#i just wanted to do something quick i just needed to draw her face ... i hope to think of more doodles with her eventually
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rinsko · 2 days ago
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THAT FUNNY LITTLE GIRL ♡ GOJO SATORU
he hopes this lifetime will be enough to love.
papa! gojo washes his baby’s hair, what could go wrong! jumping thru the timeline, multiple times. sfw, fluff. approx. two thousand word count. he is filled to the brim with love.
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“daddy?” his baby calls for him, satoru, who happens to be sitting right beside her bathtub— criss-crossed legs, paying less and less mind to the cold tile floor that’s making his skin shiver, and more on what she has to say.
“yeah baby?” he’s just down the hall, but you’ve begun to pick apart how his voice, with every syllable, sounds so fond when he speaks to her: his very precious girl.
you hear the gentle hum she hums for a quick second, the mumbling, jumbling of her words as she sorts out what she wants to say and then, “why’s the sky blue?”
★ ‎
there’s a bathtub marker in her hand when she asks, the very same ones satoru was so incredibly persistent on buying at your last shopping store run—
“bathtub markers?” he hears the quirk in your eyebrow before he has a chance to see it, holding the pack of eight in his hand like it’s the greatest invention yet.
“yup! we need them!” he stands side by side with his mini me— matching pairs of silly puppy dog eyes appear on their faces and a dramatic pout fixed to both their lips.
he whispers what he thinks you won’t hear, covering his lips behind the palm of his hand as he kneels to her side. “pst…” he hisses comically loud, “we need to say please, sunshine.”
“pease!” no please, (she’s much cuter about this whole ordeal than he is—) she nods her head as she swings her feet back and forth, fluttering without a sound.
could you guess what’s harder than saying no to her? satoru would vote it’s probably saying: goodbye!
your heart aches lovingly, too impossible to resist— “‘toru, it sounds like you want them more than she does.” grabbing the bundle of markers, you flip them to the side, skimming through its directions and their warnings.
“me?!” he says in the least dramatic tone he could possibly mutter, “are you denying our baby of an artistic future?” and then there’s a hand over his face again. he covers the gasping motion he’s currently molded into, “that she’s not destined to be the next picasso?”
“she’s three! how would you know?” funny grins paint over both your faces because it’s a bittersweet thought: her future, who’ll she be and what’ll become of her.
“there’s an artist inside that little heart, i can feel it.” he’s determined to stick to the skit, crossing his arms over his chest and puffing with a promising certainty for it all.
it’s even funnier when he knows he’s won too: when you hand over the markers to your baby’s pudgy fingers, he has that face plastered on. same one as every other time he’s won you over on something hilariously trivial.
“so honey,” focusing, you decide to actively ignore the cutest dimples on the corner of his smile, “what will you draw when you get home today?”
“f’owers” she points at the red marker, “more for you!” an obvious reference to the dozen roses she’s seen on the dinner table.
“you’re so sweet! i know you’ll draw me the prettiest flowers, my love!” you kiss the tip of her nose as tiny pearly whites form a cheeky smile in return— “ahem.” satoru follows slowly behind you both as you begin to stroll down the aisle again.
“and for daddy,” the coast is clear so you take the chance to stop and spread your arms as wide as you can, “you draw him the biggest, blue sky that matches his eyes!”
she giggles at the dramatics, your stretched out arms and satoru’s loving gaze directed toward you— she mimics these two things. “big sky ‘nd daddy!” and it’s true, your satoru carries the big sky wherever he goes.
★ ‎
“uhmm..” he thinks hard about it, rubbing the nape of his neck, setting his glasses down to the side— how exactly do you explain the color of the sky to a toddler?
he scoots in a little closer now, splashing sounds echoing around while she fidgets with the other toys in the bath, “so, the light from mr. sun is made of all the colors of the rainbow. do you know which ones?”
satoru picks out the markers in the same exact pattern he’s memorized— red, orange, yellow, green in her hand, blue, and the purple that seems the closest to violet.
she doesn’t sound very interested, yet. but you doubt it as long as there’s paddling turtles wound up and clicking across the bubbly water; her attention’s obviously elsewhere.
satoru uncaps the yellow marker first: forming one big, rigid circle against the shower wall that represents the sun— followed by streaks of all the other colors in his hands stretching away from it, representing light.
“like this,” he says, “all the colors of the rainbow.” he returns the green marker she had at first, happily holding onto the object again.
“but ms. earth,” a cake of blue forms as the felt tip rolls around in one spot, “likes blue the best. so, she makes her sky blue.” and with that, your baby blinks up at him like a doll— eyelashes pinched into the perfect curl, and he wonders if he’s only confused her even more.
“oh.” it’s funny how somber-toned she sounds— oh, the same tone you’d use after hearing the most unbelievable truth (or a lie!) the utter shock, the disbelief… that oh.
“just kidding!” he gleams brightly now as she watches. apparently, it had been enough to grab her attention even for the slimmest second.
satoru drops the markers back in the bathtub net where she had placed them, settling within her reach.
“the sky’s blue because daddy’s eyes are blue.”
and if he gleams, his baby does too, “i knew it!”
(he promises to explain himself to you a little later. surely, hopefully, you must forgive him and his little, white lie!)
“oh, you did?” satoru settles his knees as close as he can to the tub now, minimizing all the space he can as he reaches for the shampoo bottle on the edge of the tub, “isn’t my little girl so clever? yes, the smartest!”
she giggles, water splashing around as she moves closer towards her daddy’s arms— completely used to this routine by now, “mm, like papa.”
once he squeezes the bottle, he thinks his heart’s being squeezed too. watching chamomile-scented soap pour onto the palm of his hands, he smiles. “you think i’m clever, sunshine?”
“sometimes.” but she’s off in her own little world again, drawing on the wall with her favorite turtle beside her.
he supposes he will take what he can get.
with a gentle rinse to her hair, satoru begins to form a gentle lather along the crown of her head, “i want to be a clever daddy for you,” he says.
you know it comes with no thought, as if the words have simply fallen out and onto his tongue before they’ve finally reached his head, “a good papa.”
and it’s happened so frequently, he jokes with you about how she must have some sort of technique to pull out the honest truth from anyone— even without trying to.
“you just love her, satoru.”
★ ‎
amidst the grogginess of the morning and eyes closed shut, you tell him that much. it’s all you can grumble out when your firefly of a husband rises before the sun.
he claims it’s early morning clarity— when your mind is filled with everything and nothing. all you can do it spill your heart out. not much you can do to help it.
he loves this part of the day with you.
“i do. a lot.” he says in one lasting breath, just before shifting from being your big spoon to peek over at the baby monitor on his bedside table for the… nth time.
if she didn’t make him feel like his entire life was worth it, maybe he wouldn’t look at her so often. but she does, not even aware of it, with a leg dangling off the bed. plushies used for pillows rather than the pillows themselves.
it doesn’t scare him as much as it used to: the act of loving, and the acting of expressing it— the act of admitting just how much he does.
“she loves you too.”
★ ‎
with the soapy suds spilling over his knuckles, between his fingers and the strands of her hair, satoru notices something new.
he twirls a finger around the ends of her hair, strands strong and smooth— as he realizes they’re starting to curve around the shell of her ear on its own, when he doesn’t remember it doing that before.
and as he lowers his gaze, the soapy lather following along, he sees the longest strands of his baby’s hair are bound to meet the back of her neck. nape, ears and shoulders all meeting someone new.
satoru forgets that time goes by fast, especially when you’re filled with love to spare. “when did you start growing up so fast, sunshine?”
she shrugs.
the strength in his knees give out, landing him right back down onto the tile floor; feet tucked underneath his body. “it’s too fast.” he murmurs so lowly, you can barely catch on to what’s been said.
too fast to watch her go— but don’t say it out loud, satoru doesn’t have the heart to finish or hear the rest.
she’ll be able to say please, even without him asking her to. she’ll be able to pronounce her l’s until she loses her two front teeth. she’ll hold onto his hand, and he’ll hold onto her.
then, it’ll be time for school. and she’ll be leaving his side as a big girl now, with a lunch bag he’s packed and a slipping backpack over her shoulder— yes, inevitably, that’s going to happen too, just as he has before.
and if that’s right around the corner, then so is every other phase, inevitably— and the rest of her life from then on. it’s going to happen one day: where satoru’s baby is no longer a baby and he will have to let her go.
“‘toru.” he turns to you, towel in hand, pressing weight against the wall’s edge. “what’re you weepin’ about now, baby?”
your daughter turns to face him in a heartbeat, curious.
“crying?” voice trembling, he nudges his cheek into his sleeve in attempts to hide any evidence, big hands still in need of rinsing along with her hair. “who’s crying?”
stepping closer, you hang the towel over the hook before sitting right next to his side, “because you never cry, especially at random times.” you poke once at his ribs.
“you’re starting to get me, sweetness.” then, he dips his fingers into the water, bubbly foam parting ways from his skin. it falls down her shoulders when he rinses her off, all done with the bath, and having a little time to play.
you watch him for a while, trying to identify the cause and while trying to make small talk— you mention something without much thought, “her hair has gotten a lot longer now.”
his voice, it’s tinier than you’ve ever expected it to be, “i know…” a sniffle divides his sentence, a proper pause, “she’s growing up so fast.”
“ah… so, that’s what this is about.”
you rest your head over his shoulder, still feeling as in love as ever, “you’re cute, you know that?” he rests his in return. “we still have hundreds of days together.” you watch the way she draws on the wall, enjoying her happiness as if it were your own.
“it doesn’t feel like enough.” he says.
“i don’t think it’ll ever be enough.” no, it never will. “maybe we’re greedy like that, honey.” yes, you know this.
he knows he is. because there’s a bright sun in the blue sky with red roses to bring it all together, just like she promised.
“finished!” she looks back at you two, hands in the air in celebration of her brand new masterpiece being born.
“oh! they’re so pretty!” sweet enthusiasm in your voice, you give her all the attention in the world. “just perfect!”
you begin to ask her the little things, every detail you could think of and she could find an answer to, all while wrapping her in the warm towel you hung up earlier.
satoru’s gotten up from the floor too, taking it all in until she calls for him again, “that’s you, daddy.” she points at the blue on the wall as you carry her back to her room.
his heart screams though he’s no longer crying and he hopes this lifetime will be enough to love.
satoru hears your footsteps trickling further down the hall when your voice resounds again, “come on daddy, we need help picking out today’s pijamas!”
“pease, papa hurry!”
his heart screams though he’s no longer crying as he listens to the water flow down the drain, capturing her first piece of art on his phone, he has very little to say.
but if he had to say it and if his baby asked him to, satoru would confess: “i’m so happy. i’m so happy to love you.”
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hello friends! this is a repost from my previous blog, mysugu. in the case you recognize this piece, that is (hopefully) why! thank you for reading this bit, (a second time?) he is so loved.
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todayisafridaynight · 5 months ago
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the biggest W of september for me
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thehoneybeestings · 11 days ago
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Service Top!Sevika at Babette's 
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Word Count: approx. 640
Synopsis: There's a reason the girls at Babette's fight over who gets Sevika for the night when she comes in, and you're about to find out why
Content/Warnings: nsfw, porn w no/little plot, brothel worker!reader x service top!sev, bottom!reader, oral (sev & r receiving) strap (r receiving), pillow humping, reader has female anatomy, reader referred to as girl, doll, like 75% of afabs can't cum from penetration alone so this is for us
A/N: OKAY okay since everyone is asking (no one asked girl), i guess i'll give you guys some service top!vika x brothel worker!reader while we wait for the kassandra poll results. since everyyyone is asking. service top!sevika holy fuck save me. enjoy !
Love, Bee ୨ৎ
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୨ৎ Service Top!Sevika who frequents the brothel to blow off steam in a way that has the girls fighting over who gets her for the night
୨ৎ You've only been working at Babette's for a month now, so you're not really sure what the hype is all about…
୨ৎ Until, she comes in one evening and everyone else is already with a client, leaving you to take care of her
──˚₊•୨ৎ•‧₊˚──
୨ৎ Service Top!Sevika who walks into your room through the beaded curtain that's twinkling like the grey eyes traveling up and down your figure
୨ৎ “You new?” She asks, unbuttoning her cloak to reveal a beautiful arm of bronze
୨ৎ Beautiful, but intimidating; this is made clear by the wide eyes you sport when responding with a hesitant, “Y-yes…”
୨ৎ She takes note of your weariness and makes quick work of easing your worries 
୨ৎ “Not gonna hurt ya;” she states, throwing her cloak over the wingback chair next to the door, “not what i’m here for.” 
୨ৎ “What are you here for then?” You respond; this time, more confidently 
୨ৎ She strolls over to the bar cart, and you don't miss the smirk that appears on her face before her back is to you as she pours herself a glass of whiskey
୨ৎ “That depends on you.”
──˚₊•୨ৎ•‧₊˚──
୨ৎ Service Top!Sevika who’s got you baffled, because it’s been a long time since someone asked you what you liked
୨ৎ She's got you sprawled out on the velvet couch, her head between your legs, only coming up for air to ask if you if “You want it faster?” “You want another one of my fingers?” “You're gonna cum for me, aren't you doll?”
୨ৎ No fucking shit you're gonna cum; this is the best head you've ever gotten
──˚₊•୨ৎ•‧₊˚──
୨ৎ Service Top!Sevika who's got you on your knees in front of her, wetting her strap so it's nice and ready for you
୨ৎ You're quick to coax every inch into your mouth, eyes watering as you try your best to breathe through the jabs to the back of your throat 
୨ৎ But then, she's cupping your jaw with her flesh hand, pulling you off of its length
୨ৎ “Slow down, doll,” she soothes, “you're gonna hurt yourself.”
୨ৎ You'd sputter out an apology, explaining that you were only doing what your other clients liked
୨ৎ “Don't care what they like. Take your time; just need my strap wet enough to make you feel good.” 
୨ৎ Of course, you show your immense appreciation for her consideration by giving her head so good she swears she can feel it through the strap
──˚₊•୨ৎ•‧₊˚──
୨ৎ Service Top!Sevika whose got you babbling on her cock, completely drunk off of how good she's fucking you
୨ৎ She's got you in a prone bone, (because she asked what your favorite position to take strap in was) leaning down to tell you how good you're doing, how well you're taking her
୨ৎ “Can you cum like this?” She suddenly asks, slowing down 
୨ৎ “Not usually,” you pant, “need something on my clit.”
୨ৎ “Good. Want my mouth on you anyway.”
──˚₊•୨ৎ•‧₊˚──
୨ৎ Service Top!Sevika who’s coaxing another orgasm from you, fingers massaging your walls, tongue drawing figure eights on your clit
୨ৎ Her arms are wrapped around your thighs, holding them down as you twitch and thrash with your release 
୨ৎ Only once you've ridden it out until you're reaching down to push her away does she crawl up to fall beside you on the pile of blankets, furs, and pillows 
୨ৎ Her breath is labored, eyebrows knit together, and her own thighs are twitching now 
୨ৎ “Your turn?” You ask breathlessly
୨ৎ She reaches down to grab a pillow before dropping it beside your head; and only upon seeing the dark patch on the pillow case do you realize that she'd gotten off grinding into it as she ate you out
୨ৎ “Already went. You wanna go again?”
──˚₊•୨ৎ•‧₊˚──
୨ৎ Service Top!Sevika who is-naturally- your favorite client; and luckily for you, you're her favorite girl
End ୨ৎ
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anisespice · 9 months ago
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“ accidents happen ” || tokyo rev.
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cont. two
synopsis: in which they discover you had their child and kept it from them all these years later.
pairing: bonten x fem!reader [ mikey, ran, sanzu ]
warnings: mature content ahead. MDI. mature language, crude humor, angst (if you squint really hard), deadbeat!bonten (unintentionally), not proof-read so there may be errors lol and i think that’s it :))
notes: i just want the drama >:) may make more parts, and even extend said headcannons into longer fics in the future, but wanted to post something quick for mother’s day. hope you enjoy!
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When you disappeared off the face of the earth, MIKEY had never been the same. One fight. One argument that spiraled out of control, and you were just gone...
He had people looking for you for about a couple years, the trail ran cold after a while and he had half a mind to think you were dead. Up until he got intel of your whereabouts one morning during a meeting.
That man got up and left immediately.
He wasn’t accompanied with any of his men, only because he didn’t want to draw any unwanted attention in the broad daylight. Sure, him wearing a black hood, ball cap, and mask in a park didn’t really help him look inconspicuous but it at least concealed his identity enough for him to blend in. Mikey sat on a bench for a good forty minutes, anxious, making anyone who passed him shiver from his intense aura alone; even birds walked around him. After almost an hour of waiting, he began to feel frustrated. Perhaps, the intel was false. Just as he went to stand, already conjuring up ways to have Sanzu execute the idiot who wasted his time, he heard it.
Your voice. Seizing him, like a siren’s call.
His eyes were alert, darting around until they landed on your figure, spotlighted by the sun, like an angel descending from the heavens. You looked good, healthy. That was good. An array of emotions fought for their turn in Mikey’s heart—Relief, distress, anger, nostalgia. He couldn’t just pick one, especially when it came to you. As he watched from his spot, doing his best to not seem suspicious, he clocked the people you were approaching with excitement, your peppy stride as you waved at, what he presumed, to be mother and daughter.
However, his entire world turned upside down when the little girl extended out her arms towards you, and said “Mama!”
“Hello, my darling.~” You cooed, taking her into your awaiting arms from the woman, embracing the toddler tightly. “Mama missed you so much.”
“Missed you, mama!” was the child’s reply, followed by her giggles.
A bucket of cold water would’ve been better than this. Watching you converse with who he now assumes to be the babysitter, Mikey felt faint. Vision blurring, head pounding, heart clenching. You…you…no. There’s no way. You wouldn’t have moved on…you couldn’t have, not like this, not from him. You loved him, didn’t you? You still love him, didn’t you?
How could you…how could you?
Before he knew it, he started to follow you around. From the park, to the store, all the way back to your apartment. He already phoned some of the executives to start working in on the babysitter, and anyone else in your new found circle for information. He wanted answers. He needed them.
By the time you began fixing dinner, with your daughter laid down for a nap, you receive a knock at your door. Who could that be at this hour?
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RAN was chilling outside the rendezvous spot for something the boss and a few other execs were participating in, having a smoke, minding his business, up until he sees a little girl with pigtails wearing a school uniform approaching, standing before him and just…staring. She barely came up to his thighs, could've been no older than seven. She was practically staring into his soul with bright lavender eyes that scarily reminded him of Rin’s when he was that age.
He stared back, head tilted as he blew out the smoke from the corner of his mouth. The hell was a kid doing on this side of town?
Then, after an uncomfortable staring contest, the little girl points at his cigarette. “My ma says those things are bad for you.”
Ran raised a brow, “Does she now?”
“Mmhm! She says it makes people unhappy.”
He offered a thoughtful nod, an amused grin spreading across his face. “Mm. Do I look unhappy?”
The girl looked at Ran for a minute, eyes squinted. Eventually, she shook her head. “No. But, ma also says people who are always unhappy get better at hiding it.”
Ran’s grin faltered. Her unwavering stare started to unnerve him, especially after hearing such a heavy statement come from such a small package.
After a brief moment of silence, he chuckled softly, taking one last drag of his cigarette before flicking it away. He exhaled. “Smart woman.”
The little girl beamed, “Mmhm! My ma knows a lot of stuff.”
“Tsk. But not ‘Stranger Danger’, apparently.”
She tilted her head, curious. “Huh?”
“You shouldn’t be wandering around by yourself, let alone approaching someone you don’t know. ‘s not safe. Especially for nosy little girls who stick their noses in other people’s business. Your ma never taught you that?”
The little girl rolled her eyes, hands on her hips. “Duh. Of course she did. Everyone knows that rule,” she exasperated. Ran snorted, but yielded when she squinted at him, pointing as she sassed. “And I do so know you, so you’re not a stranger.”
This time, Ran couldn’t help the incredulous laugh. “Oh, you know me, huh? That’s not good. ‘m supposed to keep a low profile. Say, you ain’t a cop are you?” He teased, earning another eye roll.
“No. Too small to be a cop, dummy.”
“Oh, pardon me, I didn’t notice. Where do you know me from, then?”
The little girl pointed over to the building..where the executives were having their meeting. She beamed, “Ma’s works in there. On important people days she can’t get me from school, so she tells me to come straight here, and to not talk to the purple man that stands near the building. She says you’re mean.”
Ran smirked, then gave a half-hearted shrug.
“She also says you’re my pa. But, I never believed her. You’re too old.”
Ran’s smirk dropped.
Whether more from the first comment or the last, you decide. But, one thing was for certain: he needed another cigarette.
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SANZU cackled watching some guy struggle to round up a couple of rowdy twins at the convenience store. One was knocking shit off the shelves while the other ran circles around the guy. It was what he needed for his bitch of a hangover, a good laugh to distract from the ache in his skull.
However, he wasn’t laughing for long when you came around the corner of the isle, holding a few items with a smile on your face that soon faded once you saw the scene unfolding before you; the pinkette thought he was still tripping balls. Blinking a few times to allow any after effects of the drugs to clear up, when you didn’t disappear he used his long legs to swiftly yeet behind one of the shelves, peering around it like some paranoid stalker. The last time you had spoken, you had threatened to castrate him with your teeth if you ever saw him again.
And he’d be damned if he tried your bluff.
He watched in awe as you straightened those twins up quick. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought they were trained to obey you, and only you. Any other authority be damned. While the guy was putting all the stuff back on the shelves, sweaty and out of breath, you gently reprimanded them for causing trouble. You still made that cute pouty face you always did whenever you were mad at him…
“What did we talk about earlier? Hm? Mr. Satoru was very kind to help mama today, you know. You two promised me you’d be on your best behavior for him.”
Sanzu gagged. This was the rebound you let nut in you? This huffy moron who can’t handle a couple of ankle biters, this was your king? He had half a mind to just gut the guy to put him out of his misery from that pathetic display from earlier, alone. He couldn’t imagine how difficult it must be back home. He remembers when he was that age—Rowdy, reckless, the Antichrist. Adorable, but deadly. God bless that poor bastard’s soul.
Wait…Mister? Not…dad?
The first twin whined, stomping their feet. “He’s too boringggg!”
Come to think of it…if Sanzu squinted…the longer he looked at the little family…he swore the more he saw the resemblance of himself in the tiny gremlins. From the hair, to the eyes, all the way down to the mannerisms…Hang on. When had been the last time you two fucked? Three…no, was it four years ago?
The second twin huffed, pointing at the man. “Yeah! And he’s jus’ being nice so that he can sleep in your bed, mama!”
You flushed, nervously chuckling as you looked around to make sure no one heard. Sanzu ducked behind a bag of chips, now nothing but eyes peeking through the gaps of food on the shelf.
So…that loser’s not the father? Then…could that mean..?
“He’s mama’s boyfriend, remember? He’s allowed to do that. And he’ll be around for a while, so I want you two to be nice, okay?”
“…okay, mama.” They grumbled.
Sanzu almost popped a blood vessel, fist clenched around a bag of Lays and nearly busting it. He chuckled darkly, “Oh. We’ll see about that.”
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© 2024-2025 anisespice ッ all rights reserved.
likes, comments & reblogs much appreciated!
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rafecameronssl4t · 1 month ago
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i’m actually obsessed with all your works pls i need more ceo!rafe and sweetheart!reader, maybe something with their kids??? you’re actually amazing 🙇‍♀️
Office visit || CEO!Rafe Cameron x fem!reader
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A/n: thank u for the request xx
Warnings: use of daddy and mommy but not in a sexual way 😭
Word count: 2,002
MASTERLIST (CEO!Rafe au masterlist)
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“What do you boys want to do after this?” you ask, glancing back at Luca and Kai as they focus on their ice creams. The two of them sit on the edge of the bench outside the tennis club, still buzzing with energy after their lesson. The faint scent of sunscreen lingers, and their flushed cheeks tell the story of a morning well spent.
Kai pauses mid-bite, his little tongue darting out to catch a melting drip before it slides down his cone. His brows knit in concentration as he thinks, his chocolate-streaked fingers almost comically poised. Luca, always the quieter of the two, finishes his bite and watches his brother, waiting to see what he’ll suggest.
You reach over and smooth Kai’s tousled hair, the strands damp from sweat and the summer heat. “What about…” you trail off, pulling your phone from your bag to check the time. It’s just past noon, and an idea sparks. “How about we go and see Daddy at his office for lunch?”
Both boys instantly straighten, their eyes lighting up with excitement. “Yes! Yes!” they exclaim in perfect unison, their voices loud enough to draw amused glances from a passing couple. Kai bounces slightly in his seat, and Luca’s smile stretches wide, making your heart melt.
“Alright, finish up your ice creams first, and then I’ll make a quick call to see if he’s free,” you say, chuckling at their eagerness. You bend down to zip up their small tennis bags, tucking away their water bottles and rackets. Their names are embroidered neatly on the sides of their bags, a gift from Rafe when they started lessons last year.
Sliding your phone out again, you scroll to Rafe’s assistant, Rachael, and hit call. It barely rings once before her bright, professional voice answers. “Hi, Mrs. Cameron! How are you?” “Hi, Rachael,” you greet warmly, stepping a little away from the boys, who are now energetically debating whether they should bring Daddy a surprise snack. “Does Rafe have any meetings or calls in the next hour or so? The boys want to see him, and I thought we could bring lunch.”
“Let me check for you,” Rachael replies. You can hear the soft tapping of keys as she looks at his schedule. “You’re in luck—he’s free until 2 p.m. today!” “Perfect,” you reply with a relieved smile, already picturing Rafe’s reaction. “We’ll be there soon. Thanks, Rachael.” “Of course! See you soon,” she says, and you hang up, sliding the phone back into your bag.
Turning back to Luca and Kai, you find them eagerly finishing their ice creams, their little legs swinging excitedly beneath the bench. “Okay, it’s all set. Daddy’s free, so we’re heading to his office. But first, wipe those sticky hands!” you tease, handing them some napkins. They giggle as they clean up, practically bouncing with excitement as they climb into the backseat of the car.
You secure their tennis bags in the boot and slide into the driver’s seat, glancing in the rearview mirror to see their gleaming faces. As you pull out of the car park, their excited chatter fills the car. “Do you think Daddy will let us sit at his desk like last time?” Kai asks. “Maybe we can help him work!” Luca chimes in, his voice hopeful.
You laugh, your heart full as you drive toward Rafe’s office. “Let’s see how much work Daddy gets done with you two around,” you joke, feeling a surge of warmth at the thought of surprising him with his two biggest fans.
~
The second you parked your car in the reserved spot beside Rafe’s sleek black car, Luca and Kai were out of their seats in a flash. “Wait for me!” you called, though you already knew your words would be ignored. You watched with a mix of amusement and exasperation as the two bolted toward the glass sliding doors, their laughter echoing through the underground parking lot.
“No running inside, please!” you called after them, quickly grabbing your bag and locking the car. Your heels clicked rhythmically against the pavement as you hurried to catch up. By the time you reached the doors, Steve, the ever-friendly security guard stationed by the front entrance, was already greeting them. “Well, hello, Luca and Kai!” he said with a broad smile, his weathered face lighting up at the sight of the energetic boys.
“Hi, Steve!” they chorused, their voices loud and cheerful before they darted further into the building. You reached Steve just in time to catch his amused chuckle. “And hello to you, Mrs. Cameron,” he greeted warmly, his tone respectful yet familiar. “Hi, Steve,” you replied with a smile, placing a light hand on his arm. “How’s Margaret doing?” you asked, genuinely curious about his wife.
“She’s doing well, thank you,” Steve replied with a proud nod, the lines around his eyes crinkling with warmth. “That’s wonderful to hear,” you said softly, offering a kind smile before glancing ahead to see Luca and Kai at the front desk, already reaching for the small bowl of lollies. “I’d better catch up with them before they cause too much trouble. See you later, Steve!”
“Have a good visit, Mrs. Cameron,” he called after you with a wave as you made your way inside. The front desk staff greeted you with bright smiles as you approached. “Hello, Mrs. Cameron!” Jake, one of the receptionists, said cheerfully. You chuckled softly, smoothing Luca’s hair as he eagerly unwrapped a lollipop. “I hope these two aren’t bothering you too much,” you joked.
“Not at all,” Jake replied with a grin, glancing down at the boys. “They always bring a little extra energy to the office.”“Well, that they do,” you said, shaking your head fondly as Kai offered Jake a gummy bear from his stash. “Alright, boys, let’s not take all the lollies.” Luca and Kai quickly popped the last of their treats into their mouths and followed you toward the elevator, their small feet pattering against the polished floors.
As the elevator arrived, a group of Rafe’s staff stepped out, their chatter pausing as they noticed you and the boys. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Cameron,” one of them greeted, while another bent down to fist bump Luca and Kai. “Good afternoon,” you replied, nodding politely as the boys giggled, clearly thrilled by the attention.
You guided them into the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor, where Rafe’s office was located. The doors closed, and the boys glanced up at you, their excitement bubbling over. “Do you think Daddy will be surprised?” Luca asked, his voice full of anticipation.
“I think he’ll be very happy to see you,” you assured them, adjusting the strap of your bag as the elevator hummed softly. As the elevator ascended, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, already picturing the look on Rafe’s face when he saw his two little boys storming into his office like it was theirs.
~
The elevator doors opened with a soft chime, revealing the sleek, modern design of Rafe’s executive floor. The expansive space was quiet, save for the faint hum of activity from his staff in the open office areas. Luca and Kai immediately bolted out of the elevator, their small sneakers squeaking against the polished marble floors as they made a beeline for Rafe’s corner office.
“Boys, wait!” you called, your voice firm but amused as you followed them at a brisk pace, your heels clicking against the floor. You exchanged polite smiles and greetings with passing employees, most of whom glanced at the boys with fond amusement. It wasn’t the first time Luca and Kai had stormed through these halls like a whirlwind.
By the time you reached Rafe’s office, the boys had already pushed the heavy door open just enough to slip inside. You caught up just in time to see them racing toward Rafe’s large mahogany desk. Rafe was seated behind it, his brow furrowed as he reviewed a stack of papers. The sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows highlighted the sharp lines of his face, but the moment he heard the familiar sound of his sons’ excited giggles, his head snapped up.
“Daddy!” Luca and Kai shouted in unison, running around the desk to get to him. Rafe’s expression softened instantly, his serious demeanour melting away as he leaned back in his chair. “Well, what’s this?” he asked, his lips curving into a smile. He opened his arms just in time for the boys to climb onto his lap, their chatter filling the room.
“We came to surprise you!” Kai exclaimed, wrapping his small arms around Rafe’s neck. “Did you now?” Rafe replied, his tone warm as he ruffled Kai’s hair. He glanced over the boys’ heads to see you standing in the doorway, a knowing smile on your face as you watched the scene unfold. “And you brought reinforcements, I see.”
You chuckled, stepping further into the room. “They insisted. It was either this or trying to sneak into your meetings.” “Good call,” Rafe said with a smirk, shifting Luca onto his other knee. “You two behaving for Mommy?” Luca nodded earnestly, though the mischievous glint in his eyes made Rafe arch a brow. “Mostly,” you teased, leaning against the edge of his desk.
“Mostly?” Rafe echoed, giving them both a mock stern look that made Kai giggle. “We were good, Daddy!” Kai insisted, throwing his arms out dramatically. “I’ll take your word for it,” Rafe replied, pressing a kiss to the top of Kai’s head before glancing at you. “Thank you for bringing them. This is the best kind of interruption.”
“They wanted to see you,” you said softly, your heart warming at the sight of Rafe with the boys. “And they may have bribed the front desk staff with gummy bears on the way up.” Rafe laughed, his deep, rich tone filling the office. “Sounds about right. So, what’s the plan now, little troublemakers?” “Lunch with you!” Luca declared, leaning against his father’s chest.
“Lunch, huh?” Rafe looked between them, feigning thought. “Well, I think I can make that happen. What do you guys feel like eating?” “Pizza!” Kai shouted, while Luca chimed in with, “Burgers!” Rafe glanced at you, his grin widening. “Guess we’re having both.” You laughed, shaking your head. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll call get Rachael to call the kitchen while you catch up with your boys.”
As you stepped aside to make the call, you couldn’t help but glance back at them—Rafe, with his arms full of Luca and Kai, looking more at ease than you’d seen him in weeks. Moments like these made all the chaos worthwhile.
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vivwritesfics · 5 months ago
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In Trouble
Max and Charles aren't there. Lando knows what they're not allowed to do while Max and Charles are gone, he just doesn't care.
Norlestappen x reader
warning: smut, p in v, cockwarming, talks of punishment i suppose
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Lando's hands gripped her hips as she pushed her fingers through his curls. Just staring into his eyes as Lando stared right back at her. "You're so pretty, Lan," she whispered and tugged on his girls, pulling his head back.
He groaned, grin crossing his face. She leaned forward, rested against his shoulder and kissed at his thick neck. He squeezed her hips just a little tighter, rocking her against his lap.
It was just the two of them home. Charles was in Italy and Max was in England, leaving the two of them by themselves. For the first day, they'd been moping around, ordered in pizza so they could sit against each other on the couch, empty spaces on either side of them.
By day two, they were over it. Max and Charles wouldn't be gone forever, and they could have fun while they were gone.
That was how she ended up on Lando's lap, kissing and sucking bruises into his neck. Low enough that it would be covered up on the upcoming race weekend. But Lando wouldn't cover it up. He'd walk into the paddock wearing something that didn't cover up his neck, walking with his head held high to show off.
"C'mon," Lando whispered, his hands slipping lower. "Can we?"
She stilled against him, pulling her lips away from his neck. "Lando, no," she whispered, lifting her head from his shoulder. "We're not allowed."
That was right, they weren't allowed. On the first day they had been too upset to be needy. But Lando had been sitting with it, letting it stir in him. She was the good one, the one who wouldn't even think about anything like that. Lando was the bad influence, and she knew she couldn't say no to him.
He pouted as he looked down at her. "Please, baby," he whispered, gripping the flesh of her thighs. "They're not gonna know."
Pulling her lip between her teeth, she nodded. She wanted it, wanted him.
Lando held her chin. "You're so good," he whispered and leaned in to kiss her. She knew she was good, it was something she prided herself in. Her cheeks were hot and she grinning as Lando began kissing her neck, pushing her underwear to the side and pushing his fingers inside.
The sex itself was quick. Lando slipped inside of her. He bounced her on top of him, his own hips bucking up. The two of them together, it was quick, needy, desperate. Max and Charles would draw everything out, would have the two of them shaking from overstimulation as they held each other for comfort.
But, now, they had the same goal. They wanted to cum, and that was it. It didn't take long before she clenched around him, finished and becoming sensitive. Lando stilled, spilling inside of her.
On shaking legs, she went to climb off of him, but Lando held her still. "Hang on," he mumbled, still breathing heavily. She was still clenching around him as she laid her head back against his shoulder.
The two fell asleep like that, sitting on the sofa with Lando still inside of her. Maybe if they knew Max and Charles were coming home, they would have cleaned up a bit. They would have hidden what they were doing.
But Charles and Max were early. A whole day early. Max unlocked the door and let himself and Charles in. Their loves were going to be asleep, they knew. They were going to be in the bed, holding each other with space on either side of them for Max and Charles to slip into.
Bodies tired, the two men walked into the living room. Just a simple glass of water from the kitchen, that was all they wanted. But they got a lot more than that.
At first, the scene in front of them was cute. The two of them cuddled together on the sofa, Lando holding her close. He was drooling on the top of her head, but she didn't need to know that.
Charles and Max stopped. They looked at each other, smiling. But they knew they couldn't leave them on the sofa.
Max was gentle as he removed Lando's arms from around her. He went to lift her up, but both she and Lando let out desperate whines. That was when they saw it, Lando's dick slipping out of her.
Charles and Max looked at each other again. Max set her down and Charles worked on waking up Lando. He pushed his fingers through his hair and then tugged.
Lando's eyes flew open. He looked at the two men in front of him, his eyes wide. "Shit," he muttered under his breath as he looked at them, his lap empty.
"Been busy, Lan?" Charles asked as she began waking up.
She looked around in confusion, taking in her other two boyfriends. Panic overtook her slightly and she wrapped her arms around Max. "It was all Lando!" She cried, lips against Max's cheek. Trying to be sweet, he understood. "He made me do it."
Other hands were on her waist, pulling her away from Max. "It takes two to tango, ma chérie," Charles muttered, shaking his head at her. They had no doubt it was mostly Lando's doing, but she had still played her part.
"You two are in so much trouble," Max said with a grin.
Whimpering, she turned to give Charles the attention she tried to give Max, acting sweet on him. It wouldn't work, everybody knew, but she still tried.
But Lando, he was grinning. His grin matched Max's, and he couldn't wait. He was in so much trouble, and he loved it.
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beautifulpaprika · 7 months ago
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A Beast and a Bracelet (m)
pairing: fem!reader x beast!jk
warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, in the forest!
summary: You tried saving someone ... again. However, this group is large and bloodthirsty, and trying to lose them in a forest isn't working. Yet, when you find a cave, it seems to be your saving grace. Not because of what's in it, but who's in it.
word count: 8.7k
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Branch after branch hits me in the face- my hair getting caught in the branches more than once as I run from the group of men after me. 
“Stay out of the business of men, Y/N,” my father always told me. Of course, when I spotted the ready-to-beat-a-man in front of his children, I couldn’t sit back and chug a pint. I had nothing better to do. I didn’t think through the part where there were three of them and one of me. 
The plan was running into the forest where the monster stories came from- stories of missing people and blood trails - in hopes they would be too afraid, but by the footfalls following close behind, I can safely determine they are not as fearful as I am of the forest. 
I have no navigation in the pitch black and wood. My lungs feel ready to give up on me, and the noises I hear on my left sound a lot like something ready to pounce on me. But I keep running. 
“Come on, brave one! You wanna jump in to our business? We can do this right now!” One of the men calls from behind me. I’m astounded they have the air to be able to catch up and yell at the same time. 
I attempt a look behind me, my eyes glancing at a small light catching up. Panic rises in me and boils over, tears welling in my eyes, making finding safety even more difficult. 
There’s a dark mass ahead- a cave surrounded by weeds and vines. Pictures of monsters with sharp teeth and blood dribbling down their chin appear in my mind. 
“Get her!” one man calls out. They’re on my tail and I have to make a decision. 
One foot in front of the other until it’s pitch black in the cave. My footsteps echo off of the cave wall and I almost slip in the mud. The sound of splashing water urges me to turn back. Something is in here, and it’s not a bunny. 
I stick close to the wall, unmoving.
Unfortunately for me, a light shines in the cave. 
“There you are,” the one in front says. They all have a hungry look in their eyes that tells me everything I need to know about their intentions.
My eyes sting from the tears welling. I should’ve listened to my father. I should’ve kept to myself. 
The frontman grabs my arm, but I scream when his touch is gone as soon as it’s there. 
Growling mixing with agonizing screams draws my attention. The light is suddenly gone -it’s pitch black and I hear the nervous panting of the other two men. 
The screaming stops and my breath catches, not wanting the creature to hear me. It’s not a second longer when the screams start up and the crunching of bones and ripping and tearing of skin join it. 
The gurgle from the second man doesn’t stop before the third one follows. The screams and noises last for a few moments longer. When it stops, I close my eyes. I’m preparing for the death that is to come, asking any forces out there to grant a quick death and for my father to never have to find me. 
A huff in front of my face pushes my hair from my face. 
I hate the pathetic whimper I give to the creature. 
Its breathing is heavy and similar to that of a dog. 
“I’m sorry I intruded,” I whine, “I didn’t know where else to go,” I whisper. It feels useless to ask for mercy from a creature that most likely can’t understand me. 
However, it doesn’t seem as impossible as I thought when the huffing retreats from me. The hot air is gone, and I’m out of breath when I hear a splashing again- just like the one I heard when I came in.
I squint my eyes, trying to see rather than hear. 
There’s a new panting sound coupled with coughing and spitting, but it sounds human. Nothing like the creature growling deep while it tore men to pieces. 
Feet slap the wet floor, and I continue to hold my breath, not wanting to make any sudden movements. 
“I know you’re there,” a voice calls. It doesn’t sound menacing or annoyed- more matter-of-fact than anything. Rustling sounds move from my right side to across from me. 
A light appears, causing me to cover my eyes with my arm to adjust to the sudden brightness. 
“A ‘thank you’ would have been nice,” the same voice is right in front of me now. I slowly lower my arm, not wanting to be bombarded by light again. 
My eyes glide up to be met with a man’s curious gaze. The light shows off his raised eyebrows and glistening chest. His dark hair sticks to the sides of his face. He must have been the one who was making all the water sounds. I come back down, looking past his legs to the three bodies behind him. I gasp at their state. Torn limbs, popping eyes, frozen faces of shock. 
“Oh, that,” he grimaces. “That is quite the mess I’ll have to clean,” he mumbles. 
“Who are you?” I look back at him. “Did you do that? How-“
”None of these words sound like appreciation,” he crouches down, his head tilting. “Should I have let them have their way with you?” He asks. I look past him again, a rage boiling inside men from the thought of those torn-up hands being on me instead. I shake my head. 
“I’m grateful,” my voice is low. 
“Good enough for now,” he gets up again, moving back to the space across from me. “You can go,” he announces and I’m caught off guard by it. 
That’s it? 
He sets the light down as I stare in amazement. He’s already heaving one body over his shoulder without a struggle.
I slap myself for gawking at his back muscles and the marred skin as he takes one body and starts to carry it out. 
The half-naked man stops in his tracks and slowly turns to me. 
“You can leave at any time, bunny.” I have to stop myself from flinching at the pet name. 
My mind becomes dizzy at the choices of staying or going. This man is new, a mystery, and I can’t help but be curious. He’s the one who saved me and I’m supposed to walk out as if nothing happened? 
“I’d like to help,” before he can reject my offer, I’m picking up a ripped-off arm and a toe tossed away. Nausea rises in my body up to my throat, but I hold it back before I make even more of a mess. 
I’m ready to follow the man out, but his body is fully turned to me now, the body still on his shoulder. I try avoiding his stare by walking past him, but he blocks me. 
His eyes scan me from top to bottom. I shiver under his wandering eyes. 
“What are you doing?”
”It’s the least I could do for intruding your. . . space,” I refer to the cave. “And it’s obvious you saved me from imminent death . . . And worse,” I gulp, and his eyes follow the movement in my throat. 
I wait for him to say anything or reject my offer, but he doesn’t. He turns, the dead expression of the man on his shoulders flinging towards me. I gag at the wounds down his face. 
“If you’re going to do that the whole way, I suggest you go home instead,” he tells me. 
I shake my head, despite the fact that he can’t see me. 
We trek out into the forest, carrying our bodies (and body parts). The lamp attached to his pants lights the way, but I can’t help looking at the way it drags his pants down his hips a tad. His skin is dry now and I notice the scars down his back more easily. 
“You’ll need to clean up afterward,” he says before throwing the body in an empty spot between some trees. “Going home from this forest will have questions thrown at you enough, but coming back with blood? You won’t survive,” he explains. 
I throw the hand and toe on the spot. 
“You sound like you speak from experience,” it’s as if I have a death wish making such a suggestion, but he laughs it off. Maybe I’m not incorrect. After all, there’s a reason he lives in the cave. 
He doesn’t say another word but turns to return to the cave. 
“How long have you been out here?” I try to break the silence. He gives me a look. “You have a made bed and some supplies in that cave of yours, your hair is-” he gives me another look and I stop talking. The hair must be a sensitive topic.
“It's been a few years. . .” 
The shock in my body slows my walking down. Years? 
“Did you run away from home?” 
“Something like that,” he shrugs. 
I don't ask any more questions for fear of seeming more intrusive than I already am.
“Where is your pond of water?” I ask, trying to fling some of the blood on my fingers. 
He freezes at the question. 
“You have one. I heard it,” I walk further into the darkness, hoping to find the small body of water. 
I notice something glistening and take a step towards it. 
But then my feet lose their balance and my back is against the wall. Air leaves my lungs when the man’s face crowds mine, his hands caging me on both sides. 
“Don’t. Touch. That. Water,” he’s panting and I can only see the left side of his face. The anger and anxiety cinching every feature.
I notice the splotch of blood sitting on his eyebrow and lick my finger to rub it off.
He flinches when my finger touches him, but his eyebrow doesn’t relax. 
“I won’t touch it,” I promise. “I apologize,” I plea that he accepts the apology- my life being at risk and whatnot. 
“You don’t owe me anything. Go home,” he breaks away from me turning to gather the next body. 
“How do I know they won’t come for you? That you’ll be okay?” He freezes on the spot again. “I want to help!” I confess. I don’t want to prove my father right. Not about not being able to defend myself and not about being useless to this world. 
He doesn't say a word but looks back at the body left torn on the ground. It's enough to answer my question. 
“I think I'll be alright,” he says. He makes his way out of the cave and I follow after him. 
“There are more guys then where that came from, I can promise you that! They’ll come looking,” I try. I try to convince him tha t we need each other. My hope is that he says yes and lets me figure out the mystery that he is. 
“I handled three and I’ll handle more,” he grunts as he throws the body into the spot. 
“How do you know people won’t find this?” I gesture to the pile of limbs. 
“It’s still night. The monsters will take care of it. Monsters worse than me,” he says with a  low voice, staring directly at me. The words do as he intended. With a shiver running down my spine, I’m officially afraid. 
“I’ll go home,” I tell him, turning away ready to follow the tracks home. 
“You do that,” he makes his way back to the cave. 
“I‘ll be back tomorrow!” I call. 
“No, you won’t!” He calls back before disappearing into the dark. 
***
I keep my promise to return. This time I bring bread and treats with me, hoping something sweet is enough to tame the beast. I’m not sure what kind of beast he really is, but what does it matter if he doesn’t hurt me?
It’s clear I haven’t learned my lesson last night by getting into “men’s business”. This man is only half man, so it counts. I suppose. 
A leaf crunches behind me, and I swivel to confront whoever’s following me, but Im only met with the sight of a misty forest wind moving through grass and dirt. 
“Y-yeah! You better not fuck with me!” I cringe at my voice wavering on the swear word. 
“You really spooked them away, bunny,” a deep chuckle sounds behind me. 
I swirl to look at the scarred man, a smirk spreading across his face. He approaches me casually, like any man on the street would- except he has no shirt, and his hair is still tousled, and his pants are ripped in different areas. 
“Your anxiety is palpable,” he says, tilting his head at me, while tapping a finger top my chin. 
“I’m not scared of anything,” I lie. 
“I know your idea here is to be brave, but you can’t be brave if you have nothing to fear,” his hand taps the sack hanging in my hand. “What’s this?” he asks. 
I hold the bag to him, the smell of fresh bread and cake wafting around us. 
“For you,” I push it towards him as his eyebrow lifts. “I don’t have any money, but my father and I can bake pretty well,” I shove it towards him again, but he continue s to stare at me. “Yes. It’s a bribe, but I’d like to show you that this team,” I point to him and myself, “can work out pretty well.”
“And why do you want to be a team?” he asks, his arms crossing over his chest, his biceps protruding. I gulp at them, then catch myself looking back at the man. The smirk tells me he noticed me checking him out. 
“I’d like to do more in town, but with the risk of being killed, I can’t do it as much as I’d like. I want your help. For protection,” I propose. I realize the more I talk, the more my body caves in. I quickly adjust to lift my chin and he chuckles at me. 
His eyes narrow, then surprise. I try to process the shock on his face.
“You-” his arms uncross and I wait for his words. 
“What?” I ask. His eyes cut deep into mine and I suddenly feel awkward in my spot. 
He relaxes again, back to his normal composure. “You’ve got a deal,” he announces. Before I can ask him what that was, he’s already turning away and heading in the opposite direction. I try to make out some of the shapes in his back.
I quickly avert my eyes when he looks back at me and start to follow him.
“I brought some other things as well,” I show the bag in my other hand. “Another peace offering, but also . . . basic hygiene,” I shake the bag in excitement. The girls in town never let me braid their hair, but it’s alright. There’s someone who needs my services more anyway. 
He doesn’t say much, only continues to walk and even cleans sticks and rocks from the ground. 
“It’s a bit useless to clean the forest isn’t it?” I ask. 
“It’s meant to be a path, so that you can easily find your way back and forth,” his words catch me off guard. It’s a small gesture, but it’s nice to know he’s keeping me in mind when he does. 
I gawk at him for a few moments longer until the noise of running water breaks me out of the trance. We come up on a small creek dug into the ground. This is no cave. 
“I didn’t see this last night,” I whisper. 
“We didn’t come here last night,” he points out. I give him a questioning look, for him to answer in a shrug, “You said you have a few things for hygiene and a couple of treats - let’s have a picnic, bunny,” I shake my head at the nickname. 
“Why do you call me that?”
“I’m big. You're small. I thought that was obvious,” he raises a branch for me and I pass through. 
“It wasn’t that obvi-”
“Where did you say you came from?” he suddenly asks from behind me. 
“I come from the town just outside of here,” I tell him, turning to face him. He hums in answer. “Have you ever been there? It’s right outside of this forest,” his face scrunches, contemplating. 
“I’m from the cave, that’s it. Now that we’ve gotten introductions out of the way-” he pulls the torn-up pants down his legs and I gasp at the muscles on him. He could crush a man’s head with those thighs. “Let’s get to that wash,” he says, a hint of excitement touching his tone. 
He steps down, slowly, into the water.  
I put a fingertip in the water. I hiss at the cold, but he seems entirely unphased. He seems to enjoy it if anything. 
I admire the way he’s able to bask in the cold water. 
“Alright, what’s next, bunny? Where’s the soap at?” he calls. 
“How do you know about soap?” I had assumed he never joined society. I gather my bag, bringing out soap, sponge, a hairbrush, and a pair of nail clippers. I grab the hairbrush first, waving him over.
“I haven’t always been out here,” he explains, slowly making his way towards me. His back faces me, and despite him being taller than me, I still can’t reach him at a comfortable position. 
“Can you just . . . come a little closer?” I reach again, only able to reach so far without falling into the water. 
He leans backwards, not able to step back without slipping on the tilted creek floor. I reach for his hair, and I’m able to brush it, but the angle is uncomfortable. I try to brush the strands lower, by his neck, but my arms quickly tire. 
“Hold on- Just-” I say, trying to fix my posture. 
His head turns to give me a side-eye, and I watch him roll his eyes. 
“I know something that might help,” he gestures to me to lean over just a bit more. I try my best to have my body hover over the water without falling in. 
The man leans over to grab me underneath my arms - my scream muffled by the water rushing into my mouth. My feet are able to reach the ground and thrust me to the surface. 
My ears fill with the sound of his laughter once they clear out. I turn to him slowly, the cold water causing my eyes to twitch and my body to shiver . . . Or is that the anger? 
“What is wrong with you!” I swear the birds get spooked at my yelling. “I am trying to help.”
“You're trying to butter me up. I already said I would do what you asked, there’s no need to cater to me any more,” his arms reach up to brush his hair back, but his fingers catch easily in the knots. “I brush with my fingers,” he says, proudly. 
Despite my anger, I draw closer to him, his breathing slowing as he looks down at me. 
“While brushing with fingers could work . . .” I start. I grab his arm and pull him to where his back is facing me again. I try not to stare at the obvious scars in different sizes and shapes running down his back. “It’s not going to do all the work. Trust me, the brush will make you feel lighter.” The weight of my clothing drags me down a smidge but I ignore it. I start at the bottom of his long, dark strands. I expect to hear a ‘hiss’ or feel a flinch on some of the knots, but he doesn’t. He actually seems relaxed. His head leans back and a hum occasionally sounds from him. 
I pour more water on his head, following the line down his spine until it meets the water at his waist. I admire hsi figure, dragging a finger down the same path as the water, sometimes detouring to some of the scars. 
I kick myself out of the trance, and when I look back up to focus on the hair again, his head is already slightly turned to look at me. 
“Um, I’m sorry. I got curious,” I admit. 
“About?”
“What your skin would feel like. I don’t think I’ve seen so many scars,” I say. His eyebrows pinch. “I don’t mean that as a bad thing. It’s new. And intriguing. And you should tell me about them,” I add a smile, hoping it’s enough to convince him. 
“You ask for a lot. I’ve saved your life, isn’t that enough from me? If anything I should be asking you for more,” his arms cross. I snort at how pouty it makes him look. 
“Well, I’m brushing your hair aren’t I? You know how many other men’s hair I’ve brushed?” 
He turns in genuine interest. 
“No one. No other man’s hair! And!” I reach for the bag sitting on the edge of the creek, ready to fall in. I dig through the bag, revealing another gift - a bar of lavender soap. “How many people have I given soap to? Zero,” I push it towards him, the bar leaving white residue on my fingers. 
He reluctantly takes it, eyeing it, then me, then it. 
“I’m not sure this is the compliment you-”
“Ungratefulness is not very becoming of you,” I interrupt. 
His eyes peer up at me from under his eyelashes. “I’m still a bit sore, you know, from saving your life,” he says. I nod in understanding. “I’ll need help using this,” he hands me the bar. 
I freeze my hands from playing with the water. I scan his face for any sign of joking, but he continues to hold it to me. 
I take it, and he steps closer immediately, his body towering over mine. My attempt at not appearing nervous doesn’t work. 
“I’ll do it if you can answer one question,” I tell him. He rolls his eyes but agrees. “Why is the water in the cave off-limits but the creek isn’t?” He’s initially annoyed by the question, but I watch him relax.
“It changes me. It’s the reason I was able to become the monster that helped you,” he flinches when I start to lather him in soap. Creek water isn’t the cleanest, but it’s all I have to make the soap softer. “The reason I couldn’t let you go in it is because it’s not something you easily come out of,”he explains. My hand trails over his abdomen and up his sides, he inhales sharply, but recovers quickly. 
“What exactly do you turn into?” 
“Half human, half dog, half beast. There are too many ways to describe it. It doesn’t help that at first you aren’t aware that you’re something else. It takes a couple of tries to not lose your mind. Some have succumbed to the madness, and others take it, go into town, cause chaos, and get themselves killed.” His eyes are distant as he talks. There’s something that tells me he is talking from experience. “It doesn’t help that when I take that form of the beast, it drains my energy. My human energy isn’t meant for a big body with that strength. It’s draining.” 
“Are you the only one now, besides me, who knows about it?” I reach his neck, noticing a big difference in cleanliness. 
He nods in answer. 
“You haven’t lost your mind, though. Why are you different?” he shrugs at my question. 
“I had a good mentor, at first,” his eyes turn down, “I also had a lot of motivation, I guess,” he holds his arms forward for me to wash. 
“What was your motivation?” 
He waits - the crickets nearby and the trees still. 
“You’ve asked much more than one question now. The focus should be on getting this dirt off of me,” he wades over to the edge. “You should get my legs too,” he lifts one onto the wall and I screw my eyes shut, squealing- the sound of his laughter a massage to my brain.
***
The next day it’s raining. I cover myself with the sack that I brought for Jungkook (a name I learned while I was soaping his legs - truly a heartwarming moment.) This time it has a few shirts I stole from my father. 
Jungkook told me I shouldn’t come back again at the risk of someone catching onto the fact that I was going into the forest too often. Judging by the trees surrounding me, I didn’t listen. I’ve checked my surroundings a million times before coming in. 
A noise behind me makes me jump, but I start humming to soothe the nerves. I brought Jungkook a small cupcake with a bunny iced on the top. It’s a bit wet now from the rain, but I’m almost certain he’ll still like it. 
After our day at the creek yesterday, I feel like he knows me better than anyone. The only thing I haven’t figured out is why he decides to stay out here instead of joining the rest of society. Well, when I truly think about it, I guess I can understand why he wouldn’t want to. 
I release a breath when I arrive at the cave, grateful that I didn’t forget where it is. 
“Jungkook?” I call as I walk in. My lantern is able to light up the slick walls. There’s running and shuffling until I approach him. He’s sitting criss-cross on the ground on a sheet, wide-eyed and open mouthed. “Jungkook? What are you doing?” I slowly approach him. 
“Nothing. Sitting here,” he says it too quickly to believe him. 
“What do you have behind you?”
“What’s that in your hand?” he nods to the cupcake I’m holding- the picture of the bunny looks a bit sad now. I don’t miss the way he decided to change the subject, but I can’t be bothered to bring it back up. He’ll have to move eventually. 
“It was a cupcake,” I step closer and sit in front of him, he tenses a bit, “but the rain kind of . . .” I show it to him. He looks at it and I think I see a smile spreading across his face. I have to check twice that it’s not a teasing smile, but what I thought was true. He’s looking at it fondly.
He reaches for it, releasing whatever’s behind him. 
“Thanks, Bunny,” he says. He doesn’t eat it but sets it beside him instead. 
“Are you going to tell me what’s behind you now?” I ask. He’s right back to being tense. His mouth opens and closes, resembling a fish, and before he can say anything else, a voice yells out. We freeze and look out the mouth of the cave. 
“Where the fuck did she go?” a man yells out again. Even with the rain, I can hear him clearly, meaning he’s too close. “Keep going! That bitch definitely had something to do with their disappearance!” he announces. 
They know. They must be friends of those men’s whose bodies we dumped - and they followed me here. 
Shit. How many times do I have to tell myself that I should have listened?
“Jungkook . . .” I whisper, but he’s already standing when I turn. 
“Stay here. I’ll take care of it,” he demands. The gentle Jungkook who accepted my soggy cupcake is gone - replaced with a Jungkook who looks ready to drown someone in the very creek water we swam in. 
“I’ll come with you,” I get ready to stand.
“Y/N . . . I appreciate it, but please don’t. It was always me who was supposed to take care of it. I’d feel a lot better if you stayed here,” with that, he jumps in the water. Meanwhile, I’m still caught up in how he knew my name. Jungkook may have fessed up his own, but I never did the same. 
His beast rushes out of the water and I have no time to take a glance at him. His gray skin is the only thing I spot paired with a panting noise as he runs out. 
Waiting in the cave for a mere three seconds is already torture. The waiting is agony especially when I can’t hear anything and not knowing how many followed me into the forest. 
I occupy myself by looking around the cave, not that there’s much to look at. I spot the thing Jungkook was holding behind his back. It looks like a bracelet but made with flowers and grass. I smile at it. Jungkook hiding his soft side makes the bracelet all the more special. 
A roar yanks my attention away. Yelling and screams rise above the rain from multiple people- more than three. I can’t just sit here. I can’t. 
The rain drops are cool against my skin and I pick up a long stick as I run in the direction of the chaos. 
My confidence in being able to help is not high, but my motivation is. There’s a pained whimper this time from Jungkook. My feet move faster now. It doesn’t matter if they can hear me coming to them as long as I’m able to get there- as long as he isn’t alone. 
A choked sound comes from below me. One of the men Jungkook dealt with reaches out with the one arm he has left. His mouth forms the words “Help me,” but I look away before he can say anything else.
Leaves crunching and sounds of a struggle lead me to a clearing. Bodies are scattered in every part of the clearing, unmoving. There are a few bodies beyond the trees as well. This was much more than the three men Jungkook dealt with in the cave. 
The beast himself sits in the middle. His skin is gray and slimy with hair in very few places. This form is indeed much bigger than the Jungkook I know.
 I quickly approach without saying a word and examine his condition. He’s lying on his side, his breathing shallow. There are a few scratches on his sides and a gash down his face. He’s exhausted and I think back to when he said the beast form is not meant for him to stay in for a long time. His body exhausts easily and if he used a majority of it on fighting these men- 
Damn it. I should’ve asked what happens when that energy is spent. Of all the times I have been nosy in my life and I couldn’t do it in such a crucial moment. 
Jungkook’s beast eye peers up at me and huffs. I ignore the scolding and focus on how I’m going to help him. The pond is too big to be brought to him, so I’m going to have to bring him to it. I don’t let the thought of “How?” linger in my mind too long before I’m picking up his legs and dragging him with as much force as I can bear. 
His groan is quiet behind me. 
“Don’t speak! Don’t do anything!” I yell. I avoid one or two bodies. I haven’t made it far and my arms and back are aching. 
“Use your legs, or you’ll do some damage to your back,” Father’s words echo in my mind. He’s told me so many wise things and yet I can never listen. It’s how I’m in this predicament in the first place. It’s the reason Jungkook is dying. 
My throat closes as tears well up in my eyes. 
“I’m not letting you die.” 
***
Jungkook is practically on the brink of death when I dump him in the pool of water. The lantern lights the red stringing through the water and I cross my fingers that he doesn’t drown. 
“Please, please, please,” I whisper, screwing my eyes shut, a tear falling as a result. “You’re my only friend, Jungkook. . .” I whisper. “Don’t leave.” 
As soon as the words escape me, a head surfaces above the water. I’m on my knees in an instance reaching for him. He’s still very heavy when I pull him in, but nothing compared to when he was the beast. 
“You’re okay!” I wrap my arm around his neck and pull him in. He hugs me back for only a second before I feel his body limp and fall. “Jungkook? Jungkook!” I call for him, but his breathing is weak. I pull him to where his sheet is, laying him gently. His eyes close and he enters sleep. I notice a bit of blood dripping down his face and sides from the battle.
I make sure his breathing is okay then leave him to rush back into town on a mission to take anything that could save him.
***
It’s the second day since Jungkook was attacked and it’s raining again. He’s woken up a few times for water, but nothing else. The bandages on his waist glare at me as I sit on the opposite side of the cave, humming a song, playing with the bracelet he has yet to finish. 
“I can’t believe you don’t remember,” his voice pipes up. I rush to him, a cup of water in hand from the creek. “I’d thought at least by now-” I put a finger to his lips- the rasp of his voice anxiety inducing. 
“You need to save your energy. We can talk when you’re back to being normal,” I tip the cup into his mouth, and he takes it. When I’m done, he sits up despite my protests. 
“I thought you liked the fact I wasn’t normal,” he whispers, his eyes off in the distance. I ignore the words seeing as that’s not my priority. “And I’m not talking about now. I’m talking about back then,” he meets my eyes now, then glides down to the bracelet I’m wearing. I’m ready to question what he means when I look at the bracelet. 
It’s like a key now. A key to a memory I put away a long time ago. 
***
11 years ago
“Keep crying. ‘S not like there’s anyone who’s gonna help you,” the blonde kid, nicknamed Jester, hits the boy again and I flinch behind the wall. “Where’s your parents?” Kicks him again and gestures for his friend to join in - and he does. 
I can’t watch this anymore. 
“Stop fucking with me-” before Jester can kick him again, I jump in, putting my body in front of the one who’s on the ground. 
“What is wrong with you two!” I yell out. 
“Mind your business, Y/N!” he tries to push me but I won’t budge. Finally, my height does something other than be the butt of every joke in town. Father always said I was an early bloomer and that my height could be an advantage. I didn’t see that until now. 
“Fuck you!” I spit at him, surprised at my own cursing. If he was angry before, he’s enraged now. His fist reels back, and I see it coming, but the boy behind me rushes him, tackling Jester. His friend looks to me. Before he can make any moves, I rush up to him and swing my leg up to his middle, hitting my target right between the legs. 
“Run!” I yell. With one down we should be okay. 
The boy gets off of the blonde and runs to me, taking my hand and leading me into the forest. I don't know where he's taking me, but if I saved him that means he won't hurt me, right?
We slow to a cave entrance. He turns to me, but doesn’t say anything. 
“Are you okay?” I ask him, noticing the cut under his eye. He nods, still not saying a word. “Those boys are assholes,” I cover my mouth at the bad word. “Sorry, but it’s true,” he laughs at me. I can’t believe he’s laughing at me after I saved his life. Then, I find myself laughing with him and it’s strange. 
He gestures for me to follow him deeper in the forest. 
We find a spot where he finally kneels on the ground and I follow.
“Do they usually pick on you?” I ask. He nods slowly and moves his sleeve to show scars and fresh cuts on his shoulder. I make the note in my mind that next time I’ll bring something to help heal those. 
His hands work and kneed in the grass and  grabs a few flowers that are scattered in different places. I see a bug on the trunk of the tree, my eyes trailing up the tree trunk that it travels. Where is it going to go?
A tap on my shoulder takes my attention away. I look down at the boy holding a small bracelet in his hands. He holds it to me, and I take it, trying not to break it. The little flowers spread throughout it tickle my hand. 
“For me?” I ask and he nods his head. 
“It’s to say ‘Thank You’,”  my heart is surprised when I finally hear his voice. 
“Hey. You wanna be my friend? I don’t have any,” I say.
His head moves so fast up and down. Finally! I found someone who likes me!
***
“You. . .” I whisper to him, his heavy eyelids covering his eyes staring back at me. 
“Me,” he looks at the bracelet sitting in the palm of his hand. I’m grateful he’s distracted while I process the new revelations. 
I push up from the ground and head for the exit, quickly stepping out into the rain.
“Y/N? Y/N!” he calls from behind me. I ignore him and try to keep my tears at bay. “Stop!” he yells. I hate that I do as he says, as if I’m his dog. He steps in front of me, and I turn away. “What’s wrong? Did I say something?” He tries to make eye contact with me and when I refuse, he uses a finger on my chin, the touch heating my face. 
“You can try to remind me of the good memories, Jungkook, but don’t forget those good times lasted for a week and you left,” I try to tame the way my voice is breaking. “You were my first friend and then you disappeared. I thought I was cursed for months!” a tear rolls down my cheek. He blinks. Once. Twice. “I get it. That was a long time ago and maybe it didn’t matter to you, but it does to me,” he shakes his head.
“Of course it matters, Y/N. You were my only friend and-”
“Then why did you leave me? Why didn’t you say anything? I risked so much going into the woods to find you.” Scenes of 10 year-old me play out in my head - screaming for Jungkook to come back until my throat itched, poisoning and rashes running down my legs. 
“It was going to be my first time in the pool,” his voice is low, “I wasn’t ready, but my mother was dying. Your very precious town was sending search parties to hunt us down. She couldn’t protect herself or me anymore, so I had to do it. I didn’t want to scare you,” his hand lowers back to his side and he takes a deep breath. “I was going through weeks of training myself and when my mom died and I got a hold of it, I went to try and find you, but I wasn’t finding you and it was too risky,” he explains. 
My heart cracks at the mention of his mother. I know what it’s like to lose a parent, but he only had her.  
“You should have told me. . .” 
“I wanted to. Trust me, Y/N. I did. But I wanted to figure out everything first before I jumped into it with you. I was also a kid at the time too. I didn’t have someone to guide me. Everyone hated me without being a beast. Could you imagine my fear of what would happen if they found out I am one? Especially with all the rumors and stories going around?” he argues. It’s a solid explanation. This was a long time ago and we were children. “When I saw you again and recognized that it was you, something I wanted more than anything, is for you not to be afraid of me. Your opinion, after a week, was the most important to me.”
Tears start to well up again. 
“Just like your opinion is most important to me now,” he whispers, stepping closer. I swallow the lump in my throat. His hair sticks to the sides of his head, some strands covering his eyes that are looking down at me. Goosebumps spread up and down my arms as heat bubbles in my stomach. 
“If you’re lying-”
“Don’t even think that,” he takes another step closer. I gasp when his hand wraps around my waist and pulls me to him, our chests touching and my hands resting on his arms. My thoughts are a jumbled mess and all I can ask is how this escalated so quickly. “Don’t go this time. I know I always tell you to leave, but I’m telling you to stay now.” 
My eyes blink and I’d like to blame it on the raindrops falling into my eyes, but I’m afraid to admit it’s because of how flustered I am at the stare he’s giving me. 
“And where do you get off on telling me what to do?”
“Can I be honest?”
“I’d like it if you were.”
“I think you like it when I tell you what to do.” It’s not the words I was expecting, but I don’t dislike it either. It’s also not false. “Do you want me, Y/N?” he whispers on my lips. “Tell me.” 
“Yes,” I say it a bit too quickly. 
Just when I think he’s going to plant his lips on mine, he instead asks, “Why?” The question is not hard to answer, but it is one that is difficult to say. 
“You’re the only person who makes me feel wanted in return,” I tell him. It’s honest and a much better answer than ‘You’re really hot’. “I don’t want to lose you, Jungkook,” I admit. “So, if you’re going to leave again you might as well-” 
His soft lips interrupt me - finally! 
A list of things I could be doing right now scrolls through my mind, yet none of them seem as important or as enticing as this is. If I could describe what this kiss is like, I don’t think that I could. No one has kissed me like this in the past. Nothing in the world can compare to the way that he holds me tightly against him, massaging the skin on my waist, while our mouths move in sync and rainwater mixes in with our saliva. 
His hands place pressure on hips and I respond by moving backward until I hit a tree. Now that I have back support, his lips push into me harder and I whimper into his mouth. He responds with a moan that runs straight to my core. 
We separate, breathing into each other. 
“It’s raining,” I say, my clothing completely stuck to me by now. 
“It’s not gonna stop me, but tell me if it’s going to stop you,” he brushes a hair away from my face and that’s when I can’t wait anymore. I want him too much to stop now, so I shake my head in answer. 
“I don’t want anything else to stop us,” I hook my fingers into his loose pants and bring him closer. The corner of his lips tilt up and his fingers crawl on the side of my neck before pulling me closer to him. 
The only thing I can pray for is that there are no more men who have decided to take on Jungkook and are still lurking in the forest, but that seems to be the last thing on his mind when he grinds into me. I moan into his mouth and he swallows it before leaning down to kiss my neck. I arch into him as he gets lower at the same time tickling the skin under my shirt as he lifts it up and over my head.
The rain is cold on me, but it’s worth it when his eyes stay on my perky nipples. 
“I-” he gulps. Not so mouthy now. 
“You can touch me, if you want,” I hate the way I sound so eager. I thought I would be able to play it cool, similar to the time I first lost my virginity (with a complete douchebag), but Jungkook makes me too nervous to ‘play it cool’. The way his eyes darken when he scans every inch of me, and the way he looks ready to devour me does the opposite of calming me down. 
I can only pray to any force out there that I make him feel the way he makes me feel. 
“I’ll do more than touch,” the palm of his hand skims the side of my breast, and he leans in. “I’ll do anything to show you you’re mine,” he whispers into my ear. The adrenaline is almost too much - I’m aching for him. 
“Then show me what it’s like to be yours,” I whisper back. 
He doesn’t look at me, his eyes stay on my lips for a few moments, then he moves down, taking one tit into his mouth leaving me breathless. His fingers tweak the other one, occasionally switching. 
“Jungkook- ah!” I gasp. He presses and gropes, then instant repeats. His skin is touching mine in every spot while his tongue continues its ministrations on my chest. I grab onto his hair in case I faint and lean my head onto the tree. The worry of getting bugs on me disappears when he nibbles on my skin. 
“I can’t wait much longer,” he sighs when coming back up. His fingers slide into my pants, and push into the space between my legs. I don’t expect it and cry into his mouth. “I don’t want to rush, bunny, but I can tell you’re as desperate as I am.”
I want to argue that I’m not, but it would be a lie. And it’s hard to argue with his fingers pumping in and out of me. He starts to kiss on my neck while his thumb joins in rubbing my clit. I feel a tension building in my stomach, then the knot unties and I release onto his hand. 
I’m still on my high when his fingers slip out and he licks them clean. I watch him and I’m prepared to do anything for this man. He already looks fucked out and I haven’t done anything to him. His hair is a mess but it’s a result of the rain mixed with my fingers moving it every which way. 
“Now I know you’re ready,” he pants. His pants fall to the ground, revealing the hard-on standing up. It isn’t fair that even his cock is perfect too. 
His eyes fall to my pants. 
“Can I. . . ?” he asks. I nod, slow. 
His hands are gentle as he peels my pants down my legs. I’m suddenly self-conscious when they come down, afraid of him spotting any hair or any marks but if he notices them, he doesn’t bring them up. 
“I’ve been thinking about this the past few days. How I’ll make you mine, how I’ll make you scream for me, how I’ll take care of you every day after. . .” He rambles before putting his lips on me again, the kiss frantic and wild, our tongues mixing all while pulling me closer, his hands move to my bare ass. “Jump,” he whispers, and I follow his instruction. 
My back hits the tree and our centers touch, bare skin to bare skin. It’s almost overwhelming. I feel as if I’m going to fall, but he makes it look so easy holding me. My heart grows ten times. 
“Why are you looking at me like that?” He draws me out of my head with a curious glance. I shrug, not really knowing how to explain it, but he still doesn’t move, waiting. “Are you regretting this?”
I hit him on the shoulder. “How could you say that when I’m still here and fully naked mind you!” 
“Then what was that look?” 
“I just . . .” I pause. It’s nerve-wracking to be vulnerable in front of him. I’m already naked physically, but to be emotionally naked is different. “I keep thinking about how perfect you are.” There’s a surprise written all over his face. “Don’t think for a second I would regret this, even if we are in the middle of a downpour,” I instruct. 
A small smile appears on his face. 
“You’re perfect for me,” he plants a kiss on my lips before he turns his attention down to adjust himself. He slides into me slowly and a whimper leaves my throat. His hand soothes me, massaging the skin on my butt. 
His head falls onto my shoulder, and we stay like that for a few moments as he inches in. 
When he starts to move, I already feel the tree scratching my bare back, but I don’t mind the pain with pleasure. 
Every part of the front of me slides against him and the rest of my body feels sticky from the humidity. It’s messy, but I can’t imagine this any other way. 
His breathing grows heavy as he thrusts into me. His jaw is clenched as he lifts me up and down. 
“You’re beautiful. I wish you could see what I’m seeing,” he breathes. “Y/N, oh God, Y/N,” he groans. His words set off a spark in me bigger than before. It’s good to know that even when I’m naked, sticky, messy, he can still see me as beautiful. “I should’ve kept those guys alive and let them watch,” his tone is different now. “I should have let them watch what they couldn’t have.” 
“Jungkook, pelase -” 
He balances me on one arm, using the other to hold the side of my head while he kisses me. 
“I’m almost- oh gosh,” I cry, but before I can jump over the edge he slides out of me. “Jungkook? What are you-?”
I hold onto him when he moves and puts me onto the wet dirt. It’s cold and slushy at first, then warms up at the same time Jungkook hovers over me. 
“This is how I always dreamt about you with me,” he says, and slides into me again, my heels locking around his waist and on his back. His body weight rests on me as he moves again and his head falls into my neck. 
It doesn’t take long to get me right back to the edge, and from the way his thrusts are getting messier, he’s going to meet me there. 
“Jungkook!” I cry as I spill onto him and he does the same. 
I notice it’s not raining anymore when all the noise and movement stops.We lay there for a few moments in the quiet after he slides out of me, however, his weight is still resting on me. 
“Is your penis gone when you turn into a beast?” I ask, killing the silence. He laughs into my shoulder then lifts his head. 
“Why? Do you wanna fuck him too?” he suggests. I smack his shoulder. “Thank you, by the way. I know dragging a beast the same weight of a tree was not the easiest. You didn’t have to.”
“Of course I had to,” I argue. “You’ve saved me more than once now. The least I could do was try one time.”
“You helped me twice, actually,” he says. I’m back to when we were kids. 
“And there might be many more times after this,” I put a hand on his cheek. 
“And I’ll save you each,” he plants a kiss on my lips, “and every,” another kiss, “time,” a more passionate one. We stay naked on that floor for hours, looking up into the trees, wondering what life or death situation we’ll have to save each other from tomorrow. 
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gumims · 18 days ago
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tied by ink | choso x reader
for the @phantasmaebg event
wc: 1350
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your soulmate tattoo showed up on your sixteenth birthday, scrawled across your wrist like a bold declaration: “stay.” it wasn’t cute, romantic, or poetic like you imagined. it was blunt. vague. frustrating.
and years later, you still had no clue what it meant.
that’s why you were here now, sitting in a tattoo parlor that smelled like antiseptic and fresh ink, the fluorescent lighting humming faintly above you. you didn’t know what you wanted yet, but you knew you needed something.
“you here for a consult?” the girl at the counter asked.
“yeah,” you replied, your fingers twitching nervously at your side.
“choso’s got time. best hands in the shop.” she grinned, jerking her thumb toward the back.
you nodded, muttering a quick thanks before heading toward the artist’s booth.
as you turned the corner, you saw him sitting there—dark hair pulled into a messy half-bun, loose strands falling around his sharp face. tattoos covered his forearms, disappearing beneath the rolled-up sleeves of his black shirt.
hot.
his dark eyes flicked up as you approached, pinning you in place.
“you’re here for a tattoo?” his voice was deep, smooth like it didn’t belong in this tiny shop.
“uh, yeah,” you stammered, your heart beating faster than you’d like to admit.
he gestured to the chair in front of him, and you sat, trying not to fidget as his gaze lingered on you for just a moment too long.
“so, what are you thinking?”
you hesitated. “something small, but meaningful. i just… need something new.”
he tilted his head, his eyes scanning your face like he was trying to read you. “first one?”
“yeah.”
he hummed, his gaze dropping to your wrist. you’d forgotten to cover the soulmate mark today, and his eyes lingered on the word inked there.
“soulmate tattoo,” he said casually, like it wasn’t the most personal thing he could’ve pointed out.
you tensed. “everyone’s got one.”
“not everyone,” he replied, his voice low, almost teasing. “what’s the story with yours?”
you glanced away, your face heating up. “there’s no story. it says ‘stay.’ it’s… complicated.”
“complicated how?”
you met his gaze, your frustration bubbling up. “it doesn’t mean anything. not yet, anyway. and honestly, i’m not holding my breath.”
his lips twitched like he was trying not to smile. “so you’re one of those people who doesn’t believe in soulmates?”
“i didn’t say that,” you shot back. “i just… don’t think everyone finds theirs. or if they do, maybe it doesn’t work out.”
he didn’t respond right away, but the corner of his mouth lifted into the faintest smirk. “fair enough.”
you watched as he grabbed a sketchpad, his tattooed hands moving with practiced precision. “let’s figure out something that fits,” he murmured, his focus shifting to the page.
the way his fingers moved, the way he hunched slightly over the paper, made it impossible to look away. he radiated confidence, like he knew exactly what he was doing—not just with the drawing, but with you, too.
“so,” he said after a few minutes, his voice breaking the silence. “you’ve never thought about finding them?”
“my soulmate?” you asked, trying to sound casual even though his words sent a weird shiver down your spine.
“yeah.”
you shrugged, leaning back in the chair. “not really. it’s not like they’re going to show up out of nowhere.”
“sometimes they do.”
his tone was calm, but something about the way he said it made your chest tighten. you glanced at him, your brows furrowing.
“has it happened to you?”
he didn’t answer right away, his dark eyes flicking up to meet yours for a split second before returning to his sketch. “maybe.”
cryptic much, you thought, but you couldn’t deny the way your pulse jumped.
“what does your tattoo say?” you asked, leaning forward slightly.
his lips curved, but he didn’t look up. “you really wanna know?”
“obviously.”
“you’ll find out.”
“that’s not an answer,” you muttered, but he ignored you, his focus back on the page.
when he finally turned the sketchpad around, your breath hitched.
“what do you think?” he asked, his voice softer now.
“it’s…” you swallowed. “it’s perfect.”
he gave you a small nod, standing to prep his station. “this’ll hurt a little,” he warned as you settled into the chair, rolling up your sleeve.
“i can handle it,” you replied, though your voice came out shakier than you wanted.
his hands were steady as he guided the needle over your skin, the soft hum of the machine filling the room. the sting was sharp at first, but it quickly dulled into a strange sort of comfort.
“so,” he said after a while, his tone almost conversational, “if your soulmate walked through that door right now, what would you say?”
you hesitated, the question catching you off guard. “i don’t know. maybe… ‘where the hell have you been?’”
he let out a low chuckle, the sound sending a tingle down your spine. “bold.”
“what about you?” you asked, desperate to turn the attention off yourself. “what would you say?”
his hands didn’t falter, but his voice dropped a notch. “depends on if they’d stay.”
your heart skipped, his words hitting deeper than you expected. you glanced at him, but his expression was unreadable, his focus entirely on your arm.
when he finally pulled back, he wiped the tattoo clean, tilting your arm toward the light.
“done,” he said simply.
you stared at the design, your chest tightening. it was beautiful, perfect in a way that almost felt… familiar.
“thank you,” you murmured, your voice softer now.
he leaned back, his gaze meeting yours. “anytime.”
as you stood to leave, you caught a glimpse of his wrist as he reached for something—a single word inked there in bold black letters.
“stay.”
your blood ran cold.
he noticed your pause, his eyes narrowing slightly as he followed your gaze. when your eyes met again, there was no denying it.
“you’ve got to be kidding me,” you whispered.
he smirked, leaning casually against the counter. “took you long enough.”
“you—” your words caught in your throat, your pulse racing. “why didn’t you say anything?”
“wanted to see if you’d figure it out,” he said, his tone maddeningly calm.
you took a shaky breath, your mind reeling. “so what now?”
he pushed off the counter, stepping closer until the space between you felt suffocating.
“now,” he said, his voice low, “you decide if you’re gonna stay.”
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hannieehaee · 11 months ago
Note
Hi!! Could you do a fic where Jeonghan is being the menace that he is, but his partner is the only one who can quell him with one look pls? Like he is just super soft w her and always listens cos he’s a simp?
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content: simp!jeonghan, established relationship, afab reader, slightly suggestive, etc.
wc: 1156
a/n: this was based on that one scene from nana tour in which jeonghan basically waterboarded mingyu for absolutely no reason (ik he was on a mission but he drenched him ?!\>\£). hope u enjoy <3
masterlist
jeonghan was always known to be a bit of a menace by all his friends.
well, maybe even more than just his friends. after all, there was a reason why he was often called the loki of seventeen by many of his fans.
he was simply a bit unconventional in the ways in which he found entertainment, such as the time in which he berated dokyeom into searching for bugs for them to eat on the streets. he simply had a tendency for bugging his members (out of love, of course), becoming an extra obstacle in their lives just for the fun of it.
now, jeonghan also had a heart of gold and far too much love for his brothers to ever actually cause any harm to them. however, after over a decade of knowing his brothers, he had somehow conditioned them to accept his odd behaviors and simply go along with his shenanigans whenever he felt like acting up.
you, as well as his members, always found great entertainment in his weird behaviors. i mean, it takes a great man to be able to cheat his way through every single game without consequence.
despite finding humor in his ways, you would sometimes have a tendency to put a halt to it. a simple whine of 'hannie!' would have him stopping in his tracks and murmuring against your ear as he whined back but relented at you. what you didn't know, however, was that you were the only person who held this power over jeonghan (even his sister would occasionally fall victim to his menacing ways).
today was one of the many instances in which jeonghan grew bored while at practice, deiciding to wreck havoc just for the hell of it. it was easy for him to spot a victim, – it was usually mingyu – which then lead him to approach him with the illest of intentions. there was never much thinking that went into teasing his members. it was just second nature to him by now. so when he eyed the water bottle in mingyu's hand, even the other members who were standing nearby could see what jeonghan's next move would be.
he was patient with it; engaging in conversation as he usually would as to not draw suspicion. jeonghan realized in that moment that maybe his instincive need to bug mingyu for no reason might be something to look into, but that would come some other day. for now, he wanted a quick laugh.
jeonghan saw his opening the moment mingyu uncapped his bottle and brought it to his lips, taking advantage of his calculated proximity to tilt the end of the bottle in order to drench mingyu's face, causing the man to almost choke on the water he'd been drinking.
as expected, this began a mini war between the two boys, as five minutes later they were both attacking each other with any and every water bottle they could find in their vicinity, even going as far as causing collateral damage to a few of the other members. what jeonghan hadnt planned, however, was a sudden visit from you, who had walked in just as jeonghan squirted yet another water bottle directly at mingyu's face.
"jeonghan!", you scolded as soon as you were in earshot, "leave him alone, you got him all drenched!", you were now standing next to the group, frown on your face as you took in the scene.
"baby? what are you doing here? did you–"
"don't 'baby' me. why are you bugging mingyu again? look at him! he's completely wet."
"i got water in my eye!," whined the tall man, taking advantage of your defense for him.
by now, a few of the members nearby were snickering at the swift turn of events, entertained by not just the water fight but the way in which you immediately sided with mingyu rather than your boyfriend.
"i'm wet too! how do you know he didn't start it?", tried jeonghan, knowing full well that the idea was unconvincing.
"hannie, don't lie to me."
"okay, fine. i got bored, okay? it's just water, baby. it's fine. right, mingyu?"
"dude, you fucked up my hair," mingyu didnt seem truly offended, but more so wanting to feed the flames now that he had an opportunity. jeonghan could tell by the slight smirk on his face.
the frown remained on your face, continuing to come in mingyu's defense for some reason unknown to jeonghan.
"jeonghan, apologize to him."
"what?", his wide and incredulous eyes turned to look at you, ignoring the snort he was pretty sure seungkwan had just let out.
"you heard me."
"but–"
"hannie!"
"f– fine," like a petulant child, jeonghan turned to mingyu and gave him a forced smile, "i'm sorry for getting you wet, gyu."
"than–"
"thank you", you interrupted the man.
jeonghan couldnt help but feel scolded by you. it was rare that you actually ever went against his shenanigans, but he did know he could sometimes go a little extra hard on mingyu due to mingyu's disposition to put up with jeonghan with no complaint (usually even fighting back). he was a bit embarrassed by the way in which you sided with him and even berated him in front of his members, but he also knew he could never say no to you, so apologizing just seemed logical to him.
after a few moments of him whining at his members to mind their business and go get their own girlfriends, he dragged you away to a less polluted corner of the practice room to get some one-on-one with you.
"babyyyy," he immediately pouted at you, proceeding to attaching to you like a bear, burying his head into your neck.
"hannie, you're all wet!", you complained despite making no move to push him away, even wrapping your arm around him and running a hand through his damp hair.
"why'd you have to do that? the boys are supposed to think you're obsessed with me," he frowned against your neck.
despite the whine behind his words, you could feel the vibration of his giggles against you and the smile pressed against your neck. as per usual, he was just whining because he could; something which you always found an endearing result to any rare instance in which you'd scold him.
"they're all gonna think im a simp now," he continued.
you giggled at that, causing him to sway you back and forth as he buried himself even deeper against you.
"are you not?", you inquired.
"i am, but they dont need to know that!"
"you're so annoying ..."
"yeah, but you find it fun, don't you?"
"im not at liberty of releasing that information."
he laughed against your neck, reaffirming to himself how much he liked the back and forth between the two of you, even if it meant relenting to you every single time, earning himself the title of simp among his members.
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marvelstoriesepic · 2 months ago
Text
Whumpcember (day 15)
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Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader
Prompt: Broken glass
Word Count: 5.4k
Warnings: slight mentions of panic attacks; crying; slight injury and blood; Bucky being a sweetheart because I love him so much
Author’s note: This got unnecessarily long somehow. Again, this was meant to be a shorty. Also, I was in my feels when I wrote this. Anyway, thank you for reading!
Masterlist | Whumpcember Masterlist
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The final box of Christmas decorations thuds to the ground as you let it down with a heavy huff. You straighten up your back with a grimace, rolling your shoulders.
You might think as an Avenger, carrying a few boxes, would be an easy task. After all, you are trained to thrive under the most punishing conditions, with sharp skills and boundless stamina. But after hauling all those cartons stuffed with tinsel, garlands, and ornaments up from the storage room to the towering Christmas tree in the compound’s common area, you are left panting like you’ve just run a marathon.
It’s almost laughable. Thankfully, you are alone for now. Sam would have a field day, smug grin plastered across his face at the state you’re in.
Wanda, Natasha, and Clint meant to help you with this but they were all still glued to the desk, writing reports, but Bucky is supposed to be back from his latest mission any minute now and you wanted to do this nice thing for him at least. He did sound a little worn out on the phone earlier when he called you to tell you they were on their way back.
So perhaps decorating the Christmas tree would lift his spirit a tiny bit. It’s the first step in what you hope will be a cozy and inviting scene - something Bucky might walk into and, for once, not feel like a soldier returning from a war zone but a man coming home.
The tree is a statement, of course. Tony insisted on it. It’s so tall, it might even brush the high ceiling of the room and there is no way you’ll get some ornaments all the way up without risking your life. And Bucky would definitely not brighten up if you tried it out.
So you’ll absolutely be needing Wanda’s help sooner or later. With a flick of her wrist, she could make this whole thing a hell of a lot easier but you don’t have the time to wait until she is done writing her report.
You let your eyes roam over the many ornaments lying neatly in the box before you and one of them immediately sparks your attention. Your fingers brush against the delicate surface of the red ornament placed almost carefully beside the others.
Its glass is smooth and cool, the color a deep crimson so much more in depth than all the others. You hold it up to the light, turning it slowly, marveling at how the glow from the tree’s string lights catches on its curves and the unique and detailed pattern all across.
It’s heavier than expected, the weight surprising for something so fragile. The gold clasp at the top gleams faintly, tarnished just a little with age. A thin ribbon dangles from it, curling at the end like it has been tied and untied countless times.
There is something about it, some intangible quality that draws you in - a sense of history, of significance.
And then it happens.
The ribbon slips from your grasp, too quick for your fingers to snatch it back. If you weren’t so enamored with the beautiful piece, you would have gotten access to your reflexes a little earlier.
It’s too late now though, and you can only watch in stunned silence as the ornament tumbles to the ground, the crimson surface catching flashes of light as it falls.
It hits the hardwood floor with a sound that is both sharp and final - a crack, then a splintering.
Disappointed in yourself, you crouch down to the shattered remains. Tiny shards of glass fan out like a constellation, glinting under the glow of the tree. The ornament is no longer whole, splintered into different-sized fragments.
Annoyed that you were so stupid and careless to let this special ornament fall to its devastation, you begin to pick up the many red pieces into your palm.
It really was unique. It would have looked great on the tree-
Your movements freeze. Your heart leaps to your throat. A rush of panic claws at your chest and rises up to your ears where it floods and pounds tremendously.
Rebecca B.
It’s a name ingrained into the largest surviving piece of the glass - a faint, looping scrawl. Clearly written by hand.
Rebecca Barnes. The realization makes you weak in the knees and you fall back onto your heels, your ass hitting the floor with a thump.
This isn’t just some random ornament. This isn’t another piece of holiday cheer to hang on a tree and forget about for the rest of the year after packing it back into boxes to store it in a corner of the storage room.
This ornament belonged to Rebecca Barnes. Bucky’s sister. Something Bucky kept all these years, hidden among the other decorations like a relic of a life he’d lost long before his own had been ripped apart.
The air around you feels heavy. The smell of pine from the tree now stings in your nose. Your heart might actually have fallen along with the ornament because it too is shattered in pieces.
The shards tremble in your palm and you stare at them along with the rest still lying helplessly on the ground, as if there is actually something you can do right now to go back in time and not pick it up ever again, just to make sure.
But there is nothing you can do.
Your heart breaks even further at the thought that Bucky might have put it here deliberately. Maybe it was an attempt to move forward, to share the memory of his sister. Maybe he thought the ornament didn’t belong in some dusty package hidden away, but out in the open, a part of the holiday warmth he’s been so hesitant to feel. Maybe it was his thought of remembering her with someone else this time, instead of alone.
This would be such a huge step for him. And you would feel so proud if you weren’t on the verge of a panic attack.
Because it’s broken, divided into so many pieces. You just dropped something so carelessly that probably meant the world to Bucky. And, god, did he deserve the world. But you took it. You contorted the precious memories of his little sister. Unwillingly, of course. But that doesn’t make you feel any better right now.
You have known Bucky for a few years now. Though knowing him feels like a word too shallow for what you share. You never labeled it, both of you walking the fine line, and never crossing it.
But you see that Bucky trusts you - the kind of trust he doesn’t hand out freely. And for good reason, after all. In fact, you’re not even sure he’s ever given it to anyone else in quite the same way, not even Steve. And that’s saying something.
You see it in the small things, in the way his guarded demeanor softens when it’s just the two of you, the soft smiles that seem to be reserved for you. It’s the kind of friendship where silence doesn’t have to be filled, and words don’t have to be spoken to be understood.
He lets you sit with him on the couch in the living room on nights when his past pulls him under and doesn’t allow for him to get some shut-eye. You are usually awake yourself, sometimes just running on adrenaline after coming home from a mission and accompanying him silently. He always seems to linger out here when you are away on a mission anyway, so you usually meet him here after getting home, watching his shoulders slowly droop and his back rest more comfortably against the back of the couch.
You are the first at his bedside when his nightmares claw at his mind. You’ve seen him at his most vulnerable - shirt clinging to his sweat-soaked chest, hair plastered to his face, his breaths coming in uneven gasps as you help him fight to pull himself out of his memories.
Those nights, you never push him to talk. You don’t ask him to explain or tell you what he saw. Without a word, you would hand him a glass of water and wait while he drinks, his hands trembling so slightly it makes your stomach feel heavy every time. Sometimes you tell him to breathe with you, in and out, until the panic subsided and his shoulders stopped shaking.
You were never sure how much touch he needs in those moments so you usually stay at a small distance from him, but it seems your presence alone does wonders.
When he would be ready, he always searched your face so long and intensely, before croaking out a heavy but meaningful “Thank you.”
And his small acts of kindness always fill you with a jittery feeling that makes your knees weak and unfortunately doesn’t help at all when fighting against Natasha in the ring.
Just a few weeks ago, Bucky spent an entire Saturday afternoon fixing the squeaky hinge on your bedroom door because he heard you muttering to Wanda about how annoying it was.
He never even told you he was going to do it. You just came back to your room later that evening to find the door silent as a ghost. It took a whole week for you to find out how this happened. And it wasn’t him, who told you. It was Clint, who saw him walk around with a toolbox and a satisfied smile on his face that Clint, as he told you found a little terrifying.
Additionally, he always seems to know when you need a break during training sessions, tossing you a water bottle before you even realize how tired you are. Or he would plant himself wordlessly between you and your opponent for the day, with his arms crossed and a chastising glance at you when you’ve been fighting for hours without acknowledging the way your movements already grew sluggish and wobbly.
You are always aware when his hands linger on your shoulder a second longer after a sparring match, his metal fingers cold but careful, as if he’s memorizing the feel of you there. Or the way your stomach twists when he catches your eye across the room, and for just a moment, it’s like the rest of the world falls away. And the way he talks to you, even when people are around, his voice lower, softer, words chosen with an almost uncharacteristic care, makes you feel like you’re the only person he truly is interested in talking to. You also love the nights he shows up at your door with takeout, wordlessly handing you your favorite meal, and striding into your room to settle at the foot of your bed with a contented sigh.
Through it all, however, was always this persistent question you had. The one that molded into an ache inside your chest. Because what if? What if you took one step closer and stopped holding back? What if you risk everything you have with him now for something more?
But right now you feel like those questions don’t hold the same energy anymore. The same weight. No, they just got weightless. Pointless. Because you just ruined everything without even risking it.
You just destroyed something that can’t be fixed with glue and an apology. It can’t be fixed with you sitting with him and comforting him in the dark while his mind goes to the same cruel place like many times before.
This feels like you’ve crossed a line you can’t uncross.
The wrong line.
Shaking hands pick up the largest fragment, the soft loops of her name still visible through the fractures. The sharp ends bite into your palm like the memory of something sacred that’s been lost. You don’t feel the sting. You don’t feel the sensation of the few droplets of blood sliding over your palm where the ends nicked your skin.
The only thing you register is that this foolish mistake might actually unravel everything you’ve built with him.
He let you in, further than anyone, but that doesn’t mean he won’t push you back out if you give him a reason. And this definitely feels like a reason.
Your mind presents you with his reaction when he comes walking in here and sees what happened.
At first, there’d be nothing - just the stoic silence he uses to sink into, the kind that makes it impossible to tell what he’s thinking. But you’d see it in the smallest of things - the way his jaw tightens just enough to be noticeable, the flicker in his eyes that he’ll try to hide but won’t be able to, the stiffening of his shoulders. And then the desolation, like a tide pulling back just before it crashes. You wonder if he would say anything at all, or if the silence would hang heavy.
You swallow hard, begin to feel the sting behind your eyes, and try to force the lump in your throat down.
You’ve worked so hard to be someone he could rely on, someone he could trust in ways he hasn’t trusted anyone else in decades. You’ve sat with him, listened to him, stayed silent with him. Learned to know him so well, you even memorized the subtle shifts in his expressions, the things he won’t say but still lets you feel.
And now, here you are with broken glass in your hands and a painful feeling in your chest, terrified that this could be the moment that shatters the thing between you.
He might pull away, retreat behind those walls he’s spent years building. What if he doesn’t let you sit with him anymore. Or what if he does, but his shoulder would only grow more tense. What if he starts holding back, measuring his words, locking the parts of himself away that he once entrusted to you?
The idea of losing him - not just losing him, but losing this connection, this unspoken, almost-more-than-friendship thing that you’ve both been too afraid to name - makes your breath catch and something rise in your chest that might be bile.
A sob comes out instead.
It comes out like a wound ripped open before it could begin to heal. You press a quivering hand to your mouth, in hopes of muffling the sound, but it’s no use. More broken sobs come anyway.
You try to pull yourself together, to force the tears back, but your body feels so weak under the guilt and shame.
More parts of the broken ornament bite into your skin, red droplets welling up and sliding down your skin, pooling at the curve of your wrist, before falling soundlessly to the floor.
Pain should ground you. It should pull you out of this spiral, force you to snap back to some semblance of control. But it doesn’t. It doesn’t do anything at all.
Instinctively, your hand gives way, the pieces tumbling from your fingers and scattering across the hardwood once more.
You only sit there, frozen, your breath hitching and catching in your throat as tears streak down your face, warm and unwelcome. You can’t stop them.
You’re not supposed to be this weak. You’re not supposed to break down like this, over something so small. And yet that makes the sobs only harder to contain. Because this isn’t small - not to Bucky. And that’s the part that leaves you as shattered as the crimson glass. Perhaps as shattered as your relationship with the person you fell for as hard as the ornament fell to the ground.
It’s Rebecca. His sister. His past. His grief. It’s a tiny piece of his life that he trusted enough to bring out of hiding, to put here with the rest of the world, in the open where it could be seen. Where it could be touched. And you touched it, only to let it fall. Only to ruin it.
Shame knocks down on you so hard, you draw your knees up to your chest, curling into yourself as though you could make yourself smaller, invisible, anything but this.
You don’t even know what to do with your blood-streaked palm, only letting it hover in the air, the shallow cuts glistening under the still-glowing lights of the tree. It’s a mess. You are a mess. Curling your fingers into a fist, you wince in pain at the stinging of the cuts but you leave it like that.
Perhaps you are overreacting, sitting here on the floor in the common area of the compound with a bleeding hand and the shattered remains of Rebecca Barnes's memory, but you feel so helpless and remorseful, you can’t really think straight at the moment.
The sound of the elevator is faint, but it’s enough to reach your ears. You freeze. You just sit there, knees drawn to your chest, blood smeared across your palm, the shattered glass of the ornament glittering like broken stars on the floor.
You are tear-streaked, trembling, your chest still hitching with uneven breaths and Bucky just got home.
Those approaching footsteps are so familiar to you, you would always recognize his gate. Usually, it’s comforting, grounding to know he got home and would leave you with relief in your chest.
But there is no place for relief in your chest right now.
His footsteps sound normal, steady, perhaps a little hurried but he hasn’t reached this room yet.
You don’t look up. Instead, you bite your lip to stop the sob that threatens to escape. The shame is too sharp, cutting deeper than any piece of the ornament and making your heart bleed as well.
Maybe if you stay still, if you stay quiet, he’ll miss you somehow.
But then his steps come to an abrupt halt and you know you are screwed.
Burning tears spike once more and the sob breaks free.
“Woah, hey-” he calls out, so urgent, so worried.
Bucky is across the room in a heartbeat, dropping to his knees in front of you with a speed that catches you off guard.
“Sweetheart, hey.” It falls from his lips so softly, so worried, it nearly breaks you all over again.
Tears fall more freely at the kind of tenderness in his tone and suddenly his hand is cupping your face, thumb, and knuckles brushing the streaks of wetness from your cheeks.
But they keep coming.
“Look at me, please! Doll, look at me,” he murmurs, his voice impossibly gentle, but dripping with so much concern. His metal hand is on your face as well and he tilts it upward, guiding your gaze toward his.
His brows are drawn so deeply, lips parting slightly as he studies your face - the tear tracks, the desolation in your eyes, the shame and guilt, the trembling of your shoulders.
You can’t look at him. Can’t bear to see it. So you squeeze your eyes shut, hoping you’ll ever be able to forget that look on his face. Not when you know what’s coming. Not when you know what you have caused.
Just wait until he sees it, you think. That look will change.
“No,” he whispers, his voice so soft again, but there is a firmness in it. The pad of his flesh thumb smooths gently across your cheek again, while his metal fingers move to your hair. “Hey, no, don’t do that. It’s okay. Y/n, it’s okay!”
You shake your head quickly and try to say something, anything, but all that comes out is a choked sound, half-sob, half-breath. He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. He doesn’t know what this is about.
You want to stay hidden behind the veil of your closed eyes, safe from not seeing what you know will be there in perhaps seconds when he figures it out - disappointment, maybe anger, the grief of what you’ve broken.
“Open your eyes, sweetheart, please.”
There is something in his voice you can’t ignore. It sounds unshakable and steady, yet fragile and thick.
Slowly, reluctantly, your eyes flutter open to meet his, but when you do, you freeze.
Because he already knows.
He looks at you. Just looks, but you see he already put the pieces together. He saw the shards scattering around your knees. His expression is softer than you’ve ever seen it but he looks at you with an intensity that is new to you. There is that understanding in his eyes. But it’s so soft. So gentle.
There is no anger, no frustration, no disappointment.
There is nothing of the reaction you had feared for.
Yes, there is pain in his eyes as well. It’s unmistakable, flickering in the soft blue of his irises. But it’s not the pain you expected.
It’s not for the ornament. It’s not for what it meant.
It’s for you.
You can see it in the way his brows crease, the frown that tugs at his mouth. And the way he never once lets his gaze stray to the shards on the floor. All he looks at is you.
Bucky keeps his hands on your face, continuing to swipe over your cheeks like he’s afraid you’ll crumble if he lets go. Then, his thumbs still, resting against your cheekbones, his touch so achingly gentle that it only makes more tears fall.
“Sweetheart,” he says again, and the word cracks, quiet and uneven. He still doesn’t look angry. He still doesn’t look disappointed. He looks devastated - not for what you’ve done, but for what it’s done to you.
Your lips tremble, barely able to form words.
“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. Come here.”
Baby definitely is a new one. It’s something he’s never called you before. But there is no time to linger on it, no chance to unpack the flutter it sparks in your stomach because he’s already pulling you toward him.
His flesh arm wraps around your body, tugging you against his chest, while his metal hand finds its place at the back of your head, cold but reassuring fingers threading through your hair.
He lets you cry against his chest. Cradles you so tightly to him, you might actually get worried about your ribs, but it feels so good. His chest rises and falls beneath your cheek, his heart is pounding. The fabric of his tactical suit presses against your skin, rough and worn from the mission he just came back from, but it grounds you to some extent.
“It’s okay. Just breathe, alright? Breathe,” he keeps whispering, exaggerating his breaths against your body to invite you to follow his lead. You try.
“I’m so sorry,” you sob, the words spilling out in a choked, broken rush as you bury your face in his chest. The tears won’t stop, soaking into the dark fabric of his suit.
“Shh,” he keeps on with his soft voice. His arm around you tightens, holding you closer, while his metal hand stays solidly at the back of your head. His fingers brush through your hair in slow, soothing motions. “Don’t be. Don’t you dare be.”
He continues murmuring to you when you try to apologize again, his voice low and warm. He talks so calmly and sure, you feel something inside of you churn.
Bucky tilts his head slightly, resting his cheek against your hair, and you feel the warmth of his breath as he talks to you.
And yet, biting guilt gnaws its way through your ribs. You feel terrible - worse than terrible - because it should be you comforting him, not the other way around.
It’s him who lost something precious, something you had broken. And here he is, holding you, brushing tears from your face, whispering words meant to stitch you back together.
But somehow, he doesn’t even seem to care. He holds you like you are the only thing that matters right now.
Remorse burrows deep, heavy, and shaming, until it pulls you back to yourself - slowly, shakily, but enough to loosen the sobs caught in your throat.
You sniff and take a breath, a real one this time, ragged but yours.
Then, you shift in his arms, gently pressing against his chest to put space between you. His hold loosens, slowly, with a hesitation that tugs at something in you. As if he is reluctant to let you go. Still, he relents.
His flesh hand slides away first, but his metal one lingers, brushing through your hair one last time before settling on your shoulder. He keeps you close, his thumb brushing absentminded sweeps across your sweater.
His gaze never strays and it’s heavy. You can’t meet his eyes for long. They’re too full of that care you don’t deserve, the care he shows you in so many small gestures all the time.
So your gaze falls to the floor, but then you freeze again.
The broken shards that had glinted so mockingly against the floor just moments ago are gone. Instead, settled carefully on the coffee table as though it had never fallen at all, is the ornament.
Whole.
It takes you a moment to process it, to trust what you’re seeing. The cracks are gone, smoothed over seamlessly. The gleaming red glass catches the light of the Christmas tree, its golden little details shining like something out of a memory, timeless and unbroken. As beautiful and aesthetic as before.
For a moment, you even wonder if your eyes are playing tricks on you, but then you notice Wanda standing at the far side of the room. Her hands lower slowly, the telltale red glow of her magic fading from her fingertips.
She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t step closer - just tilts her head slightly, offering you the faintest, knowing smile. Her eyes are warm.
God, of course. You should have thought of that. It even makes you feel a little ridiculous. You live together with people who possess supernatural abilities, powers beyond comprehension. You should have thought of Wanda. How her hands could have mended it back together in seconds.
A choked breath stumbles out of you, somewhere between relief and disbelief. Bucky follows your gaze, his brows furrowing, only to soften when he sees the ornament resting perfectly intact on the table. He stares at it for a moment.
But then he looks back at you and his sweet smile could melt any ice this winter has to offer.
His flesh hand moves a few strands of hair out of your face and tugs them tenderly behind your ear. His hand stays on your cheek. “Told you it’s okay.”
You let out a shaky breath. “I still broke it,” you say, words slipping out quietly, somberly. Your gaze remains fixed on it. Wanda seems to have slipped out again.
“Stop,” Bucky cuts in, his voice more firm than before but still gentle as always. He shakes his head, moving closer to you again, gaze fixed on you.
You feel his hand brush against yours, but then his shoulders stiffen up. He stops. His eyes catch on something and his expression shifts in an instant.
“Jesus-” His frown deepens, something like a shadow crosses his eyes. Sharp eyes lock onto the red streaks lining your palm, the cuts where the shattered glass had broken your skin.
You hadn’t even realized you were still holding onto the pain - too caught up in everything else to notice the dull throb of your hand or the sting of the scratches.
“You’re bleeding. Why didn’t you say anything?” The words are a quiet exhale, soft but weighted. There is no reprimand in his voice, no anger - only concern coloring every syllable.
His thumb ghosts over your wrist, careful not to brush against the cuts. His intense gaze flickers from your injured hand to your face, searching your expression.
“It’s not a big deal-”
“Don’t.”
Bucky shakes his head. His jaw tightens and he exhales sharply through his nose. It’s not frustration - not with you, anyway. It’s something deeper, something that seems to pain him in his chest as he studies the scratches like they’re a personal failing.
“Bucky,” you say while trying to pull your hand back from his grasp when he tilts it more toward the light to get a better look. As if he hasn’t the eyesight of a super soldier.
“Doll. Let me see.” His lips press into a thin line, the faintest hint of exasperation ghosting across his face.
The sigh you let out drags down your chest and you don’t resist when Bucky keeps cradling your bleeding hand and studies the scratches. His brow is furrowed in concentration that feels too much for something so small.
You want to tell him it’s fine, that this is nothing, but the words die before they reach your tongue.
“Let’s get you fixed up,” he says tightly, the tone of his voice all business and leaving no room for argument.
But you shake your head. It’s your fault the ornament broke in the first place. You’re aware it’s whole again, but it was in shambles just moments earlier and you cut yourself thanks to your own stupidity.
“Bucky, you just got back from a mission-” you protest, your voice quieter than you’d like.
“Not too worried about myself right now, doll,” he interrupts, his voice insistent but warm. The hint of steel beneath his words not directed at you but at the way your guilt is still in control, trying to downplay yourself.
“Come on.” He says it softer now, but before you can argue any further, he’s already moving.
Without so much as a pause, Bucky stands and scoops you up into his arms as though it’s the most natural thing in the world.
You barely have a second to process the shift, before you’re pressed securely against his chest.
“Bucky!” you exclaim, startled, your uninjured hand reaching for his shoulder to steady yourself.
“Relax, doll. I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice low and almost amused, though his expression remains calm, focused.
You sigh again, but there is a laugh on your breath. “Buck, I can walk. You don’t have to-”
“Not hearing it,” he says simply, almost flatly. He just continues striding along the halls with you in his arms. His steps are heavier, but you know it’s not because of your weight. He holds you like you weigh nothing at all. “You’re hurt.”
That doesn’t sound like a plausible explanation to you, since you’ve come home with way worse injuries from missions over the last months alone. But the gruffness of his voice, the one that always accompanies him when you’re injured, no matter how small - the seriousness, the concern - it shuts you up for the time being.
You let your head rest against his shoulder. He smells a little like gunpowder and dust, but you only latch onto the parts that are him and breathe them in.
“I didn’t mean to break it, Bucky,” to whisper, gaze dropping to the tightly pressed ball that is your bloody fist. “I’m so sorry.”
You feel the intake of Bucky’s breath against your body and his eyes warmly falling down on you. You don’t meet his gaze.
“You didn’t break anything, sweetheart.” His voice is like velvet, brushing so softly against your skin. So reassuringly. So profoundly gentle. “You’re okay, doll. We’re okay. I promise.” His hands curl tighter around you.
You blink, your head tilting to glance up at him, and your breath catches when you meet his gaze.
It is intense. His brows are pulled together - not with anger, but with concern. Like the only things he cares about right now are the tears that linger in your eyes and the way you’re still trying to curl in on yourself, still letting your body slightly shake with the guilt that he refuses to let you carry.
Something stirs in your belly. Something flutters, as if thousands of tiny wings brush against the walls of you, demanding to be seen. To be felt.
Because you let your mind spiral so much earlier, bracing yourself for a reaction of disappointment, frustration - that flicker of something unnameable that might pull the two of you apart.
But it still isn’t there.
Not even close.
It’s the opposite, really.
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luveline · 1 year ago
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bEGGING for something with the marauders with drunk reader at a halloween party!!! make it literally anything you want follow ur heart ily and ur writing is AMAZING!!!!
thank you, ily ♡ modern au, fem
The rugby uniform felt like a funny idea at the time, but now you're cold and wondering how James manages to stay warm when he plays. You must ask him. 
He sits on the couch with Remus and another friend, Frank. You like Frank but he's not one of your boys, leaving you no options —you have to slide yourself between Remus and James, emphasis on have to. Remus touches your waist unthinkingly as you do, like he might catch you if you fell. 
James is ecstatic to see you as always. "Where have you been? I was about to send out the search party." 
He's been very, very pleased with you upon the reveal of your costume. Like, pleased enough to take a handful of your thigh and squeeze at the soft inner part greedily. You lean back into Remus, enjoying the feeling and wanting his comfort. He's used to it, and  he adapts by pressing his face indulgently to the side of your head. 
You giggle. This is usually a nice feeling, but drunk? You're euphoric. 
"You can't stray too far, lovely, I need my victim," Remus says. 
"Where have your fangs gone?" you ask, pointing at your neck. "I made the bite mark so perfect. Everyone will think I have rabies if you don't commit." 
James laughs like you're hilarious. Later, you'll find out that you didn't quite say every word that you thought you said, and that you'd been slurring your words into one another to create Frankenstein's sentences. 
"Everybody already thinks you have rabies," James says. He's wearing a chef's costume from a show he likes, a white shirt that's sleeves strain against his biceps and a blue apron. Sirius spent an hour drawing tattoos into his brown skin with a sharpie. "That's why we've decided to put you down." 
"I'll have one last night of passion with her first, if you don't mind," Sirius says, announcing his presence. 
You like the sound of that, lifting yourself away from the other two boys and their touches to take Sirius' fine hands. He's in a button up and tie, the sticker on his chest proudly proclaiming, Hello, my name is: Dave.
"You're here to kiss me, right?" you ask.
Sirius grins and presses a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth. "My little alcoholic, you smell like lambrini. What did we say about lambrini?" 
"Uh, that it makes me sloppy drunk." 
"Exactly!" He kisses your cheek, working an arm around your shoulder as though showing you off with pride to the other boys. "My darling, you're so smart." 
"Not that smart, she still drank the lambrini." 
"Remus, don't start," Sirius admonishes. "You just hate that she chooses me when she's drunk." 
"You're her enabler," James says, "of course she does. But before she was drunk she chose to dress as me for Halloween, so if anyone is the favourite–" 
"Oh, please don't start," Remus says. 
The boys start, arguing over who your favourite is. It's a silly pass time with no real merit but no malice, either, and you're just drunk enough to goad them on. "Maybe Remus should be my favourite. After all, he's my vampire. Our love is, like, eternal." 
The furrowed brow he gets whenever the other two boys debate slips. "It's so eternal," he says, nodding confidently. "Quite right, dove." 
"Eternal doesn't mean better." 
"Then what does it mean, Sirius?" 
You decide that James' lap looks comfortable and that you might be here for a long time, so you push his legs down flat and sit carefully (not very carefully in reality, but in your heart) on his thighs, socked feet pulled up onto the couch, sideways and skewiff in his company. 
"Well, obvious winner," James says, encompassing your back with a big arm, pulling you into him. Under his hand your shoulders feel like a more delicate system; you aren't necessarily small, but his touch feels so everywhere, a pervasive feeling of safety and comfort in the palm of his hand where it grasps you. 
"You have the more comfortable seat," Sirius says nonchalantly. "It means nothing." 
Remus pulls one of your socks up where it's slipping down your calf and Sirius interrupts the arguing to ask if you need a glass of water. You don't have favourites. They're each incredibly lovely in their own way. 
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harryhighkey · 27 days ago
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183.
hi! this is my first ever Lee Byung-Hun/The Frontman one shot! I hope u like it! this man has taken over my life !!!!!!!!!!
a frontman x reader series - masterlist to series here
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183.
That was the number that ticked over on the screen as the final vote was casted by Player 001. The people who voted to stay had won. You were in disbelief. Standing on the side of people who voted to leave this hell you were positive that this was the side that was going to win the vote.
How wrong you were.
183, this number was going to haunt you during your time here, which was ironic considering it was also the one that was labelled on your green tracksuit.
Now you stood in utter shock at this outcome. All 183 of them had witnessed the same brutal deaths that had only happened hours earlier, so how could they choose to stay?
You were frozen and your eyes were trained on the man who had been the 183rd vote. You kept watching as he turned to face everyone else. Half the room cheering and the other half disappointed. However, his expression was unique, a sinister smirk adorned his face that sent shivers down your spine.
------
The guards had demanded you had spent too much time in the bathroom and were making you return to the room the vote had taken place. It had been a long time, but you weren't doing anything wrong, you were so desperate for a moment alone to cry over your terrors which is exactly what you had been doing. You cursed yourself for not trying to do anything productive in looking for any chance to escape, there was a vent in the roof that you wanted to have a closer look at later.
Not wanting to draw attention to yourself as you walked back through the doorway, you kept your steps quick & quiet. You were about half way back to your bunk when you got stopped.
"Hey, now look at this pretty girl, I didn't notice you in the game today." Thanos. The purple haired, Player 230 had certainly let himself be noticed by everyone today.
"I was laying low, wouldn't you expect you to get it." You quipped back, keeping your head down due to the fact you could feel your eyes were puffy & were positive your nose was red from crying and you didn't need it pointed out.
"Why lay low, baby? We're here to have fun. We should have fun together!"
You scowled at the pet name and instantly snapped back, "I'm not interested in joining your tiny dick parade."
"Such a dirty mouth on a pretty girl! I'd like to know what else that mouth-"
Just as you were about to raise your voice and interrupt the unwelcomed comment by telling him to fuck off, someone beat you to it.
"Enough." It was another man's voice, this one much more commanding, not as loud but it was dominant.
Yourself & the purple haired man turned to who spoke up. It was him. The final voter. Player 001. You stood there with the only red 'X' on your green tracksuit out of the three of you yet he was coming to your aid, going against a fellow blue 'O.'
His eyes briefly landed on yours and you inhaled a sharp breath, you were so hyper-focused on him that you swore you noticed his face contort into a display of sympathy. Just as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone just as fast and Player 001 was stone faced once more as he looked back to Player 230.
You watched the interaction between the two men, had something happened whilst you were in the bathroom? They were only saying a few words to each other but the tension was so high.
"Leave her alone." Was how Player 001 ended the moment and this man shocked you yet again as he caused the most bold player to follow his order and walk away from the two of you. Once Thanos was gone he turned back to you. Your chest going tense at the eye contact. "Are you-"
"I don't need your help." You quickly cut him off, already walking away from him so he didn't get a chance to answer. This unknown man had just come to your rescue, but he was also the deciding vote for staying in this hell. If you hadn't of rushed off so quick maybe you would have paid more attention to how his face softened when looking at you and maybe paid attention to the fact that part of you noticed how nice that felt.
------
"There you are."
You were laying on your side and the voice came from behind you, but you already knew who it was without seeing them. You'd heard that same deep voice hours earlier when it had come to your rescue. The only difference this time it was more hushed and closer to your ear.
"Go away." You didn't turn over to look at Player 001, you stubbornly stayed in place.
"I would like to talk to you."
"I'm sleeping."
"And conversing?"
"Sleep talking exists."
"Yours is quite advanced." His tone was light-hearted, but you were still on the defence. It wasn't lost on you that you had to protect yourself, being a female and much younger than a lot of the other contestants here. Player 001 included.
"Wait until you see how I sleep hit." You suddenly waved an arm back towards his direction, only for a firm grip of his hand coming around your wrist that quickly halted your movements.
He used his hold around your wrist to pull you so you were flat on your back. The movement was so fast, your strength was no match for his and now you were face to face. If you lifted your head the slightest bit from your pillow, your nose would graze his and that had your heart racing. Surely just because you were scared, not for any other reason.
Acting fast, you went to grab his hand with your spare one to try and free yourself, but he was faster and easily caught your second hand in his own second hand, trapping them both.
"If you are going to make it out of here alive, you need to keep that attitude of yours under control." His tone was serious now, his fingers tightening ever so slightly. You were so vulnerable right now, your breath was coming out in quick pants, your wide-eyed gaze had become frightened as you were forced to look into his stern one.
"Please let go of me." Your voice came out shaky, tears began to well in your eyes. He had scared you. Your hands were freed and you swiftly moved to sit up and move to a corner of your little bed to put some space between you and this man.
His face softened, the same way it had when he looked at you earlier and would have noticed the after effects of crying being present on your face. "I didn't mean to frighten you."
"Well you did."
"I'm sorry." He apologised and you didn't know what to say. "May I sit for a moment?" He asked so politely, his tone now gentle. You took a second before nodding your head and he sat on the side of your bed, facing you. "I don't want you to die in here."
"I don't want to either. That's why I voted to leave." At that response, his eyes fell to the red 'X' labelled on your outfit before lifting to find your gaze once more.
"Let me help you in here."
"I don't need your-"
"You do." He cut you off, his words were impactful. You clenched your jaw.
"No I don't."
"Yes."
"No."
He huffed and dropped his head into his hand, rubbing his fingertips into his temples. "Stubborn girl."
You watched him silently, a million thoughts running through your head. Part of you still felt afraid, but another part of you was curious about him, you almost felt drawn to him. Your eyes were trained on his fingers massaging his own head and before you had a chance to think about what you were about to ask, you already blurted it out. "Can you rub my head like that?"
"What?" He paused his movements and looked at you again, an expression of confusion present on his face.
God, he had a handsome face.
"I know it's a weird request but I can't sleep and I'm exhausted. I'll never able to sleep here and I will obviously need energy for tomorrow and my head getting rubbed always makes me sleepy." You spoke fast, rambling your words out and you could feel your face heating up in embarrassment as he continued to stare at you in surprise. Which only got worse when he let out a quiet laugh which made you put your head in your hands and let out a little whine. "Forget it-"
"I'll do it." Yet again he cut you off and his response made your heart beat harder.
The two of you sat there looking at one another in silence. You were memorising the details of his face when he snapped you out of it.
"Are you going to lay down?"
"Oh, yes." You returned to your original position of laying down on your side, this time your back was leaning against his leg as he stayed in his spot.
When his fingers combed into your hair and made contact with your scalp, you took a deep breath at the soothing movements he began making.
"Like this?"
"Yes, just like that."
"Close your eyes." You finally listened to him without arguing back and fluttered your eyes closed.
The more you focused on the feeling of Player 001's fingers dancing such peaceful patterns along your scalp, the more you relaxed back against him and forgot about where you were. In your mind, only the two of you existed in this moment.
Maybe the next time he offered help, you wouldn't be so quick to fight back.
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mrsdarkandyandere7 · 10 months ago
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Lover's Quarrel
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Pairing: Dark (aged-up) Katsuki Bakugo x (female) Reader
▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.
More at Masterlist
Female Reader
SUMMARY: You get away from Bakugo’s toxic clutches. But soon your peace comes to an end.
WARNINGS: Toxic Relationship; minor Violence/Abuse.
AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.
I just realized today is his birthday, so here it is :) hope you guys like this.
“...you better damn pick up my calls, (Y/N). I’m losing my patience here so you better get that fucking attitude out of your system or I’ll do it for you. Swear to god I’m gonna drag your stupid ass back home if you don’t come to your damn senses and if you fucking think that-”
You press a button, closing the voicemail with a sigh. Throwing your phone to the bed’s edge, you turn your back to it, curling yourself into a ball. 
Your mind is an unstable whirlwind of thoughts and worries and a solitary tear rolls down your face. It’s not fair.
None of this is fair.
You pull the blankets over you, but even their warmth isn't enough to calm the cold that scatters through your body. 
A sob breaks your composure and you hastily push your face into the pillow, smothering down the ugly sobs and whines that break out. 
It takes a long time until your eyes are finally dry and you have no more tears to weep.
But even afterwards, as you finally fall asleep, the heavy feeling still weighs on your heart.
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Ding. 
Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. 
Your friend looks at you and you’re quick to mute the notifications that pop up, eyes catching sight of the messages that Bakugo is spamming you before you black the screen. 
“I know I’ve asked before, but is everything really okay?” she asks, ignoring the movie on display in favor of looking at you, a concerned wrinkle settling between her brows.
“You seem… so distracted ever since you came. Is it about Bakugo?” 
You shift on the couch, uncomfortable. 
“It’s nothing.” you hesitantly tell her, measuring your words carefully. None of your friends know about the depth of Bakugo’s dark side and you’d rather not involve them.
Even though you’re almost sure that she suspects something is up, especially with the unannounced way you dropped by unannounced a couple of days ago, asking if you could stay a few days. 
“You can tell me, you know that, right? I’m not gonna judge or whatever.” 
You nod, giving her a small smile but no words come out of you despite the hefty weight on your mind. You don’t want to burden her with your problems. 
“I know, don’t worry. We’re just giving it some time. Lover’s quarrel and all.” you try to joke even though there's no humor in your smile.
"I see, okay." your friend draws a small smile, hesitating for a moment before letting it be. 
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Work drags far too slowly. 
Boring paperwork to be filled, a few documents that need reviewing.
Nothing that actually manages to successfully distract you away from your current problems. If anything, it leaves you with far too much time for your mind to wander through your situation.
A definitive break-up is more complicated than what it seems as you’re aware that Bakugo won’t peacefully accept that. 
Just the idea of having to deal with an even angrier Katsuki has you cowering further into your chair and you distract yourself by opening your work email, digging into the emails that need to be answered. 
You’ll think about Bakugo later. 
“Later” arrives much earlier than what you expect.
When the clock hits 6 p.m you reluctantly turn off the computer, gathering your jacket and your purse. 
When you check your phone out of habit, the lack of messages surprises you. Strange.
Maybe Bakugo is finally catching the hints that you want to be left alone? You sure hope so.
You couldn’t be more wrong about it and you almost jump when your co-worker shrieks in delight, nudging your arm as you retrieve your car keys from the purse. 
“Oh god, he’s so cute, damn. Seems like someone was eager to see you.” 
Your heart drops at the sight of the blonde man that leans against your car, crimson eyes fixed on you.
“You’re so lucky. My boyfriend never comes to pick me up.” she whines before finally saying a distracted goodbye, throwing adoration filled glances at Bakugo when she walks away. 
For a moment, you consider leaving your car in the open parking-lot. You could take the bus to your friend’s apartment. It would be no big deal, only half an hour before reaching her place. 
But the impassive expression on your boyfriend’s face warns you not to ignore him and you don’t doubt Bakugo’s ability to cause a overly explosive scene right in front of your workplace. 
Your legs walk on their own towards him and he straightens up, pushing himself off the hood as he walks to you, meeting you half-way, far too close for your comfort.
He’s wearing civilian clothes, you notice. They make his firm muscles bulge from beneath the thin material, the veins in his arms popping out with his hands hidden in the pant’s pockets, as always.  
“What do you want?” 
“Can we talk?” he asks.
“Talk then.” 
Irritation seeps into Bakugo’s face. He’s never had much patience. 
“We can talk in your car. The keys.” 
Despite his stretched hand, you don’t deposit the keys in his palm. It’s your car. It’s your life. You have to fight for it. 
“Y/n.”
You take a step back, shaking your head. 
“If you wanna talk, then we can talk here. Out in the open.” 
The corner of his mouth twitches with ire, and it compels you to take another tiny step away from him. 
“Will you stop fucking stepping away from me?” his voice booms loudly through the empty parking lot, eliciting a wince from you. “Quit acting like I’m gonna beat you to a bloody pulp or somethin’. I’m just trying to take you back home, you idiot.” 
“But I’m not going back.”
“You are.”
You clench your teeth, hoping it would help ease out the incoming flow of angry tears that threatens to spill at any moment now. 
“I said. I’m not going back.” 
Bakugo ignores your words, losing his patience upon your refusal. 
“Like hell you aren’t. I’ve had enough of this stupid attitude of yours.”
His hand latches to your wrist, holding it in a bruising grip, tight enough for you to feel the bones in your hands being painfully compressed together. 
“Ah, Katsuki, you’re hurting me!” you cry out, attempting to release his grip by using your free hand.
But your fingers are far too weak to pull him away and he groans when your nails scratch him. It makes him grip your hand harder and you sob, body limpless following forward when Bakugo tugs you in his direction. 
You bump into his hard chest, head sharply pulled back with his callous hand enveloping the back of your neck, his large palm easily covering all of it.
The tall hero doesn’t even bother looking around, unafraid of the possibility of someone walking by. Bakugo’s never been one to be overzealous, much less now that the position on Pro Hero Number 2 belongs to him. 
“You’ve had your fun these past days. But it’s over now, y’hear me?” the tips of his fingers dig into your neck, and you’re barely able to hold his threatening gaze, already knowing that you’re not coming out on top of this.
“You’re coming back home with me. No fuckin' fuss, no complaining, and that’s final. Like hell I’m gonna let you get away from me, so you better start fixing that attitude.”  
He squeezes your neck, looking at you with deadly eyes. 
“You hear me? Brat.” 
He keeps his hand on the back of your neck when guiding you to your own car, unceremoniously pushing you to the passenger’s seat before claiming the steering wheel for himself. 
A few tears escape from your eyes and you turn your face to the window, ignoring the sharp looks Bakugo throws your way.
You hug yourself, all of your hope dissolving at the realization that you’re never truly gonna be free from him. 
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iamnotoriginalphil · 3 months ago
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A Study in Possession (Professor!Agatha Harkness x f!Reader)
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Synopsis: Rio returns, looking to cause more trouble, but you refuse to let her break something that isn't broken.
Words: 5.6k
Warnings: Student/teacher relationship, power imbalance, toxic relationship, age gap (all 18+), marking, discussions of exhibitionism, mentions of bondage, possessiveness, jealousy, swearing, oral (R giving), praise kink, mentions of face sitting, hair pulling
Some days, a restlessness seemed to take root in your bones. It spread through your veins, ensnaring you, turning your insides to mulch if you didn’t do something about it. Pacing circles around Agatha’s living room, you were hoping to wear yourself out.
She reclined on the sofa, watching you, blue eyes intent as they followed you around the room. Her chin rested on her fingers, delicate and distracting and it only made the itching under your skin worse. Every pass by, you let your fingers trail over her shoulders, again and again, until you thought you might be smudging the outline of her.
“You’re wearing through my carpet, pet,” she said, after the umpteenth pass.
“Sorry,” you said, pausing until your bones ached with the need to move again.
“Shall I tire you out?” she asked, fingers curling around your wrist.
A flash of heat, burning through you, leaving the taste of ash on the back of your tongue. You lingered, fingertips brushing over her lips. She nipped at you, a smirk unfolding over her face.
“I can put you to rest,” she said, voice lowering into a soft hum, “you won’t be able to walk when I’m done with you.”
“I don’t think I could stay still for long enough,” you said.
“So I’ll tie you up until you can’t move.”
Her lips brushed over the pulse point in the wrist she still held. Looking up at you from under lowered lashes, she let her tongue flick out, tasting your skin, feeling your life thrum. You trembled but the burning, the ache, the gnawing in your bones would not quiet itself, even as you throbbed for her touch.
“Maybe I should go for a walk,” you said.
“After,” she replied, “if you can.”
Her hands grasped your hips, pulling you closer. Pushing up past the sweater you’d tugged on that morning, her fingers pressed into your skin. You went, willingly, knees falling either side of her hips. Her kiss was slow, maddeningly so, taking her time until you were vibrating in her lap. She chuckled, drawing away from you.
“I like you like this. You’re so impatient,” she said.
“Agatha,” you whined.
“I’m going to take my time with you. Do you think I’ll drive you mad? I’m game to find out if you are,” she said.
Her lips trailed down your neck, lingering, stretching out the time as she sucked a hickey into your skin. You whimpered, fingers digging into her shoulders, hips rutting against her, finding no friction. You couldn’t stay still, not with the ache and the throbbing and the absolute overwhelming need for more of everything.
“I could spend hours, right here, before I even touch you,” she murmured.
“Agatha,” you whined again.
“You don’t like that thought, pet? You don’t want me to take as much time as I want with you? You’d rather I rush through this and not drag out every single moment of pleasure your body can handle? You want me to be a common whore, just bang one out and leave you be?” She did not sound happy, “if you’re looking for a quick fuck, I can send you out to some frat party.”
“Don’t want a frat boy,” you said, “want you.”
“Then you’ll stop complaining,” she told you.
She returned to her place on your neck, open mouth kisses pressed into your skin. Her hands were slow as they ran up your back, nails dragging down your spine. Over and over again, maddeningly slow. You thought your bones might shatter from how slow she was being. You tried to stay still, to be good for her, but it hurt so much.
“Do you want to tell me what’s got you so worked up?” she asked into your skin, thumb brushing the underside of one breast.
“It’s just.” You hissed when her teeth sunk into your flesh for only moment, “I’ve been sitting too long.”
“Oh?” She sounded amused.
“I keep rewriting my introduction for you and you keep asking for changes and so I’ve spent days sitting and writing and not doing much else except when you…”
You lost your train of thought as she nipped at your collarbone.
“When I do what, pet?” she asked.
“When you do things like that,” you replied.
“I thought you liked when I did things like that,” she said.
“I do,” you sighed.
Your fingers moved from her shoulders, winding themselves in her hair, long and wild and free. She grinned at you, the kind that felt dangerous. With racing heart and throbbing need, you pulled her into a kiss again. She let you control it for a while, taking what you needed from her, before reminding you she was in control. She was always in control. You liked her being in control.
“So what’s the problem?” she murmured against your lips.
“I think I need a change of scenery. Some fresh air. Just to blow the cobwebs away,” you said, breathless and needy and trying to drag her closer.
“You want me to fuck you in the park?” she asked, a touch of meanness entering her voice. She was mocking you. It shouldn’t have had you grinding down, trying to find any hint of friction you could.
She laughed, tipping her head back, away from you. You whimpered, not caring how pathetic you sounded.
“You are full of surprises, pet. I didn’t take you for an exhibitionist,” she said.
“That’s not what I meant,” you muttered, but the heat between your legs said otherwise.
Wasn’t there something exciting in the thought of Agatha having her way with you in front of an audience? For the entire town to see that you were hers? That she was yours? To so publicly claim one another?
Maybe you were an exhibitionist when it came to her, and her alone.
“Even if it was, you know I can’t do that,” she said.
“I know.”
She couldn’t be caught with you. Plausible deniability and all that. You wanted her but you didn’t want her to lose her job over it. It would remain a secret until you’d graduated and then she could publicly say you were hers.
“But know I would, if you really wanted me to, and the circumstances were different,” she said.
You clenched around nothing and she seemed to draw joy from the needy little noise you made.
“But if you want to get out, you should go take that walk,” she said.
She pushed you off her lap, onto trembling legs, disappointment a sharp slap. Your fingers were still wound in her hair, keeping you close, caught in one another’s orbit.
“Go on,” she said, “you were so desperate to go for your walk. I might be able to get something done without your constant pacing.”
“I thought you were going to tire me out,” you said.
“Don’t pout.” Her thumb ran along your lower lip, “it’s not as endearing as you think.”
“Will you tire me out when I come back?” you asked.
“We’ll see,” she said.
You lingered another moment. You tugged on the ends of her hair until her lips curled up into a small. Her hands were gentle as they shoved you away.
“Go on,” she said, but there was an undertone of fondness in it.
“I’ll bring you back something pretty,” you said.
It wasn’t until you were out of the room that you heard her say, “you’re the only pretty thing I need.”
With the flush of pleasure still on your cheeks, you put your shoes on and walked out the door. You shoved your hands into your pockets, hurrying your steps, turning your feet towards the park. You’d walk laps, imagining being there with Agatha, knuckles deep inside of you, uncaring of who was watching as she fucked you in the open air.
It was oddly empty for a Sunday afternoon. No children running about, no families picnicking, no dog walkers. A few people were by the pond, looking at the ducks, but for the most part you had the park to yourself. Your pace was fast as you walked, trying to force the jittery feeling out through your fingertips.
“Fancy seeing you here.”
You startled, stumbling, almost tripping over your own feet. A hand shot out, catching you. You looked up, dark eyes sweeping over your body.
“I don’t suppose Agatha is with you, is she?” Rio asked.
“No,” you said.
“Good. Then us girls can have a chat.”
She placed your hand in the crook of her elbow as she continued walking along the path. You went with her, not sure if it was a good idea, not sure if Agatha would be okay with it. Actually, you knew she would not be happy when she found out. And she would find out, even if you didn’t tell her. But you would, especially knowing that she would want to know. And that Rio was sure to tell her if you didn’t.
“Tell me, is she a good mentor?” she asked, slipping into perfectly pleasant conversation.
“Wonderful,” you said.
“I’ve been listening in to some of the students. The rumours about her are pretty intense,” she said, “she doesn’t scare you? Intimidate you?”
“No,” you replied.
“Really?”
You chanced a look at her, finding her head tilted and interest in her eyes. You shrugged. She lent closer to you.
“You can be honest with me, sweetheart. I won’t tell,” she whispered, lips brushing over the shell of your ear.
“She doesn’t scare me,” you said, firmer, refusing to give her any ammunition after last time.
“Do I scare you?” she asked.
You turned your head, nose brushing against hers. Your breath caught. It was so easy to see why Agatha would find herself entangled with this woman. There was something about her that was like a blackhole, pulling you in regardless of how you might feel.
“No,” you said but you whispered it and you weren’t sure the single word rang with truth.
“It’s not true, you know,” she said, leaning away from you, letting you get away with your lie.
“What isn’t?” you asked.
“Whatever she told you about me,” she replied.
“She didn’t tell me anything,” you said, sniffing.
Her chuckle was soft and she shook her head.
“I knew you were a liar but even I’m not sucker enough to believe that,” she said, “I know Agatha. She’ll have told you to stay away from me. That I’m evil and I do awful things. That I can’t be trusted.”
“Maybe you don’t know her as well as you think,” you snapped.
“Oh, no, I know her perfectly,” she said and you didn’t like the possessive tone she’d adopted, “you’re the unknown in this equation.”
“Agatha knows me,” you said, stubborn and refusing to let her think that their history gave her the upper hand.
“I think we can be honest with each other,” she said, “you will be honest with me, won’t you?”
“I don’t even know you,” you said.
“Let’s get to know each other then,” she said.
You hadn’t noticed as she’d steered you towards one of the more isolated parts of the park. Trees kept your portion of the path from easy view, the twist and turns giving it the facade of privacy. Her hands landed on your shoulders, pushing you back until your spine hit the rough bark of a tree.
“We’re going to be best friends by the end of this,” she promised you.
“What do you want?” you demanded.
“To have some fun.” Her eyes travelled over your body, tongue dragging over her lower lip, “we can have fun together, right?”
“I suppose it depends what kind of fun you’re talking about,” you muttered.
“The kind that leaves you feeling satisfied,” she replied, voice turning into the rasp of a whisper.
“I don’t think I want that kind of fun with you,” you replied.
“Really? You haven’t thought of me once?” Her face drew closer, “you haven’t considered what to would be like to play with me? You wouldn’t even have to hide it with me.”
“I’m not a toy,” you said, echoing Agatha’s words.
“Prove it.”
You shoved at her shoulders, but she didn’t relent, forcing you further into the bark of the tree. You gritted your teeth, jutting your chin out, refusing to be cowed by her. She had no power over you.
“You were so accommodating last time,” she said, “where’s that girl gone?”
“I know better now,” you said.
“She has done a number on you, hasn’t she?” Her head tilted to the side, “has she made you feel special?”
“It’s none of your business how she’s made me feel,” you snapped.
“You’re not the first, you know? She has a pattern. She finds a pretty little thing interested in witchcraft, invited them to study underneath her, and then she gets them underneath her in every single way,” she said, her words a sharp blade that you were sure was intended to slash at the vulnerable places inside of your psyche.
“I didn’t expect her to not have a history,” you said.
“Would you like to know our history?” she asked.
Damn her, you did. But you weren’t going to ask. You were never going to ask anything of this woman when Agatha so clearly did not like her.
“You do,” Rio said, delight, colouring her words.
“Agatha will tell me when she’s ready,” you said.
“Or I could tell you right now. No more curiosity. No more wondering exactly what we are to one another. I could tell you every single thing she and I have done together in excruciating detail,” she said, drawing closer again, “have you imagined what we’ve done to one another?”
You slapped a hand over her mouth, not wanting her to continue. Of course you’d thought about it, but each time it left with you with the taste of something sour on your tongue. You weren’t stupid enough to assume there hadn’t been anyone before you, but you hardly wanted her ex back in her life. You didn’t want to think about the two of them in bed together.
Something growled in your chest, and all you could focus on was how much you never wanted anyone else in bed with Agatha ever again. She was yours. Your’s and no one else’s. When you returned home, you’d make sure she knew.
A wet tongue ran over the skin of your palm. You made a noise, snatching your hand back from Rio’s mouth, wiping it dry on the denim of your jeans. She grinned.
“I could show you,” she offered.
“I’ve already said no to playing with you. What makes you think I would change my mind?” you snapped.
“Wouldn’t you like to know all the ways you could please Agatha? I’ve catalogued so many ways,” she said.
“I’m doing perfectly well on my own,” you said, jutting her chin up.
“You’ve got fire. That’s good. I’m sure she’ll enjoy dousing it,” she said.
“What do you want from me really? Because I know it’s not for a quick fuck against a tree,” you said, tired of the game.
“Don’t I?” Her smile was predatory.
“No. You want something and I want to know what it is,” you replied.
“Fine.”
She took a step back, finally releasing you. You crossed your arms over your chest, waiting, impatient and uncaring of the other woman’s wants. Her eyes swept over you, assessing, different from last time. It was as if now, without the facade, she was looking at you as a threat.
“You’re not the first student she’s been with,” she said.
“So you’ve said,” you replied coolly.
“Has she told you about Wanda yet?” she asked.
“Whatever we talk about is none of your business,” you replied.
“So she hasn’t.” She nodded her head like it confirmed everything for her, “you should ask. I think you’ll find her answer fascinating.”
You tipped your head to the side, eyes sweeping over her, trying to work out what she was hoping to gain from this, what the game was. You knew the game with Agatha, enjoying it, knowing that if one of you won, you both did. This time, this woman, was a mystery to you.
“You think her answer will make me run away,” you said, the words slow as you tried to work it out.
“I think you should know what happened,” she replied with a small shrug.
“You want me to leave her. I heard you. You think I will and then she’ll fall back into your arms.” You took a deep breath, “it doesn’t matter what she tells me, I’m not leaving her. Not ever.”
“The naivety of youth is endearing. You really can’t think of anything that would make you leave?” she asked, drawing closer again.
“No.” You were giving her nothing.
“Even if she’d done something really bad?” she asked, still approaching.
“No.”
“Even if she’s murdered someone?” she asked.
You laughed, the idea preposterous. But she remained serious as she watched you with increasing interest.
“Has she?” you asked.
“Would it matter?” she asked in return.
“You have no idea, do you?” you said, realising for the first time that you had the upper hand.
“No idea about what?” she asked.
“That there’s nothing about her that could make me leave,” you said, “I love her and I’m not going anywhere. So say what you need to say and do what you need to do, because if it’s a fight for her you want, then you’ve got it. She’s mine, and I’m never giving her up.”
Her lips ticked up into a half smile. You could feel the vibrations of anger in your body, coursing through you, determined to let this woman know that you weren’t the fluffy little bunny she seemed to think you were. You had claws and teeth and a fighting spirit. And something to burn for.
“Quite the performance,” Rio said, “and I think you really believe it.”
“You’ll see. Come graduation I’ll still be here and she still won’t want to see you,” you said, hardening your voice, your eyes, your stance.
“I could just report this to the administration,” she mused, “you’re hardly being subtle.”
Her thumb ran over the hickey Agatha had left on your skin not even an hour ago. You let her, arching your neck to give her better access, wondering if seeing it burned in her gut the way you knew it would in yours.
“That’ll just hurt her more than me,” you said.
“But she’ll blame you. Pretty little thing, unable to keep her mouth shut about taming the great Agatha Harkness. It shouldn’t surprise her. Not all toys are smart,” she said.
She pinched at the bruised skin, your hiss making her smile. You smacked her hand away, glaring.
“You wouldn’t risk it,” you said, “or else you would have done it already.”
“Perhaps.” She shrugged, “or maybe I’m just waiting to see how this plays out.”
She stepped away from you, tugging something out of her bag. A thick book thumped in the dirt by your feet. The same leather bound tome that Agatha had sent you to the library for all those weeks ago. You were hesitant as you picked it up.
“Give her my regards,” she said.
You brushed off the front cover, fingers lingering on the filigreed title. When you glanced up, she was gone, leaving you in the shadows with a book on witchcraft and a sense that something was coming that you weren’t sure you were ready for.
Whatever feeling had compelled you to walk had left your body, leaving it cold and desperate for something else. You turned your feet towards Agatha’s house, needing to see her again, needing to run your fingers through her hair. To whisper your devotion into her skin and remind her that you were a permeant fixture in her life.
You were nothing like the other students who had all left her behind.
You shoved the door open, dropping the book on the hall table and throwing off your shoes. You called her name, following her response into the kitchen.
“Feeling better, kitten?” she asked, thrown over her shoulder, focused on the drink she was pouring for herself.
“Yes,” you replied.
You wound your arms around her waist, lips finding their home on the skin of her neck. Wet kisses on her skin, tongue darting out to taste. She chuckled, neck arching towards you, giving you the access you craved.
“You’ve returned in a good mood,” she hummed.
“Uh huh,” you mumbled into her skin.
Your hand skimmed over the hem of her shirt, slow to push under it, seeking out her skin. She lent back against you, letting you hold up her weight. Your lips found their home on her skin, hands stroking higher and higher. She allowed you to indulge in her for a long moment.
“Rio found me in the park,” you admitted, hand climbing to cup one bare breast under her shirt.
“She did?” she asked, a growl in her voice.
“Mmhm,” you hummed, thumb brushing over a nipple, feeling it beginning to harden.
“And what did she want?” she asked, head tipping back onto your shoulder.
“To scare me off,” you replied, “she threatened to tell people about us.”
“And what did you say?” she hissed as you pinched at her nipple.
“That I’m not going anywhere.”
Your teeth sunk into the juncture of her neck and her shoulders. The pleased noise she made could have been due to your words or your actions, but you felt her arch into your touch. You were determined to leave your mark on her, the way she always did to you. You wanted to paint her skin purple and blue, sign your name over her body, make it so she couldn’t look in the mirror without thinking of you. You wanted to consume her, to sink beneath her skin and never return, to go up in a flash of flames and turn you both to ash.
“Are you trying to prove yourself to me?” she asked but she sounded breathless.
You didn’t answer, busy making a mess of her. Your other hand was running along the waistband of her trousers, fingertips ghosting in a teasing manner. You listened as her breathing grew heavy, revelling in the fact that you were doing it. It was all you. You were making her feel this way with nothing but your lips and your teeth and your hands.
It was an honour.
You took your time, playing with her body, tasting her, feeling her begin to melt into you. Your fingertips dipped into her trousers, finding the lace of her panties waiting for you. She sighed your name, so soft in her voice, and you wondered how much longer she would let you get away with this. You had to assume not much longer.
“Answer me, pet,” she said.
Her hand pressed to the back of your head, holding you in place, fingers tangling in your hair at the nape of your neck. Your tongue ran over her skin, her body shuddering against yours.
“All I’m proving,” you murmured into her skin, “is that you’re mine.”
Her laugh was more of a cackle, loud and braying, shaking her whole body. You hid your smile against her neck, hand pushing into her underwear. Her laughter choked off when you ghosted your finger over her clit, collecting her wetness on your fingertip.
“You really think that, do you?” she asked, breathless, almost a moan.
“I don’t think anything. I know you are,” you replied.
You brushed over her clit again, feeling her hips jump towards you. Rolling her nipple, you enjoyed the way she arched into your touch.
“You sound very certain,” she said, but her fingers were tightening in your hair, and you knew you were right.
Your fingers teased her entrance, enjoying when her hips pressed back against you.
“Do you want to see what I’ve learnt while I’ve been studying under you, professor?” you asked, keeping your mirth at bay.
“I think it’s time for your practical exam,” she replied.
With a finally tweak to her nipple, you retracted her hands from her bare body, gripping her hips. Softly sucking on the skin of her neck, you pressed your thighs together at the thought of what you might find there later.
You spun her, pressing her into the counter, finally kissing her the way you always wanted to. Tongue in her mouth, moans muffled, hot and dirty. You could spend the rest of your life doing exactly that. Her fingers in your hair were pulling, pain blooming over your scalp but all it made you want was to devour her.
Sinking to your knees, you looked up at her from under lowered lashes. She stared down at you, fingertips stroking over your cheeks. You felt breathless, knowing this goddess of a woman before you was all yours. She tilted your head up.
“You may begin.”
You helped her step out of her trousers, dropping them to the floor beside you. Your tongue dragged over your lower lip, looking at the wet patch on her panties. All of that because of you, for you, yours in ways that had your mouth watering. You pressed her hips to the counter, sucking on the vulnerable skin of her inner thigh. She groaned, a rumbling sound from her chest.
You sucked a matching hickey into the other thigh, tracing over it with soft fingertips as pride filled your chest. She chuckled but didn’t argue with you, letting you drink your fill. That chuckle broke off as your tongue pressed against the damp patch in her panties, tasting her on the silk. You hummed, placed a chaste kiss over her hot cunt, then dragged that scrap of lace and silk down her legs.
She glistened in the afternoon light. You ran your hands up her legs, soft skin warm in your palms. Dragging your gaze back up, you found her already looking down at you, eyes smouldering, lips curled in a smirk.
“My good pet,” she murmured.
You shivered, loving when she called you that. Her fingers in your hair gave a sharp tug, reminding you that you had a job to do. Leaning forward, you let your breath ghost over her folds, feeling her fingers tighten.
Your tongue gave a soft kitten lick, barely there, more a graze than a proper touch. Her body shuddered.
“Go on,” she said, “don’t be a tease.”
You tasted her properly, letting your tongue explore her folds. She pressed you closer. With a strong grip, you tugged her leg over your shoulder, pressing her more insistently against the counter. She moaned your name, soft and guttural and so beautiful. You groaned, her hips bucking against your mouth.
She tasted exquisite. You’d spend hours between her thighs, doing this, if only she’d let you. Days lost to making her cum over and over again with nothing but your mouth, not letting a single drop of her go to waste. She rocked against your mouth, heel pressing into your spine.
Wrapping your lips around her clit, you felt her tremble. The sounds she was making, the constant praise falling from her lips, the small gasps and moans, were addictive. The sweetest music you could imagine came from her. You shivered, sucking harder, wanting to see how loud you could get her. There was no reason to be quiet in her own home. No one was about to barge in on them, catching them doing something they both knew they shouldn’t. You wanted to unravel her.
Slowing, you lapped at her entrance, nuzzling against her cropped curls. Her fingers were harsh as they tugged, trying to press you closer again, commanding without words. You chuckled, tongue tracing the letters of your name over her clit, soft and gentle and definitely teasing.
“You’re a devil,” she gasped.
You hummed into her cunt. Her body was taut, almost trembling. You gave in to her, sucking on her bundle of nerves again, letting yourself drown in her. Her hips rocked against you, almost as if she wanted to grind against your face. You’d have let her, if you were in a different position, if she was above you instead of standing.
Later. You’d convince her to sit on your face later.
Your finger teased her entrance, the other hand gripping her thigh tightly. You wondered if you could bruise her as easily as she seemed to bruise you. If your hand prints would linger on her skin long after this moment was done. You hoped so. Some physical sign that you’d been there, with her, like this. That you had been offered the honour of bringing her so much pleasure.
You set a slow pace, wanting to draw this out, wanting to make sure you knew how to care for her body, that you knew how to make her lose her mind. She didn’t complain. You glanced up, finding she had rucked up her shirt with her free hand, playing with her own tit as you feasted on her. You’d never seen something so hot as Agatha Harkness touching herself, bringing herself pleasure while you tasted her. If you could, you’d take a picture of this view, paint it, hang it in all the art galleries of the world. There was nothing so beautiful. You were obsessed with this view.
You whimpered, muffled against her. Lazy eyes dragged down to you, hooded with pleasure. Her chest heaved, arching into her own hand, tweaking one of her nipples. You curled your fingers and the curse that fell from her lips was the most gratifying thing you’d ever heard.
You pressed her more insistently against the counter, tasting more, pressing deeper. She threw her head back, moaning like it was her job. It was a symphony in your ears.
When she came, it was with a guttural cry, loud in the kitchen. You kept lapping at her, not wanting to waste a drop of her arousal. Her fingers tightened in your hair, and you growled, refusing to leave that place between her legs. Her hips jumped towards you, and she groaned your name. You didn’t care, losing yourself in her.
“Pet,” she said, breathless and wanting and so very turned on. You knew her well enough to know what she sounded like when she was turned on.
You ignored her, fingers curling. Her hips were rocking again, without her say, and those same fingers that had been trying to drag you away were now pressing you closer. You swirled your tongue over her, almost certain you could feel her heartbeat throbbing in her cunt.
You weren’t soft this time, demanding her orgasm. Thrusting your fingers into her roughly, you kept twisting, curling, forcing her to give you more. Her head was tipped back, hand clutching the edge of the counter as she tried to keep her balance. You weren’t helping, only caring about how to get her to fall apart. A reminder that you knew her body so well.
Who cared if there had been others before you? Who cared if Rio thought she had a chance to be back here? You were the one in her home, in her bed, between her legs. You were the one she was choosing. And you were going to make it so she would never be able to forget you. You were going to burn yourself into her skin until you were as much a part of her as she’d become of you.
She clenched around your fingers, a cry ripped from her throat. Your grin was hidden against her, still buried between her legs. You cleaned her up, your tongue careful, and yet still you wanted more. When you brushed over her clit, she hissed. You nuzzled against her hip, a gentle kiss to her skin doing more than words could.
“C’mere, kitten,” she murmured, her fingers in your hair pulling you.
The ache in your knees was worth it as you climbed to your feet, lowering her foot back to the ground. She tugged you into her, uncaring as you crashed against her body, forcing her against the counter again. Her hand caught your chin and she kissed you, tasting herself on your tongue, a filthy groan muffled by your mouth. Her fingers dug in, nails scraping across your skin, ignoring the slick on your chin from your hard work.
“How’d I do?” you asked, breathless, curling your arms around her waist.
“Passed with flying colours, kitten,” she said.
She brushed your hair out of your face, so soft with you. You nuzzled against her, enjoying the feeling of her hand on your cheek. She gave you another kiss, softer, sweeter, turning you into goo as sunshine melted through your veins.
“There might be some truth to your statement,” she whispered, lips brushing yours, still sharing the same breath as you.
“Which one?” you asked, pulling her closer.
“The one about me being yours,” she replied.
Your smile stretched, overtaking your face. She shook her head, but her own lips were tipped up in a small smile. Tugging out of your hold, she slipped from between you and the counter, pulling her shirt over her head. Your mouth grew dry, eyes sweeping over her naked body. The bruises you’d left littering her skin had you shivering with pleasure.
“Come along, pet,” she said, walking out of the kitchen, “it’s time for your oral exam.”
You chased after her, not willing to be late to that particular exam.
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verstappen-cult · 10 months ago
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Hi Gwen, I really like your story. Can I ask for a lestappen x reader where they are going out together (shopping or date). Then when Max and Charles leave them for a bit, someone tries to hit on the reader but she's oblivious about it? Thank you!
“You think this would fit me?” You ask Charles, blue dress in hand. “But I want it in green.” Your boyfriend didn’t even have a chance to answer before you turned around, looking for something else. 
“I like how blue looks on you.” Max says, sitting next to an annoyed Charles. 
You’ve been shopping for the upcoming trip you’ve planned for summer break. They were excited to come with you at first, even though you insisted on going alone, so now they have a choice but to follow you around until you find everything you need. 
“That’s just because blue it’s your team color.” Charles huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “She looks prettier in Ferrari red.”
“Can you stop being so whiny?” Charles sticks his tongue out, leaning against Max. 
“Why don’t we go for something to drink, uh?” Your boyfriend says, wrapping an arm around the Monégasque’s shoulders. “Will you be okay?” 
“Can you get me an Iced Latte, please?” You look at him beneath your lashes as he stands up, dragging Charles with him. 
You decide to try on the blue dress just because Max likes it when you wear blue clothes. On your way to the changing room you spot a red strapless top and you grab it too. Making them happy is that easy. 
In the end, you like both items and there’s no doubt you’ll buy them, but you still want the dress in green. As you get out of the changing room, wanting to ask a saleslady if they have it in other colors, you bump into a young man which causes you to drop the clothes onto the floor. 
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you.” You’re quick to apologize. The stranger looks up from his cellphone, brows furrowed and jaw clenched. However, once he sees you, his expression relaxes and a smirk appears on his face. 
“Don’t worry. It was my fault, I was looking at my phone.” He crouches down in front of you, picking up the clothes. He scans the items very carefully before giving them back to you. “Good choice.”
“Thank you, I really like them.” You say, happy that someone thinks they’re pretty. Maybe he’ll buy them for his girlfriend too. 
“I’m sure you’ll look hot in that dress.”
You don’t know what to say or how to react. Most times you ignore what men say to you, other times you thank them when they have good intentions or you know they're fans that respect you. But this man doesn't give you good vibes, not with the way he’s smiling at you with his eyes running over every curve in your body. 
He takes a step closer, and you want to throw up. What kind of perfume is he using? 
“You can use it on our date.” He says it with so much confidence you want to laugh in his face, but you don’t do it because that wouldn’t be very wise of you. However, you still hear someone laughing behind you. 
You don’t have to turn around to see who it is, you can recognize that laugh anywhere. 
“Who told you she wants to go out with you?” You feel Max’s warm body behind you, his hand finding your waist in a very possessive way.
Charles keeps laughing, which is drawing the attention of everyone in the shop. 
“I’m sorry,” He says, wiping imaginary tears as he stands next to Max. “Does that really work out for you? Because it’s awful, mate.”
“You should really think about changing the way you approach women.” Max’s voice is dripping with venom, and you instinctively lean closer. 
“Waiting for them outside the changing room, really? Pretending to not see her?” Charles is not laughing anymore, he looks pissed. “She’s taken, by the way.”
The stranger looks between Charles and Max, recognition crossing his features. 
“I’m so sorry!” He apologizes, his whole attitude changing in a minute. “I wouldn’t dream of hitting on your girlfriend. Never.”
Max laughs, but ignores him. “Are you done, schatje?” 
“Yes, but I was trying to ask someone if they have it in green when… well.”
“Let’s go see, then.” Max gives you a pat on your ass, making you giggle and walk away from the still very shocked guy. 
“Oh,” Charles says, making you and Max turn around to see what’s happening. He’s a few feet away from the stranger, walking in your direction but looking at the man standing right where you left him. “Think about changing your perfume too. You stink.”
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luvv4j4ybe11 · 4 months ago
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can u write abt vi fucking u with her strap after a hard day and shehada lot of pent up energy 🙏🙏
oh js the idea of this has me SOAKEDD nonnie tysm for sending this in🫦💕!!
𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔~ 𝒑 𝒊𝒏 𝒗 (𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒓𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒃𝒄 𝒊𝒕𝒔 𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒆..𝒔𝒐🤷🏽‍♀️), 𝒏𝒊𝒑𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚, 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏, 𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒔𝒍𝒐𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝒔𝒆𝒙(𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒆🥰), 𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒗𝒊’𝒔 𝒂 𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒂 𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒕, 𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒂𝒔𝒎 𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒂𝒍(𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒏𝒕) , 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒔 𝒊𝒕! 𝑳𝒎𝒌 𝒊𝒇 𝑰 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒚. 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚 𝒑𝒆𝒘𝒌𝒊𝒆𝒔💕
𝑫𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔~✧ @h-aewo , @dollywons
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You don’t know how you got here, that’s a lie;you know exactly how you got here. You gave her attitude because you were having a horrible day yourself, and her short, dismissive behavior was pissing you off; which made you ask complain to her if she was okay, which got you a stiff “yes” in reply-that immediately making you go silent with agitation. You tried to carry on with your usual talk, but all you got was the same dry, and honestly rude responses that made your blood boil finally boil over after the day you’ve had. “Vi, the fuck is your problem? I get it if you don’t wanna talk about it but that doesn’t give you the right to be a dick to me just because you’re upset about something,I’m already tense and pissed off enough from the day I’ve had, and I don’t need you adding the shit covered cherry on top” you didn’t bother to hide the attitude in your tone, causing her to look at you with a faint smile on her face, the realization of you both basically having the same shitty day; but anger still apparent as she walked towards you and through your body over her broad shoulder effortlessly as if you were as light as a pillow. “Just gives me an excuse to fuck all that right outta ya, ain’t that right, doll?,” she gives a harsh smack on your ass, earning a yelp out of you, “fuck you! You’re just pissing me off more!, now put me down you dipshit!” You protest, but they just go through one ear and out the other for vi as she tosses you on the bed, grabbing your face so firmly with her hand it makes you whimper quietly , “now what we’re not gonna do is talk to me like that as if I won’t fuck every single negative thought of me out of your mind until all you can think about is how sloppy I’m making this pretty pussy get for me” she warned, cupping your clothed heat with her veiny hand and pressing her palm directly into your clit, making you squirm instantly from the pressure.
A broken plea of “more..” dares to escape from your lips, but you quickly stifle it by sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, nearly drawing blood. She giggles amusingly at this, finding it so entertaining that your body gives into her touch so easily, yet your mind remained determined to stay mad at her. Her hand travels from your jaw to your throat, just lightly holding it, but the touch is enough to make your body shiver and hips grind slightly into her hand to get some type of relief on your poor, throbbing clit. “If you want something, all you have to do is just ask, cupcake, no need to be greedy,” she chastises as she takes her hand away from your cunt, placing it on the sensitive skin of your inner thigh to rub, squeeze, and pinch the flesh to her desire.
The subtle touches were enough to drive you crazy, knowin damn well it wasn’t enough to get you off, but you were determined to keep your anger apparent. “Shouldn’t have to after the way you were talkin t’me” you huff, glaring at her as if she’d runaway scared from your stare, but she held it confidently with her own, “oh really? Alrigh’ then” she replied in a tone that told you she was more than happy to take on your challenge, damn near ripping off your shorts and panties before shoving her thumb against your clit and rubbing it in quick circles, the sudden sensation making you moan much louder than you intended. She chuckled, slipping a long, slender finger into you and pounding directly into your sweet spot, evoking lewd squelching sounds from your drooling pussy, “you sure you still mad at me, princess? Cause’ this pussy sure ain’t, practically begging for me to fill her up with the way she’s sucking my finger in.” Her words make another cry of pleasure escape your lips, your high quickly approaching you, making her pace increase even more. “You close, princess?” She coos, earning a loud, breathless “uh-huh!,” from you, “good.” She smirks as she takes her hands off of you, you whine at the loss of what could’ve been the most needed orgasm ever before looking at her with an obvious irritation in your face.
“Awee, what? Is my girl mad because she didn’t get to cum? Poor thing..” a feign expression of sympathy on her face and laced in her tone as she walked to the side of the bed to retrieve the clear, 8inch, strap- one she only used when she was dead set on genuinely fucking you stupid. She strips quickly and puts the strap on with the same speed, the sight of it making your legs twitch shut, intimidated by the girth and length of her; the sight makes her tut at you with a teasing smirk painted on her pretty face. “Don’t look so scared, baby, you act like you haven’t taken this so well in the past,”she coos at you, placing both of her hands on your thighs and rubbing smoothing patterns on them, ones that soothe you and allow your eyes to trail along her figure; her abs basically glistening under the cool lighting in your room, pierced tittes sitting oh so prettily you felt yourself leaking at the sight, and to top it off, every subtle movement she’d make, her muscles would flex and twitch. It was driving you further into your crazed, angry, lustful state, and she knew it too.
Your legs spread subconsciously the more you oogled at her, giving her of the delicious sight of your pussy leaking so much that there was a little puddle of your slick under you. Fuck. Now that was where she lost it.
Which is how you got to where you are now; being absolutely pounded into an oblivion and used as a stress reliever by your extremely pent up girlfriend. Your legs were pressed against your chest, allowing vi to push right against your sweetspot, pulling orgasm after brain melting orgasm out of you until you had tears of overstimulation burning in your eyes, “hah~ah!, v-vi, plea-se! Too-oo mu-ah~ch” your voice bounced from her thrust, but your pleas were completely ignored as she continued to toy with your sensitive, lovebitten tits. “But you’re being such a good girl for me, why would I wanna stop?” She asked rhetorically in a sultry tone, her lips lingering on that tender spot on your neck before sinking her teeth into the soft flesh, making you gush around her for..what? The 6th time tonight?
Your hands squeeze hers desperately, searching for some type of grounding as she continues to rearrange your guts like it was her job and to her it definitely was , more tears fell from your eyes, ones that she eagerly kissed away as her hips stuttered, one of her many signals that told you she was close. Hungrily, you bring her face to yours and kiss her, untangling your hand from hers to roll her pierced nipple between your pointer and them; a pretty moan coming from her at the feeling. A drunken smirk spreads across your face at her sound, immediately making you trail your other hand to her other sensitive bud to roll and tug at it, “f~fuck, feels s’good, babygirl,” her thrust got sloppier and shorter, now hitting your g-spot fimer and harder than she was before. You gasp at the strong source of pleasure, hands reflexively squeezing her nipples tighter as her thrusts never faltered.
You break your left hand away from her boob to grab the nape of her neck, forcing her into a messy kiss as both of your swallow each others moans and whimpers eagerly. Your hand trails down her nape to rest on your shoulder blades, nails digging into her tough flesh as you felt your orgasm creeping up on you, vi not being to far behind. You could tell she was still trying to hold out though, but you weren’t having that. Slowly, you stratch your nails down the muscle of her back, your other hand still firmly rolling and tugging at her nipples, “don’t hold it, baby, just let go. Wanna hear you cum for me,” you coo, trailing wet, loving kisses on the tender flesh of her neck, immediately sending her into an orbit of pleasure. She tried to babble out some kind of response, but all that came out was moans as she hurdled off the edge. Hard. It was like you had complete control of her body, she didn’t mean to cum before you, and again, tried to babble out some kind of breathless apology but she was quickly shushed and flipped over onto her back, her strap being discarded somewhere on the floor before your fingers were slowly massaging her clit. “You did me a favor by fucking the attitude out of me, so now it’s your turn.”
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𝐀/𝐍~ so like..sorry if this is complete dewkie butt, I kept writing this and leaving it because school was kickin my ass with work (as usual☺️!) so my apologies pewkies😔 but if you liked this then THANK GAWD HOLEY SHEIT!! I appreciate it☺️🫶🏽 i have a lo’ak drabble being dropped soon so stay tuned for that if you’re interested, other than that tho i love you guys, and stay safe and hydrated.
𝐃𝐮𝐜𝐞𝐬🫶🏽,
𝐋𝐮𝐯𝐯𝟒𝐣𝟒𝐲𝐛𝐞𝟏𝟏
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𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭~ @annabannnananana , @mj678 , @myletitiawright
(𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 @ 𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬! 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐠𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐠𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞, 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐣𝐬 𝐝𝐦 𝐦𝐞💕)
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