he finds a focus, using the thumb of his free hand to hold your hood back as his slicked fingers grind the bud into a frenzy while he sucks your tongue into his mouth.

It’s all you can do to hold your breath while he touches you, cool fingers building a knot in your belly, smooth and steady as they batter you up into a frenzy. He adjusts his hand, his ring finger pressing into you and bringing a low ache from rushed preparation, but you welcome it, thighs shaking with the effort to stay open for him as your mouth falls open in a shaky gasp. Edward breaks the kiss to let you breathe , seemingly unbothered until- 

“(C/n) is coming.” 

“Wha-” A particularly deep stroke has you biting your lip as you struggle to concentrate. “What the fuck does she want?”

“She’s going to ask you where I am.” His expression doesn’t match his words, still completely concentrated on ruining you despite the obvious issue.

“And what am I supposed to tell her?!” You hiss back right as she reaches the door. His mouth closes over your pulse point and you don't think you've clenched that hard before in your life.

“Hey (Y/n)? Have you seen Edward?” Her voice is enough of a mood killer that you have to shove your face into his throat to ground yourself in the moment. He adds a second finger, gaining speed, and you pray and hope to any god listening to this that she can't hear the squelches through the door.

“N-no.” You rack your mind for an excuse. His scent is making it harder to concentrate. “I think he went out for a smoke?” Nice one.

“Really? I didn't smell anything on him...” If all your blood flow hadn't been centralized below the waist at this point you'd’ve asked how the hell she knows what he smells like. He's fully abandoned your clit now, leaving it to pulse in the open air while three of his fingers push and pull at your pelvic floor.

“That's cause he unh-” You slap a hand over your mouth to stop the moan before it can be recognized for what it is.“-he vapes!” Edward pulls back from your throat to look at you incredulously, but it's a little hard to be ashamed when he's nearly wrist deep inside you.

“Oh… Well, let him know if you see him that they’re playing charades and I need a partner. You know how it is.”

You forget to reply, too enthralled watching him spit onto his unoccupied fingers and mash the coolness against your clit, causing you to nearly spasm off the counter, losing the sensation as he silently laughs at having to hold you steady. She seemed to have taken your silence as an admission, as you can hear the door at the stoop of the stairs swinging shut after her. Thank God.

“Rub your spot, Sweet, come on, we have to be quick.” He kisses your temple and laughs a bit maniacally at the little whimper that escapes when you bring a hand down to your clit. “Surprisingly, she’s having trouble picturing me in a vape shop.”

You whine around a bitten lip, too far gone to listen to his ribbing. You’re building up to overstimulation with the sloppy way you’re rubbing yourself, and he must feel it too, because in the next second, his fingers are vibrating.

“Come on, (Y/n), don't you want to finish up here and mop the floor with them?” You hadn’t even realized how hazy your vision had gotten until he grabs your chin and levels your lidded eyes with his and says your name again. You nod sluggishly for him, not hearing a word. He laughs again, smiles wide. His teeth are pretty. 

“If you cum right now;” The buzzing grows stronger, your free arm spasming under you as you support yourself. “I’ll rub you raw after on the ride home. You just need to come right now and win charades with me.” 

The buzzing inside grows too strong, and your vision goes white, pulsing in long pulls around his fingers as hot waves of sensation spread from your head to your toes.

Edward kisses you, soft and slow, swallowing any whimpers tempted to escape as you come down, abandoning the counter to clutch his sleeve as the twitching reduces to a tremor.

“Oh my god.“ You laugh, planting your face into his collar as you catch your breath. “I can't believe you used charades to make me come, I'm never gonna forgive you.” 

“I heard the top prize is a ten dollar gift card to…” He squints and checks again. “The Google Play Store.”

“Ew, what could you even do with tha-”

“(Y/N) come help with plates!” Your mother shouts up the stairwell, totally fucking up any release you just had.

“I guess I should run down to the corner store;” Edward smiles, helping you to stand on wobbly legs and smoothing your skirt down. “Don't want to blow your cover.” 

“(Y/N)! Plates!”

“Oh my god;” Your eyes may never return from the back of your skull. “Meet you downstairs?”

He kisses you sweetly one last time, pulling you close and wiping the sheen of sweat off of your face.

“Downstairs.”

With that, he heaves himself out of the narrow sill, and you busy yourself cleaning up as fast as you can.

You just catch him hopping off the roof, and coming around to the front yard. He'll hear you no matter the volume, but you still shout the warning;

“Stay away from my cousin!” 

[yanderenightmare]

dude I would kill for more DADDY DEKU, the last one gave me liffff, maybe like... "embarrassed to ask".... some anal?? plez and thank you Mizz Nightmare <3 I love all your work!

yandere dom ! MIDORIYA IZUKU

TIP-JAR

goodiebag WARNINGS: condescension, degradation, coercion, profanity, abuse, DUBCON/NONCON, yandere, manipulation, suggestive language, slight infantilization

BUNNYHOLE

She’d started to lose track of how much time passed during their session, forgotten what she’d done to get in the position she was in, forgotten what it was Deku felt the need to remind her of. Too much blood rushing to her head in her position of kneeling over his chest, her ass arched up and her face pushed down, cheek resting on his pelvis, running her tongue up and down the length of his cock nuzzling in her small palm, lips locked and sucking on the pulsating veins bulging from his erection. Or perhaps it was her way of forgetting where she was, her way of escaping, becoming numb to spare herself the humiliation, the frustration, the hopelessness and desperation of being subjugated, of being taken against her will, where becoming mindless was her only option when being in the hands of the madman.

Deku’s larger than life hands held onto her hips, held her in place, stroking the dome of her ass affectionately yet wantonly every now and again as his mouth swallowed down on the juices starting to spill drizzly down her thighs. Fat fingers, lined with muscle, coming to delve ghostly over her folds, with his tongue prodding at her entrance. She’d managed to block most of his praising and coos out of mind, focusing on coming, yet now… having lost count of how many times she’d done so on his experience dedicated tongue, with her oversensitivity blaring and buzzing in her lower abdomen, gnarling and crying for it to stop, it was getting harder by the minute to forget where she was and who she was with when he was still so very intent on lapping at her sensitive heat with his thick tongue again and again and again.

And he knew it.

“Such a good Bunny.” He cooed, slurping at her opening, the stiff pinching scratching of the beard on his chin an extra factor of teasing friction on the lips of her pussy, the action sending vibrations to simmer through her and a moan to spur from where she was nuzzling on the hill of his hairy thigh, her mouth guzzling down on one of his balls, letting go with a wet pop to allow the noise to leave her throat unstrained. “Getting so wet for her Daddy.” 

His sloppy tongue continuously licked up the ravine presented to him, making its way farther up than usual, playing with the other unused, and preferably so, tight hole.

She made a jump, hopping further down on his lap, face buried in his ball-sack, yet was quickly pulled back by the strong hands on her hips, cheek thoroughly smeared with a glistening mix of saliva and precum and tears.

As though understating yet not caring about her distress, his hands comforted by messaging circles on her ass-cheeks, perhaps in an effort to keep her at bay as well. “Just play with Daddy’s cock while he plays with your cute little butt, okay Bunny?” She’d gotten so very used to instructions, so used to bending her own will. 

His tongue found its way back to prodding at the tight hole, pummeling his fatness inside, seemingly trying to pry her open. “But, Daddy-” She tried, still in an effort to scramble away from his ongoing attack.

He would not have her disobedience, that time had passed long ago. His fingers starting to carve their presence into her midriff, stifling her attempt of escape. “Play with Daddy’s cock, just like I taught you.” He was firm in his demand this time, yet the same whine of condescension, of whiny patronizing correction, was still so disgustingly present in his tone. The voice that made her want to rip her hair out and strangle him with it. 

Yet, she obeyed. Mouth proceeding to slobber over his massive cock, suckling on every inch of his girth, licking paths over every enhanced vein, making him groan and buck his hips into her face, letting her head disappear between his strong thighs, massive thighs that could snap her neck if she made the wrong move. 

“Good little Bunny.” He drawled before he too continued. 

Mewls and adorable small whines escaping her focus on pleasing his cock, as his tongue crammed into the tight space of her butthole. More tears gathered at her eye-sockets, falling onto his cock, making her taste her own despair on her tongue gargling on his balls. 

“Bunny’s so hungry… sucking on Daddy’s balls like candy-apples.” She felt like gagging, not out of reflex, but out of disgust and wholehearted cringe for his words, but wasn’t given much space to feel anything but anxiety for too long, what with his thumbs making to spread her ass-cheeks further apart. He was happy to see she stayed in place, yet not surprised as the marks on her hips were already blooming with defined raw redness, evidence of just how intolerable hesitation and especially disobeying hesitation was in his cruel eyes. “Good girl.” He praised, hammering the thickness of his tongue inside her tight ass, now with the new easy access.

One hand shifted from its position of spreading her ass, pointer running over the budding hole curiously. 

She felt her guts churn at the act, fear riding her body full with goosebumps. “Daddy?” She squeaked uncertainly, sucking in a breath, relenting from her sloppy activity between his legs, fingers curling into the bedsheets in a manner of bracing herself.

“You’ve such a pretty little butt.” He stated, where the amount of adoration was terrifyingly present in his calm and collected voice. 

His finger quit its tormenting haunting and she sighed a relieved sigh, wet slicked face falling back onto his glistening manhood, tongue making to lick up his girth yet again. 

“Does Bunny want one of Daddy’s fingers inside?” Her fear rushed back, causing her to go all light-headed while his tongue lapped at the bud again, wriggling over the ring of muscle, drawing circles on it, ignoring her growing anxiousness fully. “Hmm, I bet Bunny would love Daddy’s finger inside her little butt.” She’d gotten used to his suggestive language, knowing what was best for her, but still she couldn’t help but way her options, even though deep down knowing how if Deku wanted something from her pliable little body, he was sure to get it no matter the struggle and fight she put up. “Filling her up-” His musings were cut off, the little girl on top of him fighting ever so slightly to move further away from his antagonizing mouth, pleading with her face shoved into his cock.

“No, Daddy please, I don’t-” He didn’t like that, holding her back with his harsh grip, keeping her ass well arched and presented for him to ravage.

“To me it sounds like Bunny is begging to be punished.” He warned, still playing his games, still with his disgusting tone masking the true sentiment of his words. “Do you want Daddy to punish you, Bunny?” One hand stroked over the plump flesh of her ass, threatening to strike the unprotected skin again and again until she complied with his wishes. She knew from experience she didn't  handle the pain well, always folding.

She backed down, better now than later with blooming bruises and a discomfort to sit for a week. “No, Daddy please, I’m sorry, I’ll behave.” She scurried back, scared into position, promptly sloshing over his cock with newfound devotion, moaning happily with his precum smeared on her face, anything to spare her from what cold hell he would show her if she didn’t.

He smiled, kissing the doughy flesh of her ass-cheek, welcoming her back. “Well then… tell Daddy how much you’d love his finger in your butt.” Hand returning. “Come on, don’t be shy.” Stroking over the bud of firm flesh, letting her feel the size of his fat finger, begging her to disobey him, begging her to cry and plead or to sob and force herself to obey his commands.

She chose the latter, knowing what other harsh torture awaited her was she not to comply like a good little girl. “Please, Daddy, please finger my ass.” He hummed contently in response, poking the hole ever so slightly, his fingertip sliding in the wetness of his drool. “I want your finger in my ass so badly, Daddy.” She whined, just like she knew he liked, wiggling her ass at him impatiently like the entitled brat he wanted her to be only for him to correct and humiliate.

“Bunny wants a finger up her little butt?” He spoke hurriedly in the spiked frenzied rush of her words, having them slur in drool as he kissed the hole sloppily, lightly biting the flesh of her one ass-cheek, again to scare her into playing the game.

“Yes please, Daddy.” She suckled on his girth desperately, letting false moans pass her lips as though she couldn’t get enough of his cock choking her throat. Playing the game, playing her part, surviving.

“This little butt right here?” He questioned, tongue flicking over the hole.

“Yes, Daddy please!” She started grinding her hips back into his mouth, knowing her enthusiasm is what his anticipation beckoned.

“Well, if you’re a good Bunny and play with Daddy’s cock then I’ll give this butt what it needs.” He needed her devotion, he needed her to understand just how under his thumb she was, he needed his ego satiated, his cruel sinister sadism fed.

“Thank you, Daddy…” She sobbed, fearing while knowing what he’d do if she were to disobey, resulting to dragging her tongue up and down his cock, hands working the base as she sucked, head bobbing up and down as she made cute little glugging sounds that had his stomach fluttering in utter bliss. “I love your cock, Daddy.” So sweet, just like he trained her.

He hummed at how precious she was, feeling somewhat proud of himself for having brought that out of her. “What do you love about it, Bunny?” His words pushed, but it wasn’t the only thing that was tormenting her. His tongue, burning and wet and forceful, dug into her backside, worming its way into her little hole as she tried her best, fighting with every nerve of her being, fear motivating her to stay perfectly still, though not managing to stifle the whimper.

Her breaths were shaky as she spoke to answer him before he grew impatient. “Daddy’s cock is so perfect and big, feels so good inside me.” He didn’t seem to care that she spoke with a cry in her voice.

His hand, having had rested on her ass as a warning, swung under, calloused textured rough fingers rubbed the bead of her clit, making her moan through her cries onto his cock. She was happy her position didn’t allow her to see his smirk. “I think Bunny thinks Daddy’s cock is scary, hmm?” His finger swirled, sandpaper-fingertip dragging over the sensitive swollen pearl again and again with little regard to how her stomach was curling. “A little intimidating, perhaps?” She rested her head on his thigh, her own thighs shaking, though his other hand kept her steady as his mouth sucked on her tender ring of muscle. “But Daddy’s a hero, Daddy would never hurt you, Bunny. Daddy loves you. You understand that, don’t you?” He asked, knowing damn well her answer would be scattered with how ruthless he was being with his fingers in her clit, abusing what power they had to make her bow.

“I love-ve you too, Da- daddy…” She drooled and sobbed out on his lap, wanting so badly to wind her thighs shut, protect what was about to burst, eyes closing and fluttering as her one hand dug fingernails into where they held her steady in the thick stiff muscles of his thighs, her other hand holding his cock, trying her best to guide him into her mouth so she could do as he demanded and save herself being scolded for not listening even though he was the one making it almost impossible to do much of anything except lie there and take it.

He stuck one finger, on long thick finger, into her sopping wet folds, felt her writhe before she could control herself, another finger still held firmly on her clit, drawing careful patterns he knew would make her mewl. “Daddy knows exactly how to please his little girl… and Bunny knows exactly how to please her Daddy, doesn’t she?” He asked rhetorically, words still carrying even though they were muffled into her ass. “I taught you so well.” His finger pumped, curling, scraping, hooking up into her spongey walls, making her mew. “Do you think Daddy’s a good teacher?” She could feel the curl of his salacious smirk as his teeth grazed past the lips of her pussy, tongue flicking, zig-zagging through the wet tender folds.

“The b- best.” She strained, inching further back as he was dragging, hauling her with his finger clawing at her insides.

“Good girl…” He purred, licking up and up until he met with the bud that now seemed to pulsate, her fear so endearingly on display for him. “I think Bunny deserves her prize.” His voice lowered, and she sucked in a breath with caught in her throat as she felt his hand, scathed and scarred and strangely rough and angled with how many times he’d broken his fingers.

He gave her much time to prepare, finger swirling circles onto the hole before dipping the tip inside. She scrunched her eyes shut at the feel of the tight skin of her hole stretching, forced apart to accommodate for Deku’s fat finger. The tight ring feeling as though ripping at the intrusion, tearing as he drove the digit slowly inside, a digit that seemed foreverlasting, growing thicker the more it inched inside her, until he was finally knuckle-deep.

She sucked with fervor now, in a way to pacify herself, gobbling down on his cock gluttonously. “Does it feel good, Bunny?” He asked, voice like honey so sweet it was burning. “My finger in your cute little butt?” He whined and mocked as he wiggled the length inside her, churning her guts in the prosses, earning small cries of discomfort from her slobbering on his cock.

“Yes, Daddy.” It was barely audible as she whimpered it into his thigh.

“Speak up.” He ordered, stern and stoic voice, still with his finger pumped and prompted into her tight ass, with the other hand’s fingers rubbing circles and pinching her swollen clit between them.

“Yes, Daddy.” Her back sloped as she tipped her head up. “I’m sorry.” Her one hand steadying her, placed in support on his thigh as the other tugged on his cock, fingers not managing to enclose around his girth as she messaged his length in long tentative strokes. “Thank you, Daddy, you feel so good.” She wasn’t exactly lying, and it was clear by the slick dripping that coated her thighs.

“Are you proud to have Daddy’s finger in your ass?” He asked, making her scrunch her brows, strangling herself with how hard she was trying to keep from crying. “You should be.” She cursed her existence, wishing she could take back whatever it was that had his eyes locked on her in the first place, whatever had him kidnapping her only to torment and use her as some slave. “To have Daddy’s number one hero finger pleasing your little quirkless butt.” And there it was, the reminder of how crucially inferior she was, such a perfect quirkless toy to feed his superiority-complex. “Tell me how grateful you are, Bunny.”

This was her life. Subjugated to a mere ragdoll for someone who’d do whatever the fuck they wanted to her, a life of belonging to someone, a life of a pet. “I love you so much, Daddy…” He groaned at her words, yet his fingers dug even harder into her hips. “You take such good care of me.” She just needed to tell him what he wanted to hear. “I’m hopeless without you. Thank you, Daddy.” Seems she did a good job, because he was shifting beneath her, hands letting her go for a second only to pull her into the new desired position.

“Come here, turn around.” He ordered, still in his frenzy, turning her around on his lap, making her sit with his cock smearing drool and precum over her stomach, hot against her skin where it bobbed up between the two of them. His hand and fingers glossy with juices from her pussy, came to grab her chin, cupping her cheek to still her as he pushed his lips onto her face, kissing her with hunger, as though in a hurry, his finger finding her ass again, sinking knuckle-deep inside her once again while grabbing onto the soft doughy flesh of ass, making her yelp against his lips, before he parted once more, a string of spit connecting them. “Does Bunny want Daddy’s cock inside her ass?” He mushed her face between his rough finger-pads, her lips puckered like a fish at him, eyes glossy with tearful plead, her thighs beginning to quake against him as she sat uncomfortably with his finger spearing her in the wrong hole.

Her bottom lip quivered then, eyes wide and brimming. “No- please… Daddy.” She would at least try to sway his mind, bargain her way out of it.

His look hardened, cocking an eyebrow at her resistance. “Is Bunny disobeying Daddy?” His grip on her face was past painful now, bruising, nails marking their presence, close to breaching her skin.

“No, Daddy, please-” She started, scrambling for something to save her, trying to make his hold relent, but falling short of making any savory excuses, reduced to mere whimpering as she accepted a preferred compromise. “My pussy would feel so lonely without you filling me up…” His fingers detached, yet only barely, still holding her chin, still controlling, though looking fascinated by the turn of events, pleasured with his little pet openly submitting to him, all with that adorable sweet voice. “I want your big beautiful number one cock inside me, please, Daddy please, I want you in my pussy.” She pushed forward to brush her breasts against his chest, grinding up into him in the process, hands brazenly stroking his cock all on their own command, forehead pressed against his as she did her best to seem seductive, licking her lips and maintaining eye-contact even as his green orbs seemed crazed and fervent and so dangerously feral.

“Bunny wants to come on Daddy’s cock, doesn’t she?” His tone was weirdly condescending, like he was talking to a toddler about getting ice-cream, and though she despised it with every fiber of her being, feeling like the tone itself was gasoline to a roaring raging fire, she did her best to swallow the smoke, knowing it would get her nowhere.

“Yes, Daddy. Pretty please.” She begged, and he wrapped his one hand around the small of her back, pushing her against his chest, his other hand still not having left, with its main finger inside her butt, doing small curious pumps into the tight flesh.

He licked the shell of her ear, a small chuckle coming out as huffs as his hand moved once again away from her back, to line his cock up with her still slick with spit clit, rubbing his cockhead over the bead before sliding it down to push open her sopping hole. “Can Bunny take Daddy in her cute little pussy with his finger inside her pretty ass? Yeah?” Tapping his thickness into her tightness while watching her nod in agreement, only slightly disappointed she didn’t repeat what she said once more, especially when it sounded so delicious dripping from her defeated lips. “Good girl, sit down on Daddy's cock.”

She eased down like she’d done for the past couple weeks, always surprised by just how thick he is, how stingingly and fearfully painful it is, always thinking it couldn’t possibly be as bad as she made it out to be previously though always proven wrong, thinking she ought to have stretched out to accommodate his size to a comfortable fit, yet not having achieved the pleasure still with how many times he’d ripped her apart.

“Hop on that dick little Bunny.” He whispered as she eased herself all the way down, cock fully sleeved inside her, feeling as she was about to burst, so full, so blown, yet he hadn’t any mercy left to spare. She felt his finger wiggle where it penetrated her backside entrance, how his cock and it messaged the wall that separated her two holes, feeling a new type of dangerous, giving her another worry even as the anxiety for what pain treading herself over his cock was already overwhelming enough on its own. “Come on, little Bunny, hands on my shoulders and jump.”

She hadn’t the mind to hold back the whimper, letting her seductive mask slip as the pain mingled pleasure demanded her attention more, hands unsteady as they gripped his shoulder, fingers running over those deep healed scars on his skin she’d gotten so used to tracing. She folded her feet over his legs, given her better balance as she began sliding him in and out slowly, at a pace she could hope to handle and hope was fast enough to please him and his beastly member.

He hummed, free hand coming up to toy with her breasts, grabbing it with those labor-knuckled fingers. “Such a happy little girl bouncing on Daddy’s cock…” He licked over his toothy-grin, salacious green eyes glistening with drunk toxic love-sick madness as he felt her tight suction on his manhood, gliding up and down, in and out, full and hollow. “What do you say?” He decided to tease, decided to make the hurt worse.

A soft whine left her and he couldn’t describe the sick bliss that fluttered in his chest because of it. “Thank you, Daddy.” She forced out yet again, her voice all shaken and adorable.

And still he felt the wanton desire to push. “For what, Bunny? Be specific.”

She knew the drill, what he wanted to hear, but that didn’t make it any easier to force from her throat, even harder to relent from seething the words through grit teeth where she knew such aggression wouldn’t be tolerated, because nothing but her complete and full submission would be tolerated by Deku. “Thank you, Daddy, for giving me your big beautiful number one cock.” What was funny was that it was in a sense still true, despite her hating every word of it, despite her cursing the sentence, the praise, the gratitude. It did feel good, behind the pain, behind her disgust, it felt good. What more, Deku was the number one hero, not just the strongest man alive, but intelligent, knowledgeable and ruthless too, where it really would be unwise to not feel grateful for having been chosen by him, where people should be grateful he even chooses to be a hero at all, when he could just as easily be a villain, or a bloody tyrant. She should be grateful that she was given the honor of being his. Her body sure knows how to show its humility, doing its best to please him, showing him just how appreciated and welcome his touches are with how undeniably wet her pussy gets each time, clenching around his shaft as it drills deep into her, filling her out, completing her, pushing into that spongey spot deep within her, making her stomach flip, toes curl, clit buzz with pleasure, shamefully come all over him.

He made a moan of awe, patronizing in its nature. “Are you gonna come for me? All over Daddy’s cock.” She wanted to scream, throw herself off his lap, slap him, claw and bite and kick, but instead she was doing exactly what he said. “A happy little Bunny stuffed with Daddy's cock and his finger up her bum.” He whined, hand having glided down from holding her chin in favor of wrapping around her throat, nose touching nose, emerald steel-eyes keenly watching her every move, feeling her clench around him, making him hiss with pleasure like a snake.

“Yes, Daddy please.” She never liked snakes. Her new life was made of snakes. Snakes taking the form of ropes, tying her down, chaining her up, snakes in her guts, swirling and coiling and tickling that strange pleasure that had treacherous venom drip onto the snake that penetrated her, his arms like snakes around her waist, thick constrictors holding her still, keeping her trapped for devouring.

“Beg for it.”

She sucked in a beaten breath, forcing her will to comply to his wishes, swallowing her pride, subduing the fighter in favor of having her fall on her own sword, instead of digging her own grave. “Daddy, please can I come on your cock?” One would think the human soul gets used to humiliation after some time, but the ball in her chest hadn’t softened no matter how many times she’d offered up her dignity, no matter how many times Deku had forced her to her knees. “You feel so good inside me, Daddy.” She mewed in gratitude, moaning as he hit the right spot again and again, making her go blind as she tried focusing on what sweet nothings she needed to say. “I wanna come for you so badly, Daddy please.” He gave her a kiss to her nose then, meant to be sweet even though it would have revolted her had she been in the right mind to feel anything but forcibly good, all sweet with chasing her release, riding him, jumping on his length like a good bunny should.

“Good Bunny.” He purred an she had not the mind to feel like cussing, only desperately waiting for him to allow her release. “You see? Things are so much easier when you do as you're told, when you do what Daddy tells you.” He bottomed out into her tight heat, filling her up to the hilt, felt her body spasm with half panic at how deep inside her he was and half pleasure with how dangerous it felt to have her cervix molded by the shape of his cock-head burying itself in the spongey spot. “Come on, come on Daddy’s cock, make Daddy feel good.” She couldn’t refuse, even if he’d told her to hold it, she couldn’t, couldn’t stop the lightning to shoot through her, pussy clenching around his cock like a death-grip, strangling his length, sucking on him, milking his shaft, unsure whether she wanted him to pull out or stay inside her warmth, but luckily that decision wasn’t up to her, all she needed to do was not forget her manners.

“Thank you, Daddy…” It dripped from her mouth like sweet-tasting poison, tongue dripping with thick drool as she panted and mewled with how he continued warming his cock inside her, trying to push further and deeper inside even though there was no more space to be filled, resulting to a deep thrusting that felt as though he was about to push through into her womb.

He kissed her cheek as she numbed down to a relaxed exhausted limp body in his arms. “You’re welcome, Bunny… but Daddy isn't finished with you yet.” She felt her stomach twist despite knowing how she wasn’t done until Deku shoots his thick cream and paints whatever part of her body he had the appetite for.

Pulled from her high by the knowledge of how it was a psychotic madman who had granted it, as she felt said green-haired man guide her to lay on her back. 

“There you go, Bunny… such a cute mess.” He licked his lips, where she only barely tried to scurry away from his hungry lips gaining on her sensitive raw orgasm-glossed sex. 

She whined when his tongue dragged up her slit to drink her juices, flicking over her tender swollen clit, hands in his hair, trying their best to refrain from yanking him away. 

“Oh, Bunny’s so sensitive… did Daddy make you feel too good.” She squirmed beneath him, convulsing as he teased with his tongue and his lips and the light grazing ghosting of his teeth. “Look at you… Daddy’s little Crybunny.” He snickered, smirking as he gorged himself beneath her legs, loving the whiny moans and whimpers she couldn’t hold back, and how her hands tried ever so sweetly to nudge him off, how she dug the balls of her feet into the mattress to try and shuffle away from his attack, but not allowed to go anywhere with his arms locked around her thighs, keeping her just where he wanted her, shivering beneath him and only seconds away from crying and begging him to stop. “Does the little Bunny need her pacifier?” He hummed in askance. “Don’t you move a muscle, Bunny, I have a treat for you...” 

He hopped off the bed with a speed that went unnoticed while she blinked to find him position behind her, hovering above her face, thick and fat and veined from hilt to tip, tidy shaven green-stubble above his strutting proud cock, a path of longer hairs trailing up to his belly-button and sprinkled into a pretty growth of chest-hair the higher up his chiseled abs it went. 

“Open up, Bunny.” He tapped the glossy mushroom-tip onto her lips, smearing what concoction of precum and juices had mingled together there. 

She did as commanded, parting her lips yet making sure to wrap her teeth, knowing how he didn’t appreciate being bitten either by accident or not, having little understanding to how hard it was to fit him in her mouth without letting her teeth graze his impressive girth. 

“Taste yourself.” He groaned. “Suck me clean, Bunny.” He lightly patted the side of her face, fingers drumming on her cheek, telling her to hollow them in and suck on him. “There you go.” He praised, watching her struggle not to gag as he began lightly fucking the back of her throat, pushing farther down, liking how her already tight tunnel began clenching around him, trying to hold back the coughs. “Be a good Bunny and swallow all of me.” 

Usually he’d enjoy the feel of her nose dipping into his pelvis, but now with her upside down, he could feel his balls being poked as they smothered her only remaining breathing option. Still, he took his time, knowing how she could take a few seconds without air, enjoying the look of his fat cock down her throat, his hand testing a daring stroke over her jugular, watching to see if she would convulse and gag and splutter out coughs like she did the first couple of times he ventured deep, yet was proud to see her stay in play with only a few panicked spams of her chest. He probed even further as he lightly pinched the outline of his shaft between his thumb and index-finger, listening to her begin to whine, a submissive little prayer to let her breathe again. 

“Good Bunny…” He pulled out, large hands cupping her cheeks, telling her to remain lying there as he bent over to kiss her spit-slicked lips, his hand reaching over to palm her breast while the other reached farther to rub rough patterns into her terribly oversensitive clit, making her gasp out a strangled uncontrolled moan into his receiving mouth. “Come on, one more time.” He straightened himself, taking the opportunity to push through her open-mouthed panting with his dripping cock. “Get me nice and wet for your little Bunny-butt…”

Her eyes shot open, hands flailing instead of holding onto his thighs. “No-” She tried protesting, as she lightly tapped at his firm muscled ass with the face of her palm, slapping to get her discomfort across.

“No, no, Bunny, do as you’re told, do what Daddy says.” Deku chastised, grabbing her bothersome hands by the wrist and holding them behind his back, feeling her try to recoil away, yet well-trained enough to not bite as his cock pushed down her throat again. “Be a good Bunny and suck on Daddy.” He rocked his hips slowly back and forth, jutting lightly into her mouth. “Just like Daddy taught you.” His voice remained sweetly stoic, like a teacher or a parent, made her want to throw up on him, yet knowing how he didn’t stop last time she did, he just kept fucking her skull, even with the bile and acidic liquid burning in her throat. “Wash out all those filthy protests.” She whimpered at how his hands tightened around her wrists, balls lightly clapping over the bridge of her nose, swinging into her face each time he pushed until his entire length was enclosed to the hilt. “Teach you some manners Bunny-girl.” 

Her eyes stung now, with the built-up tears that now flowed freely, dampening her hairline before dripping into the sheets. 

Deku moaned, releasing her hands, needing his own to reposition his toy in the new desired position. “Up on your knees.” He remained staining at the edge of the bed, helping his darling kneel. “Posture, Bunny.” He chastised. “Arch that ass up for Daddy.” 

His hand spread flat in the space between her shoulder blades, pushing her upper-body down into the sheets, gliding to enclose around the back of her neck to keep her still while the fingers of his other hand stroked chaffed fingertips up and down the tender lips of her pussy, diving between her folds to gather slick wetness he used to push into her sore hole, curling two digits into the spongey velvet walls, making her moan into the pillow she was forced against. 

“Stay.” He ordered, all his warmth leaving her as she remained clutching and balling up the fabric of the sheets in her tiny useless fists, keeping her ass presented in the air, waiting with eager horror for Deku to return. 

She heard him open a drawer, then click open a lid, the squirt of something she had an educated guess of what was, listened to the slick sounds of him messaging the liquid into his hands, before his heavy steps carried him back to his position behind her. 

“Look at this precious little bunny-hole.” His fingers felt slippery as they rubbed and palmed her ass-cheeks, left hand lifting the plump flesh on one side, whilst the other moved to slide up and down the ravine before hooking a finger inside the top tight little ring of muscle. “Bunny needs Daddy’s cock inside her little butt, doesn’t she?” He pushed it in with ease now with the lube covering his hands, preparing the tightness by pumping the digit in and out, tickling the unsuspecting nerves that had never been played with before, the feeling strange yet surprisingly pleasant as his finger scraped downward, rubbing against a spot that had her pussy gushing around nothing. “Bunny’s tight little butt is just begging to be filled with Daddy's cock isn’t it, Bunny?”

She wasn’t too sure anymore. “No…”

He stuck another finger in with the first one at her reply, making her whine out a wail, toes curling, her one leg thumping up and down into the mattress, trying to shake and crawl away but not allowed to go anywhere with his hand reaching to recover the position it held before, holding her down, pressured around the back of her neck. “Up until now Bunny has been enjoying herself, but this attitude… tch, tch, Bunny... perhaps she needs a little reminder of who she belongs to?” 

She whimpered at the feel of both his thick fingers gliding alongside each other in and out of her tight tender hole, as she clenched around them and around nothing where juices were dripping down her thighs. 

“And there is no punishment without a little pain.” 

He’d only been dipping his digits in halfway, and she realized this once he decided to go knuckle-deep inside her, making her jolt at the foreign feeling of something going inside, much deeper now. 

She was arching her back up like a cat, trying to hide her ass from his antagonizing hands. “What have I told you about posture, Bunny?” His hand let partially go of her neck to glide up her spine, resting on the small of her back. “Give Daddy your hands.” She hesitated, taking her time to breath, feeling his fingers sink in, making her knees tremble, before she listened and folded her arms behind her, again like he’d taught her. “Now, arch your little Bunny-butt up for me.” 

She took small shallow breaths as she readjusted her back into a slope again, knowing what was coming, however as she felt it, big and warm and slick and soft like velvet, riding up her drooling pussy, his fingers disappearing from playing with her hole to make room for what would soon take their place, something much bigger and much longer, both his hands grabbing each her wrists, but not before making a cross of her arms, perfectly immobile for him as he lined his aching eager cock up with her pulsating little hole, she couldn’t hold back.

“No, please, Daddy, I’ll be good.” She begged, trying to scramble away, but being to late as she was left simply sobbing into the mattress, unable to move to any other position without it hurting with how his hands had bent her arms behind her back, yet despite knowing this he still took it upon himself to raise his foot and place it down over the side of her face, stomping slightly on it as a warning to keep still. Her movement obliged, coming to a halt, though not able to contain the trembling. “Please…” She tried one last time, though knowing he had no mercy nor patience left to spare her.

“Don’t disobey Daddy.” He fit his cockhead into the dip of her back entrance again, lining up the attack. “Now Bunny, beg for Daddy to fill your little butt up.” She tried shaking her head beneath the pressure of his foot, feeling her heart in her throat, pouting and scrunching her eyes shut, sniffling so adorably, yet he couldn’t take any pity on her when this was a lesson she needed to learn. “I said beg.” He pulled her arms back, as she screamed with how her shoulder-blades were close to popping out, his foot mushing her face harder into the mattress.

“Pl- please Daddy… fill me u- up…” She blubbered, every inch of her quivering.

He quit his torture, leaving her to simply snivel. “Good girl.” And then he started pushing.

Big bulging mushroom head entering slowly as she whimpered, butthole seizing around it, swallowing it up. “You see, Bunny?” His movements stilled, letting her get used to the new feeling of having something so big fit in the firm taunt hole. “Your little butt is sucking on my cock like a lollipop.” 

He aimed a drop of spit at where he was cramming inside her, the cold wetness hitting her with surprise as she slightly jumped on her knees, bouncing in the soft sponge of the mattress, the movement inadvertently making his cock rock with shallow thrusts in and out of her, messaging her opening. 

He moaned at the cute gesture. “Bunny’s so eager to receive Daddy’s cock, isn’t she?” He slid farther in, making her moan as his cock dragged along the wall that separated from her pussy, making everything tighten up, her pussy feeling so empty, clenching on nothing at all, yet feeling his fat length in just the wrong place, teasing her, making her so unbelievably wet. “Tell Daddy how good it feels, Bunny.” He pulled out again, beginning a slow tempo of lolling halfway into her.

He looked to her face, flushed red and squished together beneath the sole and weight of his foot keeping her down, lips puckered and bloated, cheeks tear-stained, eyes sparkling as she mumbled on small bubbling purrs, unsure pleasure painting her face, looking like such an endearing hopeless mess as he squeezed into the tight fit of her perfect plump ass. “It feels good, Daddy.” She quavered, shaky breaths and small sniffles leaving her adorable expression.

He hummed in return, sinking just a little bit farther inside her, feeling her tense as he did, an open-mouthed whine leaving her, drool hanging like silver string from her lips. “I think Bunny can be more creative than that, can’t she?”

She knew better than to disobey, especially when he already had her in such a compromising postion, knowing he wasn’t far away from pushing all the way inside her still accommodating ass, make her scream and possibly bleed as he fucked her through yet another punishment. “Daddy’s cock feels so good. So good with your number one cock inside me. I love you, Daddy. I love Daddy’s cock. Thank you, Daddy.” She drooled out as sweetly as she could, which was sweeter than honey with how hard it was to breath in her position of being pushed into the pillow beneath her, body slunk with no way of getting up, a proper prayer-pose as Deku stuffed her even fuller, making her mew.

“That’s right…” He groaned, hips rocking slowly and carefully back and forth, opening her little butt with his thickness, messaging her insides, teasing all the sensitive provoked nerves, poking shallowly into the spot that usually had her coming were it not on the other side, in her other hole who was begging to be stimulated in a way that wasn’t half-way fulfilling and half-way terrifying. “And to think Bunny thought she didn’t want this. Daddy still hasn’t heard his apology…”

“You’re right, Daddy, I was wrong… I do want this…” Another moan was forced from her as he inched even further inside, pushing into uncharted and unsuspecting tender areas, making her bleat and sigh ever so sweetly, unable to do anything but lie there and feel every inch of him stuffing her full, taking his time enjoying her tight hole.

He moaned in awe at her words, nearly slobbering. “Daddy knows what’s best for you Bunny.” Another inch had her feeling even fuller, as though he was in her stomach. “Daddy knows what Bunny wants and needs.” He fucked with the added length for a short-lived while until pushing another full inch inside, having her whine out a moan, her ass shaking like a little tease, wiggling at him, her arms also trying ever so slightly on reflex to pull out of his grasp. “Daddy’s always right, Bunny only needs to please Daddy.” 

He started sinking in inch after inch, unbothered or perhaps coaxed by how she struggled now, opting to bottom out fully, have his balls squished against her glossy pussy, his cock completely enclosed by her tight spasming butt, grunting out a shuddering groan of potent pleasure while feeling her little futile struggles trying so desperately to make him stop or slow down as he filled her up completely. 

“You just need to listen… and obey.”

TIP-JAR

[chiwhorei]

𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭

cross-posted to Ao3!

pairing: issei “horse cock” matsukawa x fem!reader

genre: smut, 18+ mdni

word count: ~4.4k

tags: stripper!issei, stripper!seijoh, roommate!oikawa, tendoukawa (bc @heauxzenji said it an it’s now the only ship in my head) dry humping, lap dance, a little corruption, spitting, public, alcohol and recreational drug consumption (weed and coke), spanking, degradation, hardly edited

a/n: howdy! this is my contribution to the smut pile’s western collab and it is so incredibly late but what the hell else is new. the masterlist for the collab can be found here! @messwriting and myself, in true chaotic duo fashion, built an absolutely depraved multiverse of seijoh strippers: the lawbreakers. lee, i love you so much. this journey we’ve been on the past few months has been chaotic and beautiful, and there’s plenty more to come. 

the multiverse: hanamaki || iwaizumi || kyoutani

hymn: save a horse (ride a cowboy) by big & rich

and all the girls say— save a horse, ride a cowboy

A fog of smoke burns in your eyes. The room around you feels like it could curl in on itself, four walls marked sparsely with dusty furniture, the smell of weed and cash. 

You fix your gaze onto a long, diagonal tear in the leather couch across the must and g-strings, the rip in upholstery is stuffed with wrinkled one dollar bills. 

It feels like observing an exhibit at a museum, or a zoo. Lines of coke, random dustings of pot and discarded swisher tobacco, too many open handles of liquor. Sitting on an end table is a bright pink teddy bear with a cowboy hat on it’s head.

How the fuck did you get here?

***

You shift your weight on either foot, arches aching already. The pair of jeans and top you had planned on wearing tonight were all but ripped off of your body, casual boots thrown down the hallway with sadistic glee and replaced with heels that are taller and a dress much too short.

“Damnit, you’re walking too fast.” Your appointed captor turns around dramatically, stopping in his tracks to watch you catch up. The cigarette pressed into his mouth cards in two fingers and extended towards you as a peace offering. You take the half gone stick and bring it to your lips.

Tendou’s mission was simple, drag his boyfriends roommate and best friend-- possibly kicking and screaming-- out for a night she won’t soon forget. 

“Were those really necessary, Satori?” You point with the remnants of his cigarette and he feigns a kicked-puppy expression, looking down dramatically at his all black outfit contrasting drastically with a flashy pair of brownish-red cowboy boots. 

“I am being a supportive partner. Plus Tooru and I wear the same shoe size.” His hair is bright outlined by the neon sign above the building.

You inhale smoke and nicotine, eying him over once again before continuing. 

“Does it bother you when he’s dancing on all of those horny women?” The cigarette butt falls to the ground, you snuff it out while exhaling remnant smoke from your nose, the bachelorette party walking towards the door in a parade screaming emphasizes your question.

Tendou pulls you close, mouth pressing against your neck to bite against the skin. You jerk away from his embrace, with a feeble push against his chest to match the scoff scratching against your throat. The tall red head above you, currently leaned into the dip on your neck, always has an air of vulgar humor and zero personal space. 

“Watching my pretty little boyfriend grinding on women that would never stand a chance with him,” he pulls away just in time to catch another eye roll before grabbing your wrist to pull you inside, “I think it’s hot as fuck.” 

You stumble behind him, the doorman recognizing your friend immediately and lets the pair of you through tacky saloon doors. You catch a glimpse of the tattered sign standing right next to the entrance. 

Lawbreaker’s Presents: The Guys of the Wild West

The club is drastically warmer than outside, the chill in your barely covered limbs thaws in a mixture of stage lights and body heat.

 You sigh deeply as the sound of country music fills your ears, seemingly in rhythm with the squawking of drunken hens sipping on tall flutes of champagne. Thinking back briefly to when you first signed the lease with Oikawa, you remember he wore glasses and a sweater vest. 

He said he worked as a “fitness instructor.”

“Ah, my two favorite people in the whole world,” Tooru’s ears just have been burning at your recollection, as your roommate appears in front of you in nothing but white spandex shorts and a pair of shiny boots to match, a tray of drinks is placed to the side on an unoccupied table. The white cowboy hat on his head gleamed in the low light of the club, rhinestone star shimmers-- you want to shy away from the bright refraction hitting your eyes.

He looks in his element, completely confident and cocksure as he walks around in only underwear and body oil. 

“Aren’t you glad you came out tonight? I promise, you’re going to have a great time.” Oikawa melts into Tendou’s side, he looks just as content in the current atmosphere. Tendou seems at home in any ecosystem he wanders into.

“The show starts in 15, go get yourself a drink and try to pull the stick out of your ass. I’m going to, uhm, wish Tooru an extra special good luck.” 

“I really didn’t need to know that, thanks. Tooru, break a leg.” You turn around at the sight of the wandering, tattooed hand on it’s journey south on Oikawa’s abdomen and retreat to the bar. You aren’t shocked by the display, not hardly, not with the two of them using almost every surface in your apartment as a debauched playground.

The space around you is emptier than you imagined it would be, but there is still time before the night actually starts. The bartender approaches just as you sit down on one of the wooden stools, every fixture around you is designed to look like an old saloon-- save for the strobing lights and dj booth.

You order something strong and amber, partially to stay in-theme, partially for the nerves settled in your stomach that draft beer wouldn’t be able to curb.

The woman smiles brightly and turns to pour your liquor, leaving you to pick at a cocktail napkin and await your friend’s return.

“You’re Shittykawa’s roommate.” A stranger's voice is deep and bellowing, sounding high above your ear. You swivel in your seat, gaze meeting a tanned chest instead of a set of eyes. Trailing upwards past thick black tattoos and an unavoidable pair of silver nipple rings.

You can feel the muscles in the back of your neck as they strain to meet his chocolate brown stare, he looks amused as you all but gawk at him.

“Yes, uh, I am. And you’re, uhm--” the train of thought you try to hang onto derailed completely by a devastating smile, “one of Tooru’s co-workers?”

If his smile wasn’t enough, his laugh could level the building around you. Your new friend taps the black Stetson against the bar top before putting it back on his head. He gestures broadly to his attire, or lack thereof, with another disarming and smooth chuckle. 

“What gave that one away, darlin’?” You realize how stupid your question sounded, mentally kicking yourself but trying desperately not to show it on your face.

Long, thick legs are wrapped in a pair of leather chaps, the tight fabric hides nothing even if it covers most of his lower half. A matching vest hangs open on his chest, the muscles in his arms look bigger than your head. He seems huge in presence and physique, your own form is a shrinking violet below him.

“Your drink, dear. Double Jack n’ Coke.” The bartender slides a glass towards you, and you accept it with a gracious smile. The distraction is definitely appreciated, any excuse to break the eye contact that has you dissolving like lye.

“Jack n’ Coke, a gal after my own heart.” You choke, a coupling of small coughs break out of your chest. You curse your bodies reaction, you don’t even know--

“You’re name, uh, w-what’s your name.” Casual conversation seems like the best option, because it’s only been two minutes with the almost-naked Casanova and there’s a gnawing feeling that you don’t want him to walk away.

You blame it on the alcohol not yet even running through your veins. 

“Call me anything you want, pretty girl, but my name’s Issei.”

A smile creeps from one end of your mouth to the other. His presence is jarring to say the least, but there’s something about the way his teeth peek out past curled lips that makes you want to lean in instead of away.

Tendou calls your name, effectively pulling you out of Issei’s orbit and reminding you where you are. Heat flushes in waves on your face as Tendou wraps his long arms around your shoulders from behind. Acknowledging your new friend with a pointed, “Howdy partner,” before turning to order his own drink.

“Something sweet please, and strong.” You hear his voice singing to the bartender but still face Issei, having his attention is more intoxicating than whiskey. You want him to talk to you, to ask you questions, to grace you with that smile over again.

You feel the ability to breathe escaping when Issei leans into you impossibly close, his hand enclosing around your back and pulling you in so slightly you could swear you imagined it.

“It was nice to meet you. Make sure I hear ya’ out there, darlin.”

You’re left almost falling from the bar stool, watching as Issei strides toward the back. The way his hips sway is unfair in every--

“Hey,” Tendou’s fingers come up to snap in front of your face, “Didya hear me? Let’s go take our seats.” 

That’s right; you feel like you’ve just run a marathon, heart beating erratically at the briefest interaction, your night hasn’t even started yet. 

You’re dragged directly towards the front of the stage and sat in a small two person table. You agreed to the night out between gritted teeth, hauled to the uber with absolute defiance; but most of your protest has fizzled away-- definitely not due to a pair of deep brown eyes and planes of perfectly tanned skin-- as you get comfortable next to the boisterous bridal party. You can hear their idle, drunken chatter at your back. 

“I heard they call one of the dancers ‘Mad Dog’. Apparently he’s totally feral.”

“One of them is nicknamed the ‘Big Tease’, he really likes the pretty little brides~” 

“Oh yeah? Well there’s one dancer called ‘Horse Cock’. I’m going to go home with him.” 

The women behind you howl with laughter, enjoying their friend’s last night of freedom. The straw in your drink twirls idly, thoughts drifting with each turn of the plastic against your liquor. Surely, Issei had just intended a friendly introduction, he wouldn’t be raking in tips by being unapproachable.

Friendly, you decide, repeating it to yourself until the lights drop and a black curtain is pulled up, he was just being nice. 

* * *

The show starts out mostly how you would expect. Through a few sets, toned, beautiful guys take their clothes off and fling articles at the screaming, panting crowd. The table next to you gets the most attention, bridal parties, you assume, would be the prized cash cow.

Oikawa comes out in the most obnoxious, white and teal outfit and strips into nothing but a thong and boots. Every inch of his skin sparkles, the cause becoming obvious when he jumps down to the audience and swivels his hips and ass right into your lap. Your hand comes up to his hip reflexively to brace yourself-- of course, body glitter.

You watch on at the sweaty writhing of the most beautiful men you have ever seen in real life. The atmosphere around you is absolutely contagious, it’s impossible not to fall into the rhythm, losing inhibitions with every stray piece of fabric as it’s tossed into the sea of women.

Just as you lean over to Tendou to admit that you’re enjoying yourself, the next song blasts loudly from the speakers. The beat vibrates your table, soaking into every nerve, but is almost drowned out completely by the shrieking from every patron around you. They must know what’s coming. 

 Looking back up front, you realize why the crowd is losing their minds. The man that commanded your attention at the bar is even more alluring now. His strut to center stage is deliberate, flashing smiles and winks to no one in particular and hypnotizing every person in his reach.

Issei is stunning in his element, soaking in the reaction with a humble tip of his hat. You could swear, though you’re sure that it’s just your imagination, that he’s looking right at you.

His performance starts out like the rest of them, but each movement of his tattooed hands as they travel over his chest is spellbinding. 

Issei discards his leather vest and tosses it to the side, it feels like you’re watching him in slow motion. He’s gorgeous, skin tanned and tight over thick muscle, arms wrapped in black ink and shining with sweat.

His chaps are next, ripped from his legs just as music behind him picks up. The wedding party next to you so loud you swear the laundromat next door can hear.

 All that’s left is a thong that’s barely covering his cock. You try desperately not to, but all your eyes can focus on is the bulge under a tiny piece of black leather. Your thighs rub together in search of any relief to the feeling growing hot and slick in your stomach.

He moves like liquid platinum, every long, deliberate swivel of his hips and overt palming over his crotch is enough to cause delirium. He soaks in every whistle and shriek of his name, vibrating on the high of squelching attention. 

Issei is a natural. He’s a wild animal, and, along with every other woman there, you wish he would tear you apart with his canines. 

He descends the short staircase with a quick stomp of his boots, now making rounds through the crowd. He stops in front of tables at random, invading the space between strangers and collecting wrinkled one dollar bills.

Why does something so blatantly performative feel voyeurous?

All you can do is gawk, ignoring how every time another woman’s hand runs down his abdomen you heat with envy. As he turns away from the bridal party neighboring you, your blood turns ice cold.

Issei has you, unmistakably, in his sights. His eyes pin you, holding you down tightly in your chair as he struts forward. Tendou whistles loudly as the brunette approaches your table. You wonder, in your last moment of cognizance, if Saroti and Tooru had planned your evening in more detail that you originally thought.

“Long time no see, darlin’,” Issei stands over you, and all you can do is stare dumbly up at him, “do ya trust me?” 

You don’t answer, not with words, not like he would even hear your quiver over Big & Rich booming through the speakers. His question is stupid, to trust someone you just met so vaguely?

You do. Against any better judgement, you do. 

He doesn't give you the chance to ask what he means, stuck in the gooey feeling of his attention. Issei reaches behind you, picking up your half empty glass. He swirls the drink with an almost evil smile before bringing it up to his lips and draining the last bits of whiskey and coke. 

Your face reads confused, not putting his intentions together until you feel his thumb pressed against your chin. Issei’s eyebrow quirks, eyes trained on your reaction. You’re options are to shy away, turning back in your seat, running for escape in the bathroom, or--

The gloss on your mouth is sticky as your lips part in obedience. Issei tries to hide his elation, but it’s difficult to remain aloof as your tongue lulls out and your eyes beg him.

Issei’s hold on your chin tightens, nudging you to lean in so he’s only inches away. Your eyes shut lightly, the shouting surrounding you sounds little more than a whisper with the blood rushing in your ears.

You swear you can hear him groan above you as the sharp taste of liquor hits your tongue. Willing your body to cooperate, you swallow the drink with only a small cough. 

His face dips down, it seems like a habit now, to brush his promises against the shell of your ear once again.

“You’re an agreeable little thing, I think you can take it.”

His hands are on either side of your chair in a flash, lifting you up with trained, bulging muscles. You fall forward in your seat, bracing against Issei’s chest. Every cell in your body is tight with tension, if you lift your head up to meet the audience’s eyes, you’re sure you’ll crack like glass.

He steals you from relative comfort, shifting your weight in his arms as he ascends back onto stage. You’ve gone limp in his hold, pliant to his will. The unfamiliar presence at a dusty bar top has turned into more than a front row seat to depravity.

You’re thrown off balance as he sets you down, eyes adjusting to the white hot stage lights. You’re exposed to every set of eyes in the building, even if you can’t see him-- you know Satori is smiling from one sharp cheek to the other. Wherever Tooru is, he’s most likely sitting in the same satisfaction.

Aren’t you glad you came out tonight? I promise, you’re going to have a great time.

Issei rounds the back of your chair so his actions are hidden from your view. The brim of a leather cowboy hat breaches your field of vision, much too big for your head.

His hands come down onto your shoulders, snaking down your bare arms. His touch leaves a scorching fleet of chills. Issei runs his finger tips upwards, tracing against your collarbone before wrapping his grip lightly around your neck. 

He can feel it, he has to, the racing pulse right under the surface of your skin.

The music transitions effortlessly, going almost unnoticed. The next song, still sharp with a cheesy country twang, is slower, deeper.

Issei’s thumb brushes against your cheek, your body wants to relax into the touch before it remembers how public the gesture is.

You hold in a shaky breath as he comes to stand in your eyeline again, you might as well be bound to your chair with rope. He looks larger than life-- in both stature and presence-- in front of you. His skin is glistening, refracting from the harsh lights with sweat and oil. 

He is an unstoppable force against your will. Your desire to hide from the blinding attention is nothing compared to the desire to please. To please a stranger, to please the man you met only an hour ago. 

To please Issei.

He flashes you another wink, taking a moment to rake his stair down your body. He memorizes the outline of your cute little dress, red is definitely your color. 

Issei slides across the smooth surface of the stage to meet where you’re perched. The barreling, almost naked body now impossibly close to where your knees are pressed together.

He starts at your ankles, tracing the soft skin of your legs until his palms press flatly against your lower thigh. Issei savors the moment for a beat longer before prying your legs apart.

The crowd below you is loud and hollow in your ears, the shame bubbling up against your cheeks and nose is nothing compared to the pressure between your legs. 

Issei’s hands wander up and under the hem of your skirt, scratching his nails on the vulnerable skin before they find his prize in the form of thin lace.

The “Wait” and “Stop” sitting on your lips shrivels up and dies as your panties are ripped off. You see the bright color, the last remnants of opposition twirling around his pointer and middle finger.

The crowd goes wild, watching as your body is made a fantasy that they can all live vicariously by. all you can do is watch as the fabric is stuffed into the side of his thong to accompany fistfuls of singles.

* * *

You’re still in shock by the final dance, still under a trance as Tendou pulls you towards the back. Stumbling behind him to catch up, you’re given no time to think about what you’re about to walk into. 

A fog of smoke burns in your eyes. The room around you feels like it could curl in on itself, four walls marked sparsely with dusty furniture, the smell of weed and cash. 

You fix your gaze onto a long, diagonal tear in the leather couch across the must and g-strings, the rip in upholstery is stuffed with wrinkled one dollar bills. 

It feels like observing an exhibit at a museum, or a zoo. Lines of coke, random dustings of pot and discarded swisher tobacco, too many open handles of liquor. Sitting on an end table is a bright pink teddy bear with a cowboy hat on it’s head--

“I didn’t go too far did I?” Snapping back into reality, you hear Issei call to you. You’re vaguely comforted by a familiar voice before remembering the man attached had spat whiskey into your mouth and stolen your panties just 30 minutes prior. You heat up at the tips of your ears at the recollection of two things you had let him do, that you had wanted him to do. 

Your eyes find Issei sitting on the couch on the opposite end of your freshly showered roommate, seemingly unbothered as Tendou flops down against the middle cushion and drapes both arms across the back. 

“Don’t worry partner, our girl doesn’t startle easy.” Oikawa laughs, adjusting to sit across his boyfriend’s lap.  Issei’s all leather outfit is replaced with a pair of grey sweats. He looks relaxed, effortlessly handsome. 

What was it like, you wonder, before you knew how it felt to look at him? Life past the single night feels grey around the edges. 

When was the last time you felt this alive? 

He takes a sip of a water bottle, wiping off his chin with the large rose tattooed on his hand. You can’t stop staring at them-- the ones that roamed your body in front of a club full of drunk bachelorettes, the ones that traced your skin like he already had the map. 

And now you watch those same hands, so new but so inviting, as two fingers curl inward. They pull you as if tightening a rope around your waist. You wade past tall sweaty men and freshly caught audience members as they tangle across dusty furniture.

You scoot by your best friends from where they sit next to Issei, ignoring the slap to your ass and the following laugh from Oikawa in between loud, sloshing kisses.

“Well, little one,” He pats his thigh, inviting you to the spot on his lap rather than the empty seat next to him, “you’re not gonna run away are ya?” 

Every nerve in your body is twitching, you’re not sure if you could run if you wanted to.

You don’t.

Issei takes in your small nod of confirmation, pulling you into his hold. The position is awkward at first, perching on his knee as you try to keep your balance. He laughs, his arm snaking around your back so you relax into him. You fidget with your fingers as they lie against your lap, watching the bustling around you. A cloud of smoke settles in the air, you wonder if it’s a permanent haze of tobacco and pot-- the scent is probably painted into the walls. 

“Is this what you expected?” Issei’s voice is low and close to your ear, you can feel the smile curled into his question. Your eyes are fixed forward, watching as Tendou pours a small white line into Oikawa’s collarbone and dives in nose first.

“Honestly,” you adjust, kicking your legs up over his other knee, “I’m pretty used to this kind of stuff.”

Even if your usual scene doesn't include a drug filled almost-orgy, you can’t say you’re fazed much. Not with the company you keep.

Even with the circus revolving around you, Issei is the only thing you can see. Everything else falls away but the smell of his body wash and the soft material of his sweats where they meet your naked legs.

His hand rests against your thigh, fingers just above then short hem of your party dress. The metal rings on each digit are cool against your burning skin. You’re sure Issei can feel the heat rising in your stomach as it spreads through your blood. 

You feel him lean back, fishing something out of his pocket to set in your hands. You feel every hair stand on edge as the thin cotton drops into your grip, heavy as an anchor.

“You know what I think, darlin’?” Your breath hitches, the room around you squeezing tight against your shoulders, “I think you’re a natural on stage. I bet you would have let me do anything up there.” 

A hand wanders down the path of your spine, rough fingerprints stroke past each vertebrae. You arch at the feeling, his skin is like a narcotic. The liquor still swimming in your mind is no match to this, to the heady smell of sex and sweat as it cuts through your senses. 

Issei’s right, you’ll let him do anything to you. You’ll beg for it like you’re trying to pass the gates of heaven.

Your body moves of its own volition, legs swinging to straddle his waist. The material of your dress bunches over the curve of your ass, completely exposed to the room around you before being eclipsed by steady palms.

You would be, should be, embarrassed by the display of public depravity. No one around seems to notice, half naked is still more modest than most everyone else. Tendou and Oikawa have dissolved into a pile of spit and clashing teeth next to you, saving you from any snide quips. There’s nothing but Issei, face an inch away from you and lips tempting you to lean forward.

“Would it make you feel better if I told you I don’t usually do this?” 

Glassy eyes flick dumbly at the man below you. He sees the wobble of your lip, the glaze in your stare as you memorize every feature on his face. Any reassurance sitting on his tongue dies when you crash your lips against his, hips rolling down into him and knocking him off guard.

Your kiss is searing and drips with finality. You’ve decided what bed you’ll wake up in the morning with your tongue tracing against his molars.

“No, not really.” Foreheads pressed together, it’s your turn to laugh. If you’re honest, you probably made this decision while still sitting at the bar.

You dip back in, emboldened with the bruising fingers digging against the fat of your hips. The feeling of your cunt pressed against his crotch could bring a man to his knees.

He’s not opposed, he’s just gotta get you home first.

all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

[yandere-sins]

omg i’m such a dumbass i can’t believe i missed your prompts😭 if it’s not too late can we get some window with suna? he’s just so perfect for it. hope you’re doing well!💓

Awa, you didn’t miss them at all! Thanks for requesting, I hope you’re doing well too ♥ I decided to make a continuation of the Kitsune!AU I did with Suna before here so I could work on his character more.

Window - “…How fucking dense are you?” 

»»———————— ♡ ————————««     

You started buying groceries for two.

It was utterly idiotic that you tolerated that... person’s demands. Especially when you could barely afford to feed another person. More than once, you found yourself holding your phone, dialing the police. But when you looked up, seeing him merely laying on your couch watching TV, you completely forgot what you wanted to say. He didn’t look menacing. He didn’t even try to scare you like a robber would. And how would you even start to explain the fox ears and tail to anyone?

A hunter might have been a better option. But were they and their guns effective against mythical creatures as well? You tried to research it, google for every information you could find, but aside from stories and myths, there were no hints on the internet that this man should actually exist. If you believed the old tellings, they weren’t as uncommon to see back then, but their population seemed to have decreased with the humans taking over most parts of the world.

Thinking logically, that was still no reason for you specifically to endure him. Especially if it were the humans having the upper hand, he should be afraid of you, rather than the other way around! So what if you were nice enough to feed him?

You still couldn’t understand why he was sticking around you.

His ears folding back, Suna finally turned to you, glaring at you in annoyance. “Why are you staring?” he asked, and you flinched, noticing how you had peeked around the corner for too long. It was hard to avoid him, considering he took up a lot of your living space, but you were still reluctant to interact with him. “Just come over here if you want to watch the show.”

Truth be told, he never looked as if he was enjoying what he was watching, but you had seen him put on the same kind of program again and again over time, so surely, he must have taken a liking to it either way. “Is that... your favorite show?” you asked timidly, approaching the couch with a reasonable distance. Even if he was annoyed from your staring, he did invite you over, and it was as good of a time to ask him to leave as any.

“It’s alright,” he replied, and his tail gave a slow wag, making you think he did like it. “Cool, cool...” you mumbled, shooting the TV a short glance, the flashing of bright colors and the loud voices of the moderation appalling you. Suna’s attention returned to you, his eyes giving you a slow, appraising look up and down before he patted the free space next to him on the couch. “Sit,” he kept inviting you as if your presence standing next to the amenity was dissatisfactory for him.

Making this step was harder for you than you thought at first. Hesitantly, you slid on the cushion furthest away from Suna, pressing up to the armrest on your side while he was leaning on the other one, watching you from the corners of his eyes.

Why you even followed his instructions was puzzling, but you hoped he’d take what you were about to say better when you made him comfortable. Clearing your throat, you announced, “So, when do you plan on leaving...?” avoiding to look at him even after you finished speaking.

“Leave what?” A yawn escaped him before his attention shifted back to the program on TV. “My home... this house. Here?” was your lousy explanation, and fiddling with your fingers, you noticed that you were growing nervous with every silent second between you two.

“I don’t know--”

“I’m not going to feed you anymore.”

These words left you the second you heard his dismissive tone of voice and without much consideration. Simply, you were too scared to listen to his rejection. You wanted him out and rather yesterday than tomorrow at that. “I... I can’t keep feeding you. It’s too expensive; I’ll run out of money,” you tried to explain, hoping this was enough to persuade you.

“Huh...” he grumbled, his fingers tapping against the leather on the couch. “I don’t want to leave,” he eventually mustered to say, taking a deep breath before sitting up straight. “But you can’t stay...” you disappointingly replied.

“Can’t I?”

“No,” you said firmly, standing your ground.

Inching closer to you, his presence was suddenly unnerving. You wondered what the point was in closing in the distance, not sure what he would do. “I can’t feed you anymore a-and, uh, you are over... over-staying your welcome!”

It sure didn’t help that he was leaning towards you, slender features and pure skin soon covering all you could see. Black hair as you looked towards the ceiling, an unpredictable expression when your gaze graced his face.

“... How fucking dense are you?” he asked you suddenly, using harsher words than you had ever heard him do before.

Next thing you knew, he had your hands restraint, pushing your upper body back to bend over the armrest. The burning you felt of the strain in your back was your smallest concern at that moment; instead, you immediately focus on thin lips brushing down your neck and to your collarbones. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying.”

“B-But I-” you stuttered, trying to convince him and find a peaceful solution. Twisting and turning your wrists only revealed Suna’s strength, something he hadn’t used on you before, so you never had a chance to find out about it until now. “You won’t get rid of me just because you don’t feed me, you know.”

“What?” you squeaked, so sure of yourself that all your research had shown that animals who lost a source of food would move on. You had bet your entire confidence on this fact. “I don’t even need food,” he explained, seemingly reading your mind.

“Then why... Why did you stay?”

What followed was a long pause. So much so, you noticed your back pain again, twisting your torso to appease it and also moved your head around to free yourself of hair blocking your view. There was a vase on the coffee table. If only you could reach it, you’d have a chance of breaking free. But being able to see again, you noticed something moving rather excitedly behind Suna’s body, his tail wagging putting every dog to shame.

No second later, you felt the sharp pain of fangs in the soft flesh between your neck and shoulder, and you flinched hard at it, only worsen the feeling. “Ah-!” you wanted to cry out, but the sound got stuck in your throat as he loosened his jaw, moving slightly more to the right to bite down again.

This time, you felt the tears shoot into your eyes, shock, pain, and fear covering your senses. “Who knows~” he chuckled, seemingly amused about your reaction. Pulling away from you, you could see the bloodstains around his mouth, almost making you faint as you could ultimately realize that he did, in fact, bit you twice just now.

“Maybe I stayed for you? I couldn’t wait to get a bite for sure. Want me to eat you up?”

He leaned down again, and this time, as weak as you felt, you could see your life flashing before your eyes, especially when you felt his tongue drag over the wounds he had just induced. In what must have been a survival instinct, you managed to shove your hands into his shoulders, his grip having weakened as he didn’t expect you to resist. The next moment you were free, falling off the couch and to your feet, gone in the blink of an eye. You only stopped when the door to your bedroom closed behind you, and you locked it, sinking to the ground.

You had nothing on you; no phone or cell, nothing to make yourself known to the outside world. If you climbed out the window or exit through the door, you were almost sure you were a feast for the fox. There was barely anything you could do to calm your racing heart or stop hyperventilating as your mind desperately thought of alternatives. If this was just one of his jokes, you were taking it way too seriously, but how could you know?

How could you know what was true and false about the grinning fox spirit standing in front of your bedroom door, licking his lips in delight?

[jihyuncompass]

A Little More Interesting

Welcome to Kinktober 2021! While this is my first time participating I’m very exited to give you some treats and spice to add to your Starbucks drink and Halloween candy. Now. Without any further ado, welcome to the first fic of the month. 

Kinktober 2021. Week One 

Marius x MC

Word Count: 4.3k 

NSFW. Only read if 18+

Tags Below the Cut 

Warnings/Tags: Collaring, Vaginal Fingering, Public/Semi-Public, Toys

--------------------------------------------------

“I have a couple things for you,” Marius said after pulling into a parking spot. You glanced up from your phone, Marius’s eyes were on you. A glint in his eye that made it clear that he had something on his mind. Setting your phone aside, your attention went to him. Noticing your attention on him he smiled then reached for the bag in the backseat. 

He handed the bag over to you, dropping it into your lap. After giving him another odd look you reached back into the bag to find it’s contents. 

Marius’s gaze was locked on you as you pulled out what looked to be a jewelry box, too big for a ring but probably about the size of a necklace. Holding the box in your hand your gaze went back to Marius. His brow was arched, like he was waiting to see your reaction. Feeling around the box you started to pull up on the top. 

“Wait.” Marius said, his hand resting on the top of the box. “Before you open it.” Your hands stopped, eyes returning to him. “We talked about this not too long ago, but if you don’t want it. You don’t have to accept it.” 

His words only grew your curiosity, opening the jewelry box. Inside lay what a t first looked like a typical necklace. A simple silver chain with a ring in the center. Within the ring, a small purple gem. Simple, yet elegant. The realization didn’t hit until you lifted the piece out of the box, noticing the clasp on the end. Two small rings connected by what looked to be a small lock.

“You don’t have to wear it.” Marius said. Any previous show of confidence had fallen away. “If you don’t want to or you feel you’re not ready.” 

Holding it in your hands you considered it, knowing Marius it was likely custom made. Designed for you specifically by him. You could just imagine Marius, choosing the details on the silver chain, picking the perfect gem to match the color of his eyes. The lock on the clasp, small but by looks of it rather strong. 

“You have the key for it?” You asked him. Seemingly stunned by your sudden question Marius nodded quickly but took an extra second to find his voice. 

“I do.” Marius reached under his shirt, pulling out a similar silver chain to the one in your hand. At the end, a small silver key. 

You didn’t require much more time to consider it. Taking another moment to admire it, you handed it to Marius. Who was watching you intently. 

“You’re sure you’re okay with this?” He asked. 

“Yes.” You said, putting on a smile to show your honesty. “I trust you Marius, and I want this.” 

Marius took the key around his neck and quickly unlocked the tiny lock at the clasp. Adjusting in the seat you let your back face him. Moments later his hands put the subtle collar around your neck. Closing your eyes you focused in on the feeling of the lock clicking closed. The light but present pressure where the collar rested against your neck. Marius’s hands rested on your shoulders. Urging you to turn. 

“Well?” You asked him after you turned. At first he went speechless, ears turning red and voice lost. Then after a moment, when he’d been able to fully take you in, his expression shifted. His eyes narrowed and darkend, his lips pulled into a smirk. Playful yet mischievous. 

His fingers trailed from your shoulder to your neck, his fingers running over the silver chain. Leaning close to whisper. “It’s perfect.” His hand stopped at your jawline, pulling you into a kiss, his warm lips taking your’s, sending a warm feeling down into your abdomen. Breaking away from the kiss he leaned in, whispering against the shell of your ear. “It’s also the perfect reminder. That you’re mine.” 

“I am yours.” You whispered back, holding his face in your hands. “Always will be.” 

Marius smiled, his gaze full of warmth and adoration as he looked at you. Letting himself watch you for a moment longer he pulled away just the slightest bit. 

“There’s one more thing in the bag.” He said, motioning to the bag still resting in your lap. Letting your hands drop from his face you reached in for the second item, a larger box than the last one. 

Your mouth parted in a brief shock. Your face instantly flushed bright red. 

“These events are always so boring.” Marius said. “I thought this might make it a little more interesting.” 

Interesting was one word for it you thought as you held the box for a remote controlled vibrator. You’d seen these online and in other things but never in person, you turned the box over in your hands. The flush on your face was growing worse by the moment. 

“Well?” Marius asked. 

“You really think this is a good idea?” You questioned. 

Marius smirked. “Thought it could make the night a little more interesting, that’s all.” Marius winked, looking away from him you looked at the box in your hand. The idea seemed outrageous, it wasn’t appropriate and it could cause trouble for the both of you. 

But also, you couldn’t ignore the heat growing in your lower abdomen, and the excitement sparking through your nerves. Considering the box you pulled out the device, thumb brushing over the soft silicone outside. 

Marius leaned in, the smirk briefly disappearing from his face. “We don’t have to.” Glancing between Marius and the toy you weighed your options. 

“We can use our safe word?” You asked. 

“Of course.” Marius responded in complete seriousness. “Still paintbrush, right?” You nodded. 

Taking a breath of courage you fully removed the toy from its packaging, turning it around in your hand to get a feel for it. “Did you happen to bring any lube with you?” 

“Dammit.” Marius cursed. “I knew I forgot something.” He ran a hand through his carefully styled hair, messing up some of the strands. He hastily glanced around the car, hoping maybe he could find something suitable. 

“It’s okay.” You said, stopping his frantic search. “I can just do it the traditional way.” 

“Traditional way?” Marius asked. Before you answered you’d set the toy on the console, your hand reaching between your legs, pushing aside your clothes to get where you wanted to be. “Oh.” Marius said. “That way.” 

You smirked to yourself as your finger ran against your slit, already growing wet from just your thoughts alone. Your finger circled your clit, forcing you to take a sharp breath in, your finger rubbed on the sensitive nub quickly growing swollen by the sensation. 

As your fingers moved downwards, towards your core already beginning to ache you felt Marius’s eyes on you. Throwing him a glance you happily took in his flustered face while he watched you, 

“What’s that look for?” You cooed. “Do you want to help?” 

He cleared his throat, then nodded. Trying to keep his cool as he shifted his position. You pulled your own hand away as his hand traveled down your thigh to your core. Leaning back in the seat you readjusted your hips to get a better angle for him. 

Your eyes slipped closed as his fingers ran over your slit, collecting the wetness as he moved. Biting your lip you attempted to savor the feeling as he started down towards your entrance. Careful to use the fingers without a copious amount of rings he let one finger slip in, then a second not long after. 

Marius wasted no time, his fingers already pumping in and out of you as his thumb made quick circles around your clit. You didn’t hesitate to let moans fall past your lips, each sound only making Marius go faster. 

“Marius-” You said, forcing the name past your lips. 

“Hm?” Marius answered. 

“I think-” You paused to let another wave of pleasure pass. “I think I’m ready for it.” Marius slowed his hand, letting you reach for the toy you left on the console. 

He took the toy from you, using his other hand to angle it while his other hand pulled out of you. Using the remaining arousal coating his fingers to smear it on the tip. He looked back to your face, checking your expression. 

You nodded at him, giving him the confirmation he needed for him to push the toy past your folds and inside you. Swallowing thickly you groaned from the pleasant stretch, taking some moments to adjust to the new feeling. 

“How’s that?” Marius asked, hand resting on your upper thigh. 

“It’s good.” You readjusted your clothing, sitting up straight. Heavily aware of the toy now fully inside you as you sat in the seat of the car. Looking in the mirror you fixed your hair and straightened out your clothes. 

Marius put the vibrator box back into the bag, tossing it back into the backseat. Straightening himself out as you did. The two of you took a moment to collect yourselves before exchanging a glance. 

“Ready to go in?” Marius asked. 

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” 

-

Tonight’s event wasn’t anything special. Especially not in comparison to some of the other events you’d attended with Marius in the past. As always the drinks were overflowing and the food while of good quality not bountiful in quantity. Following your partner you made the rounds to the copious amounts of well dressed business associates Marius knew. 

“Oh my that’s such a beautiful choker you’re wearing.” One woman said to you, motioning to the accessory on your neck. In the corner of your eye you noticed how Marius smirked to you. “Where’d you get it?” 

You were about to speak when Marius spoke first. “It’s custom made.” He explained, focused on the woman speaking you missed Marius’s hand slipping into his pocket. 

“Well it’s absolutely beautiful.” She said to you, then turned to Marius. “I must get the name of your jeweler.” 

The sudden jolt of the toy nearly made you gasp, clearing your throat to avoid making any other sounds. Inside you the toy vibrated aggressively against your walls. Shooting Marius a look, you  cleared your throat again. 

“I’m sorry I think I need a drink.” You apologized. “Please excuse me.” Stepping away from the conversation you bit your lip, the vibrations grew slowly in intensity as you walked towards one of the servers carrying a tray of glasses of wine. 

While you walked back towards Marius the vibrations slowed to a stop. Marius’s hand leaving his pocket to shake someone’s hand. Breathing a sigh of relief you rejoined him, although the mischievous glint in his eye remained. 

“Doing okay? You look a little red.” Marius teased after the others had walked away. Pressing your lips into a thin line you ignored him, even as he took your hand in his, and his other hand slipped back into his pocket. 

You braced yourself, waiting for him to start the vibrator again. However he just winked at you, leading you towards another small gathering of people. Putting on his business smile as he approached. 

These conversations were usually nothing you found particularly interesting, this one included. You listened as Marius talked about business with one of the older men. Discussing PAX’s latest ventures and asking about one another’s families. You sipped at your wine while they spoke. Usually being just the littlest bit tipsy during times like this made the small talk bearable to get through. 

“And what about you?” The man Marius had been speaking to asked you. “What do you do for work?” 

“Oh I’m-” Your sentence was cut off by the return of the vibrations. You collected yourself after a moment, pushing through the increasing setting of the toy. 

“Are you feeling alright?” The man asked. “You look a bit overheated.” 

“I’m fine. Thank you.” You said, digging your nails into your hand to keep your composure. “It’s a bit warm. That’s all.”

 You carried on with your conversation, fighting the pleasure very quickly spreading through your boy as you talked. Marius was enjoying this, that you could easily tell. His expression showed how obviously he was undressing you with his eyes, and between the toy inside you and the pressure of the collar around your neck you were starting to find it difficult to keep your composure. 

The night continued this way, with Marius routinely turning the toy on and off as he pleased. With each cycle of it making it harder and harder for you to keep control of yourself. You already could tell your face was red, your knees getting shaky from how he’d started to get you close before turning it off again. 

After a while you’d convinced Marius to sit down with you at one of the tables in the venue. Marius held your hand as you watched others flutter around one another in conversation. All the same typical business chatter, what everyone was doing, new business plans or partnerships, maybe a mention of a spouse or children. 

“Do you want more to drink?” Marius asked, motioning to one of the servers. “I could get you another glass.” 

You shook your head, you’d already drunk enough to be pleasantly buzzed, but considering your current state and the way Marius was still looking at you, getting any more intoxicated would probably be a bad move. 

“I didn’t expect to see you both here.” A voice said from beside you. Turning your head, your mouth fell open as Artem walked up to the two of you. 

“Oh hey.” Marius said. His tone gave away a slight annoyance. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” 

“I had a client invite me along. Figured I’d accept the offer.” Artem said. He smiled at you softly. “It’s good to see you. I hope you’re enjoying yourself?” 

You matched his smile. “I am. Are you?” You asked. Artem pulled up a chair to sit next to you, your eyes on him instead of Marius you didn’t think much about the way he was looking at the two of you. 

“I’m usually not one for events like this, but it’s been pretty nice so far.” Artem said, nursing a glass of wine in his hand. You nodded thoughtfully. 

“I’m not really a huge fan of these either. The food and drinks definitely make up for it though.” You said. 

“Based on what I’ve had here, I think I’m inclined to agree with you.” 

You were about to speak further when your voice was caught in your throat. Marius had

turned the toy on again. This time at a higher speed than he had ever set before. Pressing your lips together in a fine line you attempted to breathe through the waves of pleasure pulsing through your body. If you looked uncomfortable at least Artem didn’t seem to notice as he carried on with the conversation. 

“How long are you both planning on staying?” Artem asked, sipping on his wine. 

“I’m not sure.” You said, crossing your legs to try and keep the intensity controlled the best you can. “How long are you staying?” 

“Not for long I hope.” Artem said. “I have some work I want to work on tonight.” You nodded, your nails digging into your knee as Marius turned up the vibrations again. Biting your cheek as you fought back the sounds you wanted to make, keeping yourself as still as possible so your knees didn’t shake. 

“Y-yeah.” You agreed, voice cracking. “Especially with that case we just got.” You said, having to force yourself to say every word while the intense pressure in your abdomen grew bigger and bigger, heart beating faster, and face getting more hot by the word. “I did look at the case files earlier but-” You took a breath to catch yourself. “I didn’t get a chance to spend much time with it.” 

Artem set his wine glass on the table. “If you’d like we could meet and go over the details of the case. There is a lot to keep track of.” 

“Oh that would be great-” The sudden increase in the speed of the toy made you stop, covering your face with your hand. Feigning a coughing fit to distract from how your whole body was shaking and how it was becoming impossible to keep yourself together anymore. You were getting so close, so close so- 

“Do you need something to drink?” Artem asked, leaning close to try and see your face, you coughed harder to keep your face hidden, nodding frantically. 

Just as Artem stepped away to find something for you to drink you shot Marius a look, he was smirking clearly proud of himself and the mess he was making you. 

“Awful coughing fit you’re having there.” Marius teased. 

You squeezed his thigh. “Paintbrush.” You said. Within a second the toy was off, and Marius took his hand out of his pocket. His smirk disappeared, replaced with concern. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, moving closer. 

You nodded after a second. Marius rubbing your back. “It was just too much right now.” You whispered. Marius nodded, understanding. “Thank you for stopping.” 

“Of course.” Marius said. Artem returned, a glass of water in his hand. Quickly handing it off to you. After several long sips you set the glass down, giving yourself time to collect yourself. 

“Better?” Artem asked, concern written all over his face. 

“Yes, much better.” You answered, sitting up straight. “Thank you.” You sipped at the water, feeling the flush in your face going down. Marius’s hand remained on the small of your back, his thumb rubbing small circles. 

After finishing the glass Artem brought you glanced back at Marius. He’d been watching the rest of the party but quickly turned back towards you. 

“Are you wanting to go?” Marius asked you, voice low and soft. 

“I think so.” You said, finally gaining your strength back. “Besides, we have something to do.” You smirked at him, his face completely changing as he realized what you were thinking. 

“Oh that’s right.” He said. “We did have something to do.” 

You both rose from your seats, even with the toy off your legs were still shaking, your whole body struggling to keep upright. “I’m sorry to leave just after running into you.” You said to Artem. 

“It’s alright, I’ll probably leave soon myself.” Artem stood to match you both. “Get home safe. Both of you.” 

After saying a proper goodbye, you both hurried out of the venue. Holding tight to Marius’s hand as you hurried back to the parking lot. 

The second Marius’s car came into view you headed straight for the backseat, hastily opening the door and pulling Marius inside with you. 

“What-” You cut Marius off by kissing him. Pushing him against the seats as you moved to straddle his hips. His hands went immediately to rest on your hips, pulling you closer, Your hands held his jaw. Forcing him to stay close. 

You only pulled away when you needed to breathe, Marius staring at you a bit stunned. 

“You’re eager.” He said, finding his voice. You frowned, leaning in close. 

“And who’s fault is that?” You shot back, kissing him again. Your lips moved against his, pulling him in further and deeper. Marius’s hands moved downwards until he was holding your ass, digging his fingers in as you groaned. 

Breaking away from his lips you moved to press kisses along his jawline and his neck. Seeking that sweet spot you knew he liked you to pay attention to. As you did so your hands moved to his waist, searching for his pocket where he kept his phone. 

“Mmn..” Marius moaned as you found the sweet spot, although not unaware of your hand as if reached into his pocket. “Whatcha looking for babe?” He asked, pulling your head away from his neck. 

“You know what I’m looking for Marius.” You went back to reaching into his pocket until Marius’s hand around your wrist stopped you. His mischievous look returned, sending a twinge of excitement straight to your core.  

“You want more?” He whispered into your ear. 

“Yes.” Marius’s fingers traveled towards your neck, fingers brushing against the collar still locked tightly around your neck. “Please Marius.” You asked. 

Marius hummed, pulling his phone from his pocket. “I’ll turn it on. But.” He started. “We’re doing this my way.” 

Before you could even answer Marius pulled you off of him, readjusting so his back was against the car door, legs laying across the seats. 

“Come here baby.” Marius said, leading for you to lay with your back against his front. You gave him a strange look over your shoulder while you laid against him. His arm around your waist to keep you in place. 

You watched as Marius opened the app he’d been using before. Waiting not-so patiently as he slowly started to turn it back up again. 

A loud sigh of relief escaped you as the vibrator started, watching as Marius slowly turned it up. 

“Faster.” You whispered. “Please make it go faster.” Marius shook his head as pressed a kiss to your temple. Savoring every moment as you whined against him.  “Marius, please.” 

After another long agonizing moment Marius obliged, turning up the intensity just the smallest amount. Enough for the sensations to be pleasant, but not enough to satisfy you. You needed more than that. 

“You’re so pretty like this.” Marius said. “All bothered and begging.” The hand around your waist moved up, cupping your breast. You groaned, head falling back against his shoulder. Closing your eyes you press your legs together, hoping to maybe get more sensation than the cruelly low setting Marius had the toy at. 

Marius used the hand with his phone to part your legs. “Let’s not do that, remember I’m the one in charge right now.” You whined, your eyes squeezed shut, you were going to go crazy like this. 

“Please turn it up more. Please.” You begged. “Please.” 

Marius considered you for a moment, your face was getting flushed already, you looked so perfect like this, like putty in his hands. If he really wanted to he could keep you like this for hours, but you also looked so beautiful, and he struggled to refuse you. 

He turned up the speed, leaving you gasping. It was high enough now that you couldn’t stop the moans from leaving your lips. Your hips ground down against Marius below you, seeking something, anything more to make you feel good. Behind you Marius groaned, turning up the toy even higher without another thought. 

“Marius oh god-” You cried out. “It’s- ugh-” The waves of pleasure were getting more intense, rising in pressure as you felt it start to swell in your abdomen. You weren’t going to last, you were so close. Just a little bit more is all you would need. 

“Are you close?” Marius asked. 

“Y-yes!” You said, your hand gripping his wrist so tightly you thought you might break it. “Please I’m so close I’m-” 

You cried out loudly as Marius turned down the vibrator, returning to a setting just barely enough to feel. 

“Why?” You asked. “Marius-” 

“You’re mine right?” He said. His hand moved from your breast to your neck, fingers tracing the bottom of your collar. 

“Marius.” You looked at him over your shoulder. He stared into your eyes, he looked like he was seeking something in you. Something that you’d only seen when he needed your reassurance. “Of course I’m yours. I’m only yours.” 

“Good.”He whispered. Marius kissed you, pulling you closer against him. With your eyes closed you were hardly focused on anything as with his one hand Marius turned the vibrator up again. You gasped into the kiss, pulling away a moment later to moan and looking back at his phone. Slowly he was turning it up, approaching the level it’d been at during the party. The point where you hadn’t been able to keep yourself collected anymore. 

Now you didn’t hesitate to moan. You couldn’t even care if people could hear you outside this car, right now you just needed to feel good. That’s it. 

Your eyes closed as you focused on the feeling, the white hot pressure that was at its breaking point inside you. Just a little more, just another moment, just another-

One last boost in the speed was all it took. You screamed in pure pleasure as your back arched, your entire body tensing as the pleasure exploded inside you. Your body shook, eyes shut and voice going hoarse from how loudly you’d cried. 

Marius turned the vibrator off a final time as you slumped against him, chest heaving as you caught your breath. A layer of sweat coating your skin, as your hands shook. Your eyes stayed closed, even while Marius pulled aside your clothes to remove the toy, covered in your slick. He smiled at the sight. Your eyes opened just enough to see it, before shutting again. 

Setting the toy aside Marius wrapped his arms around you, kissing your neck and jaw. “You did so good, baby. I love you.” Marius whispered. You smiled, too exhausted to say anything. 

You laid there like that for a long while, Marius pressing kisses wherever he could reach, your eyes closed while you gathered your strength again. 

“Let’s go home.” You said. “I think you deserve a little something tonight too.” 

Marius smiled. “Are you sure? I bet you’re exhausted.” 

“I’m sure.” You said, sitting up fully. Marius sat up with you, looking at you with those adoring eyes you were completely obsessed with. 

Marius’s hand brushed against the collar on your neck. “Do you want to keep this on? I can take it off if you want?” 

You shook your head. Taking his hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “No, I like it. I want to keep it on.” 

Happily, Marius accepted your answer. Helping you out of the back and into the passenger seat. Ready to go home for the rest of the night. 

[extremelyblackandwhite]

ascendance - 02

PAIRING: mob!bucky barnes x reader

WARNINGS: violence, dark themes, murder, bleeding, kidnapping, age gap (reader is 23, bucky is 37)

A/N: i am gonna try using the commas as dialogue markers for this work as i’ve gotten a few complaints about my love of the -, so i’m giving it a trial run. don’t be alarmed by it. hope you enjoy it xx

> NEXT CHAPTER | MASTERLIST

Her head was pounding and felt as if some unseen force was squeezing her skull, causing her head to hurt even further but she daren’t open her eyes. She could open them, she was conscious enough to know she could open then but she had them squeezed shut, afraid of what awaited her once she did so. From her senses, she knew she was laying against stone, cold stone and she could hear water drops falling onto the surface, still she daren’t open her eyes. This was all a nightmare, just a nightmare that she was going to wake up from in her very tiny, over expensive, way older New York flat in front of the weirdest scenery someone could have. 

The footsteps had her forcefully open her eyes as she scrambled backwards, back hitting a cold wall as her blurry eyes focused on the room. It was dark, almost like a basement yet she couldn’t exactly make it up. The beads of her dress had left marks on her skin yet somehow her wig was still in place. She didn’t know where she was and she hoped this was a really bad joke they played on newcomers. That’s it, a joke. It was just a joke, just hazing on the new kid. She’d gone through hazing a newcomer teasing in old companies, that’s just what it was. Don’t think of the worse, don’t of the worse. 

Along with the echoing water drops falling onto the stone floor underwear, echoes of sleeps from above the ceiling started to become the main sound. She curled into a ball, fingers digging into her own skin as she hoped to wake up from this nightmare-like situation she was in. Suddenly, voice and steps was all she could hear, the water drops being drown up by those sounds until the door slammed open.

“WHAT THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THIS BILLY, HUH” a thick bronx accent was now the only thing that filled the room and she daren’t  open her eyes, instead remaining scared on the floor. "DOES THIS FUCKING LOOK LIKE A 40 YEAR OLD WOMAN TO YOU?”

“I, I’m sorry, boss. She was in the dressing room and I thought it was her, I could see her face." she peaked her eyes open, still laying down on the floor, the same floor where four men stood looking down at her. She could barely make out all of their faces, probably a result of fear and adrenaline overpowering her brain yet she could make up one face. One face standing at the right end, with glossy eyes which appeared to be staring nowhere, was familiar to her. "It was a mistake, I’m sorry ... I ... I can go back.”

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME, BILLY?” the man who had been yelling before hand, pulled his hand over his own face. “Soldat.”

“He’s a kid, John.” the man who she had spoken with before but whose name she still didn’t know said in a low, tired voice. 

"A kid? Well, what the fuck are we gonna do with THAT FUCKING KID THEN?” the John person pointed at her and she almost stumbled back but her body couldn’t move. She knew she could move her body but she seemed paralysed. Her mind was rushing miles and miles an hour but her body was frozen into place. "Tommy, I expected better from you.”

"I thought he had the right chick.” said the man who still hadn’t spoken, shrugging. 

The mood seemed to shift with that sentence alone, the carelessness of it turning the room bitter and colder than it already was. John’s jaw tightened, constricted muscles as he looked over to the only familiar man in the room with decisive eyes. The man was almost mechanical, grabbing the revolver stuck to his hip in his right hand before his eyes settled on her. Her heart seemed to stop beating, waves of cold shivers washing all over her as she prepared herself for the worse. However, his gaze darted to the side and hers follow and then ... bang. A thump onto the floor followed by silence and as she looked back to where her gaze had been stuck so, she saw Tommy laid on the ground, gunshot to the head, blood staining his dirty blonde hair, the same blood which had slightly splattered onto her face which merely seemed to further paralyse her.

“Get rid of her. Last thing I need is another loose thread.” John took a handkerchief from his pocket, cleaning whatever blood had splattered onto him as if it were merely water and not the substance which had kept the man who now lied dead on the ground alive. 

“She might be valuable.” he still held his gun in hand, seemingly unbothered by what had just happened. What kind of monster does that? “She might know people”

“What do you do?” John turned to her, talking down as if she were a child. She looked around, not entirely sure if she could even manage to make any words come out of her mouth. Her gaze once against settled on the familiar man who mouthed something to her. Lie.

"L-lyric soprano.” she wasn’t lying per say but she knew no chorus girl was valuable and if she wasn’t valuable, her faith was laying on the ground. If she survives, maybe someone can find her, maybe she can run away.

"It’s the New York Opera. The police are gonna be insane running after her and we can use her as a get out of jail free card. Almost like an expensive painting” 

John looked her up and down, biting the inside of his cheek and pondering his options but Y/N couldn’t stare or even look at him. Her eyes were instead focused on the gun still being held by the unnamed man, the same gun which had any time could go off and while her hopeful side was willing to survive and get out, the other part of her wondered if it would be a kinder faith. 

"Fucking clean this up, Billy.” John sighed before leaving the the room.

She curled up, body shivering as she could wear the body being pulled up the stairs before the door was closed, leaving her alone in the room. Time went by slowly or at least it felt slow to her yet she couldn’t do anything, all she could do is be trapped in her own panic as what once felt like a start became a dead end. Even once she could get up to try and find any creaks and cracks, anything which would translate into an escape option, a sudden wave of disappointment, betrayal and hopelessness would bring her back down and almost pin her to the now blood stained ground. All she could do was look at the ceiling, silent tears rushing down her face and she was back to being paralysed on the ground, the beads of her costume pinching and bruising her skin.

The door opened a few times in a time space which she couldn’t really pinpoint yet she didn’t look at the door, she merely looked at the ceiling trying to imagine that she was somewhere else. Trying she imagine she was anywhere else, anywhere but else in the dark, by her self with dried tears in the corner of her eyes and cheeks, mixing with the dried blood on her cheeks she didn’t have the strength to wipe away while it was fresh. The paralysis soon enough was replaced by numbness as her body shut down, preferring to be asleep than awake as if she was going to wake up in her flat.

Bucky closed the door for what felt like the fifth time, eyeing the untouched sandwich and glass of water which had been laying there for the past 7 hours just a few meters away from where she was laying. He thought about telling her to eat, ordering her even but he guessed she had seen enough and been through enough. Wiping his hand off the dust from the basement, he climbed up the stairs to the main floor. He knew that path like the back of his hand, he’d been there enough times to know how to get there blindfolded. After all, they didn’t call that the burner room for no reason. 

“Damn cops won’t get off my back.” John complained as he saw him. “This is what happens when we leave loose ends. Should’ve killed him when I had the fucking chance.”

“They don’t have any evidence.”

“I’m sure when they come into my fucking house and see I have Jenny Lind locked in my basement they’ll love it” he scoffed. “You need to take her out of here before they come snooping.”

“It’s not my mess to clean.” Bucky leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “Ain’t Billy the one with that house in the Hamptons? Ask him, it’s his mess.”

“You think I’m going to trust Billy with my get outta jail card? Fucking idiot can’t even distinguish between a 40 year old and a 20 year old.” he snickered. “You keep her. You gotta flat in Brooklyn, don’t cha? No one’s gonna be looking at you.”

“And wait am I supposed to do with her hm? Handcuff her to my couch and hope she doesn’t scream until whenever?”

“Weren’t you the one who wanted to spare her? I thought you’d learned your lesson from the last time you questioned me.” Bucky looked down at the floor, jaw locked, forehead muscles tense. “Thought so.”

Y/N woke up in a different place and while it was as dark as the basement, she knew it was somewhere else. She could feel herself moving but she herself wasn’t moving. She looked around, trying to look around for any indicators of her she was until she moved her hands up which came into contact with some sort of metal covered by a weird velvet like fabric. Was she in the trunk of a car? Her hand tried to look for the sign light to punch it out just like she had heard in school assemblies so, so many times yet as she finally found it, the car came to a very harsh stop. She held her breathe in, her ears registering footsteps which became louder and louder until the trunk of the car was pulled open. The harsh light hurt her eyes which she squeezed shut only to open them again. The same man from the dressing room stood over the trunk. She curled up against herself but he grabbed her bicep, easily lifting her from the trunk and onto the floor yet maintaining the grip on her bicep. 

She was in what looked like a garage, with green blueish lighting and while she could see a big closed door at the end, his grip on her bicep was a silent reminder for her not to try anything. Not only did he tower over her but she was almost sure he probably had a gun with him and she thought not to try. He led her to a lift, making sure she entered before he did. As the doors closed, that feeling of dread in her stomach mixed with the other one she had felt the very first time she saw him yet she daren’t look him in the eye. In all honesty, everything was blurry to her even as she walked into a small flat, the sound of the door behind closed and locked behind her being the only thing she really registered. 

The man walked up to his kitchen which was open concept with the living room and grabbed a bottle with amber liquid from the counter, pouring himself what she guessed was whiskey yet she wasn’t the most alcohol knowledgeable person, most of the times she couldn’t even drink milk, much less alcohol.

“You hungry?” he asked in an nonchalant tone as if she were merely a guest in this flat. Y/N looked behind her back to the door. “I would follow you if you tried it.”

“I ... I am not gonna tell anyone.” 

“It’s not my choice to make. You try to run and you’re successful and someone will just kill you. Your best choice is to stay put. They don’t like loose ends.” he downed whatever liquid was in the glass, putting it back on the counter. She remained there, not moving from the space between the door and the place where the kitchen began. The man sighed, grabbing a peach from a glass bowl on the counter and placing it just at the end, where it was closest to her. “Eat something, will you?”

“I don’t want to. Thank you.”

“There’s food in the fridge. Suit yourself.”

He left the room to enter one of the other rooms, leaving Y/N all alone in the middle of that room. Escape! Her mind yelled at her and she immediately moved back to the door, trying to push at the handle so it would open but the latched was locked shut. She turned around, looking for anything to jab the lock until she noticed the windows. Her most careful side would have told her not to do it but she had to. She had to escape, she couldn’t stay put. She had been working her whole life for that opportunity, working low paid jobs to pay for tuition at Julliard, not drinking, not dating, not having any lactose so her voice would be good enough, she couldn’t ... she just couldn’t lose that opportunity after putting her whole teenage years at stake just so she could have this opportunity. 

Y/N made her way to the window which led to a fire escape but was also locked. She looked over her shoulder to check if he had left the room before she pulled her arm back and to the front, her fist hitting the glass which cracked. She continued punching the glass with all the force she could manage despite the glass burying and cutting her skin until she had broken the window enough too climb out into the fire escape. As she prepared to put her leg over the cracked hole, two arms wrapped around her waist, pushing her back. She whimpered and moved around in the embrace, trying to get free. If only she could get free for a moment she could climb out, she could run away, she could go back to the opera house. 

“Stop.” he flushed her tighter to his chest, walking away from the window, away from her possibility of escaping. 

It didn’t take long for him to notice she was hurt, her blood falling onto his jacket as he pulled her further and further away. He brought her to the front of the sink, gloved hand lifting the tap up, making a constant stream of cold water come up. Through her constant fighting to get free he managed to get her hand under the water, shards of glass coming out onto the red stained water which whirled onto the drain. 

“Let me go.” he elbowed him in the chest but he continuously held her against the side of the sink, fingers rubbing against the top of her palm to unlodge the shards of glass of her skin. “I have to go, please let me go.”

“Calm down.”

“Stop.” she tried to wriggle her wrist off his hold. “I have to go.”

“I promise you that you will go. You stay put, you don’t try to run and in no time you’ll be back doing petty chores for divas.”

“Why should I trust you?” she looked at the sink filled with little shards of glass. 

“It’s either that or you’ll end up dead. What other choice do you have?” he stopped forcing her against the sink, leaning against the opposite corner. “Last thing I want is to lock you in a room. So what’s it gonna be?”

“You promise you’ll let me go?”

“You have my word.”

TAGLIST: @lookiamtrying @buckyswillows @blossomslibrary @juliesland @iloveshawnieboi @unmagically​ @red-head011​ 

[writing-in-april]

Converging Parallels

Spencer Reid x Female Single Mom Reader (Spencer’s POV)

Summary: Spencer goes to a support group Penelope suggested after the death of Maeve. He quickly connects with a single mom who’s experiences have been similar to Spencer’s.

A/N: I’m prefacing this by saying I know shit about math and am horrible at it lol 😂 so my math analogies might be horribly off 😂 This is my fifth fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April- this one was requested by @samuel-de-champagne-problems- this is the request- (go check out there fics too!!) I tweaked it a little bit so I hope you enjoy it 🥺 a lot of it is confined to Spencer grappling with his thoughts- but there is dialogue I promise lol 😂I had a good time writing it ☺️Thanks for all the love recently and if you want to drop me an ask for any reason you can do so here- I’m always looking for some new friends on here (I promise I don’t bite lol) Thanks again and hope y’all enjoy 🥰

Warnings: Angst with a hopeful ending, General dealings surrounding death and grief, Mentions of Maeve’s death, Reader’s a widow, Guilt about moving on, Reader’s child is a daughter

Main Masterlist Word Count: 1.6k

Parallel lines were never supposed to meet, they were set on a strict path following in a similar direction with no hope of ever converging. At least that’s what was the widely accepted definition by anyone with any authority in the field of mathematics.

My own math degree was being contested by a set of two lines set on a collision course with each other, though they were not supposed to. Logically I knew that the two lines were not beholden to any mathematical equation as I was referring to two human lives.

We were set on a similar course, only slight differences that seemingly were leading us to different destinations, or at least I tried to convince myself that. I tried every night to convince myself that she was only a friend, that it wasn’t what she wanted and I was desecrating the memory of the person I still claimed to be the only person I loved.

Logically I knew that by forcing where I wanted our relationship to go, what I thought the universe wanted to happen wasn’t what I truly wanted. The reason I had boxed us in so vehemently was only because I was scared and guilty, I knew it too. I wanted us to converge, but logic doesn’t always win out when dealing with guilt.

It had all started with Garcia mentioning that I should consider going to a grief support group after the death of Maeve. Every action I took was being weighed down by her death, whether I cared to admit it or not.

Garcia had good intentions when she suggested going to this meeting to me, of that I was sure. It isn’t that I saw no reason to go to the support group, I just knew that it would dreg up all the unwanted feelings that bombarded me enough already.

The flier in my hands felt heavy even though it was made of paper it weighed my hands down enough where I almost dropped it. I could have let it go then to have it fly away, being taken by the wind, that would let me forget about it. But, I knew it would have only made me forget for a short while, I’d inevitably get questions from Garcia and my own mind wouldn’t let me forget the reality of what had happened. And, logically I knew that it would most likely help. So instead of letting the wind take it away, I crumpled the paper slightly in my hands out of frustration, moving my feet forward one step at a time to enter the building.

That’s where I had first met her. When I first walked in I didn’t immediately lock eyes with her or anything, my eyes were too fixated on the ground for that to happen.

I only noticed her when she was invited to tell her story. Her strength instantly captivated me, almost making me feel like a failure at first. Her story of how she lost her husband was eerily similar in some aspects, especially the cause of his death. The feeling of failure on my part to be strong swirled in my gut as she recounted her struggles that were so starkly similar to mine. She even had a young daughter to take care of as well, she often spoke of her whenever she told her story, almost neglecting herself sometimes- which she admitted she knew she needed to work on.

However, when she came up to me to talk after the meeting was concluded my opinion switched to view her as inspiring. We began getting coffee after each meeting, sometimes talking for hours, sometimes sitting in silence. Whatever I needed she was there to give it to me, whenever she needed help I wanted to be there too.

To see our almost parallel lives begin to converge at first felt like someone had driven a car into traffic about to collide straight into my path. My mind would not stop arguing about whether or not I should pull away from her or not, like guilt was on shoulder and my potential happiness was on the other.

—-

Guilt was eating away at me from the inside out slowly, that part of my mind would not stop clawing away any good aspect of my relationship with Y/N. The relationship between us had shifted in recent weeks, tension invading what had once been a simply platonic connection formed through our shared experiences. When it became clear to me what our lingering stares and touches were leading to, guilt had reared its ugly head to burrow its way down deep and take root.

It had disrupted my sleep even more than usual, nightmares ranging from Maeve guilting me to the visuals of her death. The images of Maeve and any time I had shared with her invaded my brain at all hours of the night, haunting me. I scrunched my eyes up tight, maybe that would banish the images from my brain. That only made the guilt worse it seemed as I now felt double the guilt for wanting to banish the thoughts about a person I still claimed to love.

My hand hit the pillow in frustration, then grabbing it and throwing it to some unknown location across the room. Sitting up, no longer being able to tolerate laying down knowing that sleep would never come, made my exhausted joints beg me to lay back down. I leaned forward to put my head in my hands, also tangling my curls with my fingers. I tried to think about what Y/N had said to me at one of the first meetings I had attended, my normally impeccable memory struggled as the memory of Maeve’s bloodied face would not leave. Screaming internally was the only thing that seemed to work to push the words I was looking for forward,

“I try to think about something my therapist told me- Although it's difficult today to see beyond the sorrow, May looking back in memory help comfort you tomorrow.”

The quote wasn’t something groundbreaking or new, though the origins were unknown. But, the words still struck me deep everytime I forced my memory to call back on them.

The words she had spoken in the meeting when talking about her husband made me want to try too. She inspired me whenever she told snippets of her story to me or the rest of the group, her story had been similar to mine- with the added element of having a daughter to raise on her own.

Her strength was what had drawn me to her initially, like a moth to flame. Our relationship wasn’t even a friendship at first, just two people sharing advice (more her giving it to me) about how to deal with crippling grief.

What had blossomed since then from death and decay had thrown me for a loop. I hadn’t been expecting for this to happen, I never even thought romance would be an option for me again. I thought that I would have one great love and that our time in the sun had ended along with any option for romantic interests in the future.

Then she came along and spun my thinking upside down, not that I blamed her at all for it. She originally had just reached out to help me, not to pursue any romantic connection purposefully while I was vulnerable.

She continued to stay with me to help despite my urge to push her away even though that’s not what I wanted. I tried hard to convince myself that our lives were never meant to connect, that we were destined to remain apart.

It took many more sleepless nights for me to realize what I hadn’t seen for so long, even with Y/N reassuring me at every turn. Maeve would want me to be happy, I was sure of it. So I’d try to let myself, no longer letting myself get hindered by my own swirling thoughts of guilt that Maeve wouldn’t have wanted me to feel.

—-

Asking her out on a date had been surprisingly easy once I had let go a little of my guilt. We had chosen to go somewhere different than a coffee shop, since we already did that often. I took her out to more of an upscale restaurant than she was used to, which may be too fancy for some for a first date, but she deserved it. She worked so hard to take care of her daughter and even me to some extent.

At the end of the night we were both standing outside her door ready to go in to relieve the babysitter for the night. I had already given her a chaste kiss for the night, even though my nerves kept trying to talk me out of it. I was about to say goodbye when she grabbed my wrist to hold in her hands. She looked afraid at first, almost like she wondered if I wouldn’t like her touching me. Touch may bother me with most people, but she wasn’t most people, I’d happily share germs with her. When I did not pull away relief was evident in her eyes, then taking a big breath before speaking,

“Would you like to meet my daughter?” Her voice was shaky, understandably full of worry.

“Of course.” In the past hesitation would have littered my voice if she had asked me the same question. But, my thoughts had been slowly shifting to want our lines to converge fully and with no fear. Sure, Maeve would always capture a place in my heart, but I was ready for our lives to collide. Our parallel lives converged into one line, with a set path forward. It may get derailed from its intended path, but we would be stronger together than apart.

Ask me anything

—-

Tag lists (message me if you want to be added):

All works: @shotarosleftpinky @oreogutz @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @s1utformgg @takeyourleap-of-faith (damn tumblr just let me tag them)

All MGG characters: @muffin-cup @willowrose99

Spencer Reid/CM: @calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss @slutforthegubes @onlyhereforthefanfics @jareauswifey

[abbacchiosbelt]

If It Bleeds | Yandere Mahito x GN Reader

CW: Yandere character, guns, manipulative behavior, mild not sfw content. 18+.

Word Count: 2.1k

The air in your house hadn’t felt the same since he’d wormed in his way inside - his disgusting aura clung to the walls like poison, inescapable and silently killing you. It’s nearly unbearable when he’s there himself, grinning as he watches your every move. Hiding is impossible from someone like him. He can slip through every crack, move through every wall. And so you’re stuck with him until he decides he’s had enough of you, the expiration date on your life ticking down day by day.

It’s all a game for Mahito. 

Today, you’re awoken by the sound of his voice calling out your name, sing-songy and taunting. There’s no point in ignoring him - if you did, he’d drag you out of bed himself. Or worse, he’d climb under the sheets and wrap his unnaturally cold body around you, laughing all the while at your discomfort. With a quiet groan, you push the sheets off yourself and climb out of bed. Mahito calls out again, an edge of irritation in his voice.

“Coming,” you call back, stifling a yawn as you slide your feet into slippers and make your way out of your room. As you expected, he’s sitting at your small kitchen table. His long, blue hair is still tied into a loose braid that he’d forced you to do the night before. The soft groans he’d made as you brushed his hair and carefully threaded it into a braid were burned into your subconscious, the slight tinge in your lower stomach they awakened making you feel disgusted. It was one of the few things in your ‘relationship’ with Mahito that had seemingly gone unnoticed by the cursed spirit, though you’re sure he’d bring it up to taunt you at some point.

Mahito’s black shirt slides off his shoulder when he raises a hand in greeting to you like he was a friend who had just popped in. The strange smell that followed him — cloyingly sweet with the scent of rot under the surface — invades your nostrils the second you sit down in the seat beside him. Mahito leans forward and smiles, one of his hands coming up to brush your hair behind your ear. You shudder at his chilling touch, and he sighs.

“Humans are so touchy. You should be used to that by now, you know?” He rolls his eyes and sits back, staring at you for a moment before his eyes light up. “I’ve got something that’ll cheer you up. I’ve been doing some research.” Mahito leans to the side and drags a bag (one of yours, you note with annoyance) onto the table, unzipping the top. “Go ahead, pull out your surprise.”

A surprise.

You blanche, giving him a wary look. He laughs, his expression mirthful. “Ah, you don’t trust me, do you? Fine, fine. I’ll get it out for you.” Mahito reaches his hand in the bag and wastes no time pulling out your ‘surprise’, his lips curling into a sadistic smirk as he points the object at you. A silver, shiny gun is pointed straight at the middle of your forehead, the entity behind the trigger unpredictable. 

You scramble out of the chair and Mahito is on top of you before you can run, his legs wrapped around your hips as he smiles down at you with the gun still in his hand. “You’re scared? You think someone like me would kill you with something as boring as this?” Mahito laughs, tilting his head towards the ceiling as he cackles. His mouth splits into an unnaturally wide grin when he finally looks back down at you. “I told you this was a present. I read something about what humans do for fun and thought I could give you a chance to play for once. This relationship is uneven, after all.”

Mahito doesn’t move from his position on top of you, even as you struggle with your full strength. The fact that he doesn’t even budge sends a wave of panic to your heart, the organ pounding against your chest so loud that you can’t even hear yourself think.

“M-mahito, let me up,” You grunt. Mahito tilts his head to one side, the hand he was using to hold the gun going limp as he carelessly waves it around. Your eyes widen in fear. “Please...”

Mahito considers you for a moment before he gingerly gets up, placing the gun back on the kitchen table. “Only since you asked so nicely. If all humans had manners like you, I wouldn’t exist.” He sticks his tongue out at you, the motion childish. “Good thing they don’t! Now get up.”

You get back on your feet and Mahito points to the seat you were in earlier, indicating for you to sit down. You follow him, not wanting to be tackled to the ground again. Mahito sits back down in his chair as well, sliding the gun across the table to you. “Pick it up.”

The weapon’s sleek casing shines in the light of the sun starting to trail through your kitchen window. You swallow. “I’ve never... touched one of these before.”

“That’s okay.” Mahito licks his lips. “There’s a first time for everything, right? Humans love that saying.” He nudges the gun closer. “I do too. There’s so much to do in your world, yet you humans don’t spend enough time indulging yourselves. I’m giving you a chance.”

You have no idea what exactly he’s going to ask you to do; Mahito was unpredictable and dangerous, just like every cursed spirit you’d heard rumors of. You never truly believed that you’d encounter one, and yet here you were with one sitting in your kitchen like he was an old friend. Mahito raises his eyebrows at your silence and you finally reach forward to pick up the gun.

The heaviness of the weapon surprises you. You tilt it this way and that, minding to point it away from Mahito even though he hadn’t given you the same courtesy. You knew little about guns except for the cardinal rule of never pointing a gun at anything you weren’t planning on shooting. You lips start to feel dry as anxiety sets into your bones as if you knew the weapon had been used before as a killing tool. Of course Mahito would give you something that had been used to take lives - it’s likely he had given it to other humans he’d played with before. Bile rises in your throat and you swallow it back. Mahito watches your discomfort with lidded eyes, entranced. 

“Don’t you want to know what I want you to do with it?” Mahito scoots his chair closer to yours. Without warning, he tugs your chair close so that the two of you are sitting knee to knee. Mahito leans in. “Press it to my forehead.”

“What?” You balk at his words. You’d be lying if you hadn’t thought about trying to get rid of him, but it was fruitless. A fantasy. Was he really going to let you kill him? No, there was no way... He was playing at something. Just another one of his sick games. He frowns at your hesitation and suddenly grabs your arms until he forcibly presses the gun against his forehead, ignoring how your hands were shaking. The frown on his face is immediately replaced with a smile once the cool metal is resting against his forehead.

“Now, now” he croons, his voice sounding much more affected than you’d ever heard it. It disgusts you - he’s getting off on this. “Put your finger on the trigger.” This time, Mahito is patient as he watches you struggle with the action, letting it slide when he notices you’re resting your finger against the side instead of curling it around the trigger. “We’re going to play a game.”

“A... a game?” You stutter. Your arms already feel heavy from the weapon, yet you know if you let them down you’ll be in for something even worse. He holds his hands, five fingers raised on his right hand and only one finger on his left. When you keep looking at him in confusion, he sighs and purses his lips before he starts explaining.

“Jeez, you really are innocent when it comes to guns, huh? Well, this makes it more fun.” He waves his fingers around. “This gun has six chambers, but only one bullet. I found out about it when I was researching guns. It’s fun and deadly, which means humans never want to play it.” He rolls his eyes. “But we can! It’s called Russian Roulette. Even if you shoot me, I won’t die.” Mahito practically pants as he speaks, and you don’t notice the way he shifts his legs. 

“But... What if you did die? Then what?” You ask. Mahito smiles at you, patronizing. 

“I won’t. But if you don’t play, I’ll play it instead. Your chances aren’t very good, wouldn’t you say?” Mahito’s lips turn down. “But I’d hate to do that so soon. You are my favorite plaything, after all.” Your heart seizes up in your chest as his words hit you - if you didn’t play along with him, he’d kill you. There was no other option. Even if he secretly planned on punishing you for playing, not playing would mean dying. What hit you harder was Mahito calling you his ‘favorite plaything’, the words making your stomach twist. There was truly no escape. You resign yourself to your fate.

“I... Okay, i-if you really want to play.” Mahito purrs out your name when he hears your response. That small, unwanted feeling in your stomach flares to life at his words. What was wrong with you? Being around the cursed spirit was eating at your psyche day by day. Mahito must have planned for it all along, forcing you to fall apart while he toyed with you. Suddenly, the game sounds like a good idea. 

Mahito notices the change in your mood and his legs shift again, his grin nearly splitting apart his face. “Mmm, now we’re ready to play. I got the gun ready. We’re taking one shot today.” He bites his lip. “We can try more shots once you’ve got some practice in.” Mahito presses harder against the gun, his eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite place. “Pull it.”

Your finger shakes as you curl it around the gun’s trigger, putting no pressure on it yet. Mahito watches you with unrestrained glee. Without time to really think about it, you press down on the trigger and clench your eyes shut. 

A click, and nothing else. Mahito laughs, and you reluctantly open your eyes. Your drop your arms in exhaustion and let the gun clatter to the floor, not caring about the danger. Mahito is practically howling with laughter as he watches you, his eyes boring holes into you as he watches you let out the breath you were holding. You sit and stare past him until his laughter fades out, your heart pounding in your chest.

He stands from his chair and drags you up against his body, groaning in delight. There’s a hardness against your thigh, wet and leaking, that you don’t want to think about. Mahito grabs your chin with his hands, forcing you to look at him as one of his arms keeps you pressed close to his body.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it? It’s too bad you lost, but I’m glad we had this experience together.” His breath fans against your face and you wince, the smell having no descriptor that would be fitting other than death. Mahito holds you for a few more seconds before he steps back, a lopsided too-big smile on his face. “See how much fun it is when you’re allowed to indulge yourself?”

Mahito ignores your blank expression, stretching his arms above his head as he peers out one of your windows. “I’d love to play some more, but I’ve got some things to take care of today.” He takes a step toward you, and you step back. He advances until he has you pushed against a wall. “You should be nicer to me. I’ve been generous towards you.” 

Mahito leans in and presses a chaste kiss against your cheek, laughing at the startled look on your face. “We took a new step in our relationship today. I had to make sure you knew how much it means to me.” He abruptly steps away and starts to fade before your eyes, waving as his form shudders out of this dimension. “I decided something,” his voice whispers, directly against your ear. You can no longer see him, but you can feel an overwhelming presence surrounding your body.

“I think I’ll be keeping you around for a long, long time.”

[twst-bs]

TWST Vice Dorm Leaders and a Stressed-out MC

I couldn't leave out the Vice Dorm Leaders! I'm just used to working in chunks of seven because of my Obey Me! writing. I'll do a piece for all of the other characters as well!

Note: I wrote most of these to be ambiguous, but Ortho's in meant to be read as platonic. I just wanted to give the little dude some love.

-----

Trey: "Do you not like it?"

They only just barely managed to catch their fork before it clattered against the plate. With everything going through their head at a mile a minute, they had completely forgotten what they were supposed to be doing.

“No! I mean, yes, I like it!” they stumbled over their words, pasting a hopefully-convincing grin on their face.

“Really?” Trey fixed them with a knowing look and they felt themselves wither beneath it. “Because you only took one bite before staring off into middle distance.”

“Oh,” their grin turned sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“Something on your mind?” he asked, taking a seat on the stool across from them. “You’re awfully quiet.”

Damn it, they had really hoped Trey wouldn’t figure them out. Or at least take more than ten minutes.

The pressure had been mounting lately. Trying to stay on top of impossible classes, watching over Grimm, the ever-looming problem of them not being able to go back to their own world and the moral dilemma of if they even wanted to go back...they had a lot of things on their mind, and they didn’t even know where to start.

This was supposed to be a light-hearted little night in. Trey had found a new recipe he wanted to try out, and they were always willing to be the taste-tester. But, of course, good old anxiety had decided to drop in and ruin the fun, and the cute date night had turned south before it had even really begun.

“Hey, easy,” Trey’s voice cut through the fog that was slowly descending over their brain. “I know that face. Will talking about it help or hurt?”

“...I don’t know,” they mumbled, setting their fork down. “I’m sorry, Trey, I -”

“Nope.” he reached across the kitchen island and gently slipped his hand beneath theirs. They squeezed it back, letting him run his thumb over their knuckles as they tried to fight down the panic that threatened to burst from within. “No apologies are necessary. Take your time.”

“But I ruined our date,” they sighed, shoulders slumping. “Just because I couldn’t get out of my own head for a few hours.”

“Riddle couldn’t get out of his own head for almost two decades, and I’m still friends with him.” Trey chuckled. “Your mental well-being is more important than a silly date night. You can talk to me about anything, any time, anywhere, and I won’t be angry with you, promise.”

“...Can I still have the cake?”

“Yes, you can still have the cake.”

Ruggie: It had been another long night.

Sleepless nights were a pretty common occurrence for the Ramshackle Prefect, unfortunately. Even if they were dead tired at the end of the day, they often tossed and turned the whole night, managing maybe a few hours of sleep at best. Which often led to days like this.

They could barely keep their eyes open, even as they walked to their next class. They were on autopilot, going through their daily motions. The books in their bag felt like they might as well be boulders, and the thought of climbing the stairs made them want to cry. Their legs felt like lead.

“Gotcha!”

They definitely didn’t scream when a pair of lithe arms wrapped around their middle. No way, you have no proof.

“Sheesh, herbivore, you’re loud.” Ruggie snickered, hooking his chin over their shoulder. “You could wake the dead like that. Is that how you wake up the ghosts in your dorm?”

“Ruggie, you scared the hell out of me!”

“Your fault for not payin’ attention!” He gave them a fond squeeze around the middle before letting them go. “I’ve been walkin’ behind you since you left your class. You wouldn’t survive a day in the Savannah, walkin’ around with your head in the clouds like that.”

“Why didn’t you say anything, instead of stalking me like a creep?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Ruggie cackled. However, his snarky grin dropped from his face when he got a good look at them. “Hey, you aren’t lookin’ so good.”

“Didn’t sleep very well,” they shrugged, readjusting the strap on their bag so it wasn’t digging into their shoulder. Ruggie scowled, eyes narrowing.

“Again?”

They stuck their tongue out at him. “It’s not like I do it on purpose.”

The hyena stared at them for a little bit longer before sighing. “I guess it can’t be helped. Come on.” he grabbed their wrist, tugging them in the opposite direction of their next class.

“Hey, where are we going?”

“Back to Ramshackle,” Ruggie said lightly.

“Oh, but you scold Leona when he skips?” they poked him in the side with their free hand, and he squirmed away.

“Leona doesn’t need three afternoon naps,” the hyena sniggered. “You look like you could use a coma.”

Jade: “Thank you again for helping out.”

Their arms felt like jelly. Their legs were about ready to fall off. Their face hurt from having to put on a fake smile for the past few hours.

“No problem!” they said brightly. The fake smile could last a few more minutes. “I guess Floyd can’t give you guys more notice when he decides to skip his shift, huh?”

“No, Floyd does what he wants, when he wants.” Jade chuckled lightly, wiping his hands on the towel draped over his arm. Friday nights at the lounge were always busy, so of course that was when Floyd decided he didn’t want to work. Mostro Lounge didn’t have that many options, so Jade had called and asked them if they would mind helping out.

Honestly, they should have said no. They were tired, they had a lot of homework to do, and they honestly just needed a night to themselves for once. But, the thought of letting someone down triggered a deep and primal fear in them, and before they even really knew what they were doing, they had agreed. And here they were.

“...would you like?”

They had to stop themselves from physically shaking themselves out of their trance. “What? I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

Jade raised an eyebrow, but politely decided not to comment. “One of the rules at the Lounge is that those who work that day get a free meal after their shift. I asked what you would like.”

“Oh! Um, I’m fine, really, I wouldn’t want to -” their stomach chose that moment to disagree, grumbling loudly in protest of not being fed. How long had it been since lunch? Had they even eaten lunch?

“Both I and your stomach insist, it seems.” Jade pulled out his waiter’s pad. “You’ve earned a meal for your hard work.”

“But -”

“You aren’t troubling anyone.” Jade cut in, seemingly more in tune with their thoughts than they were. “And I wouldn’t have been angry with you if you had turned down my request for help.”

“How did you -”

“Now, what would you like to eat?”

The two of them stood at an impasse for a moment.

“...the tomato basil bisque and grilled cheese sounded good.”

Jamil: “You’re going to chop your fingers off.”

They almost hit the ceiling when Jamil’s hand covered their own. They hadn’t even realized their hands had been shaking until his warm palm steadied theirs.Gently, carefully, he brought the knife down onto the vegetables they were chopping in a nice, clean cut.

“You don’t have to help if you aren’t feeling well.” Jamil took the knife from their hands, setting it down on the cutting board. Kalim had spontaneously announced another one of Scarabia’s famous parties, and of course that left most of the prep work to Jamil. Although Kalim was at least handling the decorations this time. Baby steps.

When they heard the news a few days prior, they had offered to help, and Jamil had practically deflated with relief. Every time Kalim held a party at the dorm, Jamil felt like a zombie for at least the next day and a half. They had personally seen him take a basketball to the face because he had been so tired. Although that might have been Floyd messing with him.

But, of course, when they woke up the day of the party, something had felt off. Nothing in particular had caused them to feel strange, but it could have been a bunch of little things. Regardless of the cause, it was a day best spent alone, dealing with the random anxiety. But, they had made a promise, and even though they wanted to back out, said anxiety also wouldn’t let them for fear of inconveniencing someone even a little bit.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” they grinned, shaking their wrist out. “Just spent a bit too long working on Trein’s homework. I’m pretty sure you get better grades if you write long paragraphs.”

“The trick is to make them long and unnecessarily fancy,” Jamil’s lips quirked upwards as he hip-checked them out of the way. “And don’t think you can distract me.”

“Damn it.”

Jamil shook his head. “Don’t push yourself so hard.”

“Pot meet kettle, Jamil.”

“I’m serious.” he leveled them with a steely look that had them feeling like a child getting scolded. “Honestly, with all of the stuff you do for everyone, I’m surprised you haven’t cracked yet.”

“...Me too, honestly.”

“See? Give yourself a break every once in a while.”

“Only if you do, too, Mr. I-Don’t-Need-Any-Help.”

His stern look softened until he was smiling fondly at them, warmth in his eyes. “Deal.”

Rook: “Non, non, this is unacceptable.”

They had heard Rook’s footsteps as he approached, which meant he wanted them to notice him. Otherwise he would have been completely silent.

Hand still on the spine of the book they were attempting to ease out of the tightly-packed library shelves, they turned to look at him. “What’s unacceptable?”

“The hunch to your shoulders, mon bijou.” the hunter swept dramatically into the light. “The sallowness of your skin. The shadows beneath your eyes!”

“Rook…”

“You look very tired, my dear.” Rook dropped his usual flamboyant act, approaching them with concern shining in his eyes. “Are you alright?”

“Just…” after a moment, they turned to him and rapped their knuckles lightly against their head. “A lot going on up here, you know?”

“I do,” Rook nodded. “You have many things to be worrying about, don’t you?.”

He stepped forward, grasping both of their hands in his. They were trembling lightly, since when had that started?

“You know I pride myself in being a protector of all things beautiful,” Rook gave their hands a squeeze. “And seeing your beautiful heart burdened so...it is my duty to ease it’s weight. So please, if there is anything I can do to help, tell me.”

Ortho: “Sorry for bothering you like this, Ortho.”

The little robot-boy smiled. “It’s no problem! I’m glad to help! Something as simple as a body scan is no trouble.”

The two of them were sat in the Ignihyde lounge. It was late enough that most of the dorm members had holed themselves up in their rooms - Ignihyde wasn’t known for its social butterflies, after all. But Ortho had still been up and about when the Ramshackle Prefect came knocking.

The infirmary closed around 5pm, although there was a nurse on-call for emergencies. So when something was wrong with a student, but not necessarily life threatening, they went to NRC’s resident robot. Ortho could scan for most problems in seconds, and more than once the nurses had asked to borrow him.

The little scanner on his chest opened up. The blue light swept over the Prefect’s body for a few seconds before Ortho beeped and the light disappeared.

“Heart rate: 102. No physical cause detected.” he reported. “It looks like you’re a little bit stressed.”

“...Yeah, that tracks.” they sighed. “I guess there’s nothing you can do for general anxiety, huh?”

“I don’t think so.” Ortho shrugged, looking sad. “I’m sorry, I wish I could help more.”

“It’s okay!” the Prefect smiled. “You did help! I was worried I was sick or something.”

Ortho still didn’t look satisfied. “But...ah!” he hit his fist against his palm. They could practically see the lightbulb go off in his head. Actually, they were a little surprised Idia had not installed that feature yet. “There is one thing I can do.”

“What’s that?”

The Prefect made a soft “oof” sound as Ortho darted forward and wrapped his arms around them. He was a little cold, being made of metal, but the thought was there.

“Internet research says that sometimes a hug can make people feel better. Does it work? I hope it works.”

They felt like they were going to cry. Or explode. Or both. “Yeah, I think it works.”

Lilia: “You don’t need to look so stressed, you know.”

Lilia laughed when the Ramshackle Prefect jumped, fangs poking out. “You’ve wound yourself so tightly, I wonder if you’ll break.”

To be fair, the Diasomnia lounge could be quite intimidating. It often took first years a few solid months to be comfortable in it. So Lilia wasn’t surprised that the human was ill at ease sitting there as Lilia served the two of them tea.

“That old story about being trapped in the Fae world if you eat their food isn’t true, you know.” Lilia sat down on the couch opposite of them, taking a sip of his tea. “At least, not that I’m aware of.”

The human squirmed slightly, and Lilia sighed. “Go on, drink. This is the type of tea I used to give to Malleus when he couldn’t sleep.”

The image of a baby Malleus being soothed by Lilia was so ridiculously cute that it brought a smile to their face. Lilia hummed happily in response.

“There’s the smile I was looking for.” he set his cup down. “Now, what brings you here so late? Nightmares again?”

“...Yeah…” they sighed, the tension in their body falling away like someone had cut the strings of a marionette. “I just wish they would stop so I could sleep.”

“Do you want to talk about them?” Lilia asked.

“It’s the same one, it’s always the same one.” they groaned, reaching for the tea cup. It smelled of chamomile and lavender, a perfect sleeping concoction. “I’m being chased, but I can’t tell by what, and every time I turn a corner the thing gets closer, and - and -”

“Hush, don’t work yourself up.” he moved from his spot on the couch to sit next to them. “Take a drink, there’s a good child.”

They took a sip of tea, focusing on the feeling of warmth down their throat as a way to ground themselves to the present. “I’m sorry.”

“You needn’t apologize,” Lilia murmured, reaching up to pet their hair. “Drink your tea, now, and I’ll make sure you get some sleep.”

[annabethy]

grocery stores

in which annabeth is in a grocery store and accidentally leaves her phone with the most attractive boy she’s ever seen,, percabeth,, accidentally deleted the ask lol

Annabeth has never been someone to particularly enjoy shopping. It’s too boring in her opinion, just walking around a store with people that seem just as done with life as her, and she usually does whatever it takes to get out of it.

When she gets to the point that even she can’t scrap up something to eat out of her fridge, she decides it’s probably for the best that she goes shopping just this once. Annabeth doesn’t even bother changing out of her clothes, just throwing a sweater to protect against the biting wind and calling it a day.

The walk through the grocery store is exactly as she expects it to be. It’s entirely too cold in the produce section, and she doesn’t think that she’s ever been so bored in her entire life. She tries to hurry along as fast as she can, but there seems to be someone standing in front of every single item that she needs, so it takes a lot longer than it probably should.

It’s not until she’s dumping an armful of items onto a conveyor belt that she decides grocery shopping may not be as bad as she initially thought because the boy standing at the register is downright beautiful.

Annabeth’s fingers twitch as though compelled to pull her phone out of her pocket and take a picture to send to Piper – Piper would no doubt appreciate the art that is the boy’s face – but she restrains herself. There’s still two people in front of her so she settles for letting her eyes trace over his figure while he’s distracted.

His hair is black and looks incredibly soft, and she wants nothing more than to run her fingers through it. She can see his side profile, and his jawline is sharp enough to cut. Stubble lines his chin, and the muscles of his arms ripple with each movement to scan an item. Annabeth is by no means looking subtly, but he doesn’t acknowledge it.

Annabeth is so deep in thought, biting her lip, that she doesn’t even notice him looking up until his eyes lock on hers. She jumps at the shocking gaze he gives her; his eyes are a vibrant green, and even from where she stands, she can see the dark green outline of his irises. He appears a bit shocked, his movements helping his customer faltering slightly before he resumes and looks away from her with no reaction.

Her face flushes deeply, and she considers leaving her stuff and simply walking away before deciding that would be even more damaging to her ego. It’s not long at all before she’s at the register and the boy – Percy, she reads – starts grabbing her items.

“So,” Annabeth starts, biting her lip. She wants to say something to ease the tension she can feel quickly building. “I don’t know if you saw, but…”

He smiles tightly, interrupting her with the piercing beep of the scanner. “I saw.”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t looking at you, though. I was just–” She cuts off, aware of how lame her excuse seems.

“Looking through me?” he suggests kindly.

She opens her mouth to respond but snaps it shut when she notices the gleam in his eyes. She brushes her hair behind her ear, suddenly aware of what she’s wearing, before she places her phone down on the counter just so she has something else to do than look at him.

“Sure,” she says. “Let’s go with that.”

“Was the image behind me fascinating?” he asks, lazy and amused.

“It was absolutely enthralling,” she says sarcastically.

“Yes, my… not-face tends to do that to people.”

Annabeth laughs lightly. “Your face is not that good,” she lies.

“That’s why you were staring at me the second you set your stuff down, right?”

“I was not.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“It’s not my fault,” she defends. “You have a nice jawline.” He pauses his movements to blink at her. “Jawline?”

“Uh.”

“It’s alright,” he tells her, resuming the scanning. She notices that he seems to be going slower than he was minutes ago, and she tries not to think much of it. “I don’t mind when cute people stare at me.”

“Oh? Do you get lots of cute people staring at you?”

“None as cute as you,” he says. His eyes burn into hers, and she’s confident that he’s just as captivated by her as she is by him. “You’re something else.”

“You can tell that from a minute of conversation?”

“I’m good with words,” he says.

That, you are, she thinks. He’s making her feel butterflies in her stomach with nothing more than the simplest of words. He’s finished scanning her things, and her smile drops when he tells her the total, disappointed that their fleeting interaction is almost over.

She grabs the bag from his hand once her card goes through, and her fingers tingle as they touch his slightly. Annabeth half expects him to say something more, but he doesn’t say anything else. He just smiles kindly, and she takes a step back.

“Have a good day,” he says.

“You too,” she says as she turns. Though she’s disappointed, she can’t help the excitement that’s coursing through her. Annabeth’s already thinking of if she should go back the next day under the guise of forgetting something, and again the day after. It’s silly but it was genuinely one of the best interactions she’s had in a while.

She’s halfway down the block when she decides to text Piper about the attractive boy she’s just met, so she moves the bags to one hand to grab the phone from her hoodie’s pocket with the other. She’s thinking of how to word it as she reaches into the pocket, and–

The phone isn’t there.

She stops dead in her tracks as panic begins to take over. She’d had it when she started talking to Percy. She set it down on the counter before paying and then… she had never picked it up.

“Great,” she hisses, turning to look over her shoulder. It only takes her two seconds to decide she has to go back. She’s already imagining how stupid she’s going to look for leaving her phone right in front of him, and she really didn’t feel like embarrassing herself any further in front of him.

When she talks back in the sliding doors of the small store, he’s no longer by the registers. Instead, he’s wandering the aisles, seemingly organizing some of the shelves. She desperately doesn’t want to, but he’s the easiest way to find her phone, so she accosts him slowly.

She’s about to tap him on the shoulder when he turns around, his eyes lighting up with recognition. “There you are! I was expecting you.”

She shifts her feet. “Yeah, I left my phone here on accident and just need it back.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out what is identical to her phone, waving it in her face. “You mean this phone?”

“That’s the one,” she confirms. She reaches towards it but he pulls away before she can grab it.

“How do I know this is yours?” he asks teasingly.

“You watched me set it down earlier.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says. “A dear customer pointed it out several minutes after you left, actually. I have no way to know if it’s really yours.”

She scowls, trying to snatch it. He just moves further. “Give me my phone, Percy.”

He laughs at her attempt to say his name scathingly. “What’s your name?”

She crosses her arms. “Annabeth.”

“Well, Annabeth, I’m going to need you to prove that this is your phone.”

She sighs, exasperated, but he says it with a smile on his face so she knows he’ll give it back soon enough. She decides to play along with his game. “How do you expect me to do that?”

He hums, pretending to think. “Perhaps you can give me your number so I can call it from my phone. You know, to see if it’s really yours?”

“Subtle.”

“I wasn’t aware we were going with subtle today, Annabeth. I mean, the way you were staring at me earlier wasn’t very subtle.”

Her lips pull up in a smile. “I guess I have to give you my number then. So you can make sure it’s really my phone because you totally didn’t see me set it down earlier.” Percy chuckles, and she finds she really appreciates the way he makes the room seem brighter. “I guess so.”

And she does. He wastes no time in putting her number in his phone as she whispers the numbers into his ear, and it doesn’t go unnoticed when he saves her as a contact. He presses call, and, of course, her phone starts to ring in his hand.

She snatches it from him, and he lets her this time. She picks it up and slides the bar to answer. “Hello?”

“Is this Annabeth? From the grocery store?”

“It is,” she says, eyeing him with a grin that matches his. “Am I good to have my phone back now?”

“Not quite. I just need one more piece of information. To make sure this is really your phone and all.”

“Giving a ten digit phone number wasn’t enough?”

“Odds of guessing it are too high,” he says.

“You must not be good at permutations then.” “I don’t know what a permutation is.”

Annabeth bites her lip to stifle a giggle. “What did you have to ask?”

“Well, now that I have your phone number, I was wondering if you’d like to grab dinner sometime. My treat.”

“Dinner?”

“Or lunch, or breakfast. I’ll even do brunch.” With that, he hangs up the call so that he can step closer and talk to her directly. “It’s your choice, Annabeth. And you really don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“Who says I don’t want to?”

“I’m just giving you the option to say no.”

He’s looking at her with such hope, and she doesn’t think she has it in her to say no because he’s gorgeous and kind and has an amazing sense of humor. She thinks that it has the chance to turn into something so full of love if she gives it a chance.

“I’d love to,” she says.

“Breakfast, lunch, or brunch?”

“What happened to dinner?”

“We can do all four of them,” he says.

She grins, her chest blossoming with warmth at this perfect boy standing before her. “I’m holding you to that.”

Percy doesn’t disappoint.

[honeytae]

could i request something fluffy with joon like an ice cream date and when the reader orders mint chocolate chip namjoon just doesnt shut up about it lol

Are you telling me I have to choose between you and mint choco?

okay so i absolutely loved this idea lmao. i’m sorry it took a while for me to get this posted, but i really hope you like this, anon!! here we have a grumpy tired joon in the studio so the reader takes him out for a little break and..you know the rest :) thank you for sending me this adorable scenario <3

tags: @ahgasearmyfan, @hoseokayy

genre: fluff

word count: 2.1k

“Ugh, no.”

At Namjoon’s sudden groan, you glanced over from the opposite side of the studio as he tapped the pad of his pointer finger around the mouse, rapidly moving things around on the monitor in front of him.

Frowning, you placed your phone down onto the coffee table, pushing yourself off the loveseat you’d been reclining on to investigate.

Fingers plucking at your shirt to readjust it from where it had shifted around in your position, you walked across the room to where the man sat, sneaking up behind him to drape your arms over his shoulders.

“What’s going on?” You asked as you folded your fingers over his arm, appendages soothingly rubbing at his bicep as he let out a deep sigh.

You felt Namjoon’s shoulders ease even just the slightest at your touch, tension draining from the muscles as you set your chin atop his head to peer at his computer screen.

“I just don’t know why I can’t make this chorus work.” He sighed, and your heart twisted at his saddened tone.

He sounded genuinely disappointed in himself, something you despised and wanted to wash away immediately.

“You’ll make it work, Joonie. I know you will.” You pressed a kiss to the side of his head, the man letting out another breath as he dejectedly sunk back into his mesh chair.

Feeling the need to step in, you guided his hands off the desk and away from the monitor, smoothing over his long appendages with tender circles of your own.

“I think you need a little break.” You proposed, the man grunting a bit in protest before huffing a breath out past his lips, letting you rub at his stiffened shoulder with a stretch of his neck to give you easier access to the sore spot.

“Hey,” you spoke softly, “you deserve a break. You up for a drive?” You offered, the man shaking his head, palm placing itself onto the back of your hand as he soothed his fingers over your skin graciously.

“I’d love to babe, but I can’t.” He frowned, an expression visible to you by the reflection of his face in the fading computer screen in front of him.

“How about a walk?” You offered, adding when you sensed his hesitation, “Just fifteen minutes?”

You could see him internally debating his options before he seemed to pull the plug, nodding slowly before he began inching his chair back from the desk.

Cheering internally, you walked over to grab his coat from where he’d slung it over the back of the couch upon his arrival hours ago, offering it to him with a smile as he thanked you.

While it always took a bit of persuasion to get Namjoon out during his funks, you had learned over your time with him that he would eventually cave; although a bit stubborn, deep down he knew he needed a break from continuously racking his brain for all the right words.

And it always helped; a little bit of fresh air and non-work related conversation went a long way, his head typically clearing up within a half hour so that he could head back to his desk with fresh ideas.

“Oh, it stopped raining.”

Those were the first words out of his mouth as you both exited the building, peering up at the hazy clouds, eyes squinted at the sun appearing from behind them.

“Did that ruin your romantic fantasy of kissing me in the rain?” You flirted, alluding to the slightly disappointed tone in his voice, the man biting down on his bottom lip to contain his shy smile before he shook his head, turning toward you to pull you into his chest.

“I don’t need rain to kiss you.” He laughed, cradling your jaw in his palm as he brought his lips down to yours, tilting his head to deepen the action only slightly before pulling back with a dimpled grin.

“Romantic enough for you?” He raised his eyebrows, quiet laugh escaping his mouth when you only pulled him back for more.

Leaving chaste kisses on your bottom and top lip, butterflies erupted in your chest when he slid his palm against yours, locking his fingers around your hand as he leaned his forehead against yours.

“Yeah.” You exhaled, Namjoon chuckling quietly at your sudden flustered demeanor, smiling fondly as he watched you try to regain control of yourself with a clearing of your throat, nodding your head toward the direction of the sidewalk as you gently tugged him along beside you.

You easily recovered from the moment of weakness, confidently leading him down the street with soft hums escaping your throat as his fingers gripped yours.

He couldn’t help the smile that spread on his face when he noticed the tune of what you were singing; it was the song he’d been working on all day, bits and pieces most likely leaking out of his headphones as he worked only a few feet from you.

Smiling down at your joint hands swinging between your bodies, the sounds surrounding you completely disappeared, only your boyfriend’s soft yet sturdy hold on your appendages registering in your brain. It was just so him.

“Is that an ice cream booth?” He suddenly asked, squinting at a small sign in the distance as you lifted your head, effectively snapped out of your daze as you giggled at him.

Pulling Namjoon by his hand, you took initiative and led the way to the little ice cream shop, the man clumsily stumbling after you with a wide grin.

Wrapping an arm around your waist as you paused to stand in the back of the line, Namjoon set his chin on your head, swaying you side to side absentmindedly as his eyes scanned the list of flavors available.

“What are you getting, babe?” He asked, you humming in response with a slight shrug.

“I’m not sure yet. What are you getting?” You set your head down onto his shoulder to peer up at his face, eyes tracing his features as he blinked at the blackboard menu straight ahead of him.

“Rocky road, I think.” He answered, seemingly debating it in his head for a moment before nodding to himself, satisfied with his decision as he stepped forward to bring you both to the front of the line.

“Good afternoon, what can I get for you guys today?” The man in the vendor smiled, Namjoon giving his order with a polite nod before the man turned his attention to you.

“And what can I get for you?” He smiled kindly, causing you to step forward a bit to see the choices.

“Um,” you squinted at the menu, looking back at the man with a small grin, “mint choco, please.”

Shifting your gaze back to your boyfriend, you couldn’t help but laugh out loud at his expression, eyes widened and mouth agape in shock.

You had heard him debating his friends on mint chocolate before, expressing his open hatred for the flavor with a passion. And you’d always managed to keep quiet, only sitting back and listening with an amused smile on your face as they bantered back and forth about the topic.

But how could you not take the opportunity to mess with him when it was presented in scribbled green chalk right in front of you?

After all, you never saw a problem with mint chocolate anything. And the look on his face was fucking priceless.

The man continued staring at you in disbelief as you doubled over in front of him, clutching your sides as you wheezed at his face of genuine betrayal at the mere thought of you ordering his least favorite ice cream flavor.

“Wha- how could you?” He asked, smile lifting his lips a tad as you broke out in more giggles at his question.

“It’s good, baby.” You finally caught your breath enough to say, defending your choice as the man shot you another look of disapproval, his eyes widening further at your words.

“It’s good? It’s practically toothpaste!” He said, exasperated as he watched the man come back up to the counter with a rocky road cone in one hand, a green mint chocolate chip one in the other.

Thanking him, you took both of them in your hands, handing your boyfriend’s order over to him with a sly grin.

Walking out of the shop, you nearly snorted at the look on Namjoon’s face as you raised the cone to your mouth, his grimace evitable even from the obscured sight of him from the corner of your eye.

“Mm,” you hummed upon the ice cream meeting your tastebuds, Namjoon rolling his eyes at your exaggerated reaction with a sigh as he paused his steps and lowered himself down onto the bench beside the sidewalk.

“I cannot believe you dragged me out of the studio just to betray me like this.” He sighed, making you laugh again as you settled down beside him, easily melting into his embrace when his arm habitually fell around your shoulders.

“You like me.” You poked and prodded at his chest with your pointer finger along with the childish words, watching your boyfriend’s lips twitch a bit before he regained composure.

“I don’t know, babe. This might be a dealbreaker.” He teased, you humming in response as you licked at the pastel green ice cream once again, Namjoon pulling a scowl as he watched.

“Are you telling me I have to choose between you and mint choco?” You asked after swallowing the sweet cream, chewing on the small chocolate chip left on your tongue.

“I’m telling you that I’m very content in my rocky road bubble over here.” He smirked, raising his chocolate cone in front of his face for emphasis before glancing down at you.

“Good for you. I’m very content in my mint choco bubble, so take that.” You shot back, an amused grin on Namjoon’s face at the banter before he shook his head.

“I cannot believe you’re on that side of this argument.” He sighed, eyebrows pulled together as he watched your tongue swipe at the scoop of ice cream yet again.

“I like being on my side, personally.” You sassily shrugged a shoulder, smirking as your boyfriend scoffed at your smugness.

“The wrong side.” He muttered under his breath, chuckling when you jokingly widened your eyes at him. His dark eyes held contact with your own as a smile slowly filled his cheeks, causing your expression to do the same at the infectious dimples appearing by his mouth.

Squinting at him, you tried to place the source of his sudden change in demeanor, wiping at your lips with the back of your hand for any misplaced chocolate before pulling it away from your face to inspect your skin, clean of any chocolate chip remnants.

“What?” You questioned him, the man chuckling a breath out through his nose as he swept a piece of hair that had been moved out of place by the wind back behind your ear.

“I just can’t believe your one flaw is liking mint choco.” He responded to your confusion, smile widening when you laughed at his words.

“Yeah, and yours is being a mint choco hater.” You joked, your shoe scuffing against the cement as you kicked your foot out in front of you.

He chuckled in response, bringing the softening ice cream cone back up to his mouth again. When he pulled it away, you noticed a dark spot of chocolate gathered at the corner of his lip.

Giggling slightly at the sight, you brought your thumb up to swipe at his skin, the man’s eyes locking with your own as your hand fell back to your lap. The world around you seemed to fade away completely as you began leaning into each other, you throwing caution to the wind by pulling him in by the chin to meet his lips.

It didn’t seem to matter that your mouth definitely tasted like the mint chocolate ice cream you’d been licking at only moments before, Namjoon’s tongue swiping across your bottom lip as if you didn’t taste like something he wholeheartedly despised - or at least claimed to.

You smirked against him as his hand came up to secure the back of your head so that you couldn’t pull away, deepening the kiss with a push of his tongue into your mouth, pulling back to grin at him with a raised eyebrow.

“I thought mint choco was a dealbreaker, Joonie.” You said, tone smug as you watched the man lift his own ice cream cone to his mouth, effectively hiding his shy grin as he tongued at the chocolate swirls.

“For you, I may be willing to see past it.”