#i never want anything to be SMART SHUFFLE go AWAY be STUPID SHUFFLE PLEASE

[bitegore]

spotify smart shuffle i literally hate you so muchhhhhh stop doing this to meeeeeeeeeee

[cupidscrule]

OLD ENOUGH 2 DIE

Re4 Leon X Fem! Reader

Tw - drug trafficking

P in v, finger stuff

You were a spoiled bitch, had daddy's money to take care of anything.

"Daddy - pleasee com'on It's only 2k, can you transfer the money? Yay! Thank you daddy mwah"

Spoken into the brand new phone you got, you had money, had everything. Never went a day without living like a queen, never understanding poor people 'ugh why can't you just work harder? Honestly it's not that hard ' said to thousands of waiters at 5 star restaurants. Never even tipped em, throughout high school you were a dick to everyone, if they weren't hot and skinny. Classic mean girl to be honest

"Hunny, absolutely not. We can all tell that bag is a fake, it's embarrassing.. you should honestly thank me for telling you how stupid you look.."

"Oh! That's not.."

"Babes, you know I want the best for you so.. that dress really makes you look fat, maybe wear something more flattering?"

Backhanded comments were your LIFE, had every privilege, didn't even try in school. Just sucked and fucked your way to A's, but you were hot so it's fine! It doesn't matter if the pretty girl makes the slug kill herself? She's all innocent, everyone who tried to defend you was hilarious. "Oh she's just insecure!!" Bullshit, no you weren't? You just hated all those chicks. Rightfully so, they were all annoying whores.

You were just treating them how they deserved to be, not like any of them had a future besides sucking dick.. you're different though, that's what you always told yourself. Sure you dressed like a skimpy bimbo, fucked the sports team twice. But you're different, an exception to the slut rule..

"Daddy can you send me an Uber? I don't have enough money in my account. Dad I said I spent it all shopping- no dad please- it's gonna be night soon, I NEED an Uber. Daddy? UGH" stomping your feet, making your own little hissy fit in the middle of the street, clutching the little pink fur purse you bought, looking around at all the people staring at you. Pout on your face and brows furrowed, throwing your phone on the ground and walking away, you were a good half hour away from home, and these boots were NOT made for walking. They were brand new plus, wouldn't wanna ruin em. And to top it all off it was freezing cold, like -15C. All you had was a white fur coat belted around your waist, with stupid little ear muffs. Couldn't even find matching gloves, freezing cold at Six PM alone on a Friday night, with no phone .. what a perfect day!

Stomping off not really knowin' where you're going isn't that smart though, but you were never a smart kid. Never did drugs or anything like that, just not very smart in the real world. Couldn't read signs, or fight, or have basic common courtesy. Shuffling your feet through the snow for god knows how long till tik street lights flicker on. By this point you got no clue where you are, started off downtown now you were in the middle of fucktown with nothing you recognize, see this is why daddy should've moved to a smaller town after The business deal, that way cops wouldn't be on his ass and you would know where you're going. Sure DC was the place to be! Except for the fact it's the stupidest place to be if your main source of income is drug trafficking, you didn't care where daddy got his money as long as you got it in the end. But what you did care about is when daddy refused to be smart about his shit. Like what are you on if you think moving to Washington is a good idea after makin' a major deal, you're dad was important. He was wanted for a lot. But you didn't do anything wrong, you're innocent! So you never cared about what would happen if dear old dad got caught, he could buy himself out of trouble just like before.

Still aimlessly walking up and down the streets trying to find anything identifiable when you hear footsteps behind you.

Turning your head to see who's behind you, and it's a taller man with blonde hair, it's getting dark so there's not that many details. He's wearing  really weird clothes, just staring at you, his eyes narrow and look at your face in the flickering lights before opening his dumb mouth

"Listen, we can make this easy kid. Just come with me back-" he started speaking, stepping towards you. Immediate nope, fuck that, the police actually caught the hell on? AND THEY WENT AFTER YOU? Worst day ever, dropping your bag and making a run for it just like daddy said.

"Sweetie, if the cops ever find you, and are onto you. Run. And run far."

Never actually thought what that old sack of shit said mattered, I mean nothing bad ever happens to you.

Running around corners, frantically, heart racing, why, why, why, why. You had NOTHING to do with daddies private shit, if anything you're a victim to his crimes.. yeah victim! I mean dad was a creep sometimes, huggin' a bit too tight, grabbing your ass like you were his girlfriend. Even though mom was dead for a long time, he never got over her and I guess you looked closest to her?

Running into an alley way, like any smart fucken girl would, totally. There was a chain link fence, then what looked like a field leading to someone's apartment building? Pretty sure someone from school lives there, yeah Milo in Chem 100% does he's the welfare kid and this was the poor side of town. Bingo.

"Ah- not so fast"

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Don't even reply, no don't reply, you have about five fucking seconds before getting dragged away and everything taken away. Pathetically trying to pull yourself over the fence, y'know if you really tried you could do it. But you don't try. Feeling a hand grab your ankle, pull you down ripping your cute coat, if you're gonna kidnap a girl at least keep her shit nice damn. He throws you down, trying to scramble up only to get immediately knocked out and your unconscious body dragged away.

"fuck" you mutter under your breath, opening your eyes drowsy, vision kinda blurry but you can see everything, trying to move your hands and legs but then feeling the rough rope press against your sensitive skin, looked like you were an old ass storage unit, some boxes piled up in the corner, walls looked rusty. A table in the middle of the small room, and a guy just standing there. Few seconds later lights flicker on, they're dim but you can now see detail in everything. That includes your unknown kidnapper? Or agent? Or cop? He wasn't really dressed like any of them, wore a dark blue t shirt,tactical black pants, and black gloves. Not sure what profession of people wear that, plus he was too cute to just be a random kidnapper, pretty blonde hair with gorgeous blue eyes and a muscular figure.

"Oh you're awake, huh thought that would've taken longer." He says eyes darting towards you as you try to wiggle out of the rope, it's tight. "Who the fuck are you? Where's my dad! Do you even know who I am?" You say acting as if your dad was a fucken celebrity and not a filthy pig. You knew you were in a deep fucken mess, so when in doubt, lie. Lie about everything, you're innocent, no Mr. officer my father would never! You have the wrong girl I'm just a highschooler !

"Don't play dumb missy, cut the shit. Let's get to the point, I know your dear old dad is involved with a lot. And so are you, aren't you? So why don't you tell me where dad does all his importing and where he gets the shit from, hm?" He says coldly, almost as if he's talkin' to a little kid. "I don't know what you're talking about. Just let me go!" You whine staring up at him, he's just standing infront of you arms crossed over his chest, getting a better look at him, he wasn't just a random guy, he looked important. Didn't know why though, a sigh comes from his lips as he blinks slowly at you, "honey, I really don't wanna get messy. Just hand over the information and you can go back to doin' whatcha do, I don't care." He said, arms still folded over his chest, he was a good fifteenth-ish feet away from you and your chair, you grit you teeth, brows furrowed as you stare at this guy. Pissed off, "don't call me honey, I told you I don't know what you're talkin' about." You mutter to him, pout on your stupid lips.

"You're a bad actor, it's really obviously. Plus you're on file, darling. Now can you just tell me the important stuff?" He said putting on an obvious fake begging face, puppy eyes and all. You were trying to get untied, only getting rope burns on your wrists, squirming and whimpering in that tiny wood chair. "I didn't do anything, I don't know what daddy does to get money.. talk to him not me" you say batting your lashes, pushing your face out towards him, he takes another step forward. Putting his arms down, lookin' at you like you were some thing he found on the bottom of his shoe. "You have the face of a pornstar" he says out of the fucking blue, such a handsome voice but such a shocking thing. "I'm in highschool, pig." You scrowl jaw clenched, tone change from 'inccocent little girl' to 'raging bitch.' like a public appearance vs how you act in private. "Mm, well you're eighteen now correct? Nothing's wrong with that now is it? And it's just a fact, you've fucked and sucked your way up. No way someone like you is about to pass, in truth you're a pathetic attempt at human and a failure of whatever we can even call your sorry ass. But at least you make up with it for a massive rack and cute face"

Ouch. Okay.

Words didn't even form, jaw dropped, eyes shocked. Honestly not even knowing what to say, what do you say to that? 'oh yes sorry Mr man you're right I'm a dirty slut!" Absolutely not, because you aren't. "So, you gonna answer me?" He says, he's just a few feet away from you, leaning down to your whiny ass face. A small smirk on his dumb lips,

"fuck. you."

He just looked blankly, at you, almost dumbfounded by how much of a fucking MORAN you were, tied up in small place, no one knows where you are, daddies house is probobly getting raided and he's waiting in jail or has twenty bullets through his back while you're agonizing this man five times your size whom you are at HIS mercy. But hey, it could be worse. He could've killed ya already, he obviously needs you alive. So you're safe, for now. He cups your chin making you look at him directly

"You're such a dumb whore." He whispers letting you go, can't lie he's hot, feeling a throb in your legs, lump in your throat and pushing your thighs together, dumb little slut. Just fuck my brains out already oh my god.

"Seriously? Getting horny in an integration, fuck little missy you really are a freak." He says laughing to himself looking at your pathetic bitch display, all dumb n needy, breath rasp and heavy, feeling an emptiness only filled by fat dick, staring at the man, didn't even know his name, never told ya. He gets close up again and sticks to fingers in your mouth, pushing them back. Your tounge running around them, sucking, like a good little fuck doll. Sloppy and all wet, pulling his index and middle finger out your mouth saliva dripping off of it, stupid ass smirk on his face rubbing his fingers down your chest, over your pretty white shirt and over your tits. You're still bound to the chair, wanting nothin' more then to get bent over and fucked till you can't even remember daddies in trouble, this entire moment is just pure lust. He gives you the look like, 'is this what you really want? Seriously?' and of course you reply with a

"I'll answer you if you give me what I want."

That's all it took for him to untie you from that god forsaken chair, just to tie your hands together again. Push you onto your back, pressing your thighs apart. You aren't wearing much, your coat was gone lost somewhere in the ally, only wearing black shorts and a white top. Stupid for the middle of winter but it was hot.   He takes out a small switch blade from his pocket cutting open your shirt and shorts off, pornstar tits popping out in a little pink bra also exposing the matching panties. Even all finished off with a cute little bow, unzipping his pants his dick springs out, your pussy THROBBING, aching. He cuts the shit off and pushes you firmly on the ground, your arms still bound above your head, his chest just over yours pushing into you, stretching you open. His tip resting nicely in your cervix when he starts rockin' back and forth. Hitting you all the good spots, moaning n' a mess, hes pretty much silent groaning here and there when he speeds up, lifting you up slightly, more like your at an angel on him, he grips your back and rocks you back and forth, feeling your walls tighten  around him feeling all numb and high, cumming over his fat cock, his pull out games fast. Just as you finish he pushes you back on your neck and unloads on your stupid face, 'before grabbing you lazily and pressing your body against his, you were all dumb and covered in your own mess. But he was gentle with you, soft, he was nice. Nicer then anyone else had been, softer then anyone else despite fucking your brains out. His breath was heavy as he held onto you, chest to chest. Can't tell if he's doing' this cause he feels some sort of pity for you but fuck if you care it's comforting, you felt all warm and fuzzy. Weird.

"Please don't leave me here."

"I know you're eighteen, years old, but you're still old enough to die. Right here. Right now. So talk"

[hxney-lemcn]

CAN I JUST SAY HOW ADORABLE AND SAD “ I WISH” WAS LIKE BESTIE I NEED A PART TWO BEFORE I START SOBBING 😫😫

Also can I just say how perfect the fanfic is with the song the whole vibe is just chef kiss

Summery: Reader needs help and asks their cute neighbor for help.

tw: None

a/n: AHHH Thank you so much!! I'm glad someone enjoyed it so much! Here's the part 2 <3

wc: 0.9k

Master List | Part One

I always noticed the way my neighbor always shied away from me in the hallway whenever we passed. I understood his plight, I wasn't one for social interaction either.

So imagine how I felt when I had to knock on his door. I felt uncomfortable standing in the dimly lit hallway, the only noise being me shuffling on my feet anxiously. I didn't want to be annoying, but I needed someone's help with my computer. I didn't know if he knew anything about electronics, but I'd rather seek someone else's opinion before spending $500 and them just telling me I need a new computer.

Not hearing a noise on the other side, I felt my anxiety rise. He's probably not even home and I'm making a fool of myself. The urge to turn around and just go back to my own apartment was high. My problem wasn't even that desperate. Maybe I should just bite the bullet and bring my computer to a repair place.

But against my better judgement, I decided to knock softly once again while also calling out a small 'hello'.

Suddenly, the sound of rustling was heard on the other side. I felt my breath hitch as the realization of having to speak to a stranger set in. I started to fidget with my hands as the sounds of locks sliding and clicking sounded out. Finally, the door opened, just enough to show his head.

I felt myself shy under his stare. He was honestly really cute. In a nerdy dork way. His clear framed glasses slightly hid his green eyes and a navy blue crewneck covered his hunched frame. He was looking at me with a confused expression so I was quick to introduce myself.

"Hi!" I said quickly, trying to focus on my hands so I wouldn't be so nervous. "Uh, I'm your neighbor, my names (y/n). I was wondering if you could help me out with something?"

I glanced up to see his reaction and he just looked shocked. Almost like he couldn't believe what was going on.

The silence started to get too much for me, but before I could say something he responded, "O-oh, right. I'm...I'm Edward. What was it you needed help with?" His eyes darted around as he spoke, like he wasn't sure where to look.

It seemed like we both had social problems.

"My computer," I responded with a small smile. "I don't know what's wrong with it and I saw you around...oh my god I don't mean to sound rude or anything. You just look smart so I assumed that you might know something."

Edward giggled lightly under his breath and I felt dread creep up into my soul. I should never had knocked on his door and talked to him. Now he thinks I'm a stupid, or just bad person for assuming things-

"I do know some things," He mumbled out. "I took some computer classes in college."

"...so you'd be willing to check it out?" I asked hopefully. "Are you free now? I-I can pay you too..."

"Yeah, I can come check it out now," He agreed. "And you don't need to pay me, just give me a second."

After a few minutes he came back out and I brought him to my apartment. Letting him in I brought him over to my laptop.

"This is it," I said. "It just keeps...freezing? I don't know," I said trying to explain the problem. "You can go on it and see, I've tried restarting it and stuff but nothings worked."

He nodded and immediately started working on it. I felt awkward just standing there so I asked, "Did you want something to drink? Maybe eat? I don't have much though."

Looking at me with a slight blush Edward replied, "Just water please, thanks."

~~~~

I couldn't get him off my mind. He was so nice and he actually solved the problem! I felt bad that I gained more out of the interaction than he did (well not according to Edward but (y/n) doesn't know that).

So I decided to make thank you cookies. I'm not the best at baking, but not the worst either. Eating a cookie, I decided they were actually really good.

So, I took off towards Edward's apartment. I wore something slightly nicer than I normally do, wanting to slightly impress him. Making sure the plate of cookies was safely balanced in one hand, I knocked on the door. This time, the door was opened almost immediately. I was surprised to see Edward looking at me almost expectantly.

"H-hi..." I stuttered out slightly, and then berating myself inside for doing so. I mean come on! I never stuttered.

"Hi," He replied breathlessly.

"I made you some cookies," I said holding the plate out to him. "As a thank you for fixing my computers."

His gaze kept flickering from me to the plate, in awe of the situation.

"I tried a cookie myself," I said nervously. "I think they turned out well, I don't really bake too often."

"Thank you," He finally said, gently taking the plate. "It means a lot."

A giant smile unconsciously spread across my face in relief, "I'm glad! I hope you like them."

I awkwardly nodded at him, before turning to leave.

"W-wait," I heard Ed call out. Turning to face him, he continued, "W-would you like to share these? Maybe watch something on tv?"

I felt myself become giddy as I agreed.

Little did I know that Eddie's distant daydreams were becoming a reality.

[reidgraygubler]

carolina (spencer reid/reader

Title: Carolina

Request: no, but it was written for @spencerreidbingo​

Couple: spencer reid/fem!reader

Category: smut/angst, with a tiny bit of fluff

Content Warning: SEXUAL CONTENT (praise kink, mild-innocence kink, daddy kink, fingering, oral (male & female), penetrative sex, unprotected sex/cream pie, grinding/petting, hairpulling, breathplay, multiple orgasms, possessive kink, orgasm denial), partying, drinking, swearing, large age gap (between two consenting adults), professor/student, post prison!reid, quick mentions of drinks being drugged (but not actually happening) (if I missed anything, please let me know)

Word Count: 9,064

Summary: Spencer thinks his peer is innocent. But little does he not, she’s not as innocent as he thinks.

A/N: it’s based on carolina by harry styles, bc im a sucker for a good harry song. This was written for @spencerreidbingo​ (i’ll have a separate post with more about that). this takes up the breathplay square on my card (pictured below). This is also the first time im writing a blowjob scene, so im really sorry if it’s not good. i also didn’t have a beta for this, so im kinda blindly posting this. and, lastly, this is a lot longer than i intended. i didn’t mean for it to get this long… it’s just a bunch of words my brain wouldn’t stop saying until i wrote it... i seriously hope you all enjoy this. thank you all for the love and support! check out my masterlist!

~*~* THIS DOES CONTAIN 18+ CONTENT!! *~*~

{***}{***}{***}

I kept my eyes low as I stepped into the lecture hall 5 minutes before anyone else. The professor was writing something on the chalkboard, so his back was facing the room. 

“Uh, hello,” I spoked, stepping closer to his desk. He jumped slightly and dropped his chalk at the sound of my voice. I would have expected him to know students would be showing up earlier, considering it was the start of a new semester. And, I honestly would have assumed he was told a new student was coming. That’s not my job. 

“Oh, sorry,” he turned around to face me. I smiled softly, watching

as he bent down to pick up the chalk. I cocked my head to the side, watching his backside as he stood back up. He pushed his hair away from his face. “You must be the new transfer,” he asked, resting the chalk on his desk, beside a pile of pens.

“Yep. That’s me…” I smiled, looking up at his face, keeping myself from further checking him out. I quickly offered my hand and gave him my name. “I know I’m early. I figured I’d get the syllabus from you now instead of after class,” I nodded as I adjusted my grip on my bag. He stared at me for a moment, his eyes lingering on my face and then down my body, and that moment felt like an eternity. I shouldn’t be mad or frustrated with him. I basically did the same thing to him moments ago.

 I cleared my throat to get his attention once again. “The, uh… The syllabus?” I asked as my smile faltered slightly. He looked at me before looking at the pile of papers on his desk before quickly moving.

“Right, right, sorry,” he muttered as he began shuffling through the piles of paper on his desk. “Um, here you are,” he looked back up at me as he handed me a small packet. I looked at it for a moment before looking back up at the teacher.

“Perfect, thank you,” I spoke, my words kind of lingering because he never actually gave me his name. 

“Right, sorry, Spencer. Spencer Reid. I won’t be a drill sergeant about the whole Mr., Dr., Professor. You can call me whatever you want,” he smiled as he placed his hands on the back of his chair. I held back my laughter and the wildly inappropriate joke that I wanted to make.

“Well, Professor Reid,” I smiled as I looked down at my watch, “I better go find a seat before your class starts. I can’t wait to be in your class,” I looked up at him before turning to find a spot. When I sat down, Spencer looked at me with a smile, before going back to writing on the chalkboard. 

I quickly and quietly pulled out my books and pens as the other people in the class filed in and took their seats. Spencer quickly finished writing on the board before turning around to greet the class. And, even as he spoke to the class, and looked around at each of the other students, his eyes always landed on me, lingering for a moment before going elsewhere.

{***}{***}{***}

Five months. Five months into being in Spencer Reid’s class, and I have been suffering. I’m not a new student anymore. But the only friendship I’ve made is with my fucking professor, and there’s a certain level of tension between us. That tension was probably thanks to him staring at me during lectures, and me teasing him while he taught. It wasn’t too bothersome, but I definitely wanted something to happen. Unfortunately for me, I don’t think anything will happen. 

So, can someone please tell me why I invited Spencer over to help me study for a test? It’s a stupid question too, that I already figured out the answer to… I even finished studying for the day, and I’m going to a stupid party. Maybe I could get him to go with… And maybe, just maybe, something could happen.

I nearly jumped when there was a knock on the door. It’s not that I forgot he was coming over. It’s that I was so wrapped up in doing my makeup and forgot what time it was. My mascara almost smudged when I jumped back. Thank God it didn’t smudge too terribly. 

I grabbed my shirt off the counter and threw it on (not bothering to zip it), before running to the front door. I smoothed out my skirt before pulling the door open. And, there stood Spencer. 

“Hope I’m not too late,” he looked down at me and smiled. Although, his smile didn’t stay for too long when he saw what I was wearing. He wasn’t disappointed though, no. He was… He clearly liked what he saw, I’ll just put it that way.

“Oh! Thanks for coming over, but I actually figured it out. I should’ve called you,” I looked up at Spencer as he stepped into my apartment. I struggled to zip the back of my blouse as I walked towards my room. I looked back over my shoulder and noted that Spencer was, indeed, still following me. “Can you zip me up,” I stopped in my tracks before giving up on zipping my blouse. It was a black crop top that paired well with the pale pink tennis skirt. 

“Where… Where exactly are you going tonight? It’s a, uh, it’s a school night,” he asked as he lifted his hands. The cool metal of the zipper pressed against my back, causing a shiver to go through my spine.

“Uh, there’s this party,” I answered, stepping away from him and towards the bathroom, “Thought I’d go,” I looked at him in the mirror. Spencer looked around the bathroom, at the messy mess I had made on my counter. Different pallets of makeup and tools were strewn about, a varying amount of hair care products tossed here and there. It honestly looked like a bathroom of a pageant queen, and not a 20-something-year-old. In my defense, I had to dress to impress someone here in this stupid university. 

“Is that, uh… Is that smart?” Spencer asked, leaning against the door jamb. I looked up at him as I put on some luxurious red lipstick. I smiled as I looked at him.

“I think it is,” I laughed as I picked up something else and turned to look at him, “You wanna come? I wasn’t invited,” I smiled wickedly as I looked at him. His face paled two shades as he looked at me. “Oh, c’mon, Professor, no one will know us there, and I can assure you, no one will even see us,” I looked up at him as I readjusted his tie. He looked down at me before swallowing roughly. 

“I don-”

“I do need a designated driver,” I spoke before cutting him off. I walked past him and towards my room. Part of me wondered what he was thinking as I so rudely rushed past him, or cut him off, or whatever I was doing. I wished I could hear his thoughts. I wondered if they consisted of “The mouth on that girl,” or, “I should punish her for the way she’s acting,” or, my personal favorite, “I should put that mouth to good use,” 

“How old are you again?” Spencer asked once I sat down on my bed. I looked up at him as I slipped my shoes on.

“22,” I smiled and stood up, “Why, is that important?” I smiled as I grabbed my coat and purse.

“Couldn’t remember,” he lied. We both knew he was lying. He even knew that too. Freaking walking computer is what he is. There's no way he conveniently forgot how old I was. “Are you going to be out late?”

“Why? It’s not like you’re my dad or anything?” I laughed, leading him back to the front door of the house. “I don’t plan on being out too late. I know there’s class tomorrow,” I shrugged as I walked towards his car. 

We both stayed silent as he drove with the directions I was quietly giving him. I was pleasantly happy that we were both quiet, but what I hated was the sudden awkward sexual tension that was between us. If he didn’t have this… domineering personality over me there probably wouldn’t be this tension between us.

“Are you going to come with me?” I looked up at him as I unbuckled. He glanced over at me with slight disappointment in his eye. I felt a little bad, but I really wanted to go to this party, I wasn’t going to let my professor’s disappointment stop me. “Please,” I whispered. He sighed before unbuckling himself. I had to force myself to not verbally giggle with excitement before slipping out of the car. Spencer looked down at me as I twisted my hips to swish my skirt. I smiled as I entertained myself. I'm sure if I wasn't watching my skirt, I would have been staring at him, giving myself away. 

“Steps,” Spencer muttered as we got closer to the porch. I looked up at him before looking towards the small staircase. I looked up at Spencer with a smile. He glanced back down at me, a worried crease in his brow. I looked down at my skirt and smoothed it out. I looked at the door as we stood close to it, I contemplated knocking.

  “So, you weren’t invited to this party?” Spencer asked, looking down at me. His voice stopped me from knocking. Instead, I looked up at him and smiled back up at him. He raised an eyebrow as he waited for an answer from me. My smile grew playful as I looked back at the door, raising my fist to knock on it. “No answer?” he asked, still waiting for my answer.

“Oh, please, Professor Reid, I can get into the hottest parties in LA without an invitation,” I smiled at him. That was a little bit of an over-exaggeration. Most college parties I could get into. But not LA parties. Someday though… 

The door swung open, and we were instantly met with loud music blaring through a speaker somewhere in the house. People’s voices and chatter carried all throughout the house, coming through the various rooms and clusters around. “Are you coming in to babysit me? Or, are you going to go back to your car to read the science of the mathematical phenomenon,” I looked up at him, offering my hand to him. I wasn’t exactly sure if that was a real book or not, but I wouldn’t put it past Spencer to read. 

“I’m not babysitting you,” he corrected as he looked down at me with a disappointed look in his eye. I smiled and rolled my eyes. 

“Are you going to come in and watch me drink and party and have fun, Professor… Or, are you going to go back to your car and read your silly little book,” I looked down at my hand, silently telling him to take my hand and come in with me. 

“I, uh, I don’t think it’s exactly in the rules for a professor to party, let alone drink, with their students,” Spencer spoke before looking down at my hand. I dropped my shoulders and looked up at him.

“Fine then… Suit yourself,” I turned around and basically skipped into the house, leaving the door open for him. I made my way towards the loud kitchen and grabbed for a cup and bottle of whatever booze was nearby. I blindly grabbed for a bottle of Grey Goose and dumped it into the cup, no mixer, no chaser. 

“First off,” Spencer’s voice came from beside me. I looked up at him and took a long sip of vodka. “You shouldn’t be taking drinks from people at a party,” he spoke, taking the cup from me. I looked up at him, then the bottle and a new cup. I was only a little annoyed that he took my drink. 

“I… I’m young. I’m not dumb,” I grabbed a new cup and poured more vodka. I looked up at him and offered him a sip. “I know not to drink something given to me by someone I don’t know.” I scoffed before taking another long sip. I cringed a bit at how strong it was.

“Even then someone could slip something into a drink! Even if you did know them!” Spencer exclaimed, causing the surrounding people to turn and look at us. I dropped my shoulders as I looked up at him. 

“If you look around, Spencer, you’re the only person that I know. So unless you’re the one slipping something into my drink… And, as an FBI agent… I don’t think you would,” I cocked my head to my shoulder. Spencer looked at me with a raised eyebrow. “You have more to say,” I added before taking a sip of my drink.

"And, secondly, you're not as innocent as I had originally thought you were," he watched as I brought the cup of straight vodka to my lips. He looked rather unamused with my talent for drinking straight vodka.

"You thought I was innocent?" I asked, nearly sputtering the liquid with my laughter. "Please! I've never been innocent in my entire life!" I shouted over the music. He raised an eyebrow at my statement, and suddenly I had the greatest idea in the world. "But maybe, just for you, I'll be a good girl," I smiled before drinking the rest of my drink in one go. Spencer looked down at me, his lips pressed into a fine as he stared down at me. Ohh, that definitely awoken something in him. I bit back my smile with my offer. Innocent… He thinks I’m innocent. Ha! I honestly don’t remember the last time I was innocent. And, honestly, just for him… I’d be an innocent, good, little girl for Spencer Reid any day, every day even. “I can be your good, innocent little girl,” I smiled at him and cocked my head.

"I don't… I don't think that'd be… appropriate," he spoke, his words very quiet. We both knew that even though it was inappropriate, we both wanted it. We both knew what we wanted to. 

I glanced at him before pouring more drink for myself. "You should learn to pace yourself," he stated and changed the subject. He nervously looked at the bottle of vodka and then around the room at all the other people drinking. Or, he was just looking for a drink that wasn’t booze. Did he actually want to keep me safe, or was I just overreading him?     

"It's a college party, Professor! I'm not going to pace myself!" I shouted just to get his attention back to me. His head shot back down to me. The level of concern on his face only made me feel a little bad, mostly because he was concerned for me. But, he should know… This is a college party.  “Do you want some?” I asked, offering my drink to him again. I held it up to him, close to his lips. His face twisted up as soon as the scent of pure vodka hit his nose.

“No, no thanks,” he held up at hand to block the cup from his face. I pouted before bringing it to my lips. “Do you usually come to parties,” he asked, his eyes darting around the room. Part of me wondered if he wanted to continue that question with “Like this?” But,  I was too busy keeping my eyes on his face, rather than looking around the room like he was. Although, I’m sure he was used to keeping an eye on his surroundings. I’ve never been too worried about it, I probably should… But hey, you only live once. Going to college parties with your 38-year-old professor, and drinking straight vodka, and not really caring about your surroundings proves my point of YOLO.

“If I don’t have class or anything to study for… Yep,” I looked up at him with a sneaky smile. The joke with that was his particular class had a test coming up soon, and I should be studying for it. He knew that too because he just announced the test this morning. Although, he did come to my home, to help me with said test. “But, I wouldn't show up to his class hungover. It’d disappoint him too much. And, he’d care too much about me to even focus on the rest of the class,” I spoke, answering the questions he was thinking. It’s not like I’ve shown up to classes hungover before. Granted, I’ve never shown up to his class drunk or hungover. Mostly because I didn’t want to disappoint him, and only him. Anyone and everyone else can go blow themselves.

“How do you know that?” Spencer asked, looking back at me with furrowed eyebrows. I smiled and stepped closer to him.  

“How do I know what?” I cocked my head to my shoulder. I already knew what he meant by his question, but… I think teasing him and messing with him is fun. And, he knew that too.

“How do you know that you’d disappoint him?” he looked down at me, pressing his chin to his chest to get a better look at me. His hands were away from me, even though I really wanted his hands anywhere on me. I looked over at my hand and the cup I held before bringing it to my lips. I took a long sip, trying to finish the contents in one go. I tossed the cup over my shoulder and looked up at him with a lazy smile.

“Because being hungover, with the slight possibility of still being drunk, would totally disappoint him… And I would hate to disappoint him.” I whispered and shook my head. Spencer looked down at me with something in his eyes, and I loved the way he looked at me. “I told you, Professor, I’d be a good girl for you,” I cocked my head to my shoulder and smiled, “And only for you,”

“You’re drunk,” he pointed out an obvious fake statement. So, I cackled and shook my head.

“I had one drink,” I scoffed and waved off my in the air, “Most definitely not enough to get me drunk,” I flattened his tie out before gripping it tightly, “Like I said, I wouldn’t want to disappoint you,” I smiled before dropping my hand from his tie, “So, why would I show up to your class… Hungover…? I know you’d care… And I know it’d disappoint you. That’s the last thing I want to do to you,”  

Spencer’s adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed roughly. He quickly looked between me and the room, then back at me, then around the room. I faked a yawn before looking away from him.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom, okay, Professor?” I smoothed out his jacket before turning and leaving him alone in the kitchen. I smiled as I skipped away from him, my skirt swishing with my movement. I secretly hoped he’d follow me. But, a quick glance over my shoulder told me he was still in the kitchen.

However, when I finished my business and left the bathroom, Spencer was leaning against the wall right beside the door. I looked up at him and smiled. 

“Follow me,” he muttered, grasping my wrist and pulling me down the various halls and past multiple groups of people. I giggled the harder his grasp grew on me and the faster he moved. I’m happy people were too busy with themselves to notice a 30-something-year-old man was dragging a 20-something-year-old girl down the hall, to which I can assume was one of the only open bedrooms. Fuck… I hope it's a bedroom. 

He was a man on a mission. Not letting anyone get in his way. The smile that grew on my lips was pure excitement. I couldn’t help it. I’m sure we’re both getting what we wanted… I hope.

I let out an excited yelp when he shoved me into, exactly what I thought, an empty bedroom. I’m surprised he knew that there’d be an empty room. Most of them are occupied, with couples (or more) doing exactly what I hope we’re about to do. Which was fuck each other.

Spencer slammed the door shut, and quickly locked it before pushing me against it. I looked up at him and giggled like a fucking kid in a candy store. Again, I couldn’t help it. 

Spencer was quiet, which led me to be quiet. The air in between us quickly grew hot and tense and thick. I really wanted this to move faster, but I wanted him to be the one in charge. I was willing to let this be slow and let him be in charge. So, when he grabbed both my wrists and held them above my head, I smiled so hard my cheeks began to hurt.

“Tell me what you want,” Spencer’s voice was low and deep as he moved close to me. There was little to no space between us. Which left little to the imagination, for me anyway. 

I looked up at him, with the biggest doe eyes I could muster, silently telling him that I wanted the most, in the entire world, was to be on my knees, with his hand tangled in my hair, and his cock down my throat, or to be fucked so hard that I won’t be able to sit properly for several days. But, I couldn’t be that blunt. You gotta play up to that moment before you get it. I’m sure in the end though, I’ll get both things.

I swallowed roughly, trying to think of what to say, because, like I said, I can’t just be blunt yet. So, when I opened my mouth and words just came out, I was pleasantly surprised with what was said. “You’re old enough to be my father, Professor,” I smiled at him as he pinned me against the door. He pressed his hips against mine to keep me against the surface. I could feel a large bulge against my inner thigh, causing me to shiver. “Does that mean I get to call you daddy,” I whispered as I looked up at him through my eyelashes. He is the one who said I could call him whatever I wanted… And he did just ask me what I wanted, and I guess I wanted to call him ‘Daddy’. There was no guessing about him.

Okay, he wasn't exactly old enough to be my father. But he was a lot older than me. Most 20-something-year-olds aren't sleeping with men 15 years older than them… and most 20-something-year-olds aren't sleeping with their professor… I just wanted an excuse to call him 'Daddy'. And he knew that too. So, if we gave each other an excuse for that to happen, then that was all I needed.

I dropped my head to my shoulder to allow him to attack the space on my neck. He dragged his nose across my jawbone before stilling. His lips were just over my neck. As his breathing got heavier, it tickled across my skin. 

“That does have a nice ring to it,” Spencer hummed as he dropped my hands and stepped away from me. I swallowed roughly as I stared at him. I missed having his body pressed against mine, and he knew that. 

I looked at him as I brought my hands to his belt. "I thought you said this wasn't appropriate, Daddy," I whispered as I quickly undid the belt buckle, without looking. I almost couldn’t move fast enough to unbutton and zip his pants. If he wanted me to stop, he would have stopped me by now. “Can I?” I looked up at him, a plea in my eyes.

"You've changed my mind," he muttered, watching me with such close intent, “God, please keep going,” he spoke like if I did stop now he’d probably die. I looked up at him as I slipped my hand into the waistband of his boxers. He hissed as my fingers brushed against his cock. A small smile grew on my lips. 

“Didn’t take much convincing,” I smiled as my fingers wrapped around him. A small groan fell from his lips as I looked up at him. When I pulled my hand away from him not even a moment later, he looked down at me with an alarmed expression on his face. I quickly spat on my palm before sticking my hand down his pants. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted this?” I whispered as I slowly stroked up and down his length. I couldn’t believe it was actually happening. 

“I’ve wanted this since you stepped foot in my classroom,” his voice was low and gravely as he spoke. My breathing picked up a little bit as I looked up at him. 

Okay… Maybe he did know how long I’ve wanted this. Because I also wanted this the second I stepped into his lecture hall. I wanted his cock in my hands and his hand around my throat. It only took-what, five months for this? I’ll make it worth the wait. 

“Does that feel good,” I whispered, carefully picking up speed and adding the slightest bit of pressure in my grip. Spencer’s eyes fluttered shut as he swallowed roughly and nodded. I smiled before pulling my hand away from him, again. I slowly lowered to my knees and kept my eyes on his face. 

Spencer looked down at him as he gently pushed his fingers through my hair. His fingers gripping hard on my roots before pulling hard. I smiled before very slowly pulling down his slacks and boxers in one go. I was only a little bit intimidated by his size, but the excitement I felt went straight to my core. 

I took a deep breath and swallowed roughly before looking up at him. My mouth fell open, and my tongue stuck out, silently telling him that it was okay. Although I don’t really know why I was telling him that it was okay, we both knew what we wanted, and it was only going to take me doing one thing.

I made eye contact with him as I ran my tongue on the side of his cock. Our eye contact didn’t last long, mostly because he let out a moan and dropped his head back. I smiled as I licked across his tip. A sweet and salty taste was on my tongue. 

My jaw fell slack as I carefully took his length into my mouth. I closed my lips around him before slowly bobbing my head, with my tongue swirling around the underside of his cock. I wrapped a hand around what wouldn’t fit into my mouth. And wrapped my free arm around his leg for support.

The sounds of his moans and grunts filled the mostly quiet room. Music, although muffled through the walls and door, could still be heard from outside of our own world behind the door and four walls.

“You were right,” he struggled to speak through groans, “You aren’t as innocent as I thought,” Spencer's hand had a rough hold in my hair as he held me against him. His cock was penetrating my throat, and breathing was beginning to get difficult. My eyes grew wet and tears grew in the corners of my eyes. 

“You’re such a good girl,” he looked down at me as the tears started to roll down my cheeks. I wouldn’t be surprised if my makeup started smudging and I looked like an adolescent raccoon. “You look so pretty with my cock down your throat,” he struggled to let out a coo, before moving his hips closer to my face. 

Everything about this moment, his hand in my hair, the sounds he was making, the way he smelled, being here… Was intoxicating. I’d give anything to be in this moment again. And I’d give anything to get this moment sooner.

 My knees would hate me in the morning, I just know it. I could already sense the dreaded carpet burn before he even started. But, in all honesty, it’d be worth it. Walking into class tomorrow morning, with bruises and day-old wounds on my knees, just to see his expression.

As I began to pick up pace, the sounds Spencer was making started to become more urgent, easily telling me he was close. But, before he could finish, I pulled away from him, crashing into the wall to get away from his grasp. He looked down at me with a mild frustration on his face. I smiled before wiping my chin clean of spit. 

“I guess chivalry is dead. Whatever happened to ladies first?” I asked, my voice a rasp from how raw my throat was. I looked up at him, feeling a certain level of sass grow in my smile. Spencer quickly tucked himself back into his pants before grabbing my hand. 

“Come on, on your feet,” he muttered as he pulled me back up to a standing position. I nearly toppled over into him if he didn’t hold me upright. I looked up at him and smiled. 

“Bed… Now?” I whispered, my tone showing how urgent I was. It’s not that I wanted this over with, it's that I wanted everything to happen to me all at once, and I wanted it to last for a long time. 

Spencer nodded before cupping my face in his hands. He was harsh when he pressed his lips to mine, like his life depended on it, if he did kiss me now the world would end. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he started guiding me towards the bed. And when the edge of the bed hit the back of my legs, he pushed me back onto it. I quickly moved so my head was resting on the pillows. Spencer was quick to take his cardigan off and be over me. 

“You’re not going to fail me, are you,” I joked as he quickly started leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses on my neck. He lifted his head and looked down at me with confusion on his face. “If I’m a bad fuck,”

“If you ask that again, or bring up class while we’re doing this… Then yes,” he muttered as he looked at me. I laughed as I pushed my fingers through his hair. 

“Oh, shut up,” I laughed as I pulled him down to kiss him, again. One of his hands landed on top of my breast, carefully kneading it, causing me to moan into his mouth. 

His hand slowly drifted away from my chest. I pressed my head into the pillow and looked up at him with a smirk. He carefully dragged his fingers up from my chest to the base of my neck, causing me to let out a shaky gasp. I wanted fingers and a hand around my neck, carefully cutting off my airway just right. Suddenly, I never wanted something so badly in my life. Something dark flashed in his eyes as he looked down at me like he knew what I was about to say. 

“Do it… I fucking dare you,” I muttered, placing both my hands around his wrist. My nose twitched as I stared at him. “I said fucking do it,” I spat, pushing his hand down more onto my neck. My words slowly got cut off as the pressure in his hand and fingers tightened around my neck. A moan struggled to escape me, but did eventually fall from my lips. He seemed pretty happy with that.

“Is that good,” his voice was a growl. I looked at him and moaned.

“Harder,” I begged, my voice growing raspier the more I spoke. He smirked before allowing his grip to tighten. His other hand was still sitting on top of my hips, and I could tell where he wanted to put it. I’d be a dirty, rotten liar if I didn’t want his hand up my skirt. In fact, I’d love it if he did more than just his hand. 

Spencer swallowed roughly before finally sneaking a hand up my skirt and resting it on my underwear. My grip around his wrist got tighter as he pushed past my underwear and past my folds. My eyes fluttered closed as another moan was strangled in my throat. 

“You’re so wet,” he purred as he slowly moved a finger around my clit. I looked up at him, as I struggled to swallow roughly. A dark smirk grew on his lips as he watched me struggle for a moment. “Does that feel good,” he asked, mildly mocking me from earlier. His movements picked up speed just a little bit, and my body reacted, well tried to react. 

“Oh, you’re such a good girl,” he looked down at me. His pupils were so blown I could nearly see my reflection in them. “Another thing you were right about,” he whispered as he slipped a finger into my entrance, and curled it just right. My vision slowly blurred before my eyes rolled into the back of my head. Another moan struggled to escape my throat as Spencer added a second finger. 

My body was on autopilot as I lifted my hand and hit his wrist a few times, telling him that I desperately needed to breathe. When I reopened my eyes, I looked up at him a moment before he removed his hand from my neck. Worry and concern flashed in his eyes as I breathed. Air burned like fire in my lungs as I took a deep breath. As I exhaled a loud moan followed behind, easily telling Spencer and I that I had reached my first orgasm of the night. I just hope there will be more... 

“You did such a good job, Princess,” Spencer whispered as he looked down at me. With his free hand, he brushed the tears away from my cheeks. He carefully withdrew his hand from between my legs and held them up to his face. He looked at them for a moment before placing them in his mouth, sucking and licking them clean. I took a shaky breath and nodded. 

He very sloppily pressed his lips to mine, then on the corner of my lips, and down my jaw, and neck. With one quick movement, a loud rip filled the room, as he tore my shirt off my body. I looked up at him with shock in my eyes. To be fair, that shirt was flimsy, to begin with. I was more worried about leaving my chest so exposed as we left the party. 

“Oh, I’ll give you my sweater,” Spencer muttered before attacking my neck and then down to my collarbones, and over my breasts. I gasped as he wrapped his lips around a nipple.

“Mmm, Daddy,” I whimpered as I shifted under him. I brought my hands back up to his hair, tangling my fingers in the hairs on his neck. When he sensed that I was growing restless (even though he just started), he quickly left wet kisses down the rest of my body

“I like the way that sounds coming from your mouth,” he whispered once he was in between my legs. I looked down at him just as he looked up at me. “Good on your end for wearing such a short skirt,” he smiled before pressing his lips to my inner thigh. A shaky breath tumbled from my lips as I looked at him. “Makes for easier access,” he added before going higher up on my leg.

“You’re not going fast enough,” I whined as he just kept kissing, or licking, or rubbing my inner thighs. It was honestly getting annoying. I kind of felt bad for him. Considering I’ve already cum once, and I got him close but didn’t let him finish. 

“I’m not going fast enough?” Spencer looked up at me. I shot him a scowl as I shifted slightly on the bed. Spencer looked back down the apex of my legs before looping two fingers around the band of my underwear. As soon as I lifted my hips, he pulled my underwear off my body and chucked them to the ground beside the bed. “How’s this for fast enough,” he muttered, mostly to himself, before licking between my folds. A breath of air got caught in my lungs as my hands found their way to his hair, my fingers getting knotted up in his roots. 

“Mhm, Spencer,” I gasped, rolling my hips up at him. He hummed, sending vibrations straight to my core. My legs wrapped around him, my heels digging into his back as my own back arched. 

“Ohh, Daddy, please don’t stop,” I cried, pressing my head into the pillow beneath my head. My fingers pulled hard on his hair, pulling him closer to me. He hummed again as he pushed two fingers back into my entrance. My grip in his hair tightened, and I could feel my grip wanting to loosen. 

My breathing picked up as a familiar feeling grew in my stomach. And all I could say was his name, and the suddenly loved nickname I had for him. He seemed to appreciate my reaction too, because he worked faster. Messy and wet sounds, mixed with my breathy moans and calls of his name filled the room, and my end was near. 

“Fuck,” I shouted as I finally came undone. I could sense if I didn’t pull him away, he’d keep going, and going till I couldn’t take it anymore. And, honestly, that sounds great, but I think that’s for next time. I wanted him in me now. “Spencer, Spencer,” I cried as I tried to pull his head away, but failed so hard.

“Nuh huh,” he hummed, looking up at me. I took a deep breath and pressed my head into the pillow beneath me and threw an arm over my face. “Please, Spencer,” I cried as I bucked my hips at him, “Fuck me, please, fuck me, Daddy,” I moaned. He was going faster than before and was clearly trying to work me to the end faster too. It was hard to breathe, and speak because my words would just get stuck in my throat.  

Although, when I did cum, again, for the third time tonight, Spencer did move away from my legs. He knelt between them, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. My body was shaking lightly as I tried to come down from my high.

“Please,” I whispered, lifting a hand up, trying to reach for his tie. He looked down at me with a smile and raised an eyebrow.

“Please what?”

“Please, Daddy,” I furrowed my eyebrows as I spoke. I could feel my voice becoming a little whiney. Spencer moved so he was hovering over me, his fingers gently brushing hair away from my face.

“Tell me what you want, Princess,” he whispered cupping my face in his hand. I looked up at his face, admiring his lips, and eyes, and nose, and the way his lips had a sheen from when he licked them clean and whatever was leftover from when he was eating me out. 

“Please fuck me, Daddy,” I begged, begged. Spencer smiled before pressing his lips to mine for a moment. He sat up away from me to remove his sweater and shirt. My head was spinning from excitement, I didn’t even notice that he was totally undressed.

Spencer was back between my legs, looking down at me like I truly belonged right here. Or, like I was his to fuck with. Either way it was a good feeling. 

“Ready?” He asked, his voice so low that I could hardly hear it over the bass of the loud music. I rapidly nodded my head, worried my answer was the wrong one. But it wasn’t. I desperately wanted this. Needed. I needed this. 

Spencer hovered over me before putting an opened mouth kiss on my lips. I could hardly breathe as he rubbed the tip of his cock against my clit and entrance. I could feel a moan getting caught in the middle of my throat, my body not being about to handle anymore teasing. Until, he very slowly pushed into me.

“Oh, good girl,” he repeated. Those two words, constantly coming off his tongue. Making me feel good. The praise that I hadn’t heard in such a long time, that I longed for. Part of me wondered if he knew I wanted it. “Has someone not been taking care of you?” he asked, looking down at me. I stared at him, not trusting my own voice. My mind was too distracted with the way I felt, light and airy but at the same time full. So I shook my head.

“No, Daddy,” I whimpered and kept shaking my head. Spencer smiled before pressing his lips to mine. 

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you now. I’ll take care of you,” he mumbled before moving his hips. It took him a moment to get a perfect rhythm. He lips attached to different spots on my neck, leaving hickies in his wake.

“Spencer,” I whispered as I moved my head closer to my shoulder to let him have more space.

“You feel so good,” he grunted as he moved his hips so he was deeper in me, “You feel so good, and you’re all mine,” he pressed his forehead to mine as he wrapped his arms around my lower back, pulling me closer up to him. My breathing got deep, my chest heaving with each breath I took. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down, closer to my face. 

“Oh, be quiet,” I whispered before putting my lips on his. He smiled before passing his tongue between my lips. A moan fell from my lips, which he seemed to enjoy… Considering it was probably just music to his ears. 

“I’ll only be quiet if you keep making those little noises,” he muttered against my lips. I opened my eyes and looked up at him. He smiled again as I knotted my fingers in the hair on the back of his head. 

“Faster,” I breathed out, keeping my eyes on him. Spencer laughed lightly as he picked up the speed. My hips bucked with his, meeting at the right points. “Please,” I whimpered as I threw my head back more into the pillow. He pulled his arm away from my back and brought his hand between our legs, where we met. 

“It’s okay, Little Girl,” Spencer whispered before pressing his lips to the side of my face. I let out a shaky breah and arched my body into his. I couldn’t believe how good I felt. I almost wasn’t sure if it was fair that my professor was better in bed than other men my age. He was more experienced, to be fair. “You can finish, it’s okay,” he kept his voice low. It almost sounded like he was giving me permission.

I nodded my head, breathing heavily through my nose. “Mmm, Spencer,” I moaned, loudy, as my walls fluttered around him and my release came. And a few moments later, Spencer thrusted deep into me with a grunt, filling me with his essence. His body collapsed on top of me whence he finished.

“Fuck,” I muttered, my fingers still tangled in his hair. My limbs were sore and shaking slightly from the rough movements. Spencer laughed lightly, agreeing with my statement. “We can’t sleep here,” I whispered, keeping my eyes on the ceiling above us. I wished we could just sleep here, mostly because I was exhausted after everything we did.

“I know,” Spencer replied as he slowly moved off and away from me. I looked up at him with wide eyes. “You’re messy now,” he muttered as he basically tumbled off the bed. I quickly sat up, just to make sure he was okay. Although I was happy he was okay, I quickly regretted moving as fast as I did. 

“Your sweater,” I mumbled, reaching out towards where his sweater was lying. He looked down at it before picking it up to hand to me. He also grabbed a fistful of tissues and moved to between my legs, again. “Just give me your boxers,” I looked at him as he wiped the insides of my thighs clean. He looked back up at me, still cleaning my legs. 

“I’ll give you a ride home,” he spoke as he tossed the dirty tissues to the trash. He grabbed his slacks and boxers, tossing me his boxers. I slipped them on under my skirt, and then slipped his sweater on. 

“I’d hope so,” I whispered as I stood up. My body wobbled for a second, nearly falling over, before I caught my balance. Spencer looked back at me, looking at how fucked I looked. I mean, I probably looked about the same as him. 

“I’d given you a ride home either way,” he said as he redressed. I looked at him with confusion on my face. Either way? So even if we hadn’t had sex, he would have given me a ride. I asked him and he said yes. So I would hope he’d given me a ride, even if we didn’t fuck.

Once we were both ready to leave this stupid party, that I didn’t even enjoy (well, I did, I was just in a different world), or was even invited to, we walked out. It was as easy as pie. And, since no one really knew either of us were here, I won’t be known as the girl who fucked the professor.

The drive home was quiet. Like, even quieter than the drive here. He didn’t even have the music playing. I wondered if it was my fault, if he was regretting what we had done. If I had known he’d be so regretful, I wouldn’t have wanted to fuck him. But, I guess its too late now. 

When I looked out the window, I realized we were parked outside my apartment building. I looked down at my attire and looked back at Spencer.

“Thanks… Thanks for the ride… And thanks for the sweater. I’ll be sure to give it back to you… Eventually,” I looked up at Spencer as I pulled the door open to leave.

“See you Thursday,” he nodded at me. I looked at him before slamming the door shut. I scoffed before turning to walk up to my home. I couldn’t want to sleep.

{***}{***}{***}

Two weeks. Two weeks since Spencer and I fucked. Okay, not too bad. I don’t regret it, and I’m not afraid to say that. However, I think he might be regretting it. Considering he’d been nothing but ignoring me since the night of the par-Well, I wouldn’t say ignoring me since then. He did fuck me in his office the following Thursday. But, it’s still been two weeks since he last said anything to me. Fuck, I’ve never been so mad.

“Good morning, Professor Reid,” I looked at him as I skipped into his lecture hall. I heard his words begin to greet me back, but fail when he saw what I was wearing. “Best get to my seat. Excited for today’s lesson,” I readjusted the cardigan that hung off my shoulders before turning to go to my seat. 

I could feel his eyes burning into the back of my skull as I walked away from him. Or, was he staring at my ass. Most likely my ass. It was my ass he was staring at. I was wearing a fairly short skirt, so that’s on me. But, I’d do anything to get his attention today. And it would appear I have gotten it. 

His lesson wasn’t actually anything important. It was just revision for the test coming up soon. But, it was obvious he had other things on his mind, and I was very clearly one of them. It was honestly a little distracting if I’m going to be honest.

So, I was happy when he called the end of class 5 minutes early. Although that excitement was gone the second he called my name to the front to talk. I looked at the ground as I stood by his desk, waiting for the very last person to leave so Spencer and I could have our moment alone.

“What are you doing wearing that?” Spencer asked as soon as it was just us. I tried to ignore the fact that he was trying to take the sweater off me, and made my shoulders drop.

“What? This old thing?” I asked, pulling the cardigan that he let me wear around my body. I looked back at him and smiled. He was not smiling. “You gave it to me,” I scoffed, letting him take it off me without a fight. I watched as he folded it over the back of the chair before turning to face me. 

“I gave it to you so your,” his words began to get jumbled up as he gestured to my boobs, “So you weren’t exposed in front of any-”

“So no one would see what belonged to you?” I asked, folding my arms over my chest. Spencer looked down at me, a flabbergasted look on his face. I smiled and cocked my head to my shoulder.

“I… I never said that,” Spencer shook his head.

“Yeah, but you thought it,” I scoffed and rolled my eyes. Spencer looked down at me. I could tell that he was trying to be the one in charge, kinda like how he was the other night. But it was so, so clear that he couldn’t be in charge. That he wouldn’t be in charge now. That this was just embarrassing to him. Maybe that’s just how our dynamic would work. Out in public, I was the loud one, the one who made everyone think that I was in charge in the bedroom. And, Spencer, in public, was the quiet, shy, nervous one, who was clearly submissive in bed. But in actuality, he was telling me what to do, when and when I can’t cum.

 “Why were you wearing that?” he asked again, his voice pulling me from my very dirty thoughts. I looked up at him and smiled.

“Because you were ignoring me! I needed to get your attention somehow! And then I remembered I still had that,” I smiled at him. I wished I still had his sweater on, because it was actually quite cozy and warm. The look he gave me made me drop my shoulders, suddenly feeling ashamed about the current situation. So, I stared at him, feeling annoyed. More annoyed than I have over the last two weeks. “Do you regret it?” I finally asked, not really knowing if he’d be mad with my question. 

“Pardon me?” He asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked at me. I shook my head and looked down at the ground. “It’s not that I regret it-”

“So you do,” I looked back up at him and dropped my shoulders again. Before Spencer got the chance to say anything, I cut him off, “Oh please, you loved shoving your tongue, and cock, down my throat,” I scoffed before looking at him. The expression on his face flinched slightly as he looked back at me from behind the desk. “I get to… I get to be your good, little girl, your princess for, what, a week? A day? 12 hours? Whenever the fuck you want... And I’m supposed to go back to normal life the next day? And… And pretend that nothing happened!” I stared at him and shook my head. Spencer looked over at the door and back at me. “Thinking it’ll never happen again!” I shouted. I didn’t mean to shout, honest. But I was starting to get angry. He made me feel something like I belonged to someone. And now I don’t feel like that. 

“Will you stop talking for a second,” he muttered before stepping away from me and his desk. He walked over to the door and shut it. I crossed my arms over my chest and watched as he walked back over to me. “I never said you had to pretend as if nothing happened. And I never said that I regret it,” he spoke in a harsh whisper. I looked at him with mild irritation on my face.

“It sure fucking felt like it,” I spat at him. 

“You’re all I think about… Christ, I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you that. I never said you had to forget everything… Because I’ve been having a hard time forgetting it myself.” He looked up at me. I almost refused to look at him, but his voice was so soft that I had to look at him. “I never expected you to forget,” he added. 

“Then why are you acting like it didn’t happen,” I stared at him before swallowing roughly, “You made me feel like I was wanted, that I belonged somewhere, with someone,” I spoke as I stepped closer to him. It was only a little bit closer to him, not as much as I wanted. But he stepped closer to me, making it so we were the closest we had been all day, in one large step. "You remind me of home," I added in a whisper. Spencer smiled and cocked his head to his shoulder.

“You do belong somewhere,” he whispered, resting his hands on my shoulders. I looked up at him, feeling my heart pick up speed, and butterflies appear in my tummy. “And that somewhere is with me,” he brought at hand to my cheek, allowing his thumb to rest on my lower lip. I looked up at him before he pressed his lips to mine. 

I was honestly expecting him to say something else. I don’t know what. But I liked what he said, it made me feel really good. Like, I belonged with him, and nothing could change that.

taglist: @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto​, @thebluetint​

[storiesforallfandoms]

drunk mistakes ~ johnny depp

word count: 1576

request?: yes!

“If you write for Johnny Depp, can I request one where he and the reader have known each other for a while and he's madly in love with her but he's too shy to ask her out, afraid she would never like him because she's younger. Then one day at a party she gets drunk and kisses him, and the next morning she doesn't exactly remember it and he's hurt because the kiss made his feelings way stronger. After some days of Johnny being down, she talks with him and he finally confesses <3″

description: when she wakes up in her best friend’s bed and barley remembers the night before, their friendship is strained until she gets him to confess a secret he’s been keeping for years

pairing: teen!johnny depp x female!reader

warnings: swearing, underaged drinking, smoking

masterlist (one, two)

I groaned as the light hit my face, causing my head to pound as if it had been filled with nails. I felt like garbage. Why did I drink so much? Why did my friends let me drink so much?

I rolled over so my back was to the window, only to find a body in bed next to me. Despite the throbbing pain in my head, I yelped in shock and sat up quickly. That’s when I realized I wasn’t in my room and felt panic rising within me. What had I done last night? Or I guess who had I done?

My reaction woke the person sleeping next to me and I breathed out a sigh of relief when I realized it was my best friend, Johnny, and we were in his bedroom - luckily, both fully clothed.

“Sorry,” I sighed. “Forgot where I was for a second.”

“That would require you to remember getting here,” Johnny teased. “You were pretty drunk when I brought you here.”

He had a point. The last thing I remembered from the night before was arriving at my friend’s house for a part and immediately having a drink shoved in my hand. I didn’t even remember seeing Johnny at the party.

I laid back down and groaned again at the pain in my head. Johnny chuckled and got up to get me water and an Aspirin. I noticed my phone on the bedside table next to me and cringed at the thought of how many angry texts I likely had from my parents. I was pleasantly shocked to see the only text on my lock screen was from my mom, and it read, “Okay honey, text us in the morning.”

When Johnny returned, I turned my phone to face him. “Did you text my parents for me? There’s no way they’d be this calm if I texted them in my drunken state.”

Johnny chuckled in response. “You really don’t remember that?”

I shook my head. “I don’t remember anything from last night.”

His joking smile slowly fell. He passed me the glass of water and Aspirin and turned away from me. His voice was flat as he said, “You asked me to text them for you so they wouldn’t know you were drunk. I told them you stayed at Winona’s for the night.”

I swallowed the pill with a giant mouthful of cold water, which felt like heaven in my dry mouth.

“Why did I come here?” I asked. “I usually do stay at Winona’s when she throws a party.”

“You insisted on coming over. You crashed in my bed and...”

He trailed off. He still wouldn’t face me and I was starting to feel concerned. I got up and approached him, putting a hand on his shoulder. He pulled away from me, immediately heading towards his bedroom door again.

“I forgot there was...something my parents asked me to do. You can let yourself out, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Johnny, wait - ”

He closed the door on me before I could say anything else.

~~~~~~

Johnny ignored me the next day. He didn’t sit with us at lunch, and the one class he and I had together he skipped. I tried to text and call, I even went over to his house but his parents told me he wasn’t home.

This went on for a week. No one would tell me why. They kept claiming they didn't know what was happening, but I could tell when I was being lied to, especially by my friends.

Winona was my best friend, and it was her party I went to the day before Johnny stopped talking to me. She had to know the answers, and I knew she’d tell me eventually.

“I don’t know what happened,” she insisted. “We were all drunk, we were all doing stupid stuff.”

“We always stick together at parties, you had to have witnessed whatever I did to make Johnny mad.”

Winona looked at me and started to walk away. I weaved through the crowded school hallway to catch up with her. I took hold of her arm to stop her from walking and turned her to face me. “Winona, please. He’s my best friend, my other best friend. He hasn’t spoken to me in a week. Whatever I did, I need to fix it.”

She sighed before taking my arm and dragging me towards the girls bathroom. She checked the stalls to see if anyoone else was there before finally turning to face me again.

“You kissed Johnny.”

“What?!”

“Shh!” she said, glancing at the door behind me. “You were really drunk, and Johnny was kind of tipsy. Being the caring friend he is, he was trying to get you to drink water so you wouldn’t get too hungover. You told him you loved him and...and you kissed him. He was smart enough to stop you because he didn’t want to take advantage of you, but you were stuck to him all night after that. You even insisted on staying the night at his place instead of at mine, which is why you woke up there the next morning.”

I leaned against the bathroom sink, trying to digest the whole situation. I was trying to remember, but it was like someone had taken my memories of that night.

“I-I don’t understand, is he mad at me for that?” I asked. “He didn’t seem mad when we woke up.”

“He’s not mad, he’s...hurt.” I opened my mouth to respond, but she stopped me before I could. “Look...I didn’t tell you this but...Johnny has feelings for you. He has for a while and...he told Tim that that kiss intensified the feelings. When he realized you couldn’t even remember that night he felt hurt. He really hoped...”

She trailed off, but she didn’t need to finish her sentence. I knew what Johnny had hoped, and now I felt hurt knowing I had hurt him.

“Tell Mrs. Smith I went home sick,” I told Winona as I headed for the bathroom door.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“To find Johnny.”

~~~~~~

He came crawling under the bleachers moments after I had settled myself there. I had a cigarette lit between my fingers and had taken a small puff when he arrived.

“(Y/N), what are you doing here?” he asked.

“You’re my best friend, Johnny, I always knew this is where you went,” I told him. “I never came to talk because I figured you didn’t want to, but I think it’s time we discuss the issue of Winona’s party.”

He seemed hesitant at first, but when I offered him a puff from the cigarette he decided to settle next to me and accepted the cigarette.

“So, Winona told you?” he asked.

“After a lot of interrogation, yes,” I said. “Why wouldn’t you tell me, though? Or why wouldn’t any of our friends say anything?”

“I asked them not to,” he said. “I...I didn’t want our friendship to be ruined.”

“But you stopped talking to me for a week. Not even a warning or anything. I didn’t even remember what happened until I made Winona tell me. I thought you were mad with me.”

“I figured it was best that you didn’t remember.”

“Shouldn’t that be my decision to make?”

He didn’t respond. Instead, he took another puff of the cigarette. I waited for him to blow the smoke out of his mouth before I asked, “Why didn’t you tell me you had feelings for me?”

He coughed in surprise, his eyes widening as he looked at me. “Winona told you that?”

“I promised I wouldn’t say.”

I took the cigarette back and held it between my fingers, wanting to take away Johnny’s only ability to waste time in his explanation.

“I told you, I didn’t want to ruin our friendship,” he said. “You’re my best friend and we run in the same friend group, I can’t imagine ruining that whole dynamic because of some stupid feelings I have for you.”

“I wouldn’t call them stupid,” I said. “And maybe if you had told me, I would’ve told you sooner that I also have feelings for you.”

He shook his head, which I raised an eyebrow at in response.

“There’s no way,” he said. “You...you just said I’m your best friend.”

“And shouldn’t your significant other be your best friend?” I countered. “Johnny, I’ve had a crush on you since grade school. I thought it was just because I thought you were really cute, and then when we became friends I figured that’s all we were meant to be. But those feelings have always been there, I guess the same as they’ve been there for you.”

He was speechless, which made me giggle. I shuffled closer to him, so close that our shoulders were touching. I took one last puff from the still burning cigarette and put it out in the grass next to me. I rested my head on his shoulder and he placed his arm around mine.

“What do we do with this information now?” I asked.

“What do you want to do with it?” he responded.

“Well, we could go on a date.”

Johnny hummed as if he were thinking before saying, “What do you say we ditch the rest of the day and go to the diner instead?”

I smiled up at him and said, “Okay, I’d love that.”

[oitommothetease]

Invisible String (8/?)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female reader (Modern AU)

Description: James Buchanan Barnes, the owner of the most expensive-looking club in town and your new apartment. He was a dick and you hated him. What could possibly go wrong when you, the new girl in town, start bartending at his club to pursue your dreams?

Word Count: 2.4k words

Your parents’ house was exactly how you remembered it, but again, it had been only two months since you last saw it. Contrary to your usual life, a lot has changed in two months. You aren't working in a cubicle anymore, you're not going on random blind dates that your sister and mother plot for you. What you are doing is bartending in a town far away from your family. You're fake dating your boss who happens to be the most dangerous person in the town, at least that's what you've heard of the rumors, but so far, James has been nothing but non-threatening to you. Yes, he was mean in the beginning, but a lot has changed since then. 

And now sitting in front of your parents with James beside you, eating lunch; you recall Barry's diner and you miss the food there. It's funny because you always thought that this was your home, your family and everything associated with them should make you feel at peace, but you were feeling everything but that. You were restless and anxious, and you wanted to go to that cozy dinner with James where Sally would tell you anecdotes about her life. You wanted to sit with James and watch him debunk the myths about his career that you believed were true your whole life. Turns out, he doesn't cut off people’s dick for disrespecting him. Who would have thought? And you decided that maybe you should stop reading those stupid mafia stories.

James sensed your discomfort, you don't know how he does that, but he always knows when something is bothering you. He brought his chair closer to you in hopes of providing you some relief. And it did, his presence made you feel at ease and you weren't sure how you felt about it. You knew you were dependent on him for comfort since the incident at his club, but being with him didn't make you feel caged.

You always thought that a relationship would make you feel stuck. That's why you never engaged in one, but with James, it felt liberating. Maybe because this wasn't real and the moment this turns real, it'll be a shithole. At least that's what you told yourself. 

“So, what do you do, James?” your father asked, and you nearly choked on your food. James's hand involuntarily reached towards your back, his thumb running soothing circles while his palms patted gently. 

“I own a club and a few other buildings in town,” your faux boyfriend answered, and you were thankful he didn't get into his other business. You wanted to ask about all the rumors in town and why people are so scared of him and why does everyone in the club carries a gun, but you were scared to ask. You feared that you wouldn't like the answers. Honestly, that's false, you weren't scared of the answers, you were scared that what if he closes himself again the moment you step into uncharted territory. And you really liked this fun, caring, swiftie James.

Everybody was sitting silently at the table which was unusual because usually family dinners were the place where everyone pointed out your faults. Carol kept glancing at your parents every few seconds and vice versa. Your brother-in-law, Nick, was focused on the food and their kids were taking a nap.

 You were going to thank your stars for this peaceful lunch when your sister broke off the silence. “So, how did you two meet?”

Every head on the table turned towards you expectantly, waiting for you to explain how you met James. What were you supposed to say? That you met when you interviewed for your current job and he clearly rejected you? 

Before the panic could make its way to the surface, James' palm landed on yours softly, grounding you. Your sister's eyes fell to your hands on the table and she scoffed.

 “We're glad you're happy, but at least don't forget basic table etiquette,” She commented. How could you forget the ‘no hands on the table while eating’ rule? Just when you were about to remove your hand from the table, James held your hand and placed it on his lap, lacing his fingers with yours. 

“Auntie Y/N!” A shriek made you turn behind, and you saw your nephew and niece running towards you with the biggest grin on their faces. Both the kids jumped in your embrace without a care of their surroundings and you stifled a laugh.

Bucky didn't like kids, hated them, to be honest. In his defense, what's there to like, they're always whining and crying, but seeing you attempting to straddle two 5-year-olds on your lap while their mother complained might change his opinions on the subject. 

You didn't like kids either, except your nephew and niece. They were perfect in your eyes, but maybe you were a bit partial because you sort of shared genes with them. You were so focused on the stories Alec and Izzy were telling you that you didn't notice the eyes that were fixed on you. James looked at you with not only adoration, but also devotion. He knew if he kept looking at you like that, he'd be deep in shit, but it was too late now. 

After dinner, you made your way to the bedroom, only to realize that there was one bed. Fuck. You really should have thought this through. 

Before the embarrassment could seep in, James started collecting a blanket and some pillows. “I'll take the floor,” He said. 

You frowned. “No, James. You've already done so much for me. Take the bed, please.”

James pretended not to hear you and started preparing his bed on the floor. 

“Seriously?” You queried, slightly huffing at his childish behavior. “You're gonna pretend you didn't hear me. How old are you, five?”

Without saying a word, James started humming a tune and situated himself on the makeshift bed on the floor and closed his eyes. 

You stomped your foot furiously, yeah, maybe you were a little childish too. Without muttering another word, you made your way towards the bed and tucked yourself in a comfortable position. 

“You were saying something?” James asked, his voice laced with tease, and you huffed at his tomfoolery. 

“Yeah, just how immature you are.”

“Sorry, I didn't hear that. What was that?” you couldn't see him, but you knew he was doing some theatrical actions by putting his hands on his ears for better listening or furrowing his eyes in feigned confusion. “That I'm so smart? Oh, why, thank you. You're not so bad yourself.”

“That's real mature, James,” you murmured, clearly not enjoying his antics.

A comfortable silence fell in the room. The only thing that could be heard was your breathing and the air conditioner that always sucked in your childhood room but your parents never thought it was a primary concern. Oh, yeah, also, you were staying in your teenage room with your boss. You tried telling your parents that you could get a hotel, but they insisted so now James could see one direction posters on the wall right in front of him.

You would have assumed that he fell asleep if he hadn't broken the silence. “I know it's not my business and you don't have to answer if you don't want to,” he paused, wondering whether he is crossing a line by asking you this. “But why do you let them treat you like that?”

You coughed in surprise, you clearly did not expect him to ask this. You thought maybe he was going to ask you who is your favorite one direction member. Anything really, expect this. “Wow, you do not beat around the bush.”

You could hear him shuffling and once he settled you were sure he was facing you. Well, the bed actually. You did the same, turning towards him. You couldn't see him, but it still felt so intimate.

 “I'm honest with people I trust,” he informed and you smiled, thinking about the time when he told you he did not trust you or your intentions.

“What do I get in return?” you teased, although you would have told him without getting anything in return.

“What do you want?”

You debated for a minute whether you should go forward and just ask him so you did. “What do you do?”

You didn't expect him to actually answer. You knew that your relationship (whatever that was) with James had increased from where it was a few months ago. You deeply cared for each other and had mutual trust in the other. But you still didn't know about the actual work he did. Your realtor told you that he was a criminal, a mobster to be exact, and had sketchy connections with the mafia but you didn't know the exact nature of his work. 

He signed heavily and you were ready to drop the subject, scared that it would only push him away again and you couldn't lose whatever you had this early. 

“We provide weapons to the government at a cheaper price, eliminate problems or shootouts that the government is too scared to take the blame for,” he said, voice unwavering but you could sense the tension. Bucky thought that telling you about his work would make you fear him, and he didn't want to risk losing the progress he made with you, but he also knew that if he wanted you in his life in any form then he has to be honest with you. “We don't do the kind of stuff you're thinking of, it's mostly assisting the government to do stuff where they don't want to get their hands dirty.”

“Why?”

“How would you feel if the leaders of your country were involved in shady business?” It was a rhetorical answer, of course, you would feel unsafe, but your sleep-dazed brain was about to muster up an answer but he quickly spoke. “So if it backfires then they don't lose their men and women and can blame it on us, the criminals.”

“So that's why you weren't scared if I went to the cops? Because you kinda work for them?” you asked. His reaction made a lot of sense now, but some part of your brain hoped that he did that for you. That he would defy the police for you. 

“Off charts yeah,” he answered, “Although that has nothing to do with why I wanted you to go to the cops. I wanted you to because what Rumlow did was unacceptable and he should pay for his actions.”

“Wow,” you didn't know what to say. Anything further could push him back to the 'I don't trust you' James and you couldn't risk that. 

Bucky didn't want to elaborate further, “Your turn.”

“Sir, you just set yourself up for the biggest disappointment,” you joked, already imagining his reaction and smiling to yourself. 

“I let them treat me like this because they are my family,” you replied honestly. “I don't have anyone else but them.”

Bucky knew all about the issues that come with family, but he didn't think you'd be the victim of it. Bucky realized that in his head, he had conjured up a version of you that was perfect, so if he were to know you better, it would decrease his crush on you, right? 

Wrong. The more Bucky got to know you, the more he realized you weren't some angel and were just a vulnerable human like everyone, and the more he wanted you, all of you.

“Where does Rumlow come in this?” you questioned.

“His work is dirty like drugs, sex trafficking so he doesn't work well with government or any sort of authority,” he explained, “He's one of the problems they wanna eliminate but can't because he's too powerful. He works with Hydra.”

“Wasn't Hydra a myth?” you queried. You have heard stories about Hydra too, how Bucky was their rival. You assumed it was about territory or money. You know, like in the movies.

“Nah, doll, it's real. He's part of that organization and that makes him shielded from us and literally everyone.” 

“So you're technically not… you know, killing people for fun like the mafia and all? You're like undercover agents,” you concluded and he shook his head, chuckling at the disappointment in your voice.

In your defense, you expected him to be the movie-type mafia boss who kills people for raising their voice but again, this is not a movie. 

“If it makes you feel better, we smuggle weapons for the government. We're still criminals and dangerous,” he articulated, his tone laced with amusement at your reaction.

 “No offense, but that's a horrible career. Is that what you wanted to do growing up?” you asked, yawning, your eyelids becoming heavy from the exhaustion.

“No,” he answered truthfully. “Not everyone gets a choice, doll. My dad was murdered when I was a kid and I was shoved into the business to protect my family.”

 “Where are they? Your family, I mean,” you inquired, hoping you weren't overstepping.

“Ma basically hates me and my sister maintains her distance, but it's for her own safety.”

You didn't ask about them further, realizing his family was a touchy subject for him. You could relate to that. “What do you want to do?”

Out of all your questions and weird assumptions, this took James by surprise. No one asked him what he wanted to do. Hell, he didn't even ask him that, and now someone finally asked him, he didn't know what to answer. You understood his silence, you always understood everything James felt even without it being voiced. He generally hated when people predicted him, he prided himself on being unpredictable but not with you. James wanted nothing more than to just be Bucky with you.

“Don’t worry, you'll figure something out,” you mumbled, already drifting off to sleep.

James turned towards the opposite side. “Sleep well, doll.” he murmured, his breath growing even, matching yours.

TAGS: @bananapipedreams​ @akkinda10​ @rivers-rambles21​ @emmabarnes​ @goodcleanfunsis​ @valsworldofcreativity​ @boofy1998​ @marvel-3407​

[saintshigaraki]

won’t you give me your cruelest smile

↳ DARK ACADEMIA TSUKISHIMA KEI 

pairing: tsukishima kei x gn!reader

word count: 1.4k

excerpt: 

He makes no move to get up as he watches you pack. “You really don’t like me, do you?” He sounds far too pleased for your liking.

“No one likes you,” you snap back, stuffing the last heavy tome in your bag and shouldering it. “You’re an ass.”

a/n: @yamagucji​​ said dark academia tsukki and my brain quite literally short circuited 

tags: enemies-ish to lovers (more like academic rivals to lovers), tsukki being an annoyingly smart condescending history major, reader goes through the five stages of grief when they realize they might actually li- 🤢 like him, a reference to the classic ‘ooooh you wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid’ 

If there is a single, minuscule, barely visible silver lining in having Tsukishima as a partner for your quarter project it is that, without a doubt, he is smart. 

You have to admit, begrudgingly, that his intellect borders on genius-level which is something you use as silent proof to attest to your working theory that there is in fact, no god, or at the very least not a kind one, because if there was they wouldn’t be blessing gremlins like the one sitting across from you with a gift like that. 

He’s quiet now (after about an hour of telling you all the ways your interpretation was oh so very wrong) and content to stare at you lazily, his eyes half-lidded and filled with his specific brand of cruel amusement that leaves you wanting to do nothing more than smack his black-rimmed glasses right off his smug face. 

You take a deep breath and try desperately to quell the utterly unique type of rage he elicits in you, although as always, nothing you do ever quite manages to bring your boiling blood to a simmer. 

He’s twirling his expensive black pen between his stupidly long fingers. Every once in a while the light catches on the onyx stone of his pinky ring which somehow manages to flash directly in your eyes every time. He notices, of course. He notices everything. Which makes you think he’s doing it on purpose just to be an ass.

Which, admittedly, is perfectly in line with everything else he does so, you come to the frustrating conclusion that he most definitely is doing it on purpose. 

“You’re embarrassingly easy to rile up,” he says, interrupting your silent seething, his voice deep and smooth and absolutely dripping with condescending satisfaction. 

Your eyes flash up from the book you’d been only barely processing just to be met with his own golden-brown ones. He’s smirking down at you, of course. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him wear any other sort of expression. 

You want nothing more than to glare at him but that would just be proving his point so instead, you snap your book shut. It rings out loudly in the empty library. 

“It’s late. Let’s start this backup tomorrow.”

He makes no move to get up as he watches you pack. “You really don’t like me, do you?” he sounds far too pleased for your liking. 

“No one likes you,” you snap back, stuffing the last heavy tome in your bag and shouldering it. “You’re an ass.” 

He tilts his head back, exposing his long neck, and laughs. It’s so deep you feel it in your own chest. You just barely manage to suppress a shiver, which thank fuck, because he would’ve most definitely noticed it and you don’t think you’d be able to live that down. 

You make your way towards the front doors but not before he manages to slip on his wool coat and catch up to you, with ease of course, his long legs have become your number one enemy over the quarter because he always, always, catches up with you when you try to speed walk away from him. 

The autumn chill immediately settles into your bones, your skin prickles unpleasantly. You can see your breath in the night air. A shitty end to a shit day. 

You both head down the cobbled street in strangely comfortable silence. He’s close enough that you can feel the heat he radiates and you’re silently thankful for it. 

You get to the fork in the path where he takes his way back to his dorm and you take yours but instead of peeling off left like he usually does he sticks to your side. 

You stop immediately and eye him up warily. “What are you doing?”

He rolls his eyes. “Asking idiotic questions doesn’t really suit you, you know.” 

You say nothing, content to narrow your eyes. 

He rolls his eyes again and lets out a long-suffering sigh. “I’m walking you home, try not to be a brat about it.” 

“You never walk me home,” you point out, suspiciously. 

“You are rather good at pointing out the very obvious, aren’t you?” and before you can respond he already had turned on his heels and started walking. You have to half jog to catch up. 

You watch him out of the corner of your eye with the intent of trying to read his motive but you get stuck on the fact that his cheeks are flushed rather prettily from the cold. 

“You sure do love to stare, don’t you?” he asks rather conversationally. 

You’ve never wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole more in your entire life. Your cheeks burn hot even in the frigid cold. 

He notices. Of course he does. What does Tsukishima Kei not notice?

“No need to be embarrassed,” he needles cruelly. “Denial can be a brutal beast.”

You only barely manage to stop yourself from asking what exactly he means by that, what exactly he thinks you’re in denial about. 

But you know he wants nothing more than for you to ask so you take a sweet sort of satisfaction in not questioning him further, at least on that front. 

The rest of the walk back to your dorm is spent in less comfortable silence than before. There’s an odd sort of tension in the air, like a rope pulled so tight you can physically feel it starting to fray, getting ready to snap.

It comes to a head when, after getting to your building, instead of immediately going inside you find yourself looking down and shuffling your feet.

You know you should thank him, even if you didn’t ask him to walk you home. You guys never worked this late, you’d lost track of time (it’s scarily easy to lose track of time when arguing with Tsukishima) and you know it was nice of him to walk you home when he’d have to double back another 15 minutes in the freezing cold to get to his place. 

You know you should thank him. It’s the reasonable, polite thing to do. But it’s just so fucking hard to be reasonable and polite when Tsukishima Kei and his galaxy-sized ego are involved. No one in your entire life has been able to get under your skin as he has. It’s like he was perfectly crafted to be your own personal headache. 

You brave a glance up at him and find that he’s standing very, very close and staring, rather intensely, at you. A curiously amused gleam in his eye. 

Your mind stutters and then stops completely, going painfully blank. 

He’s so stupidly pretty. 

His skin is flawless, you’ve never once seen him with even a single pimple, his hair is the nicest pale-blond you’ve ever seen and it falls in perfect tufts against his forehead, but it’s his eyes that always make you shift from foot to foot. They’re such a unique shade of golden-brown, and now, shrouded in the dark and mere inches away from your own face, you’d swear on your life they were practically glowing.

“You’ve got something on your mind?” he asks, his tone anything but sweet. He’s so close you can smell the warm spice of his cologne and the ever-clinging scent of ancient books that seems to follow him wherever he goes. 

“I-” but you can’t seem to put together a coherent sentence. You don’t think you’ve ever hated someone so much in your life. 

Somehow, he’s managed to push in even closer. “You know what I think?”

No, you want to say, and I don’t want to know. Your heart is beating far too fast and you can’t explain why. 

(You know exactly why)

“I think you want to kiss me.”

And just like that the rope snaps and you’re viciously tugging him down by the collar of his too-nice coat so you can smash your lips against his. 

The kiss is brutal. Far too mean with too much teeth. At one point you taste the sting of iron and you can’t tell if the blood is his or yours. 

He backs you up against a wall without breaking the kiss. When he bites at your lip, no doubt cutting it open, you grab a fist full of his hair and tug cruelly and his responding groan tastes so sweet on your tongue. 

He doesn’t pull away until your lungs are screaming for air. 

He’s inches away from you, pupils blown wide, lips swollen (and a little bloody), and his hair is a mess. It’s the most out of sorts you’ve ever seen him. 

If you thought he was pretty before, he’s absolutely beautiful now. 

His smirk widens into a full blown smile and you understand now why he doesn’t show it often. It shows too many teeth, it’s downright wolfish. Predatory, even. 

You don’t really have time to think on it though before he pulls you into another bruising kiss. 

have some dark academia tsukishima headcanons while you’re here

he is without a doubt the most pretentious asshole you will ever meet and and you will HATE yourself for eventually finding him weirdly charming in any capacity

he is, of course, a history major which. if you have ever met pretentious male history majors you will know that this means he is a literal walking, talking, annoyingly tall headache

interrupts professors constantly. does it like he’s getting paid. will argue and argue and argue with them without that dumb condescending smirk ever, ever managing to slip off his face

(the worst part is, he’s honestly probably making a good point most of the time. but you’d quite literally rather die than admit that to him)

he is always walking around campus lazily flipping through leather bound books so old they’re cracked precariously at their spines, all on different ancient civilizations. you’d think that’d mean he’d be running into people but the student body collectively parts like the red sea for him which sets your teeth on edge.

he’s unbelievably arrogant and the worst part is its not baseless like you find yourself so desperately wishing it was

he IS smart, wickedly so. disgustingly, cruelly intelligent and he will use it to pick you apart piece by piece while that stupid fucking smirk stays glued on his face.

(you start to seriously question whether or not he’s even human because how can anyone keep the same, perfectly calculated expression for that long?)

always looks like he stepped straight out of some dark alternate universe vogue photoshoot with his constant rotation of black turtlenecks, long coats, and oxford loafers all tied together by the same 5 rings he’s never seen without, two of which are set with hefty onyx stones

you will be unlucky enough to be paired up with him for a project that will take all quarter long and multiple meet ups a week. when your professor announced your partner, you genuinely consider dropping the class and when you find out you wouldn’t be able to drop the class without switching majors, you genuinely consider switching majors

you don’t. and by the end of the quarter you’re really starting to question whether that was a good thing or not

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

hello 💗

a 14 and 19 with Damian, please?

I was very tempted to turn this into a whole story so I’m sorry if it’s too long for a ficlet, I swear I stopped myself from writing a lot of stuff which was hard because I have like .000000000000002% self-control when it comes to Damian. Kinda proud of myself, ngl.

14. “You don’t know what you do to me, do you?”

19. “God, you are so fucking cute.”

His stare unnerved you. Damian was very hard to read as he was, but you found the task particularly arduous at the moment.

Was he mad at you? Had you said something he found stupid?

“What’s got you so...” You made a gesture with your hand, unsure as to how to ask what the fuck was going on.

You were supposed to be on the lookout in case your target made an appearance and according to Dick the probability was quite high since his own target was nowhere to be found.

Leave it to Bruce to cover every corner of the city.

“So what?” Damian demanded to know.

You shrugged, avoiding his gaze with the pretense of paying attention. “I don’t know how to explain it.”

Humming, Damian crouched down just beside you. “Two people right?”

“There’s a third one,” you explained, eyes on the building across the street. “But they come and go every ten minutes or so. I’m guessing they give updates.”

He remained silent, observing the moving figure. He must’ve been thinking the same you were — they knew they were being watched.

A sudden sense of guilt washed over you. What if you ruined it? With a sigh, you told him, “Although... I could be wrong. I might be counting each second too quickly.”

Shuffling, he turned to the side to once again look at you. “You’ve been counting the minutes?”

You nodded, abashed. “I forgot my watch.”

Shaking his head, he whispered under his breath, “God, you are so fucking cute.”

You chose to believe you had heard him wrong, and for your own wellbeing and the task at hand, decided to ignore his comment.

He wasn’t having it. “Look at me.”

Inwardly, you cursed him. It was clear to you that he could tell how flustered his comment left you wether he had meant it or not. Damn him and how good he was at reading you.

And so you looked at him because you weren’t a coward and you liked his pretty eyes way too much for your own good.

“You don’t know what you do to me, do you?” he said even more lowly than he had already been speaking.

No, you didn’t. He drove you insane because of it — you never knew if you were imagining things or if he was as into you as you were into him.

You didn’t think this was the time or place either. “You’re gonna make me lose count.”

“I brought my watch.” He was done with the chase, with the painfully cold shoulder you gave him when he refrained from telling you how he felt.

Damian didn’t blame you, he was hot and cold too. But your cold, in his not so humble opinion, was actual torture. You could be crueler than anybody else expected —yourself included— and he enjoyed it when he wasn’t on the receiving end.

You wetted your lips and finally answered his question. “No, I don’t know.”

“I figured. For somebody so smart, you’re painfully oblivious.”

Ignoring what you assumed he meant as a compliment, you said, “You aren’t the easiest person to read.”

He looked away from you. Damian couldn’t possibly hold your gaze when confronted with the things he needed to work on still.

Being unreadable was needed in this line of work, perhaps one of the most crucial characteristics any superhero or vigilante could have. And it came with a high price.

A price he had been willing to pay until he got to know you. Until he got to come up with unrealistic scenarios he replayed before going to sleep. Your hands in his hair, his arms around you...

He knew you’d like it. He had seen you around other people long enough to know how affectionate you could be, the small things you did for them when they were upset and what you expected in return when you were feeling down.

It was unfair for him to read you so easily when you hadn’t even been sure he wanted to be your friend mere months ago.

But Damian wasn’t known for giving up easily and he wasn’t going to start now.

“I suppose I’m not,” he agreed. He couldn’t bear to gaze at you again, not now, even if it was one of his favorite things to do. “Should I promise to change?” he asked with the hope that you wouldn’t want him to change a single thing.

And for once in his life, the universe was on his side. You chuckled softly, what an absurd question. You challenged him with another, “Do you want to change?”

It was a loaded inquiry. He could choose not to answer and you wouldn’t think any less of him, why would you when you wouldn’t have known the answer if somebody were to ask you the same thing?

Damian, who had wondered for years what it meant to be himself, chose to confide in you, “I don’t think I’m that bad.”

Your eyes deviated to the building in front of you. Still two figures. You wanted to ask the time, and you wanted to assure him he was not only not that bad, but really fucking great in your eyes.

And you couldn’t do both because life is about tough choices. The mission or him? Finally finding out who’s been poisoning the water system or letting out those feelings that have been eating at you for almost a year?

He gave you a way out because he knew how to read you. Because even in a vulnerable moment he had an unfair advantage over you. “I don’t think they’re coming.”

“Should we contact the others?”

‘We’ felt different now. Unbelievably intimate for two people who didn’t know what was going on between them.

“Tim might need backup,” he sighed.

Neither of you moved. You didn’t know what to say now, or if you should even attempt.

For the first time that night, he didn’t know either. So he contacted Tim directly and asked if he was safe before explaining himself.

“Should we get moving?” you softly asked.

Damian shook his head. “He wants us to wait here in case they’re trying to shake us off.”

Good plan. Or at least not the worst you had heard in the past three weeks.

You grabbed his wrist to look at the time. His breath faltered — he was kidding when he said you didn’t know what you did to him.

You chose not to comment on it when you used to stumble through your sentences around him. “Do these people not sleep?”

“We’re no one to talk.”

“Truuuuue, but at least we do cool things.”

Cool things like avoiding the fact that you two almost confessed your love for each other.

And beating assholes up. How could you forget that one?

You couldn’t take it any longer. You would regret it your whole life if the conversation was never finished. “I don’t want you to change, you know? I’ll admit I’d like to get to know you better... to know what’s up with you without making you say it and all that stuff, but not at the expense of your boundaries.”

“I can let you in,” he assured both you and himself. “I don’t have a problem with you knowing anything about me, as rare as it sounds.”

You gave him a small smile, unable to put into words what it meant to you. What he meant to you.

“I just hope I don’t scare you away,” he confessed.

[sweetestlamb]

Try A Little Tenderness

Summary: Han Seo gets treated with kindness and affection and he doesn’t know how to process these foreign feelings. Also he gets a first eye contact of the mafia couple. 

Author's note: A few of you said you would like to read this so I popped it out real quick in between real life and all that mess, I did something like this for IOTNBO and really enjoyed that sometimes it’s fun to see a relationship from an outsider’s pov. I also saw a few people say that they ship our puppy with a certain someone so I threw in some crumbs because the visuals would be very pretty and good for my health. It has talks of past abuse (see psychopath brother) but I don’t think it’s any darker than the regular show. Happy reading! 

He keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop, for them to realize that he's nowhere near good or smart enough to keep alive such less work so closely to them and listen to their plans. They trust him, he can tell by the way that conversations don't taper off if he comes into the room with another question about how to use the copy machine- there are so many buttons and it's confusing figuring it out by myself.

This first time he sheepishly asks for help after reading articles online and coming no closer to understanding the massive machine, he expects more fanfare; a slap on the cheek, a rap on the forehead or just a simple sigh and "idiot" that he would smile in the face of but the word would stick to his heart for days on end. His eyes were glued to the ground after his inquiry so he missed whatever look they originally gave him but surprisingly enough Ms. Hong stepped forward, he almost flinched as the hand approached his view but instead of pain he just felt warmth on his shoulder.

Guiding him with the hand on his shoulder, she led him back over to the machine and patiently explained all the buttons to him, even smiling gently when he pulled out a little notepad to write down the many directions.

"You really only need these three buttons this is the power button, but this thing is ancient so sometimes it may need a good kick." He jumped marginally at the loud bang of her foot against the side, quickly writing that down as well.

Really old. Needs kick.

"Then you press this button to choose the amount of copies, choose double or single sided and choose with staple and that's it." His eyes darted rapidly trying to keep up with her directions while taking his notes. It sounded simple enough but his brother had taught him that if there was a way to fuck something up, he would find it, naturally. So his nerves skyrocketed when she turned to him with a grin and said, "Are you ready for another test? Make 20 copies of these." She handed him a small stack of papers. 

His heart jerked in his chest and suddenly he was fifteen years old again staring at a test sheet and knowing none of the answers. It was hard to study with the fear of Han Seok barging into his room at any moment to do another sick experiment on him, once he had sliced his finger just to watch it bleed. He'd told his father that he accidentally cut himself while cooking and let the shame wash over him as he got a look that screamed that he was incompetent and pathetic.

"Han Seo? Are you okay? You seem like you're a million miles away." The pretty lawyer's concerned voice brought him back to reality and he could feel the stares of the other men in the room on his skin, Vincenzo being the heaviest. He really didn't want to look stupid on front of the man for some unexplored reason. He swallowed hard before facing the machine, feeling like he was going off to war.

He pressed the big power button, shaken when nothing happened but suddenly remembered his notes and with an almost unnoticeable glance he found his answer, swiftly kicking the beast of a copier he watched it roar to life and almost on autopilot he mimicked the motions that Ms. Hong had just demonstrated and watched in terror as the paper was swallowed and the copies were spit out from the compartment in the bottom.

I did it.

Everything seemed to be in order and the machine hadn't exploded. Yet. 

"Oh."

The triumphant smile that had graced his face slide off like rain on a windowpane.

"I messed up. I'm sorry. Please let me try-"

He was bowing before he could stop himself, shame a familiar friend at this point in his life. There were very little moments that he didn't feel a tsunami of shame crashing over him in a thick heavy sheet.

"You just forget to select stapled. But that's minor, we can just staple them by hand." She responded nonchalantly picking up the copies and bringing them over to the table, "Good job though. Next time you'll probably get it perfect right?"

It was pathetic. He was pathetic. There was no reason for pride to grow in his chest like a mustard seed, he had only completed a basic task. Something that even a monkey could, actually monkeys could do even more complicated tasks.  It was nothing to be proud of. He shouldn't have been smiling as largely as he was, they would think he was insane and kick him out.

But.

She'd said he did a good job. That wasn't a phrase he was used to hearing, he wasn't someone who did anything worth praising. He shuffled away back to the shelves that needed to be organized in alphabetical order, moving a large file to the front of the row unaware that there was an equally huge smile on his face. It stayed there for the rest of the day.

Working there was different from working with his brother. Astronomically. Nobody hit him there, even when he made mistakes. Instead he just got three heads over his shoulder helping him fix said mistake or Mr. Nam pushing his chair out of the way and taking over with only a gentle chide of, "Be careful next time." And it's clear that they all care for and respect each other. It's evident in the way that there's no clear hierarchy at the law firm, when they have meetings they alternate on who makes the coffee for the team, take turns buying meals and they are all allowed to speak and share their ideas without waiting for approval. It's nothing like he's used to and it makes him wonder if this is normal and what he's used to is...not.

It's enough to overwhelm him.

Then something catches his attention in the peripheral of his eye, Ms. Hong impatiently goes to take a sip of her coffee ignoring Vincenzo's firm warning against doing so and she flinches at the heat of the beverage, sticking out her tongue instantly after the first sip, blowing and huffing theatrically- something he's grown used to seeing from her. This isn't what shocks him though, it's Vincenzo's reaction. Immediately he walks over to the water cooler, filling a little paper cup before bringing it back over to her and thrusting the cool liquid into her outstretched hands.

"I told you to be careful." He says voices filled with exasperation as she gulps down the water, shooting him puppy dog eyes.

"I thouf it mould be cool enouf." She replies around her extended tongue and he watches the interaction with wide eyes, that only grow larger when the murderous Mafia member picks up the lawyers mug of steaming liquid and starts to blow on her coffee, his lips puckered into a perfect o. Ms. Hong watches absently as if this is expected behavior and after a few minutes, Vincenzo takes a sip of her coffee deeming it cool enough before handing it back to her. She takes a sip dangerously close to the spot his mouth had just occupied and hums at the temperature, shooting him a brilliant smile. To his utter surprise the usually stoic Mafia member smiles back fondly, before walking off to make a call. Ms. Hong watches him walk away before realizing that he's watching their interaction and a delicate blush blossoms in her cheeks before she stutters walking off to her table.

He glances between the two with his head tilted. Feeling curious.

Once he starts looking it's almost indecent how often the two touch each other, Vincenzo's hand never too far from Ms. Hong's back or arm and she never reacts to the sudden touches, no flinching or tensing up when a foreign hand is suddenly on her person. That's a new concept for him, he doesn't like surprise touches.

Then there's the fact that Mr. Cassano never allows Ms. Hong to hold anything, when she comes bustling through the doors with bags in her hand the smell of pasta permeating the room the older man is already making his way across the room tugging the bags from her hands wordlessly. He places them carefully on the table before smoothly dragging out her chair and guiding her into it with a hand on her waist.

"I brought your favorite. Authentic Italian food." She smirks up at him, opening the containers and he feels his mouth water at the tantalizing aroma that fills the room even more than before.

"It smells amazing! Where did you find authentic Italian food?" He asks inserting himself into their conversation and for a minute, he second guesses himself gearing up for a blow. But it never comes and Ms. Hong waves him closer, pushing a container of thick noodles in his direction.

"Are you hungry? Here have some!" She shoves chopsticks into his hand and watches him eagerly and he can do nothing but follow her orders, stuffing the tomato sauce drenched noodles into his mouth. When he looks up he sees that they are both watched him avidly, awaiting his review and he smiles around his bulging cheeks putting up two thumbs.

"It's delicious! Best Italian food I've ever had!" He stares excitedly and he's unprepared for Vincenzo's sudden glare, it's the first time the man has thrown such a look his way he gulps nervously at the unnerving sight.

"What- did I say something wrong?" He warily asks watching the Italian man angrily stomp off whilst muttering something indecipherable to him but that makes Ms. Hong smile mischievously, grabbing the container and chasing after the fleeing man.

"Stop being a snob! Have some, say ahhhh!" He can't comprehend the sight that he's watching, dumbfounded as the petite lawyer hangs on Mr. Cassano's arm and tries to feed him the Italian food.

"No! I don't want it, stop! Why do you keep bringing that here?" The Italian Mafia boss whines pushing her away but he notes that he never pushes her too hard, his shoves are very soft barely rocking her slight body. When she starts to chase him around the room, Han Seo can only watch in shock the behavior too childish for him to reconcile that these are the same people who have been thwarting all his brother's plans. Not even Mr. Nam entering the office is enough to stop their shenanigans and in the end it's Vincenzo who admits defeat, backed into a wall. Han Seo waits for her to give him the food and for this moment to come to an end. But neither one of them make a move, frozen against the wall staring at each other looking a million miles away.

It's then that it clicks for him.

They are more than just partners. 

When one of the various plaza tenants burst through the doors only then is the tense moment severed, Ms. Hong jumps back flustered thrusting her hand at his face and Mr. Cassano has to open his mouth lest he get smashed in the jaw. He watches amused as a grimace crosses the older man's face as he swallows the food as if it's poison.

Ms. Hong flies across to help the cute pianist that he's seen around a plaza a few times. He stares at her from under his bangs, looking away when she catches his eyes. Coughing loudly he walks away to do something important that doesn't involve losing his wits because of a pretty girl. Maybe he can talk to Mr. Cassano later just to ask about her, there's nothing wrong with being curious about your neighbors after all.

He doesn't know where else to go so he comes to Jipuragi, letting out a sigh of relief when he sees all the lights off. He pulls the key that Mr. Nam gave him from his pocket, still in disbelief that they trusted him enough to give him a key to the establishment. He had blinked away tears when the older man pushed the small metal object into his hands, it felt like a huge responsibility. Almost like he was being accepted into their makeshift family. It was far more than he deserved. 

Sitting down on his chair, he lets the agony wash over him. His cheek is throbbing, sore and swollen from the open handed slaps against the skin. Their stocks had dropped again from all the accusations and bad publicity, and his brother had once again taken it out on him berating him like a dog before kicking me out. It's nothing new, nothing he's never experienced before but it feels worst. Now that he's been around people who don't treat him like he's dirt, it hurts even more to go back to the old ways. He's so lost in thought he doesn't notice the door opening or the person creeping inside.

"What are you doing here?"

He jumps at the unexpected voice, twisting in his seat panicked. His heart rate settles once he sees the cool eyes of the man he's grown to respect. Vincenzo Cassano. He slumps in his seat, no excuses coming to mind and then it's too late and the other man is crossing the room and taking a seat across from him.

Those cold eyes narrow as they search his face, "What happened to your face?"

Images of his brother looming over him and slapping him on the ground flood his mind, along with his screams of pain as he pleads for him to stop. Then visions of a much smaller version of himself pleading similarly as his brother pulled his hair and laughed at his cries. He's crying before he ever realizes that the tear has condensed. 

Vincenzo tenses across the table, looking lost and uncomfortable.

It only makes him cry harder. It's so much better than getting hit.

Without a word the Mafia boss stands up pushing his chair away, stomping powerfully to the door. He watches alarmed before finding his voice and calling out, "Where are you going?"

The man looks at him darkly answering, "To kill your brother."

He gapes at the statement said so matter of fact and a bubble of laughter rises to the surface, making him chuckle through his tears. He rears back further at the other man's blatant confusion following his outburst, feeling freer than he's ever felt because this is the first time someone has tried to defend him.

It feels nice. Better than nice, unbelievable.

His heart thumps as he looks at the other man that he has every reason to be scared of but instead he feels safer than ever in his presence, it almost feels like what a brother should. A real brother not the one that he has who would kill him tomorrow without batting an eyelash.

"He's not done suffering yet. But thank you." Vincenzo shifts awkwardly at his show of gratitude never accepting of thanks something he has noticed while observing the enigmatic man, he vaguely wonders what this man has been through to make the complicated person he sees in front of him. Maybe one day he'll ask.

"Well if you're going to stay here, there's a bed up there."

Impulsively he replies, "Have you ever used it before? Is it really okay for me to use?"

He's met with a puzzled look, which he returns with a calculating one and then he spares a quick glance over to Ms. Hong's table and the gears click and Vincenzo is tomato faced and yelling, "Watch your mouth you brat! Do you want a beating?"

It shouldn't be funny with his face still throbbing from a beating just hours earlier, but he laughs so much his stomach hurts and that pain dulls the ache in his face.

"Oh my goodness what happened to your face?" He's barely able to get out an answer before Ms. Hong is jogging across the room, ever so gently catching his face in her small warm hands. Immediately he's reminded of his mother and he has to look away before he embarrasses himself.

He mumbles a lie about tripping but she's already sending a ferocious knowing look over to her partner and he watches their silent conversation with large eyes, until her voice breaks the pregnant pause.

"I can't wait until we kill that punk. How dare he put a hand on you? I'll go get some medicine, you-" she points to Vincenzo, "get him some ice before it starts to swell." The man automatically follows her instructions, looking like a dutiful husband.

And that's how Mr. Nam finds them, Vincenzo pressing ice wrapped in towels against his cheek as Ms. Hong squeezes creamy ointment onto her finger and smears it across his cheek. He blames his glossy eyes on the pain in his cheek and not the one in his chest.

It's his first time walking around the plaza and he tries to ignore the suspicious eyes that trail him, he knows that they know him as their enemy's brother and underling so he doesn't blame them for not trusting him, he would do the same. The clang of piano keys catches his attention and leads him to the source of the noise like a siren luring lost men, he watches transfixed through the glass as delicate fingers fly across the keys in a frenzy. It’s mesmerizing. 

He was forced to get piano lessons when he was younger, he was surprisingly good at it even better than Han Seok thus his brother became enraged and smashed his fingers putting a permanent end to his lessons.

The music lulls him into a sense of comfort so much so he doesn't realize when it ends and the small pianist notices that she has an audience.

When he finally looks up and catches her eye, he freaks out expecting her to look at him like all the others have today so he's unprepared for the door to slide open and for her to beckon him in with a crooked finger. He walks in almost as if in a trance, she's so pretty it's almost unnatural a supernatural glow surrounding her in her white flowing dress.

"How does it feel working at Jipuragi?" She asks suddenly catching him off guard, he sputters before taking a deep breath and looking away before replying, "I feel useful. It's....new."

That's all he can disclose and honestly it's more than he intended on saying but a knowing smile stretches across her pale face.

"Vincenzo, he's someone special who can make others feel special too." He smarts at the clear adoration in her voice, of course. She liked Vincenzo too. Every woman at this plaza probably did, the Italian was much more appealing than he would ever be- naturally charismatic and handsome, every woman's dream.

He smiles defeated stepping further into the space, running his fingers longingly across the piano keys. Something else that just wasn't meant for him.

"You like him too. It makes sense, he's really cool." He whispers, self deprecation swaddling him like a blanket. 

It's obvious who else he's referring to only Vincenzo and Ms. Hong seem to be in denial at this point everyone else assuming that they're already dating.

She doesn't deny his accusation. It's his own fault for having hope but that knowledge does nothing to tamper the hurt that rumbles in his chest. 

She hums before walking closer to him, fingers trailing across the black and white keys.

"I did. But they're good together."

He stills in shock, lightly pressing down on the key beneath his finger the sound vibrating through his skin. Then she presses another key that rings harmoniously with his and he can't not look over at her and he jolts breath stuck in his throat when he finds her already staring at him with a serene smile, "There are a lot of interesting people here though, someone else has caught my eye."

He plays the final note to fulfil the chord they started and their eyes never leave the other, music floating on the air between them.

Full. He’s never known what that felt like before but now he feels full of everything and he can't go back, can't ever go back to the way things once were.

There’s no looking back, only forward. 

[shorkbrian]

Never Ever

(Warnings - dub-con, non-con if you squint. NSFW, body insecurity)

“Stop fucking saying that!” Kiri paused, looking up from the magazine he was reading (men’s health, the one with big buff dudes on the cover, typical) to watch you storm out of the living room.

“Babe?”

You ignored him, stomping into the bedroom (you refused to call it “your” bedroom, or “our” bedroom, no matter how Kiri wishes you would).

Flopping down onto the big bed, you fluffed the covers out, quickly wiggling under them and pulling them up over your head. 

It was one of those moments when you didn’t feel like talking. You didn’t want to talk, you didn’t want to hear, to see or feel or do anything. You didn’t want to fucking exist.

You just wanted to sink into the bed and disappear, not only from the world, but from everyone’s minds.

Steady footfalls padded down the hall, into the bedroom. The bed shifted, and you heard Kirishima sigh.

“All I said was that you’re pretty. And you are. You’re beautiful. Gorgeous and breathtaking, and incredible, and stunning, and divine, and-”

“Shut up.”

Your growl made Kirishima chuckle, and it made your chest seize up. It’s so stupid, you’re so stupid. It wasn’t that big of a deal. 

“I don’t lie to you.”

That makes it worse. Huffing, you threw the covers off your head, met with the sight of Kirishima sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at you. He was so big, so muscled and broad, and he had such a nice body. He’d never understand.

“I know you’re not lying. You wouldn’t lie. But that’s the problem, you big oaf-” Kirishima grinned, and you wanted to punch him in the face. This wasn’t funny. “-You think everyone looks great, and you’d never put someone down for the way they look, even if they looked like a grotesque swamp monster.”

Trying not to cry was at the top of your priorities. 

“I don’t wanna talk about it anymore. Leave me alone.” If you said much more, crying would be inevitable. You shifted onto your side, facing away from the big redhead. With any luck, he’d get the message that you didn’t want him to be near you right now, and he would leave.

No such luck.

Kirishima grunted, and you felt the weight on the bed shift. He lifted up the covers, sliding in beside you, making no move to touch you. 

After a second of gathering his thoughts, Kiri spoke. “Well, I guess that’s kinda true. I think everyone has inherent worth, and their physical features don’t really contribute to it. Like, yeah, some people are really pretty, like Bakugou, but their looks don’t make them better than everyone else.”

A hand gently crept onto your waist, and you slapped it away quickly, scooting further away from the large man.

“But when I say you’re lovely, and attractive, and hot, and a whole-ass meal I mean it. And it’s not just about your body either, although like, you’re totally irresistible in that department.”

He tried again, a large hand clamping down on your waist. This time, when you angrily slapped at his hand, it stayed put.

“It’s just... You. You’re indescribable. I love you cause of the way you are.”

A warm, hulking body pressed against you, and you squirmed, but there was nowhere to go.

“I love you when you wake up in the morning, and you got like, those little eye booger things? Yeah. I love you when I come home and see your face, and when I get to hold you, and give you kisses-” A quick smooch was planted at the nape of your neck. “-and I love everything about you; all the good, all the bad. It’s no question.”

“Please don’t touch me.” You whispered. Such a wimp, you were crying now, throat tight, face hot. You felt so disgusting, and gross, and his words weren’t true, or if he believed them, then he was misguided. 

“Babe-”

“Please.”

“I’m not gonna do that.” His hold on you tightened, and he shuffled even closer, dwarfing your body with his own. “Tell me what’s going on, yeah? Let’s work this out.”

You stayed silent. It was too embarrassing, too trivial. He’d laugh at you, and you were a weak, pathetic little baby for even being bothered by this. Why couldn’t you just accept you were gross and ugly? Why did you have to cry a bout it?

“I’m not gonna leave until we talk, babe.” There was finality in his tone, and you could tell, he wasn’t going to budge.

Still, you couldn’t find the words. The feelings were just too much.

The two of you were still for a second, then Kirishima was shifting, turning onto his back, pulling you onto his chest and turning you so that your head rested on his chest. You’d struggle, but it’d be useless. Still, you wished he wouldn’t hold you.

You could hear his heartbeat like this. 

It was slow, steady, relaxing. You could probably fall asleep like this.

“I know you don’t feel good about how you look. That’s what this is about, isn’t it?” 

When you didn’t answer, he sighed, before continuing. 

“I’m paying attention. I see how you try not to look in the mirror, or how you always try to sit so your legs don’t “look big” or whatever. How you always do that thing with your head and you hate looking down cause you'll get a lil double chin.”

An ugly sob tore from your throat. Oh god, he had noticed all of that? You felt horrible. Awful. You were so dumb and embarrassing. 

“But I love when you’re just you. Your body is good as it is. I know you don’t think so, but I know for a fact that your brain is lying to you. Yeah, maybe you don’t look like those people on tv, or in magazines, or wherever... but you don’t need to, y’know?”

A kiss was placed on the top of your head, and Kirishima’s hand was stroking along your back, soothingly rubbing.

“You deserve love no matter how you look.”

“But I don’t-” you sobbed into his chest, hands fisting in the soft material of his shirt. “-not looking like-like this. I hate myself so much, and I’m so ugly, and stupid, and I know it’s like, super dumb to get upset like this-”

“It’s not.” Kirishima chimed in.

“-but I can’t ever just... be good enough. I look horrible, and my personality sucks, and everything about me is wrong and bad. I am so disgusting, and worthless, and-”

“You aren’t.” Kiri growled, cutting you off. The man sat up, taking you with him. He pulled you directly in front of him, so he could grab you by the shoulders and look into your eyes. “I don’t care what you say otherwise. I’ll say it and I’ll keep saying it until your ears bleed and my tongue falls off, you’re worth the fucking world to me.”

He surged forward, mashing his lips against yours. 

You clawed at the arms holding you in place. You didn’t want him to kiss you, your lips were chapped and you were all gross from crying. But Kirishima wouldn’t let up, nipping at your bottom lip, hungrily kissing you.

When he finally did relent, you pulled away, a fresh wave of tears rolling down your face. 

“Please don’t. I’m repulsive and obnoxious, and-and annoying-” you hiccuped.

Kirishima grabbed your face, rubbing at your tears with his thumbs.

“No you aren’t. You’re sexy as hell, and you’re so smart, and you’re kind, and I could go on and on and on.” He leaned in, planted a kiss on the tip of your nose, following you even though you shied backwards from his touch. “But right now, I don’t think you’re gonna listen to what I say. Guess I just gotta show you, don’t I?”

Your eyes widened, and you tried to wiggle free of his grasp. “No-”

“Shh, c’mere.”

He clambered off the bed, pulling you to the edge as he did so. Once the man was standing, he started undressing, letting go of you in the process.

“Kiri, you shouldn’t do this.” You whined, scrubbing at your eyes with your hands “I don’t want to, I never do - I’m gross and you’re so fit and in-shape, please don’t make me do this.”

The redhead clambered back on the bed, now devoid of clothes. 

You were right - he looked like he could be a fitness model, all smooth muscles and gleaming skin. No matter how much you worked out, or watched your diet, you still couldn’t achieve the type of body you wanted, and it was so frustrating. Why was it so easy for him, yet unattainable for you? You’d do almost anything to get the body you desired.

“Hey, listen to me.” Kirishima shuffled closer, grabbing your face with both hands, forcing you to look at him with puffy eyes. “You aren’t gross. You aren’t ugly, or fat, or any of those things that you tell yourself.”

“But I am!” Your voice was high, distressed, and you felt like a whiny little kid. When would you ever stop embarrassing yourself?

Kirishima shook his head, leaning in to give you a quick peck on the lips, before his hands moved to your clothes.

“No, don’t-”

He fixed you with a solemn glare, one of his hands catching your own when you tried to push at him, wrenching them into his chest, right over his heart.

“Feel that?” it was beating like a drum, heavy and quick. “I don’t care what I have to do to make you realize how worthy you are.”

The man pulled off your shirt, letting it tangle around your wrists where he was holding them. You had neglected a bra today, expecting to just do a few chores around the house today, so your breasts were bared to Kirishima’s hungry gaze.

With a shattered cry, you twisted to the side, trying to wiggle away from the big man, but he easily pulled you back into place.

“Look at you, you’re delicious.” His eyes were bright, a grin spreading across his face as he breathed down at you, gazing at your naked upper half.

“Kirishima, please stop. I don’t want to do this! Stop it!” You cried, feeling more tears spring to your eyes.

“Nope, not gonna happen.”

Your shorts were quickly pulled off your legs, along with your underwear, leaving you bare and vulnerable. You sobbed. You could only imagine what you looked like, held under Kirishima, unattractive and flabby underneath the muscular man.

Without a word, he dipped down to mouth at your collarbone, before planting hot kisses along your skin as he traveled further to your breasts. He finally let go of your wrists, which immediately came to push at his shoulders, but the large man wouldn’t budge.

“You’re so gorgeous, and hot. Look at how nice your tits are, all warm and soft.” To prove his point, he grabbed at the mounds, massaging them gently with his large palms as he kissed in-between them.

You writhed. “Hey, don’t-don’t! Stop doing th-at.” your skin was probably dry and riddled with odd textures - acne in some area, hair in others. How could Kirishima find that attractive?

He kept kissing all over your chest as you squirmed helplessly, still gently groping at your breasts with gentleness. His hands plucked at your nipples, softly squeezing your flesh, sucking hickies that made your breath hitch and your body jolt.

“God, you’re so perfect. Just right for me, just what I always need.”

His hands abandoned your tits, smoothing down your sides. “You feel amazing, just getting to touch you is so nice. You’re soft-” a kiss to your cheek “-and your skin gets all flushed-” a kiss to your collarbone “-and you look like a goddess.”

Hands skimmed over your stomach, and you burst into a fresh bout of tears, pushing more insistently at Kirishima’s shoulders. The man was feeling all over you, all of your lumpy bits, all of the places you hated and tried to hide and not think about. 

He pulled away from you, gazing down at you with softness in his eyes, hands coming to grip your thighs and pull you closer to where he was sitting on his knees.

“Y’know babe, if I was more patient I’d eat you out right now, always taste so fucking good. But-” moving to stroke at your folds with two fingers, Kirishima grinned at you wolfishly, baring his sharp teeth. “-You’ve got me all kinds of worked up, I can’t wait that long.”

You could feel his length pressing against the inside of your thigh, would be able to see it if you looked down. But then your chin would fold, and Kirishima would be able to see all the fat there, how the skin bunched and how you looked awful. No matter what he said, you knew the truth - you were disgusting.

A finger roughly worked it’s way inside of you, and you gasped at the sudden stretch, not nearly wet enough for it to be comfortable.

“Shit-” Kirishima murmured, before slowly taking out his digit. He leaned down spat directly onto your hole, smirked as he watched it clench at the sudden warmth of the liquid.

Then he was pushing his finger inside again, it’s way smoothed by his saliva. 

“Kiri... Please stoppp. I feel bad, ‘m not feeling good, it’s-”

“Shhhh, I’ll make you feel good in a second. Just gotta get my girl ready for me.”

You weren’t talking about the physical discomfort (though with the way he was rubbing over your walls, quick and determined, was making you shake), you were talking about your mental state.

You felt like trash; useless, foul-smelling, rotten garbage. How could Kirishima even want you? Why did he even want you? There was no way he found you attractive, he was just trying to make you feel better, trying to be kind and supportive, because that’s just the kind of person he was. 

Another finger entered you, joining the first in quickly stretching you. A third was added after a while, then a fourth, Kirishima kissing at the flesh of your torso throughout the entire process.

He was already breathing heavily, panting in between each kiss. You could feel his hips occasionally stutter towards you, as if the man couldn’t stop himself from moving, from rutting his cock against the inside of your thigh as he prepared you to take him.

“Mm, alright, ready baby?”

The fat head of his cock was lined up against your entrance as soon as his fingers pulled free, slick with your juices. Kirishima quickly stroked his hand over his cock, groaning lowly, before grabbing under the head, holding it steadily against your pussy.

“Gonna make you feel so good, want you to feel how much I love you.”

It didn’t matter how much you shook your head, or uttered blubbered “No!”’s, Kirishima was determined. 

He slowly sheathed himself into your tight heat, almost whimpering as your velvety walls enveloped his cock. The man has his eyes closed, biting his lips as he pressed further and further, before his hips jumped forward unconsciously, seating himself balls-deep into your cunt.

“Fuckkkk, baby, you feel so good, how are you even real?”

You could only gasp, filled to the brim with cock, unable to think past the thickness buried deep and pressing into all the right spots. 

Kirishima pulled out a few inches, but quickly sank forward again, sighing in pleasure as your pussy gripped his bare cock, making it wet and slick and creamy with all your juices. 

He brought his hand over your pelvis, pressing down on your mons with his palm, thumb hanging down to rub delicately at your clit, making you arch.

“Ohhh shit, what a good girl, feeling good?”

His question went unanswered as you moaned involuntarily, the sensations that the man was creating becoming too much and entirely not enough at the same time. 

“Love you so much, you’re so beautiful. My girl has the hottest body, the prettiest voice, let it out for me yeah?”

You shook your head, quickly clamping your hands over your mouth, whimpering as he pulled out, before fluidly thrusting back in. He hit so deep, past where your own fingers could reach, right in all the spots that felt the best.

“Awh, baby I wanna hear you.” He whined, still rubbing at your clit.

Your stomach was tight, pleasure lancing through your gut and up into your chest. You muffled your sounds with your hands, closing your eyes so you wouldn’t have to look at Kirishima, see his look of adoration as he ravished your body.

The man seemed fine with that, focusing on moving his body against yours, pulling you into his lap on each thrust. The way your hips were angled high made it easy for the man to fall into a comfortable rhythm, bottoming out before pulling back, the head of his dick scraping deliciously against your walls.

“You make me so happy, I don’t ever wanna be away from you. You’re the best thing in my life, I’m so glad I get to have you.” Kirishima groaned out, sweaty body pressing against yours as he leaned forward to embrace you in a hug. 

The man was always so touchy, wanting to hold hands, playing with your hair whenever he could, pulling your shirt aside to kiss at your shoulders whenever you let him.

He turned his head to kiss your cheek, before quickly becoming unsatisfied, pushing himself up so he could pull your hands away from your mouth.

“Wanna kiss my pretty girl.” 

And he did, almost melting against your body as his lips met yours. You let him do what he wished, fervently making out with you.

Again, his hand found it’s way to your slit, fingers rubbing against your puffy lips. When they made contact with your clit, you jolted, hot pleasure climbing higher and higher.

“Kiri, Kiri, gonna-gonna cum, gonna cum.”

“Oh fuck, me too, you’re so fucking tight, your sloppy little pussy keeps pulling me in, fuck.”

You whined, pulling your head back from Kirishima to breathe, only for the man to start kissing at your neck, hot and wet.

The pleasure in your stomach crested, throbbing through your core as you came, clutching at Kirishima. The man moaned against your neck, hips working into you in little circles as he chased after his own pleasure. Your vision blacked out momentarily as he kept fucking into you, prolonging your pleasurable high.

You were still riding the last waves of your orgasm when the man pulled out, grunting as he stripped his cock over your stomach, grunting. “I love you, fuck, I love you so much.”

He came on your stomach, moaning brokenly as his hand worked over his cock, eventually slowing down, before stopping completely. The man had his eyes closed, barely cracking one open so he could flop down beside you without hitting you.

The sounds of the two of you breathing filled the space, panting together. 

Kirishima turned on his side, facing you as he smiled. “That felt amazing. I’m so lucky that you’re mine.”

You ignored him the best you could, the feelings of insecurity creeping back in. 

A hand suddenly appeared on your stomach, running through the mess of Kirishima’s cooling cum, rubbing it into your skin.

“Kirishima, ew.” You groaned, head flopping back onto the mattress. You were too tired to push him away, too worn out to dispute his praises and adulation.

You suppose that had been his plan from the beginning.

“Sorry, it’s just - you look so sexy like this, my cum all over you. It’s like I’m marking my territory.” You frowned at the mans’s goofy grin, but just closed your eyes instead of saying anything.

“Hey-” Kiri shuffled closer, his clean hand coming to cup your chin and pull your face to his. Red eyes stared into your own, wide and truthful. “I love you. That’s never going to change.”

Your gaze flickered to the side, and Kirishima took ash opportunity to press your foreheads together, nose nudging against your cheek.

“Never ever.”

[amphxtrite]

pietro maximoff x fem!reader

warnings: light angst (sad pietro).

summary: pietro has worries about potentially becoming a father, so you hep him realize everything will be alright.

a/n: my first marvel fic, sorry if I messed up the russian.

word count: 1.8k

enjoy <3

blyad’ - fuck, printsessa - princess, moya lyubov' - my love, krasivaya - beautiful, dorogoy - darling, ya tebya lyublyu - I love you, zhena - wife

__________________________________________

“I can’t believe the captain is making me practice physical combat like I can’t take someone down with my mind.” Wanda groans, holding her sore shoulder in her hand as the two of you exit the training room.

“You know he does it just in case Wanda, besides it’s good to know.” You smile, repeating the same line for what seemed like the tenth time today.

“It’s not like my powers are going to just disappear y/n, besides I strongly dislike sparring.”

“You just don’t like it when Steve calls you out for using your powers.” You smirk.

“That was one time!” Wanda groans, murmuring a couple curses under her breath.

“Anyways, I was talking to Fury about the next mission and—”

Your sentence is cut short as the wind is knocked out of your stomach and the air around you begins to blur, terrified you latch onto the person carrying you.

“Blyad’ Pietro steal your girlfriend at your own time!” Wanda seethes.

But you can barely hear her groan of annoyance as a soft chuckle brings your eyes up to meet a pair of blue ones.

“Hello Printsessa, coincidence bumping into you here.” A familiar sokovian accent greets you.

“We live in the same building Pietro, you can’t do this every time you see me—” You squeal as the blonde picks up the pace.

“You know you love it, moya lyubov'.” He sighs with a smirk, pressing a long kiss to your cheek.

“Besides, you look ever so beautiful in my arms.” Pietro teases, pausing for a moment to nuzzle his nose to yours and take in the sight of your breathless self clutching onto his neck for dear life.

“Don’t look at me like that I-I’m trying to be mad at you.” You groan, glancing away only to find Pietro still staring at you with soft eyes, like you were his world.

“Alright, you win Piet. You’re going to make me melt.” You mutter, covering your face with your hands to disguise your deep blush, but Pietro had already seen it.

Grinning proudly to himself, he paces down to the living room and drops you gently on the couch before running off again.

“So kiddo, how was training today?” Clint asks nonchalantly, gratefully turning away from his conversation with Tony.

“Well, we finally got Wanda to spar without her powers for once, so I see that as a win.” You shrug with a laugh as Pietro arrives again with a blanket to toss over you.

“That’s good, the kid needs to learn, she can’t always use her ‘mind thing.’” Clint shrugs.

“Try telling her that.” You smirk.

A voice clearing abruptly cuts off Clint’s next sentence.

“Hey speedy, anyone ever say you look like a suburban dad with those tousled locks.” Tony comments sarcastically, eyeing Pietro’s slightly overgrown hair.

“Oh leave him alone Tones, he’s been on a mission for the past couple weeks.” You sigh, playfully pushing the brunette.

“Just saying.” Tony murmurs quietly under his breath.

You roll your eyes, but smile fondly at the thought of Pietro as a father, cradling a small child in his arms.

Glancing up at Pietro, you smile, but you’re met with a different expression.

Eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed. Pietro’s eyes cast away from you, as if he was trying to bore a hole in the wall.

“Is everything alright speedy?” You question softly, resting your hand on his arm.

Your heart clenches as he flinches slightly, turning his gaze back to you.

“Yes— yes of course krasivaya.” He smiles weakly, attempting to sound cheerful, but the break in his voice was evident.

“Um— I’m feeling kind of tired, I’ll see you guys later.” You excuse yourself, nodding to Clint and Tony as you take Pietro’s hand.

“Alright, but remember tonight’s movie night so don’t eat too much before nine, we’re ordering pizza.” Clint calls as you begin to walk away.

“Alright old man, we’ll keep it in mind.” You laugh, pulling Pietro out of the living room.

“Oh she’s getting it tonight.” Tony laughs as Clint rolls his eyes.

“Watch it, the kid looked kind of upset.” Clint sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Alright, sorry Katniss.” Tony chuckles, lifting his hands in mock surrender.

Refusing to let go of Pietro’s hand, you reach the door to his room and pull him inside, finally releasing your grip and taking a deep breath.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s really up Piet?” You sigh, taking his hands into yours.

Pietro’s eyes are downcast at the floor beneath him, glancing from side to side. For a moment, no one moves, you practically hold your breath for a moment as Pietro fidgets with your fingers and mentally debates saying anything.

When Pietro finally lifts his head, he reveals blurry blue eyes with tears welled up in the corners. “Printssesa...”

Your heart drops to your stomach as the streams fall down his cheeks, you quickly lift your hand to dry them.

“Printsessa, how could I ever become a father?” He mumbles softly, pulling his bottom lip into his teeth as he tries to fight back his on-coming tears.

“Of course you could be a father Piet, you’d be an amazing dad!” You smile softly, lifting Pietro’s chin so he’s facing you again.

His lips pull up into a weak smile, but his downhearted eyes suggested there was more to it.

“Piet?” You whisper softly. “Please. You can trust me.” You murmur, lifting his hand to press a kiss to his fingers. 

The blue eyed blonde takes a deep breath and shuffles around on his feet, avoiding eye contact as your gaze softens.

“I-I don’t know dorogoy. You shouldn’t have to see me like this I apologize.” Pietro sighs, slowly trying to turn himself away from you.

“W-What? No. Piet, you’re upset. Please as long as you’re willing to tell me, I’m here to listen and help.” You smile, taking Pietro’s calloused fingers into your hand and squeezing gently.

Pietro chuckles softly and squeezes back.

“Thank you krasivaya. I don’t know how I got so lucky.” Pietro mumbles, pulling you into his arms and sniffling against your head.

“Please Piet, I think I’m the one who got lucky. The cute speedster with the perfect smile.” You smirk, nuzzling your nose into his chest.

“Yes, I suppose you did.” He chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to your hair.

Pietro clears his throat, letting out a long sigh and taking in a seep breath.

“What I mean, about being a father of course, is how could I possibly manage it.” he starts, clutching you closer to him.

“Y/n, I lost my father when I was ten, I hold onto any scrap of a memory I can hold of him but they’re slowly fading. Ever since I’ve been reckless, stupid, and childish. I almost died y/n, how could I possibly take care of children when I can barely take care of myself.” Pietro sighs and takes another deep breath.

“Truth be told I’m still much of a child myself, I couldn’t leave you with children because I died trying to prove something to myself. I couldn’t bear knowing I’d failed you and our children as a father.” Pietro finishes in a low murmur, allowing his tears to flow freely as he expressed his deepest fear and insecurity.

“Printsessa, you’ve helped me learn how to slow down and appreciate my life, but I’m still far from perfect. It’s hard for me to imagine being a father when I can see myself screwing everything up for the person who makes my life better.” He continues, gently pulling back from your arms to show the sincerity he held.

Your heart warms at the love Pietro held for you, but your stomach drops when learn his fear. Placing your hand on his cheek, you pull him towards you again, rest your forehead against his and gently clear your voice.

“Perhaps we’re not talking about the same Pietro love.” You comment softly, brushing the hair from your boyfriend’s confused eyes.

“Because my Pietro Django Maximoff, is the farthest from reckless, stupid or childish.” You begin, stroking his face with your thumb.

“My Pietro is selfless, ready at all times to help someone in need and save the day.” You smirk, watching his lips turn up as you press a peck to his nose.

“He’s brave, willing to do whatever it takes to help, but also smart enough to know when enough is enough.” You continue, kissing the tears off his cheeks.

“He’s fun, always knows how to make everyone smile.”

“y/n, I—”

“Pietro, you could never ‘fail’ me. We aren’t perfect, we’ll learn as we grow.” You smile, leaning into Pietro to press a butterfly kiss to his lips.

“Remember there’s no rush darling, and no matter what, ya tebya lyublyu.” You say as clearly as you can.

Pietro does his best to hide his laugh, but it’s futile as a low chuckle escapes.

“I butchered it didn’t I?” You sigh, shaking your head gently.

“Only a little krasivaya.” Pietro smiles, kissing your temple.

“Y-You know that’s the first time you’ve said that.” Pietro murmurs, holding you tightly against him, arms wound against your waist.

“I wanted to save it for sometime special… And I’ve been practicing.” You laugh.

“Aw I’m flattered dorogoy.” Pietro chuckles, falling onto the bed and pulling you down with him.

“Pietro!”

“You know you love it, moya lyubov.” He chuckles breathily, leaving a trail of kisses on the side of your neck.

“I love you too, printsessa. So very much.” Pietro sighs, his thick accent rolling smoothly off his tongue.

“So. Learn as we grow Piet?”

“With you beside me, anything y/n.” Pietro laughs, moulding your lips together in a soft kiss.

“Now c’mon, Nat’s picking the movie tonight.” You murmur against him.

“Oh, I love a good horror movie, Clint always screams.” Pietro laughs, standing again and pulling you bridal style into his arms, and running you to the living room.

————

“Shh, shh you’re going to wake up mama.”

You awake to the glow of a faint light and the sound of a soft cry. Squeezing your eyes together, you shift yourself to your side and attempt to drift off when a voice catches your attention.

Singing.

Coaxing your eyes open, you turn over again and glance to the other side of your bedroom where Pietro sat cradling your bundle of joy.

Pietro’s smooth voice had brought the cries to a happy coo, and you could see your daughter’s small hand reach up and touch her father’s face.

“Good morning Piet.” You smile, sitting up and rubbing your eyes.

“It’s only three a.m dorogoy, go back to bed.” Pietro insists as you stand and make your way over to him.

“And let you become the favourite, I know your plans love.” You smirk, wrapping one arm around Pietro’s shoulder and using the other to caress his cheek.

“Alright, you caught me.” Pietro chuckles, gently rocking the baby in his arms.

“Hate to say I told you so.” You laugh in a sing-song voice.

“Oh I’m still terrified, zhena.” Pietro smiles nervously, glancing over at you and pausing as he takes in your beauty in the low light. His heart flutters at the sight of you smiling down at your baby, his train of thought getting lost as you look back at him.

“But?” You question when Pietro’s sentence drops.

“But— I must say my love for you and our little angel is... Much stronger.” He murmurs, kissing your baby’s forehead.

Your heart warms at the sight of your husband's smile that matches your little girl’s.

“Learn as we grow?” Pietro smiles, leaning forward with his eyes closed.

“With you by my side, anything Piet.” You smirk, taking his fingers in your chin and meeting him halfway.

Pietro tilts his chin to deepen the kiss, but the sound of high pitched coos pull you apart.

“ya tebya lyublyu, Piet.” You sigh, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your little girl’s forehead and then the corner of Pietro’s lip.

“I love you too, y/n.” He murmurs dreamily.

“Now come on, she’s practically fighting to keep her eyes open now.” You giggle glancing down at your child’s half closed eyes.

“Alright, alright.” Pietro chuckles, placing your daughter back in the crib and collapsing onto your mattress.

“You’re doing amazing my love.” You yawn as Pietro pulls you to his chest and leans into you for a slow kiss.

“You’re not too bad yourself, printsessa.” He murmurs against your lips.

It was all even better than you had imagined.

[axoxtxhxh]

Not Without Trying - Chapter 9

Summary: Levi struggles to admit his feelings to Reader, unsure if she feels the same way.

LevixFem!Reader

Warnings: Light grinding, Levi being cute

Word Count: ~ 2,700

Y/N walked back to her door, barely making it to her bed after Levi left, before hearing another knock.

“Levi?” She was surprised. Shit! She’s surprised I’m back. “Checking in on me again?” She smiled.

He wanted to kiss her. God, did he want to kiss her. He held his gaze for a little too long because she started to look confused.

“C—can I come in?” He asked. Damn it, stop stuttering!

“Sure.” She smiled and move out of the way for him to walk in. He shuffled to the wall next to her dresser away from her bed, knowing that was where she would sit. She sat on the bed and he watched her, still saying nothing. She looked around her room, not knowing what he was doing.

“Uh…” He made a noise and looked to the floor.

“So… you’re here.” She pressed her lips together and her eyes were shifting again, looking for any reason that he might be there. Without him telling her, she had no idea, but he still didn’t speak. “Do you want me to guess why you’re here?”

He closed his eyes and took a breath. “I really have no idea what I’m doing.”

“What you’re doing? With what?”

“I…uh…” He closed his eyes and shook his head. This was already failing. He felt stupid and completely out of his element. This isn’t the kind of thing he normally did. His heart was beating so quickly in his chest, he could feel it in his ears. His mouth was dry as he swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Is there something you’re trying to say?”

“Y—yes.”

He looked around the room, shifting his weight around, becoming increasingly aware of the fact that this was the first time he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands. He normally held them at his sides, but they felt heavy, almost pulling at his shoulders. He moved them to his pocket, but it felt too stiff so he moved one to her dresser, propping up his head on his elbow. I look like an idiot. He dropped his hands down, holding them at his sides awkwardly.

“Why don’t you come sit here.” She could see how uncomfortable he was, moving around to find a comfortable spot. He looked like a little kid trying to ask his mom to play outside and she tried not to smile at him. Instead she stood up, grabbing his hands and pulling him to the bed.

Seeing her sit there in front of him made it both easier and harder to speak. This isn’t anything new. This is Y/N. You’ve spoken to her so many times. Don’t be stupid. He looked at her, wanting to speak, but still not sure what to say. Her eyes were so forgiving, just looking at him and trying to encourage him to speak and he sat there like an idiot.

“I…um…It’s…” He chuckled at his stupidity. He took another deep breath.

“Are you okay? I’ve never seen you like—”

“Maybe Hange was right.” The words poured out of his mouth.

“Hange was right?” She repeated.

“God, don’t make me say it.” He groaned, putting his face in his hands and resting them on his knees. How was this so hard for him. He wanted to bang his head against the wall. He wasn’t good at this sort of thing. Y/N is so smart, why does she have to be so dumb right now?

“Levi, whatever you want to say, just say it.” She reassured him. “It’s me you’re talking to.”

She was right, it was only her, but it wasn’t making it any easier for him knowing that because it may just be her, but shewas the reason he was feeling like this. She was the reason he couldn’t get out of his own head and tell her. She was the reason he couldn’t focus on anything because every time he looked into her eyes he saw understanding and kindness and her quiet strength that made him melt into putty. He could feel his cheeks getting warm the more he thought about her.

She was starting to get nervous. She had never seen Levi acting like this and she was worried this was bad, something he didn’t want to say to her, but he needed to say. What if she wasn’t doing her job well? What if her flirting had been unprofessional and he told Erwin and now she was getting kicked out the survey corps? So many things ran through her head and she was getting impatient waiting for Levi to tell her the bad news.

“Hange was right that…” He started. “Maybe we should…”

He started speaking with his hands. He never spoke with his hands and it was giving Y/N so much anxiety. She knew he would never want to hurt her and if he was trying to sugarcoat the fact that she might be fired, he was doing it with the best intentions, but it was killing her.

“Maybe we could…”

Could? Could calm down? Could quit? Could what?!

“…try… “

Try being more professional? Try what?

“…dating.” …What?

Y/N’s eyes widened and Levi caught it.

“I knew it.” He complained. “It was stupid. I shouldn’t have said anything.” He stood up. “Ugh, I was dumb to think—”

“Levi, stop!” She pulled his arm, but he kept pulling away, turning his body, refusing to look at her. “Levi! You’re acting… like… a child!”

She kept trying to pull him, but ultimately thought it would be easier to let him pull away. She kept hold of his hand, but when he tried to leave, she grabbed his shoulders and pushed him against the wall, he looked down, unable to look her in the face.

“Please, Y/N.” He pleaded. “Just let me… I just feel so… God, it was such a—”

“It’s not a stupid idea.” She interrupted. He looked up at her, his cheeks decorated with a bright pink flush. “It’s not stupid.”

He relaxed his shoulders and she let go of him, going back to sit on the bed and hoping he would follow her.

“Then you…were y—were you thinking…”

“This is definitely a side of you I’ve never seen before.” She smiled.

“Shut up.” He smiled back, moving to sit next to her. “So it’s not a bad idea?”

Y/N shook her head. Levi looked away from her and down at his hands. He couldn’t even describe how he was feeling. Anxious was definitely up there though.

“So, what are we… What will we be to each other? Are there certain steps we have to…?” He stopped talking as he watched her smile grow at his question. “I don’t… I’ve never…”

“How about you decide. You tell me what we are.” She replied leaning back on her arms.

He knew what he actually wanted to tell her. He wanted to tell her that she was everything to him. One of his best friends. That she was one of the only things he would give everything up for. That his heart had started beating quickly every time he sees her and he doesn’t know why, but he wants to figure it out.

She could see how overwhelmed he was just by looking at his face. He got lost in his own thoughts and probably wasn’t going to come out of there for a while so she spoke first.

“I care about you Levi,” she started, “I value you as a friend. I don’t know what I would do if I lost you. You’ve been here for me in a way no one else has and in a way I didn’t even know I needed. You’re someone in my life that I could never replace.”

Levi watched her as she spoke.

“You’re also one of the only people I can tolerate being around for more than 20 minutes.” She smiled at him and he laughed lightly at her using what he said to her.  “I have a lot of respect for you, but these last few weeks have been making me think about what Hange said as well.”

His heart skipped a little. Did she just say…

“Maybe Hange knows something we don’t.” She held his hand. He looked down at their hands then intertwined their fingers. She smiled at him and he smiled back. “Let’s see where it goes.”

Y/N started leaning closer to him. He froze and the closer she got, the heavier his breathing got. She was so close to his face now.

“Levi?” She stopped moving forward.

“Yeah?”

“You’re going to break my hand.” He looked down and realized he had been squeezing her hand so tightly his knuckles were white. He quickly released it.

“I—I’m sorry.” He stood up, walking to the wall and back a couple times. “I don’t really… I mean, I’ve never been in a relationship, so all the things that come with it. Like…”

“Kissing.”

“Yes… kissing. I don’t have much experience with it.” He stopped pacing and stood in front of her.

She leaned her arms back on the bed.

“Well we don’t have to kiss. There are other things we could do. You seem pretty okay with holding hands. There’s hugging, or even just sitting closely to each other. We already eat meals together so that one is good. Eventually there’s sex, but without kiss—”

A high-pitched noise escaped Levi’s mouth and his eyes went wide. He quickly slammed his mouth shut.

“What was that?” Y/N teased, chuckling at him.

“Nothing.” He answered quickly, moving over to the wall, resting his head against it.

“Levi, we don’t have to do any of that stuff if you don’t want to.” She reassured him.

“I want to though. I really do.” He took a deep breath.

He started rubbing his nail against the wall, trying to get himself together and Y/N stood up, wanting to help him relax.

“I’m sorry. I’m not confident with any of this.” He whispered.

“You’re just nervous.” She comforted him, not wanting to walk any closer in case it would make him feel weird. “That’s not bad.”

“But I do want to kiss you. I do.”

“Do you want me to help you?” She asked quietly. “I mean, you are dealing with a rather dominant woman.”

He laughed in agreement.

“I don’t mind helping you along.” She continued. “It will be more of a push than guidance. And if I’m being honest it will be more of a shove than a light push. I’ve never been very gentle.”

He laughed again and nodded at the wall.

“Well first, close your eyes.” She started.

He stayed where he was, standing up straight and following what she said.

“Now take a deep breath.” He did.

“Another.” He did.

“One more.” He did what she said, feeling a bit calmer.

“You can open your eyes.” Her voice was right in front of him.

He opened his eyes and looked at her. She was so close to his face now, her skin looking as soft and smooth as it always did. He could see how the moonlight painted shadows on her face and it showed how high her cheekbones were. Even in the near darkness, her eyes still looked so beautiful.

She moved her hand down his arm until she was holding his hand. Her other hand moved away some of the hair in his eyes and then lightly brushed across his cheek. His eyes fluttered closed at her touch and he took a deep breath. Not a calming deep breath, but a forced one. He was very sure she could feel his heart beat in his hand and he wanted anything to distract him from it. He took another deep breath and opened his eyes.

“Y/N…” His voice was shaky as he looked at her through the curtain of his bangs, his arm resting on the wall just to the side of her head.

“Yes…?” She was smiling and secretly loving every second of his embarrassing discomfort. He was cute. A word she never thought she would use to describe Levi. Handsome? Yes. Debonair? Definitely. He was even charming in his own way, but cute? Never would she have thought it.

“Can I…” He looked away, eyes darting left and right aimed at the floor while he tried to get the words out.

“Can you...” She could barely hold in her excitement almost bouncing while she waited for him to finish his question. He slowly looked up at her. The expression on his face the same as it always was. Though this time a slight tint of pink sat on his cheeks while his pupils were fully dilated.

“Can I kiss you?” He breathed, his voice just over a whisper.

Y/N smiled. She took in the moment enjoying his face being so close to hers, watching how his eyes searched her face, desperate for her answer, his breath, smelling faintly of black tea, hitting her face with each exhale.

She could only imagine his heart beating as fast as hers right now. She was excited too. It wasn’t just Levi who was nervous. She wanted this just as badly as he did and if it weren’t for her trying to comfort him, she would probably be as visibly awkward.

She looked down, searching his body for anything appropriate to touch to bring even more heat into the moment. Finally, she settled on his hip and lightly looped her first finger into his pant loop then replied.

“Yes.”

Levi took a small step closer to her while bringing his free hand to her cheek. He lifted his head and leaned in further then kissed her.

It was a little slow at first. Only just pecking his closed lips to hers. She was reminded that this was most likely one of Levi’s first kisses. She relaxed a little, letting him take the lead. Her stomach fluttered at his inexperience and she wondered how he must be feeling.

He continued slowly and after a few more pecks and some angled rotations of his head, he was getting more comfortable and his lips started lingering longer on hers. With his hand still on the wall behind her, he leaned into her body a little more.

Feeling him move closer, Y/N utilized the opportunity to push the kiss slightly deeper. She used the tip of her tongue to barely touch his upper lip, grazing across the front. With this he let out the softest, breathy moan and immediately felt self-conscious.

Before he could pull away, Y/N wrapped one arm around his neck and the other around his waist pulling him even deeper into her arms while never letting his lips leave hers. She sighed quietly into his mouth to let him know it’s okay and his hand went to her waist, lightly squeezing her.

They both pushed away from the wall a bit as they closed the gap in between their bodies entirely. Levi moved his hand up to Y/N’s upper back, pulling her even closer. Y/N could tell he was much more comfortable now, opening his mouth and deepening the kiss.

Levi could feel himself getting hotter, sparks moving through his body and building heat in his stomach. He pulled her as close as he could and began lowering his hand to her hips and pushing his hips against hers. She moaned into him and couldn’t stop herself from sliding her tongue into his mouth.

He let out a loud exhale, breathing heavier as both of his hands reached her hips and he roughly grinded himself against her. Y/N could start to feel a hardness hitting her upper thigh and she moved her hand to try to rub harder against him, her own breathing getting heavy.

Knock! Knock!

They both pulled away looking at the door wondering who was knocking this late at night. Reluctantly, they separated from each other and Y/N went to open the door.

“Hange?” Levi questioned. The other captain looked from Y/N to Levi. A slow, but very large grin growing on their face. Oh shit.

Taglist: @levisbebe @nefelimalfoy​

[gaitwae]

Wildest Dreams [|] Loki x Reader

Sequel to Mr. Perfectly Fine

Warnings: 

Summary: Loki remembers what he’s done to you. You work through the hurt, deciding not to rush whatever’s really going on.

Tags: @make-me-imagine @thorfanficwriter @bwemph @myraiswack @rorybutnotgilmore @loki-snape-our-hero @wolfish-trickster @lucywrites02 @mostly-marvel-musings @winterfrostsarmy @superheroesandstardust @castiels-majestic-wings @geekns @natandersonnla @cozy-the-overlord @megthemewlingquim @frostedgiant @whatafuckingdumbass @thebookbakery @delightfulheartdream @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @the-emo-asgardian @amwolowicz @itscomplicatedx @sophlubbwriting​ @darkacademicfrom2021 @lilyofthesword 

It was absolutely safe to say that when your eyes opened, you were scared out of your mind. Loki was sleeping on your couch, his fingers laced with yours. Vaguely, all too quickly, you realized that accepting his dashing-yet-blunt proposal wasn’t a fantasy.

Hurt bubbled up in your chest. Your eyes stung dully as you removed your hand from his. You checked his temperature: it was low. He was drunk. He was sitting on your couch with your smudged lip color on his. He did think you were engaged now, despite the fact that you were quickly realizing how bad that was.

Loki hurt you.

Loki hurt you real bad.

You couldn’t marry this man, no matter how much you might have wanted to those years ago. You never would have said yes! Loki just... he seemed so sad. He had never cried in front of you, not if you didn’t count Frigga’s funeral, and even then, that wasn’t anything like... well... that display. His tears were like salt in the wound, laughing right at you. You put some distance between the two of you. You cleaned his mouth off with your sleeve, wondering how on Earth you were going to explain this to Bucky.

Oh, no.

Bucky.

Bucky was going to have to hear Loki’s hungover insistance that you were now his fiancée. He was also going to have to hear about how you kissed Loki back. You had to be honest. You had to call your boyfriend. There was no skipping over the truth when you were dating a lawyer, no matter how much you wanted to avoid it.

It was better that he heard it from you rather than the ex boyfriend laying on your couch.

You dialed Bucky’s number. He picked up quickly. “Baby, are you okay?”

“Bucky, Loki came over,” you said quickly, “and he was drunk... he, uh, kissed me, and he proposed to me because apparently you were planning on asking me to marry you?” You swallowed, trying to think of how to redeem yourself. “I got so swept up with emotion from the past, I said yes, I didn’t mean to, but Loki was already crying and I needed him to calm down — he’s — he’s asleep, but if he starts getting protective by the time you come home, I’m so sorry—!”

“Wait,” Bucky said, cutting you off. “Baby, explain this again. Calmly, okay?” He didn’t sound too worried. Then again, this might be the quiet before the storm.

“Loki came by our house, drunk. He was crying, and I got nervous. He kissed me, proposed, and then asked me to marry him. I didn’t know what to do, so I said yes. I’m so, so sorry....”

“Well, you’re not going to marry him, are you?” he asked, sad humor slipping in. Your heart sank.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled. You didn’t mean to say it out loud, but hey? What could you do? You held the phone to your ear gingerly, keeping an eye on Loki’s sleeping form. “I-I mean, no. No.”

The anger slowly started to build. You understood it. You hoped he would be mad at you instead of Loki. “You don’t know? Or ‘no’? What is it?”

“James, it isn’t like that,” you protested. You bit your tongue and your cheek. If the world was perfect, you would have married Loki like you were set on. You would have had children with him, by now. As you spoke, you found you weren’t faced with the possibility of losing Bucky, but the possibility of throwing away your decade-old dreams. “I swear. I don’t want to marry anybody, right now. I don’t. I couldn’t.”

“Why couldn’t you? What if I did propose, Y/N?” Defensive. Protective. Angry. Hurt. Why? Had Loki been right? 

You hadn’t ever talked about marrying Bucky. You couldn’t imagine that life. “Bucky, can we save this for later?” you begged through the phone. “Please, I’m worried about Loki; he’s never drunk himself stupid before.” You scratched your neck. In your wildest dreams, you had never imagined falling back into Loki’s temptation.

You had finally woken up clean, and he had to try to bring you back down.

“Y/N?” he asked after a moment. Barnes sounded hollow. Hollow, but understanding. There was a shuffle over the phone and you couldn’t tell what it was. Was he leaving? Was he moving around? Would he forgive you?

“Yeah?” you managed. 

“You still love him. Don’t you?” 

Your tongue was glued to the roof of your mouth. Your tears welled up. No wonder you were able to be friends with Loki. No wonder you weren’t able to just forget about him. With an ocean of regret in your voice, you admitted, “I don’t want to.”

James sighed. “Okay. Well, we can talk things through at home... I know you didn’t mean for anything to happen, I know you’ve been as faithful as you can be. You wouldn’t be calling and crying otherwise.” He sniffed. “I shouldn’t have planned a proposal without clearing it with you. We haven’t talked about marriage.”

“Bucky, if I do ever marry, I don’t want you to worry if it’s you or Loki. I don’t even know if I want to marry anyone. Loki clearly has feelings for me, I can’t just pretend that I don’t have remaining feelings when he could very well keep coming by... Gosh.” You sat down in a chair. You looked at your left hand, which had no ring on it. It was bare. 

“I’ll head home,” Bucky said. “Sit tight. Bye.”

“Bye.” You hung up the phone. You held your head in your hands, silently cursing yourself for being the world’s biggest pushover. Your ex waltzed in, gave off a teary show, and then pleaded for your heart like he was on death row, and you listened. Were you an idiot? What kind of mistake were you making? Could you up and leave Bucky for some tool who could change his mind as quickly as he had four years ago?

You sat there for what seemed like hours; it was probably only one or two, considering how long Bucky’s firm was from your home. Your boyfriend eventually stepped through the door and pulled you into his arms, millions of apologies being swapped between the two of you. 

You sat at the table and talked for almost three hours. Every now and then, it was bordering an argument, but you both kept your cool. Bucky knew how hard you were trying to be there for him, to be his, but when it came down to it, you were always Loki’s. You had a raw wound. You knew how much Bucky wanted to be yours, but as it turned out, he was proposing because it seemed like what was expected of him. Through the conversation, you learned that maybe it was smarter to take a break, maybe stay roommates, and try to exist as friends again.

“If Loki makes you happy,” Bucky whispered, “then I think you should try again. He’s changed; he’s made changes for you. He’s been good to you. We’ve been barely getting by these past months.”

“I know,” you replied. “But I’m not going to turn around and just run after him. That’s not smart. You’re still in my life, Buck.”

“All I see is you,” he murmured.

“I know,” you said again.

Bucky stood up. “I’m going to stay at Steve’s tonight, doll. Um... make sure Loki has water when he wakes up. Give him a good tongue-thrashing for me.” He offered a weak smile.

You sniffled. “Take whatever you need. I’ll be up playing nurse — don’t worry about anything.”

Bucky nodded. “Got it.” He scratched his nose. “I’ll drop by in the morning and see if there’s anything I can help with.”

+-+--

When Loki woke up, the headache was the first thing he complained of. “Y/N?” he groaned. You were sitting next to him, hands tucked under your arms. You were gazing down at him, watching his face as his expression changed from pained to embarrassed. “Please tell me what happened was just a fever dream...”

You shook your head. “You proposed to me.”

“You said ‘yes’,” he breathed, slapping a hand to his forehead. “Oh, my Norns. I’m so sorry; you don’t have to marry me. I was an idiot. I shouldn’t have even come by — I walked from the bar, in the rain, with only the thought of taking you back...”

“I figured,” you chuckled lightly. You didn’t meet his eyes. You played with the hem of your shirt. “Bucky and I might break up, though. You told on him. His planned proposal, I mean.” 

“You aren’t breaking up because of me, are you?”

“No; not entirely. I’m still... You’re trouble, you know that? I’m going to get a reputation.”

“You need one,” Loki joked. “People will be less likely to take advantage of you, then. Odinson’s Wife — the Terrifying Maiden.”

“I’m no maiden,” you said, rolling your eyes. “I’m still upset from our breakup. That’s why Bucky and I are thinking about calling it quits. I wasn’t over you when I thought I was, so just shut up and drink some water.” You handed him a glass. “You can’t hold your liquor, you know.”

Loki took it gingerly. “Oh, I hate how well you know me,” he sighed, taking a long sip. “Do I get some aspirin?”

“No.” You crossed your arms. “You said you’ve been carrying Frigga’s ring in your pocket since she died?”

“I did?” He furrowed his brows. “That’s right, I did... I’ve been keeping it for you, I must admit.”

“You said.”

Loki sat up, taking your hand. “I have your picture in my wallet.”

“You what?” You blinked. “You didn’t say that.” You scooted a little closer. 

“Well, no, I didn’t; I didn’t need you to drop my glass heart, now, did I?” Loki smirked a little. “You know it always has been you, lover.”

“I’m not your lover,” you said exasperatedly. 

Loki kissed your cheek. Although you pushed him off once or twice, he managed to snake his arms around your waist and hang on you. “Not yet. I will marry you, whatever it takes.”

+-+--

Sidewalk chalk was an odd Christmas tradition with Thor’s kids. It was another three years after Loki’s drunken proposal, and you and Bucky eventually sorted it out and found you were both much, much happier. Bucky married Sarah Wilson, taking her two boys as his own stepchildren. You were still in the grey area with Loki, but you wouldn’t deny that you were about ready to scream if he didn’t at least try to pop the question.

“Y/N, darling, I brought you something!” Loki’s voice came from upstairs. Thor’s house was large, and the wife he had picked opted to be a stay-at-home mother while the toddlers were toddling. He poked his head out from the upstairs balcony and grinned at you like a madman. 

“What did you bring me?” you asked, arching your brow at your boyfriend-but-not-really. He stomped down the stairs, thrusting a little blue bag in your hands.

“I’ve brought glad tidings. I’ve come to free you~” he teased, poking your sides. “My undying affection. My most-ardent love for you—”

“—Can it, tell me what it is,” you said, cutting him off. Loki pulled you flush against his chest, peppering your cheek with kisses.

“I want you to imagine us... you, standing in a nice dress, me, staring at you staring at the sunset,” he whispered, lacing your fingers. “Happy Christmas, darling.”

“What is it?” you pressed, looking in the bag. It was a little picture of a house. “What?”

“That’s our home, sweetheart,” Loki said, resting his head on top of yours. “We’ll live there after the wedding, raise our children...”

“You’re still trying to get me to marry you?” you asked.

“We’ve been engaged for three years!” he scolded playfully. “Not even in your wildest dreams, I would not be trying to make you my wife.”

“What if I am your wife?”

“I’ll try to marry you again!” he laughed, kissing you sweetly. 

[tragedy-for-sale]

Wild Blue

Look, it's not everyday I give you wholesome shit, hell not even every month. But you got luckily... apparently. Boys playing in the water and being stupid? Yes please, I think we need this.

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The boys didn't often have a minute to themselves, but when they did, when they had free time, Havoc was never quiet. "I'm saying it's impractical to wear our armor when we don't have a mission, we have civilian attire for a reason, Echo." Tech rolled his eyes, he, as you imagine, was not wearing his armor nor his blacks, but whatever clothes they'd stolen over the years. "... and if we want to go steal stuff, we'll blend in perfectly with the population." Tech smiled, knowing he and Echo had made plans to do just that.

Echo frowned, "Yeah whatever." He crossed his arms, pouting as he tried to think of something witty as a way to insult Tech, but that thought was quickly interrupted, "Uh Wrecker, why are you carrying around Hunter?" Echo asked, looking up from his holopad. Tech also looked up, the smallest smile on his face.

"Oh!" Wrecker's smile grew, "He was just sitting there so I picked him up, he's just living in the moment now! See." Wrecker then turned around.

Hunter, who looked as if he had been sleeping, lifted his head, "How's it hanging?" He smiled, waving softly. Echo chuckled a little, hand to his mouth to try to hide it. Hunter then let his head fall again, maybe he was trying to sleep.

"He likes it!" Wrecker said as he turned back around.

"Yeah!" Hunter assured, there was a little laugh in his voice, it was as if they were cadets again. Wrecker always picked him up. Hunter had been pretty weirded out the first time Wrecker did pick him up. But he'd gotten used to, Hunter was never doing anything better and Wrecker also took him to the right place. Where ever his brothers were.

Crosshair peaked his head out from the doorway, and with a giddy laugh he ran up to Wrecker and jumped, "Me too!" He would've tackled Wrecker to the ground, but Wrecker wasn't caught off guard. Also, Crosshair is not strong enough to knock Wrecker off his feet.

"Ah! I got 'em both!" Wrecker laughed, picking Crosshair up and slinging him over his other shoulder. Crosshair took a minute to ensure he wouldn't fall, once he did he looked down to Hunter and fist bumped him. "Time to go!" Wrecker started moving, getting nonstop laughs from his brothers. Tech and Echo trailed closely behind as Wrecker ran outside the ship.

"Just run and jump on him, you'll fit." Tech prompted, taking note on how Echo eyeballed the three.

"Oh no, I couldn't." Echo shook his head. Tech gave him a shove, "Oh fine!" He huffed, running and jumping up on Wrecker's back. "I'm here-!" Crosshair and Hunter both made sure Echo wouldn't fall, their hands on his back that only moved once he felt he wouldn't fall.

"Ah!" Wrecker laughed, adjusting to the weight of another brother. "Tech you coming?" He turned around and looked at his brother. Hunter lifted his head, almost falling in the process. Echo was holding onto Wrecker's head and Crosshair was just sitting there, sticking his tongue out at Tech.

"...I don't think there is anymore room, so..." He stated, a small smile creeping on his face as he came up with an excellent idea. "...See ya, losers!" Tech laughed as he bolted the other direction towards the lake they'd landed nearby. As he ran, he threw his helmet at his brothers, luckily Echo caught it before it hit Wrecker. Who was charging full speed after Tech into the water.

When Wrecker had ran deep enough into the water, he flung his brothers off, sending them flying into the lake. Wrecker then picked up Tech, "Can't escape me, brother!" he laughed as dunked Tech's head underwater, then dropping him.

Tech floated back up to the surface, lifting his goggles up to wipe his eyes, he then threw them to shore. "How about we play a game of- Shit!" He screamed as Crosshair, who was underwater, yanked on Tech's leg and made him fall again. Crosshair emerged and burst out laughing.

Hunter had Echo on his shoulders, they were going after Wrecker, the two tackled their older brother, he plunged into the water. He stayed underwater for much longer than he should have. "Uh oh." Hunter said as he scanned the water trying to see Wrecker under the water. "Echo abort! Save yourself!" Hunter cried as Echo jumped off, swimming to safety with Crosshair. As soon as Echo was gone, Hunter was pulled under the water, Wrecker waved to him before swimming up. Hunter lingered there for a minute before he resurfaced.

When he did, he saw his brothers playing chicken, which is what Tech was going to suggest before Crosshair interrupted him. He came over, watching them, a smile on his face. Crosshair lost against Echo, falling off Tech's shoulders and into the water. Hunter then intervened, allowing Tech to get on his shoulders for round two.

As you can imagine, the boys went about this until the sun had set. Echo and Tech had completely forgotten about their plan to rob several stores of their foods and alcohols. "...But could we even buy alcohol? 'Cause at 79's they know we're clones" Echo asked, he was laying on the ground with Tech, the two were stargazing, "Also, we don't have IDs and like, we're all twelve."

Tech turned his head, chuckling softly, "No, I don't think we could, that's why we made a plan to steal it, Vod." He rolled his eyes, flicking Echo's head.

"You were going to steal something without me?" Crosshair asked, sounding genuinely offended. He stood by their heads, looking down, he had plates of food in his arms. They two of them made Crosshair get them food, he was the youngest, he had no choice.

"Damn right." Echo smiled as he sat up, taking a plate, "Thanks bubba." He said, grabbing a fork and taking a bite of Hunter's 'infamous but not really 'cause it's Hunter's mac-n-cheese.' Tech took his plate and also thanked Crosshair, who sat down with them.

"The night is still young, we can go, but it's almost your bedtime, Crosshair, you'd have to ask Hunter." Tech smirked, eyeballing Crosshair as he took a bite of his food.

Crosshair shot Tech a defeated glare, he tried to be offended, but he failed. He made a face before turning his head, "Hunter! They wanna go steal stuff, can I go?!" He yelled. Echo and Tech burst out laughing, not expecting him to actually do it. He did it out of spite. Hunter would say yes and then they'd have to take him.

Hunter turned his head away from the grill, "What? Yeah, just don't do anything to the population!" He called back before turning back to Wrecker. "Yeah, so I was tellin' Tech that just because he's smart doesn't mean he can tie his shoes."

Wrecker nodded, "Exactly, doing algebra scary fast doesn't mean you can get all of us ready to fight in fifteen minutes before a battle." Wrecker took another bite of the mac-n-cheese, looking over to his brothers, who were all laughing together over in the dirt.

"You get me," Hunter said, "It's not about book smart, it's about street smarts."

"But I don't know shit about streets-"

"Not actually streets," Hunter shook his head, "... I think." He mumbled before shoving his face with food to avoid questions. Wrecker nodded, very wise was his little brother.

"Anyway, look at Crosshair, can you believe him?" Hunter shook his head, making eye contact with Crosshair, who had gotten up and had come towards the two.

"What did I do?" Crosshair asked, "I just wanted more food." He whined, shuffling to them as Hunter set down his plate, took Crosshair's and gave him more food.

"I can't believe you, you're atrocious." Wrecker gave Crosshair a soft shove, Crosshair tried to hide his grin as Hunter handed him his plate.

"Oh yeah, I'm terrible, ya'll should just leave me on Kamino one of these days." He laughed as he turned away, walking back to Tech and Echo.

"What an idiot."

"Ugh, I know right?"

The two shared another laugh and continued to diss their little brothers, but luckily, they were doing the same thing. "Yeah, no, Hunter's hair? Nothing special, now General Skywalker is fucking ugly," They all nodded in agreement as Echo spoke, "But he knows how to do his hair. Hunter needs to use better conditioner, the general would go to Amidala's place and come back smelling like an angel." Which helped with his face.

"I agree, in comparison to General Skywalker, Hunter's looks are not on a vomit-inducing scale." Tech added, stacking his empty plate on top of Echo's also empty plate.

"But he's still ugly."

"Oh, very."

Crosshair laughed as he chewed, trying his best not to choke. "Can we go now?" He said when he'd finished eating. Tech and Echo both glared at him for a solid thirty seconds before nodding and getting up. Crosshair got up, having to catch up with them. They dropped their plates off. Echo and Tech simply said they were heading out, but Crosshair lingered, "We'll be back, I- I can do the dishes when we get back," He muttered, "Uh, bye."

"Bye, bubba." Hunter smiled, waving Crosshair off. Crosshair had a giddy smile, giving them a nod and a thumbs up before turning around and running after Tech and Echo, who were practically already out of sight.

"Hey! You assholes!" Crosshair screamed as he ran after them, "Wait! I'm scared of the dark!" He called as he caught up with them. Wrecker and Hunter smiled fondly. It was a good day.

"....Crosshair isn't gonna do the dishes." Hunter said once they'd stood there in silence for several minutes.

"Yeah, no he isn't." Wrecker agreed as he helped Hunter clean up. Wrecker loaded their grill back up as Hunter took the plates and food back inside. "We'll make Tech do them." Wrecker called as he locked the compartment the grill was in, he then headed back inside, "Hide his armor so he'll have motivation." Wrecker suggested once he was back inside. Hunter was putting the dishes in the sink, he looked up to Wrecker and chuckled,

"Good idea!"

◈ ━━━━━━ ◆ ━━━━━━ ◈

[nagito-kissmaeda]

Horny on Main Disease - Komaeda x Reader

Summary: Reader catches a strain of the despair disease that means she says everything she is thinking. Kind of awkward considering all she can think about is how much she wants to jump Komaeda's bones. This is intended to be sort of funny, but i still wrote it pretty seriously, just want to make it clear that i did not half ass the smut. i whole assed it.

Word count: 4444  Contains: fem reader, they/them pronouns, despair disease, explict sexual content, unsafe sex, voyeurism Read on AO3 ミ☆ Please send me a DM or an ask if you’d like me to write something for you!

It’s not even a particularly hot day, and yet you’re sweating bullets as you walk over to the dining hall like you do every morning. Your legs are wobbly and your head is aching something terrible, you assume that you’ve caught a cold or something , whatever the problem is, it’s going to be a question for Tsumiki when you meet up with her at breakfast.

Kuzuryu is standing out by the pool, pensively staring into the still water. He probably misses Pekoyama, but you’re smart enough to know not to-

“Hey, Kuzuryu! I bet you miss your dead girlfriend, huh?”

He just stares at you, and it takes a good few seconds for you to even realise what you just said out loud. You clap a hand over your mouth, horrified.

“I don’t know why I said that!” You squeak

Kuzuryu doesn’t look...angry? He shakes his head at you and sighs, “you’re acting weird today too, aren’t you?”

“What? Weird? Who’s weird?”

“Owari was here a few minutes ago, bawling her eyes out on the ground.” He crosses his arms and looks away from you, “I think the bear is planning something again.”

You nod sternly, “anyone with tits as big as Owari has nothing to cry about! Something is definitely suspicious.”

Oh god why did you say that??

“Oh god, why did I say that??”

You just keep saying everything you’re thinking!

“I just keep saying everything I’m-“

Kuzuryu grabs you by the wrist and starts tugging you towards the dining hall, “something is definitely fucked up.” He looks down at where his hand is gripping yours, “Jesus Christ, your skin is on fire!”

“Yeah, cause I’m hot !” That was already an embarrassing thing to say, you are horrified when your mouth drops open again to follow it up with, “bow-chicka-wow-wow!”

There is definitely something wrong with you. In general you are the sort of person who takes the time to carefully curate every word that leaves your mouth, the fact that you are just speaking without even thinking about it is bizarre and alarming. The ache in your head is also steadily growing stronger and you’re starting to feel dizzy, maybe you’re just delirious with flu? It doesn't make sense for you to catch the flu on an abandoned island, but weirder things have happened already.

It is at this moment that you realise you have been (only semi-coherently) mumbling your full internal tirade outloud to Kuzuryu, who is now helping you up the stairs to the dining hall. He has very diplomatically, been either ignoring, or at least pretending to ignore everything you have been saying.

“You’re nice. Probably the politest yakuza i’ve ever met.” you pause, “I’ve never met another yakuza, i'm not sure why i said it like that.”

Kuzuryu scoffs and tugs you up at the last step. Deigning to give your comment any sort of response.

As you step up onto the dining hall landing, you freeze. This is dangerous. Your nails are biting into the skin of your palms, and your already warm face feels even hotter. Don't look at him, don't think about him, don't look at him, don't think about him. Kuzuryu is giving you a look, you must be verbalising your own mental gymnastics, but that is less embarrassing than the alternative.

“Don't look at him, don't think about him, don't look at him, don't think-”

You look up, like an idiot . Komaeda is sitting by the window with his chin in his palm, just sort of staring off into the middle distance, not really looking at anything. The morning sun cascades through the window and catches in his hair. It shimmers. Your heart twists and turns in your chest, you have been trying to keep this little fascination of yours under wraps, but he slowly closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in through his nose and-

“He looks like an angel .” You say, and you say it loudly.

All eyes in the room turn to you. Hinata especially is looking at you with his particular brand of exhaustion, that says this is not the first weird thing he has heard today. You scramble, trying desperately to think about anything other than Komaeda, to stop yourself from saying anything stupid. In your desperation, what you say is: “Yes hello! I was talking about anyone in this room apart from Komaeda. Please do not be confused, it was not Komaeda. I want to make it crystal clear that i am NOT attracted to Nagito Komaeda. This is a very convincing lie and you all believe me!”

Mioda straightens her spine and salutes you, “Roger! You are not attracted to Komaeda, I believe you!”

Your sweating even more now, it’s getting hard to breathe, “Forget I said anything!”

Mioda salutes again, “Consider it forgotten!”

“What is happening?! ” Hinata exclaims, gesturing wildly to you, Mioda, and Owari who you suddenly notice is leaning against the far wall and sobbing, “This is not normal!”

Your eyes slip to Komaeda again. He is looking at you and he is blushing-

“He looks so...cute…” You whisper, and Hinata yelps.

“Why are you all being so weird???? ”

Monokuma takes that as his cue to finally show up. Waltzing on into the dining hall like he owns the place, clearly buzzing with excitement, “A good question!” He says, clamoring up onto a vacant chair and holding a paw in front of his face to hide his laughter, “ Oooh , this is my best motive yet! Looks like three members of the class have come down with a bad case of the despair disease!”

“D-Despair Disease?” Tsumiki contributes, nervously playing with her hands, “I’ve never heard of such a thing!”

“Yeah, well. It’s pretty self explanatory!” Monokuma says, “The main symptom is high fever, along with some other fun despair related effects! It’s a bit of a mixed bag though and no two cases are the same! For example, Moida is suffering from the Gullible Disease...Owari has the Cowards Disease.” Then, Monokuma points his stubby little paw in your direction, “And you have the No Filter Disease. You just say whatever you’re thinking! It’s been lots of fun so far, upupupupu~”

“Oh, does that mean all those things they were just saying about Komaeda were the truth?” Sonia says. Her brows draw together, and she taps her lips with a finger, “How interesting.”

“It’s not my fault he’s gorgeous!” the words escape you before you have a chance to stop them. You squeal and clap a hand over your mouth before you start talking again. Komaeda is now bright red to the tips of his ears.

“That was true? GROSS!” Saionji exclaims.

You glare at Monokuma, “If you wouldn't kill me for doing it, I'd rip out all your stuffing right now.”

Monokuma withers a little, “Aw~ Is that what you really feel? Here I was thinking we were great friends.”  

“I’ll gut you like a fish.” you pause, “a bear-fish.” another pause, “a fish-bear.” You groan, “UGH, I can’t stop saying stupid things! I’m all sweaty! This sucks !”

Tsumiki steps over to you, her hand is shaking as she brings it up to your forehead.

“Oh…” you breathe, “your hand is cold.”

“S-Sorry! I’m just checking your temperature.”

“You smell like lavender.”

She recoils a little, “It’s j-just my shampoo!!'' Then she shakes her head and turns to the rest of the group, “Monokuma is telling the truth. They’ve got a fever.”

Hinata hurriedly presses his hand against the foreheads of both Owari and Moida, confirming that they’re also burning up, “What do we do, Tsumiki?”

Before she can answer, Monokuma pipes up again, “did I forget to mention? It’s contagious~~”

Saionji squeals and backpedals all the way to the stairs, “Contagious!?”

“Yeah and I'm a conta- genius . Get it?”

Souda gives you an uncomfortable look and scratches the back of his neck, “How much space in your brain is taken up by bad puns?”

You’re feeling really dizzy now, “A lot of it! But usually I don't say any of them!” your knees wobble and you almost fall over, luckily Tsumiki is still close enough to grab you before you topple to the ground, “I am going to kill that goddamn bear .”

“Could-could someone help me?” Tsumiki squeaks, “If i keep holding them up like this we-we’re just both going to fall over.”

You giggle a little, slipping into a semi-delirium as you cling to Tsumiki for dear life. Hinata and the others start working on a plan to keep everyone safe until the illness runs its course, “Hey Tsumiki…” you whisper, “Komaeda’s got real nice hands, huh?” she is too busy trying to keep you upright to answer, “I want him to carry me. Unless I'm too heavy, Tsumiki, am I too heavy?”  

You’re all but draped over Tsumiki now, who is trying in vain to shuffle you over to a nearby wall, when you suddenly hear her sigh in relief, “Oh...Th-Thank you. I’m not very s-strong…”

You manage to flop your head around to face the other direction, lacking the strength to turn your neck properly. Komaeda is looking down at you, it might just be the fever, but you feel like you’re going to burst into flames.

“Aha, I’m sure i'm not much stronger than you, Tsumiki.” He says, gently wrapping his arm around your shoulders and tugging you over to him. You might have moaned, you can't be sure, “But I do have the height advantage.”

The utter tsunami that leaves your mouth is unavoidable. Literally medically unavoidable, but that doesn't stop it from being the most embarrassing moment of your life.

“He’s touching me. He’s touching me…” your head has come to rest on his chest and you are practically hyperventilating, “He smells like chamomile soap and clean laundry...His hands are cold, his shirt is soft...Oh god i'm so sweaty, he probably thinks i'm disgusting! Komaeda, i'm so sorry , this was meant to be a secret!!! I wasn't going to tell you, everyones gonna think I'm weird!” your thoughts are leaving your mouth faster than you can think of them, if Komaeda is reacting to anything you have to say, you don't notice because despite your mouth running a mile a minute you still have an ounce enough of shame and bury your face in his chest to hide from your own words.

The world is spinning, your head feels heavy, everything is so hot , “Your hair is nice, did you know your hair is nice? God, I've wanted to run my fingers through it since day one. This is so fucked up, you almost killed someone! I want to stop talking , i feel like i'm gonna pass out, i'm gonna pass out, i'm gonna pass out. Im gonna…”

***

“I think I passed out.” Is the first thing you say when you wake up. You’re still hot and the back of your neck is sweaty, but you can see that you are now in the hospital, and that you’re wearing a hospital gown.

“Who undressed me?!” You exclaim, disappointed to find that you still can’t help saying everything you think.

At the sound of your voice, the door to your room opens, and Komaeda steps in.

“No! Not you!”

He freezes, withering under your gaze, “Ah, I see. Being greeted by garbage like me in your current state, it must be insulting .”

You feel like an asshole .

“That’s not what I meant! Please don’t go, I never want you to go.”

Komaeda laughs a little, still lurking nervously in the doorway, “You’re confusing me.”

“I don’t want you to hear what I’m thinking. I want you to stay, but all I can think about is how much I want to suck on your collarbone.” You freeze the second you stop talking, a high pitched whine leaving your mouth as you hide your face in your hands, “I’m so sorry! I can’t stop it!”

Stepping further into the room, Komaeda quietly closes the door behind him. Your heart is pounding.

“I’m nervous.” You say.

He tilts his head, walking over to the side of your bed, “I can still leave if I’m making you uncomfortable.”

“No, I’m not uncomfortable.” You shrink under his gaze, “it just, the way you closed the door it makes me feel like you’re planning something, like maybe we’re going to have-“ you manage to cover your mouth before the rest of the sentence escapes. Keeping your hands tight over your lips as all you can think about is his long fingers, his soft hair, his half lidded eyes.

“Are you...still talking behind your hands?”

You nod.

A smile crawls up the side of his face, “are you saying something embarrassing?”

“I wanna stick my tongue in your mouth.” You say, loud enough that even the tight grip of your hands doesn’t muffle it.

Komaeda remains remarkably calm, “You keep saying those things. This disease...means you say whatever you’re thinking, doesn’t it?”

“Yes. It’s driving me crazy, I’m just being such an idiot and I’m probably freaking you out. I’m sorry.”

“No, that’s not it.” He sighs, moving slowly as he sits down on the side of your bed, “Honestly, why would you let such thoughts about scum like me take up so much real estate in your mind?”

“I can’t help it!” You exclaim, “I’ve been trying not to think about it, but I just can’t! I want you so badly. I…..I-“ you hold your breath, you can’t let that last part out, no matter what, you can’t say that last part. You’ll die of suffocation before you let him hear it.

“You...what?” He asks

Oh god. You can’t stop thinking about it. Your lungs are aching, screaming for you to just open your mouth.

“What are you hiding, hm?”

It’s too much. The nerves, your sick and weakened body, him right there . You can’t do it, you can’t stop it, the next time you see Monokuma, you are drop kicking him into the sun.

“I’ve touched myself while thinking about you!”

The words echo off the walls of the room like a gunshot.

For a moment Komaeda just stares at you, but then, his shaky hands reach out and wrap around both of your wrists. His throat bobs.

“Hng. I want to suck on the side of your neck, I want to see you covered in marks from my teeth-“ you try to cover your mouth with your hands again. Komaeda grips your wrists tighter.

“No.” He whispers, trembling, “keep going.”

“ God, your hands are so big. I want to know how deep your fingers would reach inside of me. I bet you’re good at it, I bet you’re really good at it.” He just keeps staring at you, ghostly green eyes blown wide, chest heaving , “Are you turned on? Is this turning you on? Just pin me down and fuck me, do it, do it, do it!”

“How...how often are you thinking about me like this?”

“Oh, all the time.” You freeze, mentally (and therefore also verbally) berating yourself, “Not all the time! Just like, a normal amount. However much that is.” He is still just looking at you, the pad of his thumb slowly brushes across the pulsepoint in your wrist and you shiver, “Yes, yes! I’ve wanted this intimacy with you for so long . I couldn't tell anyone, I couldn't tell you. During the first trial, when you went on your weirdo rant about hope and despair. I was scared, i was so scared, but oh god- ” you can't stop yourself. Every thought in your head is pouring out of your lips. Filling up the room, the mortification is drowning you . All you can do is squeeze your eyes shut to avoid looking at him, “I was wet , Komaeda. I went back to my cabin and came three times to the thought of you, I am reprehensible . What do you think the others would do if they found out, huh? That all i can think about is you fucking me over my trial podium. They’ll tie me up next-”

The bed squeaks, and Komaeda brings his knee up and over your hips.

“-Oh my god. You’re doing it aren't you?”

His other leg comes up on the bed, and he settles, hovering up above you. He shrugs, “I honestly don't understand why this is something you want,” he leans down over you, resting his palms on either side of your head, “but who am I to deny the wishes of an ultimate.”

If not for the warmth of his lips pressed against yours, you are sure that you wouldn't be able to shut up, based only on the number of thoughts tumbling through your head like they’re on a spin cycle. You are still sweaty with fever and probably look disgusting, but Komaeda shuffles down in between your legs and hikes your hospital gown up to your waist. So you are suitably distracted.

He laughs as he hooks his fingers around your panties and tugs them down your thighs, “I cant believe that you want scum like me to touch you like this. Usually I would assume that you are lying, or taking pity on me.” He grins, running a finger up the length of your sex, “But everything you say to me is your exact thoughts, isnt it?”

“Yes! Touch me, please! ” You’re quivering beneath him, barely able to breathe in between your frantic pleas, “You feel so good, you feel perfect . I want your fingers inside me so bad .”

He hisses as he slips his middle and ring finger inside of you, eyes glued to where your entrance is swallowing him up, “Ahaaa...you’re drenched . You really do want me don't you?” he pistons his fingers in and out slowly, slowly and deliberately, “Someone like you, desiring me so terribly. It’s such a waste , but i can't help it. I must be selfish and take this chance while i can.”

“Not a….waste....” You force out, helplessly grinding on his fingers, “Want you....want only you…”

“Oh- Ohhhh .” He moans, “I can feel you, squeezing around my fingers. You’re so wet...so warm…”

You hear a zipper coming undone, and your thoughts go into overdrive, “oh my god, oh my god. Komaeda’s going to jerk off in front of me, wanna watch, wanna watch! ”

His fingers still inside you for a moment as he tugs his boxers down far enough to slip out his cock. Your eyes follow the movement of his long fingers as he slowly curls them around the base, and tugs them up again, rolling the pad of his thumb over the head. His hips buck, and you moan.

“You...you’re tightening around my fingers…” he breathes, choking on a moan as he pumps his cock again, “you like watching me touch myself?” Your hips stutter, grinding your clit against the meat of his palm as he continues stroking himself. His eyes are wide as he watches you writhing beneath him.

“The face you make when you do that...it’s so cute.” You say, whining as his fingers start moving inside you again, “it’s even cuter than I imagined. Your cheeks are all red.” You swallow, “and your cock is so pretty...I want you to cum inside me, so bad .”

His breath hitches, “you want me to cum, inside you?” his cock is leaking with pre-cum now, painfully hard in his hand. His chest is heaving.

“Yes yes yes! ” You plead, “I want you, please! ”

“I don’t understand.” He breathes, and you whimper as his fingers slip out of you, “How could someone be so desperate for my pathetic seed?”

“Fill me up , Komaeda!” You exclaim, at this point you are long past embarrassed. The words leaving your mouth are the absolute truth and there is no way you can deny them.

He groans at that, an octave deeper than you are used to hearing and it seems he is having trouble denying you. His own desperation mingling with yours and overtaking his painful self-doubt, he wraps a hand around the base of his cock, and slowly edges the swollen head against your entrance, “f-fuck…” he mutters as he slips inside you, “you’re so warm .”

You can barely even register what you are saying anymore, it’s little more than a string of compliments about how good he feels inside you. About how handsome he is. Your tongue feels weird and loose in your mouth from overuse, but you still can’t stop talking.

He looms above you, halo of white hair bouncing as he thrusts in and out of you, the unmistakable jangle of the chain hanging from his jeans. All things that confirm it is Komaeda inside of you. Your heart races with the fact.

“Th-thank you, for permitting me to do this with you.” He stammers, sweat slowly dripping down his brow, “it’s...so good...it feels like I belong inside you. ”

A moan rips through you, and you hook your weak ankles around his waist, “you do belong inside me. You fit so perfectly , I was made for your cock. GOD I sound so filthy…..I- I can’t help it.”

“ No.” He hisses, eyes meeting yours, “Keep talking.”

“You say that like I can stop.” You dip your head lower, and wrap your lips around his left collarbone, moaning as you suck hard enough to leave a bruise. He keens above you, hips snapping against yours even faster, “Your hip bones are digging into my thighs…”

He squeezes his eyes shut, “I-I’m sorry, do you want me to-“

“Don’t you dare stop, Komaeda. You’re mine , I want to feel every inch of you.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

You bring a shaky hand up to his cheek, he nuzzles into your palm, “You aren’t hurting me. It feels wonderful.”

He kisses you then, messy and wet, his lips taste like desperation. Even with his tongue tangled with yours, you are still trying to speak. Sweet nothings, forceful demands, anything and everything that comes to mind is trying to force its way out of your mouth. Something is in the pit of your stomach is twisting tight and you moan greedily into the cavern of his mouth as his hips meet yours again. You can feel that he’s losing his rhythm.

“S-sorry. I’m...im close…” A moan rips from his throat and he buries his face in your neck.

Your hips have started canting up to meet his, you want so badly to be close to him, to feel all of him, “M’close to. I love having you inside me, i want to do this again and again and-”

Komaeda freezes, eyes turning to the door on the other side of the room. Footstops.

“Who is it? Did they hear? Are there going to come in? What do you think they’re going to do if they see you inside of-”

Komaeda covers your mouth with his palm. You’re still talking, but at least it’s muffled now. Kuzuryu and Hinata are chatting in the hallway, the footsteps seem only to be growing closer. You can't stop thinking terrible, horrible things, and while Komaeda’s hand keeps you quiet enough that they can't seem to hear you from outside, Komaeda can definitely hear you.

“I wanna keep going.”

His eyes are blown wide, but you feel the tell-tale throb of his cock inside of you, “ What?! ” he hisses, “there’s no way you can keep quiet like this...they’ll definitely hear us.”

“I don’t care if they hear us, I want them to hear us. I want them to know what you’re doing to me.”

His hips twitch, and he bites his lip hard to keep in a moan, “You're not ashamed to be seen intimately with someone as despicable as me?”

You coo at him, running your index finger down the front of his throat and over the mark you left on his collarbone, he tentatively removes his hand from your mouth and pushes some sweaty hair away from your forehead, you smile, “I’m not ashamed of you. I’m in love with you.”

Komaeda sucks a breath in through his teeth, and it is only then that you realise what you have said.

“Oh GOD. I didn't - I'm so sorry.” your eyes are wide, you’re ready for him to jump up and bolt out of the room, “I just thought it and then i said it, and jesus christ im so sorry-”

You’re cut off by his lips. The kiss is gentler, less desperate, but filled with the depth of passion. He starts thrusting in and out of you again, and you gasp in surprise at the feeling. He pulls away from the kiss, and rests his forehead against yours, his breathing heavy as one of his hands slips down under your knee. He pushes your leg up higher and you choke on a moan at how much deeper this new angle feels.

A high-pitched whine leaves his throat as he continues moving inside of you, he swallows, “I...I love you too.”

“Aaah... ahhh .” You’re so close at this point, the coiling in your stomach is about ready to snap, “I love you so much, I want your cum, please! ”

“I’ll give it to you, I...hah...I’ll fill you up...is that what you want?”

His hand slips down to your clit and you shriek , clenching hard around his cock, “Yes, yes, yes! I’m close...i'm so close…”

“I’m gonna...I...I…”

A moan rips through you as your climax finally hits, for the first time this day your mind is void of thoughts. All you can do is feel . Your fingers dig into the bedsheet under you, and your legs tighten around Komaeda’s waist. He writhes and moans above you,  he just keeps going, harder and harder and harder, and then, with a heavy groan you feel him release inside of you.

“Thank...you…” you mutter, “thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you…”

Before Komaeda has a chance to say anything in return, someone clears their throat on the other side of the door. The two of you freeze.

“Are you two done?” Hinata asks, he sounds exasperated.

Komaeda clears his throat, “Um...yeah...pretty much.”

“His dick is literally still inside of me! Maybe give us a few minutes!” You wince at the blunt sentence that just left your mouth, Komaeda is clearly trying not to laugh, you huff “Sorry Hinata! I can't help it!”

This disease was going to be the death of you.

[sukiglycerin]

the scrapbook documenting denki kaminari and his experiences with love, subtlety, and volumes of manga || denki kaminari.

* pairing: denki kaminari x oblivious!reader (gender neutral!)

* genre: fluff, normal conflict(??) but not much, uni!au, friends to lovers, mutual pining, idiots to lovers

* words: 4.5k

* warnings: brief scenario of intoxication, mentions of maidgirls (one of them has a gun because mey-rin from kuroshitsuji), reader has past bad experiences with relationships, bakusquad is supportive af, reader is oblivious (duh), i love sero, side kiribaku

* original request: Can you do a fluff Denki crushing on the reader but the reader is really oblivious to him just badly flirting and bakusquad gets annoyed and helps them get together 😳

* a/n: this turned out much longer than expected, but i’m satisfied with the turn-out! i call this a “scrapbook” because it’s like a collection of short moments. i’m experimenting with this writing style, so i hope you enjoy it! i started writing reader by basing them off of this one pretty girl i know (and very much like), but then reader started morphing into me projecting myself and oh boy. yeah. fun fact: i actually own the kuroshitsuji manga volume with the maidgirl on the cover (volume 22).

“please don’t like me,” is the first thing you say to denki kaminari. you don’t know who he is, though, when you say these words. all you know is that he’s presumably a college student like you and that he’s quite extroverted. behind him stand three of his friends giggling to themselves. it’s apparent they’re playing a practical joke. 

the first thing the blond boy said to you was, “hey, you’re cute, i like you.” that was thirty seconds ago, after you’d put your manga down when you noticed his friends pushing him towards you.

he cracks a grin upon your response. “alright.” he puts his hands up in mock surrender. “the point still stands - you’re cute.” his eyes fall to the manga you set down. “hey- is that detective conan?”

it’s an old, worn copy of detective conan’s first volume.

“oh, yeah,” you reply.

“can i see it?” he asks. you nod.

he picks up the book, surprisingly gentle with its fading corners and creased spine. 

"i used to read the series all the time," he says quietly, reliving a memory in his eyes. "i always tried to solve the crime before conan." 

you're not sure what to answer, but he introduces himself before you can.

"i'm kaminari, by the way." he slips a piece of paper in your manga, setting the book down on your table. "text me."

“please don’t fall in love with me,” is the first thing you whisper to denki kaminari, hushed under the sheets in mina’s room. you're surprised he can hear you over the quiet murmurings of a ghibli movie playing on the tv; you're surprised he's awake.

“okay,” and it’s the first promise he’s ever broken, voice all low and hoarse from the after-effects of prolonged silence. 

(maybe he should've feigned sleep, he later thinks, as his heart stupidly falls and crashes clumsily into love. maybe he shouldn't have said anything at all.)

he turns onto his back, staring at the ceiling. it's dotted with glow-in-the-dark stars mina and sero had impulsively hung up one friday evening instead of studying. there's a couple moons, too, which bakugou had frowned upon, stating, "where are we, jupiter? there's only one moon orbiting earth." kirishima laughed. 

from the sound of shuffling sheets and a quick glance next to him, denki can tell you're now laying on your back, too. he almost makes a comment about you copying him. he stares at the faux stars overhead, not tired enough to close his eyes and allow sleep it's victory for the night. there's not much to do while awake at the moment other than strain his ear to decipher to the tv's audio. his throat feels dry, but he's not motivated enough to sit up to grab a water bottle. anyway, he supposes you and he are staring at the same sky, in a cheesy way. he remembers reading something like that in a book.

he kills the time and his aching mind by finding stupid constellations in the stick-on stars. there's a slightly distorted dipper of some sort, and a heart. there's a lot of squares. there's a shape he passes off as orion, but he knows anyone a tad more into astronomy than him would gasp at the abstract shape and completely dismiss its resemblance to orion. 

eventually, your breathing slows to a rhythmic pace beside him. the logical part of his mind tells him to sleep now that you, too, are sleeping. he doesn't know why he waited for you to be asleep first. one pentagon constellation later, kaminari allows sleep's gaze to wash over and envelope him. the ghibli movie is still playing.

it seems that his friends have beat him, somehow, to the conclusion that denki kaminari has a bit of a crush on you. it's childish, really. he shouldn't like you, recalling your first words to him. they struck you apart from other people he'd met. back then, though, he never seriously thought about you like that. sure, you were conventionally attractive (enough for him to approach you to give you his number), but it was all in good fun. that's what you were, too, for the longest time: good fun and a friend.

until one day, glances lingered for too long while you weren't looking. one day, kaminari's jokes became more and more aimed for you, to hear your laughter in his ears. one day, kaminari realizes he has your usual coffee and bubble tea order memorized, when he can barely remember his own.

he pretends all of it is completely normal, but mina assures him differently. as does bakugou, which is strange, because he's usually not wrapped up in other people's affairs (when voicing this to the blond, he responded, "it's hard not to notice because you're too damn obvious"). it's kind of hard to ignore when bakugou calls it obvious (he's literally had kirishima pining over him since day one with no notice).

kaminari really does try to ignore the bubbling feeling rising at the bottom of his heart. he really does, but you keep on shaking and shaking his poor heart until it's all fizzy like a bottle of soda. he's weak, okay? one day, he’ll explode.

his friends are all urging him to confess to you already, but he cannot work up the nerve to do so. instead, kaminari drops you obvious hints that he likes you. he doesn't know whether you're completely oblivious to them or if you're deliberately ignoring them.

he's been so painfully obvious, he swears.

he's practically able to write a list of hints he's dropped. he's fairly confident he could publish it as an advice book with the title "how to tell your crush you like them without saying 'i like you.'" by this point, he's the king of obvious subtlety. 

the list would go something like this, in no particular order:

pick-up lines

"did it hurt, when you fell-" you were silent, "-from the vending machine? because you're a snack." 

silence. absolute radio silence. he was extremely tempted to run away from the sheer awkwardness between the two of you. as he turned to leave and freak out in private, he heard you mumble a belated "thanks," which made everything worth it.

he still left to freak out, though (and plan his next pick-up line to tell you).

manga references

"hey, y/n," kaminari had said one day, after a particular burst of confidence. you hadn't looked up from your book.

"if i were shinichi from detective conan, you'd be ran," he'd said, referencing the main love interests from the manga. "or maybe vice versa. you are the smart one in this relationship..."

you didn't bat an eye. "they never get together, though? shinichi and ran."

"they- they don't?!" he'd sputtered indignantly. he definitely needed to read up his detective conan lore. "but they both like each other?"

"true," you'd replied in typical you fashion, neither letting on whether you did like him or not. well, hey, kaminari had thought. you didn't deny it. progress.

hand size comparison (which was, in reality, just an excuse to kind of hold your hand)

kaminari had smoothly been planning this for weeks (which, according to sero, was a little sad). he'd bring up the topic of hands one day in your daily conversations, then nonchalantly slip a "oh, y/n, let's do a hand size comparison!" he high-fived himself mentally upon the formulation of this genius plan - you'd definitely fall for him (or at least, realize his feelings for you - this state of teetering between do they like me or do they not like me frustrated him for months on end). the perfect opportunity presented itself one day as the two of you lounged in mina’s room (which, at this point, had become you and your friends’ hangout spot) studying. 

“wow, you type fast,” kaminari remarked as he pretended to innocently look up from the “work” (changing his laptop wallpaper for the tenth time that day) he was doing. you were focused on your work, sitting on mina’s bed with your laptop propped up by a pillow on your lap. you’d barely registered his words, judging by the way your eyebrows scrunched and how you looked up at him after a slow beat. 

“oh, uh, thanks,” you replied. “i’m just copying some text down. i don’t usually type this fas…” you trailed off, eyes widening as you watched kaminari scooching next to you on the bed. he put his hand next to yours, whose fingers still ghosted the keys of your keyboard.

“look,” he said softly, bringing your hands up to eye level. “hand size comparison.” it was breathed out belatedly, but your crystalline eyes didn’t leave his. he started to curve his fingers in between yours, holding your hand so tenderly. he really, really didn’t want to let go. “we fit.” it was a whisper he wasn’t sure you could hear - did he want you to hear it? “like… a puzzle,” he added awkwardly.

you nodded, dazed, slowly bending your fingers over his. he rocked your clasped hands side to side, a fond feeling creeping through his limbs. it was warm and tingly - and maybe it was contagious. could you feel it too, buzzing past his fingertips to you?

precisely three minutes passed before kaminari’s arm started to ache. he didn’t catch your disappointed expression when he let go of your hand, but he did catch the smile that emerged when he held your hand as the sides of your fingers nudged the bed. you didn’t get much work done after that, sitting in silence with him. 

brushing your hand in a popcorn bucket

movie nights on fridays were commonplace at mina’s. the plan, this time, was created by kirishima, who said that it was manly with just the right amount of romantic. kaminari hoped so. the movie settled on was some romance flick, as decided by mina, kirishima, and sero’s pleading with a very begrudging bakugou.

he can’t remember much of the movie. what he can remember, however, is the very close presence of you next to him as the two of you shared a popcorn bucket (courtesy of sero’s very romantic ideas). your hands brushed a (purposeful, on kaminari’s end) dozen times throughout the film. the last couple were accidents. on the first time, though, kaminari watched with satisfaction from his peripheral view as you looked from him to the popcorn that obscured the place where your hands made contact. he was very satisfied by the time the movie ended. 

truth or drink (which just ended up with you and he both getting very, very drunk)

you didn’t particularly enjoy the taste of sake, but that night was an exception. according to your drunken explanation, you had a very rough day. your exam, first and foremost, did not go particularly well (“who cares about freud!?” you blurted. “i dooooon’t!”). kaminari didn’t have the heart to ask who this freud was. then, one of your close friends confessed to you (which almost made kaminari’s heart stop, when you first recounted it to him), and you had to turn them down. you adamantly refused any sort of relationship, you told kaminari. (“nuh uh,” you shook your head. “they’re not good.”) it was surprising to him that you opened up that night. your first couple drinks left you quieter than usual - which was scary, because kaminari was practically having a conversation with himself then. a couple more drinks loosened your tongue, though. 

“there’s someone i like.” you jabbed a finger at him. “but i’m not supposed to saaaay… and it’s scaaary,” you slurred.

“ohh?” kaminari asked, more focused on the burn in the back of his throat. “whooo is it?”

you looked at your arm outstretched to him, and the pieces fell into place slower than they should’ve. he first looked around, just in case he was covering the person you were really pointing to (of course, you and him were the only ones there).

“this guy?" he asked, flabbergasted and pointing to himself. "him?!"

you nodded solemnly. "but i don't like dating," you said stubbornly. "love is dead!" you announced, flopping on the carpet. 

kaminari watched the heaving of your breaths as you lay on the ground, and strained his ears to hear your soft, soberish murmuring.

"i really like you, denki kaminari."

a dopish grin formed itself on his face. "i really like you too, y/n." 

kaminari then promptly blacked out, but not before hearing you running to the bathroom to throw up.

as of now, he can’t recall anything he or you said that night. on the contrary, he can vividly remember the ringing in his head and the sickly feeling that overtook him the next morning.

"you two are so frustrating!" mina declares over her sweetened iced tea. she points at kaminari, then to you standing with sero in the distance. you’re animatedly talking about some painting (“it’s renoir!” you mooned when you first saw it) while he and the rest of the group sit on a nearby bench. 

kaminari puts his hands up. “don’t look at me - i tried my best!”

“yeah, sure,” mina dismisses. “and i’m the queen of england.”

“i mean, they already told me not to like them!” kaminari counters. “what am i supposed to do about that?”

“shoot your shot!” mina urges. “c’mon, what’s the worst that could happen? …wait, don’t answer that.”

“yeah, kaminari, bro,” kirishima puts his elbow on kaminari’s shoulder. “flirt a little bit more.”

“that’s all you two seem to do,” bakugou grumbles from the other side of kirishima.

“you just need a little push,” mina says. kaminari isn’t sure he likes mina’s definition of push.

“i think i’m g-”

“hey, sero, come here!” mina calls to sero in the distance, earning her a couple dirty glances from others in the gallery. “kaminari wants to look at the painting with y/n.”

oh, god, kaminari groans internally. sero, already walking toward the bench, flashes a knowing grin toward him. 

“go get ‘em, champ.” sero pats kaminari on the back as the blond stands up, emitting a low, audible groan. 

the four on the bench watch as your eyes light up at the approaching kaminari, who’s sheepishly scratching his neck. he says something - then you start again, rambling something about “impressionism” then “salon.” mina watches with clasped, anticipating hands; kirishima’s hand accidentally brushes bakugou’s, who’s holding a juice box and watching the two of you; sero simply smiles with knowledge that the others are unaware of.

“well, what do you think?” you finally ask kaminari, gesturing to the painting. 

“uhh,” kaminari says. he was too busy staring at your face - the twinkle in your eyes, the curve of your lips - to pay attention to any of what you’d said. something about impressing and fleeting moments. he looks at the person depicted in the composition, then back to you. he remembers kirishima’s words - flirt a little bit more. it couldn’t hurt, could it?

“i think it’s pretty,” he leans into you, murmuring so he can be sure no one but you and he hears his words, “but it’s definitely not as pretty as you.”

you look down at yourself; then, for whatever reason, to sero. kaminari looks at sero, too, who’s wearing this stupid smile that sets unease in kaminari’s chest. he gives you two big thumbs-up. he’s so confused by sero’s behavior that he barely registers the light sensation of something on his cheek - a kiss. he looks at you, who’s looking away, then to the bench, where his friends are cheering despite the disapproving looks from those around them. he touches his cheek out of disbelief. light swells in his chest - it’s warm, so warm - but your aloof voice brings him back to reality (which really, isn’t much different from a dream).

“kaminari, you’re very red right now.”

“the two of you,” mina exclaims with the two of her hands clasped together in excitement over skype, “should go to a manga cafe!”

kaminari blinks. “as a date?”

“i wasn’t thinking about it like that.” mina nudges him, a sly smile creeping across her lips. “but hey, that works too. i mean, they did kiss y-”

kaminari cuts the pink-haired girl off before she can finish. “is that something… they’d want to do?”

“mmm…. probably,” mina says. “they were reading manga when you first met them right?”

he can vividly remember the somewhat tattered volume of conan, the detective turned little boy who must solve crime while hiding his own identity. really, the wear was only on the soft cover, nudged and peeling on the corners with faded text splayed on the spine. the pages were in crisp condition, he’d noted one day as he (totally, completely discreetly) watched you read the copy again. the bookshelf in your dorm and the stack of books on your desk is littered with different mangas, ranging from the old classics (astroboy) to some newer works (your lie in april). he only remembers this fact because he really, really wants to borrow a copy of black butler (yes, it’s the one with the maid on it. she looks really hot with a gun, okay?). all your manga are well-taken care of, cared for diligently as if each book has a piece of your heart in it. besides, you rarely lend out any (sero once asked to borrow jujutsu kaisen and you very, very reluctantly handed it to him), so he doubts you’d trust him with it.

“hang on, lemme ask sero if they’d be interested in a manga cafe,” mina says, pulling out her phone. “they’ve been close lately,” she mumbles as she types out a quick text to him, a quiet ping letting kaminari know that she’s sent it.

after a pause, mina excitedly reads sero’s reply: “yeah, probably.”

well, that was a definitive answer. 

“there’s one nearby here,” mina offers. “hagakure told me good things about it, and she has a knack for finding the best spots in town. i’ll send you the address.”

“you think they’d like it?” kaminari says in an atypical bout of self-consciousness.

“of course,” mina replies instantly. “don’t you see how they look at you?”

usagi manga kissa makes kaminari cringe. it’s not the bunny-themed logo on the top of the building, nor is it the wide assortment of manga lining the walls, nor is it the cozy, soft seats nuzzled in the nooks and crannies of the café. it’s not even the life-sized cardboard cut-outs of various anime maid girls (he actually particularly really likes that detail). it’s the name itself. usagi is fine - kaminari likes bunnies as much as the next guy. manga is fine, too - he wouldn’t be here if not for the manga. the kissa makes him cringe for the most immature of reasons, like a five year old just learning basic english vocabulary. kissa innocently shortens the word kissaten, for cafeteria, but suspiciously sounds like the english word kiss. he does not want to think about kissing as he walks into the café with you, and especially not when the lady at the counter asks if you want a couples’ discount (you say yes, solely because it’s cheaper). 

he does not want to think about kissing as he walks next to you, browsing the manga selection and passing the shoujo section that boasts illustrations of happy couples and romantic imagery. he doesn’t want to think about kissing as the two of you walk to a “couple’s” room, you rambling about the plot of the manga you chose and him with some shounen volleyball manga in his hand. kissing is the worst thing to think about as your knee touches his in the cramped apparent two-person room. he is not thinking about kissing at all when you offer him your water bottle, half full, and he’s definitely not thinking about indirect kissing or anything when he takes a sip. that would be crazy. 

fortunate for him, his manga is full of not-kissing, so he’s able to somewhat enjoy it without his mind bombarding him with the fact that your face is less than a metre away. as he finishes up the volume, he realizes how much of a middle school student he feels like. 

“y/n,” he looks up to you and says. you’re watching an old episode of neon genesis evangelion on the computer provided in the room, the manga you were reading sitting on the table beside the keyboard. 

“yeah?” you respond and pause the anime. out of his peripherals, he can see you turn to look at him. he stares at the wall ahead of him, lacking the confidence to face you head-on. 

“remember when we first met?” he reminisces. 

“the cafe?” you say. “yeah.”

“if… i can ask,” he musters, “why did you say what you did then?”

you pause, taken aback. “i… i don’t know.”

“because,” kaminari starts, and you flinch, “i like you. a-and i know you said not to-”

a ghost has crossed your face. your mouth is agape, as if you suspected his feelings but never thought he’d verbalize them. he wonders what the kiss was about. 

“i’m,” you gulp, breath stuttering, “i’m sorry.”

kaminari lied. five days later of zero contact with you, he realizes he’s in deep. he doesn’t like you - he’s in love with you. they say distance makes the heart grow fonder, and here he is, sifting through memories he had with you like they’re books. he should probably be studying instead of lying spread eagle on his bed, thinking of you. he can recall a promise made one night and the moment it was broken; he can remember the plastic stars he studied that night, falsely shining and lighting hope within him. he can remember dozens of constellations, half of which were geometric shapes, that he fell asleep to with you at his side. his heart aches, alighting a dull burn within him like a protostar barely able to burn hydrogen. 

there’s a polite knock at his door, so he assumes it to be either kirishima or sero. mina always enters unannounced and bakugou is far too brash to knock softly. slowly - almost reluctantly - he sits up in bed, standing up and making his way to the door. he catches a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror, telling him that his hair is an absolute mess and in no way presentable. he figures that either kirishima or sero will comment about it, but he never needed to impress them in the first place. turning the knob and opening the door, he’s expecting either of his friends, maybe here to nag him or ask him to come and study or say “hey, why haven’t you spammed the group chat with memes in a while? i missed them.”

he definitely isn’t expecting you, face pulled into a worried expression and lips held in a thin, anticipating line before you meet his eyes. you’re pouring out a waterfall of apologies at a thousand words per second as soon as he opens the door, letting yourself in and hardly taking notice of his bird’s nest hair. he guides you to the couch, attempting to interject and ask you to slow down, but he finds that it sounds rude at any given moment. you’re sitting on the couch, lamentations and explanations spilling from your lips as you grip the plush material of the cushion you sit on, when you finally pause to take a breath. kaminari uses this opportunity to interrupt you.

“woah, woah, woah.” he hesitantly puts a hand on your shoulder. “can you back up?”

“oh, yeah,” you start to move back in your seat and kaminari stifles a laugh.

“no, can you start your story from the beginning?” he asks. “take your time, i’m not going anywhere.”

“i’m really, really sorry about what happened the other day,” you apologize, then look at him finally and ogle his hair. “i got… scared,” you admit earnestly. before he can make any question of it, you continue, “i like you too, see. and i never really, seriously acted on it - i didn’t want to. so when you did the inevitable and confessed… it scared me. the truth is… i’m not the best at romance or relationships. i don’t want to put anyone through that, again.” your voice wavers but finishes strong as you look kaminari in the eyes.

“that?” he asks. he’s afraid he’s crossed a line, but you reply all the same.

“i was in a relationship, once. i wasn’t… i wasn’t good enough. i didn’t do the things that people in a relationship are supposed to do, i guess.” you fiddle with the fabric of the couch, looking down at your fingers. your voice gives away the vulnerability of the topic, wrapped in a stiff disconnection; you’ve distanced yourself from it, probably once too familiar with the feelings you speak of.

“it’s okay,” kaminari says, almost too quickly. he slows himself down. “that’s… completely fine,” he admits truthfully. “we can go slow. i… i can wait.”

“can you?” you look up at him, hope shining your eyes. it dims quickly before you say, “you don’t have to. i don’t want to limit you…”

“the only person i want is you,” he reassures you, hesitantly taking your hand in his. “you’re not…” he struggles for words, “...limiting me if i don’t have eyes for anyone else.”

“are you sure?” it’s an almost inaudible whisper, clutching your hopes in three words that are held together by thin threads. 

“i’ve never been more sure,” kaminari replies confidently, giving your hand an encouraging squeeze.

“okay,” you breathe out, relief tingeing your speech. “i… want to be with you.”

it takes everything in kaminari not to kiss you right there. 

“oh, by the way-” you say, standing up from the couch and leaving kaminari to sit alone, “did you still want to borrow that copy of black butler?”

“the one with the maid who has a gun?” kaminari asks, eyes wide. how did you know about that?

“yeah. you kept staring at it before, so i assumed…”

“yeah. yeah, no, yeah, that’d be really great. amazing, actually. wonderful. stupendous-” kaminari shuts himself up before he can ramble on longer. 

“okay, give me a second,” you respond, smiling, and exit to the hallway to retrieve the manga. 

you return with the volume in hand, placing it in kaminari’s hands. 

“thanks,” he says as he glides his thumb over the glossy cover and mint condition. it’s heavier than kaminari thought, and it feels like the weight of a heart. he’ll be sure to take extra care of it, holding it with ginger fingers and a sweet, sweet feeling in his chest.