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samgirl98 · 1 year ago

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Mending a Family 26/?

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The first back-to-school meeting happened a month after school started. Jason decided to attend. He wanted to be on top of Danny’s education and ensure everything went smoothly. Parents were encouraged to bring in snacks for the kids.

Jason made chocolate chip cookies. He even made gluten and nut-free ones in case any of the kiddos were allergic.

He entered the school with the cookies and sat them on a table, making sure the labels were correct. Danny ran off to find his friends. Jason smiled. He was glad his son had people to talk to.

Jason turned around and came face-to-face with a blond woman. She was in her mid-thirties and wore a prim suit. She wore a pearl necklace. Three more women dressed similarly were behind her. She looked Jason up and down. He had worn his best pair of jeans, a clean T-shirt, and a leather jacket.

“Hello, my name is Avril Dubois. I’m the president of the PTA. I’ve never seen you here before, are you lost?”

Jason gritted his teeth at her question while she and her cronies laughed.

“No, my name is Jason Nightingale. I’m Danny Nightingale’s father. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said while putting out his hand. Avril ignored the hand and gave a look of distaste at it. So what if he still had grease under his nails? Her ignoring the handshake was rude.

“Right, I’ve heard about Danny from my little girl. Where’s his mother,” she asked while looking around. Wow, nosy much?

“She died while giving birth to him. It’s just me, Danny, my sister, and my niece.”

“That poor boy doesn’t know the touch of a mother’s love. It must be hard for you, especially since you’re so…young,” she sneered at the word young.

Judgmental to boot, she was the whole package.

“Don’t worry, I give my son enough love for two people.”

“Still, being a single must be tough. Well, I’ll talk to you later. Or maybe not. Ta-ta.”

Jason was glad to see the women leave.

He looked for Danny and saw him talking to a group of kids. Jason smiled once more, feeling how happy Danny was, which made Jason feel so much better about his decision to send him to school.

“Say goodbye for now, Danny. The assembly is about to start, then we can go to your classroom, and you can show me around.”

“Okay, daddy. Bye guys, see you later.”

Jason sat through the meeting assembly. It was a bit boring, but he was glad to see how the school operated. Danny was busy playing with a 6x6 Rubik’s cube. After the assembly, Jason went to Danny’s classroom, where he officially met the teacher.

Mrs. Duma was a friendly, middle-aged teacher who had been teaching for seventeen years. She spoke about how well-behaved and smart Danny was. His best subject was math, and Mrs. Duma had to print 12th-grade-level worksheets to keep him entertained. Well, that made sense.

Jason couldn’t help but preen at the compliments Danny got.

Then Avril Dubois came up.

“Mrs. Duma, it’s nice to see you again.”

“Mrs. Dubois, what a pleasure to have you as a parent to one of my students again,” Mrs. Duma said through clenched teeth. Aw, it wasn’t just Jason who didn’t like the woman.”

“Excuse me,” Jason left the two women and looked for his little boy. He was showing a little blonde girl with glasses his Rubik's cube.

“Daddy, this is my friend, Sarah.”

“Hello, Sarah, I’m Danny’s dad, Jason.”

“Hi,” the little girl said shyly.

“Wanna see our drawings, daddy?”

Danny showed Jason his paintings. They were good. Then he showed them the models he had built. He knew his little boy was talented with his hands, but some of the things he had built looked very advanced. Hmm, maybe Jason should invest in buying Danny more things to build.

Seeing the models, he knew Danny would love working on the car with him.

“Mommy, look what I drew,” Jason looked up to see Sarah talking to Avril. The little girl was being ignored by her mom as she talked to a group of moms. Now that Jason paid attention, the little girl looked like a miniature version of Avril. The poor girl was shooed away from her mom without getting any acknowledgment.

His heart went out to her.

Danny went to Sarah, “Is everything okay,” he asked.

“Yeah,” the little girl answered, “mommy is just busy.”

“Can I see,” Jason asked. The little girl brightened at having an adult’s attention. It was a good painting.

“Wow, kiddo, that looks great!”

The little girl smiled, showing her missing teeth.

“Sarah, what have I told you about speaking to strangers?”

Avril took her little girl’s hand, ignoring the squeak of surprise she gave.

“Listen, I don’t know what your game is or how you were able to put your child in this school, but I would appreciate it if you don’t speak to my child.”

“Lady, Danny is Sarah’s friend. He was introducing me to her. Maybe if you paid more attention to your child, she wouldn’t be talking to strangers.”

The woman honest to God clutched her pearls, “How dare you? Come, Sarah.”

“Bye, Danny,” the little girl said while being dragged along.

“Is everything okay, daddy?”

“Yeah, ignore her. She’s a b—not a nice person.”

Thankfully, the rest of the parents weren’t like Avril and her little clique. They all seemed to welcome Jason.

At the end of the meeting, Jason went to sign up for the PTA.

“Are you sure you want to do this,” the woman scoffed, “We meet every two weeks. I’m sure you’re busy doing other things. We also engage with the school and teachers. Fundraisers, school activities, things like that.”

Jason smiled at the woman as he signed his name, “When’s the first meeting?”

Jason had a new nemesis. Her name? Avril Dubois.

Someone suggested that Jason has a PTA-style rivalry, but I cannot for the life of me find the comment to give the credit. So, to whoever suggested this, thank you! Anyway, now that we have Avril, does anyone want to see anything between the rivalry between the two?

@itsberrydreemurstuff @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @skulld3mort-1fan @theauthorandtheartist @emergentpanda-blog @jaggedheart11 @fisticuffsatapplebees @booberrylizard @fantasticbluebirdfan @thegatorsgooseoose @cyrwrites @kjoboo91 @crystallicedart @amaramizuki666 @spekulatiusmuffin @meira-3919 @kilasmess @bubblemixer @lexdamo @wonderland-daisy @mj-arts-n-stuff @amyheart19 @dolfay @the-church-grimm @undead-essence @aph-mable @lizisipancardo @purrloin77 @writer-extraodinaire @charlietheepic7 @sinfulloccultist @nootherusernameworked @coruscateselene @chaoticchange @itsberrydreemurstuff @gmkelz11 @feral-bunny31 @paroovian @thatonegaybitch68 @d4ydr34min9 @overtherose @fandomwandererer @vipower001 @thordottir45 @blackrabbitt3t @rosecinnamonbun @bianca-hooks123 @epilepticnerd @dat1angel @consouling @flamingenchiladadragon @all-mights-asscheeks @ender-reader @fuyu-bitch @ravenswife

#Mending a Family #dc x dp #dp x dc

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gaysimpsstuff · 4 years ago

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Could I get a Hawks in his rut headcanon?

No problem, Anon! I’m sorry this took so long, I wanted it to be perfect since I really like thinking about Hawks’ avian traits, and I know people really like it too. I hope it’s good!

Hawks Rut Headcannons

Genre: fluff, smut

Type: headcannons (so... many... headcannons)

Warnings: animal traits, Keigo being possessive af, the commission being assholes, sickness, food, breeding kink, lots of horny times

Other: most of this is based off of real research, but some of it also comes from personal preference. @keilemlucent and their fic Best Nest very much inspired many other headcannons, check them outI They’re one of my favorite creators, and the linked fanfic is one of my favorites! Hope it’s okay I tagged you here lmao

NSFW Taglist: @smolchildfangirl @combat-wombatus @mandalorian-baby-bird @waffleareniceandfluffy (Lemme know if you wanna be added to or removed from the Taglist)

Remember to check if requests are open before sending in a request. This was made while requests were still open.

Pre-Rut Behaviors

Grooming and Preening

Before his rut, Keigo starts to feel dirty. He just seems to accumulate more dust and dirt during hero work than usual. He’ll come back home grumbling about blood in his hair and little bits of concrete in/on his skin.

He will insist you clean him off. So you get to brush his hair, put creams on his face, and wash him off in the shower.

Finally, there’s the preening. If he lets you preen his wings, then you know he’s in it for life. He loves and trusts you with everything he has.

Expect him to press his nose against yours a lot.

Possessiveness and Protection

You’ll notice he gets more clingy, more possessive of you. He gets really controlling in the days leading up to his rut, so you’ll be annoyed a l o t.

Just text all your friends and family that you’ve been swamped at work, it’d be a little weird to say “hey guys, sorry I can’t hang out, my boyfriend’s horomones are crazy right now and he gets really insecure if I so much as exist near anyone but him.”

You would come home from work and he’s already on you, sniffing your body to see who you’ve been around, and to see if any of them were attracted to you at all.

If he had any kind of sneaking suspicion that anyone posed a threat, he’s literally laying on you and rolling on top of you to try and get his scent on you. Even if no one will smell it except him, he’s gonna do it.

He’s so protective of you, and if something tiny hurts you or makes you upset...

He.

Is.

Angry.

Someone was rude to you? He’s screaming at them.

Someone tries to hurt or touch you? You’ve got to hold him back to stop him from ripping that person apart limb from limb.

All that x100 when he’s approaching his rut.

One person accidentally bumps into you? He takes it as passive aggressiveness even if they’re very apologetic about it.

You stub your toe on a table? He’s smashed the table and burnt it then thrown the ashes in the ocean.

If you’re sad about something he can’t beat up, he feels horrible. He’s not the best at comforting people, so he’s just grabbing onto you and not letting go, telling you how much he loves and cares for you, and just how amazing you make his life feel.

If you don’t give him enough attention, he gets really huffy, and it gets worse leading up to his rut.

You lifted your hands from his head to reach for your buzzing phone? He’s already whining and pouting and begging you to give him more head-pats again.

Nesting

He’ll leave hints asking for you to make a nest, usually saying things like “Our bed needs some changing, don’t you think?” “Don’t you wish our space was more personalized?”

If you don’t get the hint, he’ll be very sad, and he thinks you’re rejecting him. So you’d better be good at reading into things and realizing he’s approaching mating season and wants you to build a nest.

He comes home one day and sees you piled blankets, pillows, and dirty clothes in the living room, sprayed with his cologne and you’re cologne and/or perfume. He pulls you into his arms and spins around with you, giggling and laughing.

He’s so happy you made a nest for the two of you.

He starts putting pretty shiny things he likes around the nest. Your toothbrush went missing and you found it in the mountain that was your nest.

Once, you were in desperate need of a clean shirt, and the only clean shirt you could find was in the nest. So you picked it up to put it on, and two seconds later, Keigo was in front of you, hands in your shirt, staring at you with such a fierce intensity, you felt almost like a villain.

He was very mad at you for taking things from your shared nest.

He leaves feathers all around the penthouse, but they’re all piled mostly around the nest, they’re for your protection so don’t try and throw them away.

Noises

He also gets really noisy, so he’ll be ‘singing’ and squawking and cooing constantly. He feels really bad about it so he might get you some noise-blocking headphones for when he’s screeching into the sky in the dead of night about how “THIS IS MY FUCKING TERRITORY Y’ALL MOTHERFUCKERS STAY AWAYYYY!”

You really think bird’s springtime songs are about love? Nah he’s mostly screaming about how he’s gonna fuck his partner and how the neighborhood practically belongs to him.

Someone called the police once, tired of all the shouting, but the officers backed off when they saw who was doing all the shouting. Most of your neighbors are used to the screaming during early spring.

Rut End-game

On the third and second to last day before his rut, he gets a sudden burst of energy and an increased appetite. He refuses to eat anything unless you’ve made it though, so let’s best hope you can cook at least a little.

When he was younger, his hungry times before his rut were spent either eating anything and everything he can get his hands on. The commission broke that behavior very quickly though, so he’d starve himself before his rut, which would result in him getting very sick from a lack of energy and sustenance. That plus the extreme arousal was a recipe for pain and suffering.

So when you noticed he suddenly stopped eating, you insisted on making food for him, telling him that you wouldn’t let him go hungry ever. That was the first rut in years that didn’t feel like torture.

You’re cooking almost all the time, and he’s constantly eating everything you give him, running around from room to room while he waits for his next meal. He’s basically a hobbit.

In the last day or two before his rut, he suddenly has no energy, and starts getting hot and cold flashes. He’s sniffling, curled up in your shared nest, dirty tissues surrounding him. He comes in and out of consciosness, and when he’s awake, he’s whining and complaining about exhaustion and aches.

Physical Changes

Most of these happen in the last few days leading up to his rut, so it’ll be very sudden. These physical changes is what causes the extreme hunger and sickness.

His feathers darken several shades, and they become super sensitive. They also seem to grow in size, so when you cuddle, you’re smothered by them more than usual.

He also gains an extra couple inches in height, so expect some teasing now that he’s just that little bit taller. His hair also gets thicker and stronger, that’s so you can pull on it when he fucks you.

His nails get longer and darker, and they’re impossible to file or cut. So when he holds you and touches you, he often scratches you on accident. He’s really apologetic about it, but honestly you could totally paint his nails and pretend they’re acrylics if you’re into that.

His teeth get sharper, and he starts biting you just for fun. Bites your finger, hand, wrist, neck, even your nose. He underestimated just how strong his teeth are, and he made you bleed first time he bit you.

His whole body is very sensitive, so head-pats, back rubs, wings, and even his touching his feet can get him to the verge of cumming.

his tongue is longer, and it’s a whole lot stronger. He could probably carry a full plastic water bottle with his tongue (which isn’t a lot, but for a tongue it’s very much a lot).

His voice drops a whole octave and a half- mans is sounding almost like Corpse now. Maybe Markiplier? Anyways, if you’ve got a voice kink, you’re in luck

His dick changes too, it gets bigger, and he grows a lump at the base of it, between his shaft and balls. His balls get smaller until they’re barely noticable beneath what he calls him ‘knot.’

His eyes become sharper too, so don’t try and hide anything from him.

Rut (MAJOR NSFW)

Everyone already knows Keigo has a breeding kink, but he hasn’t brought it up with you until now. It just kind of- happens. As he’s drilling into you, he suddenly starts blabbering about fucking a kid into you, and how hot you’d look all round with his kids. Might be a little weird for those of you who physically cannot give birth to children (my lovely AMABS and infertile AFABS).

He can’t control it, so it’s especially weird if you don’t even want kids. If you can get pregnant, you’d better double check that you’re taking your birth control. And get to know some good clinics just in case.

However, if you do want kids, if you want to start a biological family woth Keigo, fuck. You will not be able to handle his happiness and horniness in that moment when you beg him to get you pregnant.

He is going to mark you up. Hickies, bruises, hand prints, bite marks, plus his scent. He needs everyone to know that you are his. He wants to claim you, make sure you know you belong to him. No one else can have you but him.

Halfway through your fuckfest, he starts making animalistic noises. He’s growling, roaring, whining, chirping, etc. This is around the time when he stops thinking about you, so he’ll really rough you up during this phase.

This man was a virgin before you, so this is also the first rut he’s ever going to have with another person, so he’ll hold himself back a lot. He needs you to reassure him at every step, tell him how good you feel, how you want him to fuck you, how not only are you okay with him going all out, you want him too.

Did he just cum? You think you’re finished? HA! No way in fucking hell is he finished after one, two, five, ten... so many rounds. He just keeps going and going and going and how the fuck is he still hard? He cums so fucking quickly, so much, and then keeps going.

When he finally does go soft, his whole personality changes. it’s like he didn’t just fuck you stupid. He immediately goes into ‘protect’ mode, which includes cuddles, him spoon-feeding you, petting you like a dog, and singing to you.

He puts the nest near a window so he can keep an eye out for possible threats. Just like “gotta keep mate safe. Is that the mailman? NO FUCK NO GET OUT OF HEREEEE!”

One moment, he’s fucking you, and the next he’s leaning halfway out the window, screaming at some poor dude walking his dog. Remember, he’s still naked. You learned your lesson after that and kept the windows locked, and warned the neighbors to stay out of sight of the window, at least for the time being.

You’re going to feel very dirty, because he does not want you cleaning off the sweat, cum, and tears from your body. He likes that you smell like him, and you washing it off makes him feel rejected.

He’s going to break a lot of things, so move pictures and vases into another room and lock the fuck out of that room. Or else he will break all of it.

He thinks any clothes you’re wearing are mocking him, so wear clothes you hate when his rut starts, then get used to being naked for a couple days.

Oh yeah, his whole rut lasts one to five days. He’s fucking you for about three days on average.

He fucks you until you faint, and then keeps going until he’s out of ‘fuck’ mode and into ‘protect’ mode. A few times, he fucked you unconscious in the middle of the afternoon and then kept fucking you until the sun rose.

Yeah, he’s got that much energy.

Don’t worry, during the whole time, he lets out pheromones with a strong vanilla-chocolaty scent that keeps your body and mind relaxed.

There’ve been times when he’s just fucking into you and your water bottle is just out of reach.

During his rut, he has no shame. Let’s hope your walls are soundproofed, or else your neighbors will all know how he fucks you.

He will not restrain you or hurt you in any way during his rut. So no degredation, no collars or chains, the only thing keeping you in the nest is his weight on top of you.

He gets upset if you try to touch yourself, things it’s you trying to tell him that he’s not satisfying you enough.

He wants you to cum as many times as him, which is difficult because of his increased sensitivity, so he’s using every skill he knows to get you cumming again and again and again.

Most of the time, he’s going hard, rough, and spilling absolute filth from his cock and mouth, but in the last few hours of his rut, he suddenly gets emotional.

He’s rocking up against you, holding you close to his body and blabbering about you

How much he loves you

How good you make him feel

How he wouldn’t want anyone else by his side for his rut

How you’re his mate for life

How he’ll protect you and keep you safe.

Please be gentle with him, he’s very vulnerable near the end of his rut, and he’ll cry very easily.

When he’s nearing his last load, he makes out with you sloppily, trying to talk as he shoves his tongue down your throat.

He finishes off by pushing his knot all the way inside you, and stays there for an hour.

This is the softest moment, and he’s covering your body in kisses.

His knot pushes these small eggs inside you, and you have the lovely job of pushing them all out the next day.

Post Rut

When his knot deflates, he finally pulls out and starts cleaning you off.

He’ll carry you around and finally gives you a bath, constantly making sure you’re okay.

He’ll give you lots of massages and he’ll cook for you. He’s constantly thanking you for helping him, telling you he didn’t deserve it.

Just kiss him on the cheek, tell him you had fun, and that you love him so very very much.

He needs the most reassurance now than ever before.

He’s also very tired, so you’ll be taking care of each other.

Then his ‘post-rut’ resets, and he sleeps for hours.

Then he gets super hungry, and the two of you make huge meals and just kinda binge eat for a day or two.

Then his physical changes go back to normal, and you have a happy lil bird boy who simps for you so hard

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whumpshaped · 2 years ago

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happy halloween to everyone who celebrates. not me tho these stores are selling christmas things already. (kane and bellamy belong to @whumpsday !)

tw blood, flashbacks, disembowelment, gore, forced cannibalism, guilt

Getting pumpkins in preparation for Halloween was surprisingly easy, even in vampire territory. Some vampires grew them to sell as human food later, and some even grew them for the aesthetic. Kane and Bellamy were both a little perplexed by El’s sudden need for their namesake, but they didn’t object. A pumpkin wouldn’t hurt anyone.

“It’s for Halloween!” they insisted, but only got a couple confused looks in response. “I- I’ll send you articles! I’ll print them out for you, like the old man did with the memes for his friends-”

Bellamy laughed. “I’m fairly certain I can read it on any device, darling. I’m sure my dear Kane will manage as well.” Kane smiled and nodded, not willing to bring up the fact that he’d read many things on the phone in captivity.

El grabbed their phone, quickly searching for something comprehensive. “It’s, it’s like, it’s this holiday kinda, where people dress scary and go trick or treating! Door to door, knocking, getting candy… I never got to do that, because, um… because mommy and daddy didn’t- we didn’t celebrate. We didn’t… celebrate much.” They quickly shoved the phone in Bellamy’s hands. “And, and there’s this thing, where you carve pumpkins and give them little faces and put candles inside! I want to do that!”

Bellamy and Kane read the entire article, top to bottom, like it was something actually important, not just something childish they had never gotten to do before. They were starting to feel silly, during those silent moments, fumbling with their shirt and their hair anxiously.

“We should get more, then. More than one pumpkin, I mean.” Kane was talking to Bellamy, who nodded solemnly.

“Yes, dear El should be able to carve several of them, if they so wish.”

“You guys can- well, if you wanted, you guys could also… um… we could carve one each? If you like. I’d, I’d love to, but I don’t wanna force anyone-”

“Yeah!” Kane sounded excited at the prospect. “We’ll get one for each of us, that sounds great.”

El broke into a grin, almost not even believing that they’d be along for the ride. “Amazing! Yeah! Then, then we could watch a movie while working, and, and we can just hang out! And have fun! It’ll be amazing!”

The entire floor of Bellamy’s living room was covered in old newspaper that no one needed anymore. El was going in with the carving, tearing out the pumpkin’s insides at record speed. They loved everything that would get them dirty, apparently. ‘Over the garden wall’ was playing on the tv, there was a cup of hot chocolate on the table for El and two other cups of warmed up blood for the vampires, and the scene was almost idyllic. Too good to be true.

Until El froze, staring at their hands in horror.

Kane continued talking, asking Bellamy about his pumpkin, and Bellamy answered with a smile, turning the big, round thing towards Kane so he could see. Neither of them paid attention to the situation that was unfolding barely two feet away, not until Kane turned to pose the same question to El, and his smile fell.

“El?” He dropped the spoon and crawled over, grabbing their wrist. “El, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

They looked up at him with wide eyes, lips slightly parted, no voice coming out. There was blood, and the pumpkin’s insides felt just like that - like insides.

“I want to do this to little Pumpkin as well. Later, when I get bored of them.” Seth pulled out even more of Kane’s guts, laughing, tearing it apart like it was nothing. “It’s so warm, and so fucking gross. I don’t know why… it just feels so good to be touching it.”

Kane’s screams echoed in their head. They were tearing out the pumpkin’s insides, tearing it apart like they had never been a Pumpkin days away from being scooped of their own insides. And now there was blood, and they remembered, they remembered how it felt to watch someone be gutted and know they were next.

“They’re bleeding,” Kane told Bellamy, who was up and rushing to the cupboards immediately. “I can’t see where, everything is bloody, I can’t see where it’s coming from! El, please, what happened? Where did you hurt yourself?”

Bellamy came back with bandages, helping El to their feet. “Let us wash their hands off, it will be easier to see.”

They were barely there for the entire process. Their mind was floating, the sensation of organs and blood still lingering. Seth had made them touch those things before. Touch might’ve even been a mild way to put it, after having had guts thrown at them, pieces of Kane’s liver shoved down their throat.

They had no idea where they were when they threw up, they could only distantly hear the other two talking. They were probably mad at them. They wished they could apologise, instead of being so frozen and trapped in a bubble of their memories. They might’ve done so, actually, but they might’ve just opened their mouth and not said a single word.

There was fabric between their fingers, they realised. They came to, while clutching Kane’s shirt with bandaged hands, sobbing. They weren’t bleeding anymore. The gutted pumpkin was nowhere in sight. They were in bed.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Kane said quietly, and El got the feeling he’d been repeating that for a while now. “You’re okay now.”

“Kane?”

“Oh, thank god, El, are you okay?” He pushed them away slightly, just so he could look them in the eye and see their expression.

“Is- is the, the pumpkin okay?” they asked sheepishly. “It, it was bleeding, I made it bleed, I didn’t mean to, I didn’t know-”

“You were bleeding,” he said softly. “It was your blood. You somehow cut yourself.”

“Oh.” It took them a moment to understand and process the words. Of course. That was silly, thinking a pumpkin would bleed.

They used to be Pumpkin. And they bled an awful lot.

“The pumpkin is okay,” he continued, gentle as ever. “It’s okay, it’s out in the living room.”

“I’m glad…” They nuzzled up to Kane, breathing a sigh of relief. “I’m okay, too. I think.”

Maybe Halloween wasn’t for them, after all. Or maybe, they just needed a bit more time to heal.

taglist: @whumpsday @whump-queen @lost-in-labradorite-halls @hidden-dreamland @lonesome--hunter @melancholy-in-the-morning

#whump #spk #kane #bellamy #pumpkin baby #gore #cannibalism

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latte-fairytaekwoon · 4 years ago

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𝐴𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑧: 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝐻𝑦𝑏𝑟𝑖𝑑 𝑃𝑒𝑡 𝐺𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝐼𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑡 (𝑅𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑)

Warnings: NSFW content. Read at your own discretion.

❥𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓗𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓳𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓰

Loud and intense slurping sounds were the only thing heard besides your whimpers and moaning. You tried to move away from the face that was currently buried between your legs as you felt your 6th orgasm building up, but a firm hand placed itself on your stomach, holding you down to keep you from moving.

"Come on my little kitten, you know you want to cum one more time. Cum for me."

Hongjoong's skillful tongue laps up all of your juices, not letting a single drop go to waste. Coming up to lay on top of you, he kisses you tenderly, leftover arousal on his lips now being tasted by you. His fingers sweep your hair away, scratching at the back of your [insert color] ears and he chuckles when he feels you purring into his mouth.

"You feeling good kitten? You feel better?"

Although having him eat you out so many times was always a delight, you still felt like you needed more, your core starting to feel empty and needy. Looking up at him, your pupils dilated as your fingers brushed along the tent in his pants. Playing coy, Hongjoong tilted his head at you.

"What is it kitten? Do you want something from me?"

Hongjoong chuckled when he felt your claws began tearing at his jeans. Getting the hint, he began to take himself out, slapping his head on your clit.

"Don't worry kitten, master will fill you up."

❥𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓢𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝔀𝓪

Seonghwa let out a loud hiss when he felt your walls clench unbearably tight around him. His hand came down to caress the red prints he had left all over your ass, stroking them with utmost tenderness, before coming over to play with your little cotton tail, which briefly twitched when it felt his touch.

"You like that my little bunny?"

Your drawned out moan was an affirmative answer. Wanting to further tease you, he harshly tugged at your tail, sending you yelping into the pillow as you began cumming all over him.

"Oh fuck bunny! I'm gonna cum! Gonna cum inside you!" He cried out, his thrusts becoming more sporadic.

Your long ears began fretting uncontrollably when they heard his words.

"N-no master! You could get me pregnant! Humans can still-" Your sentence couldn't be finished as your body began getting heated once more.

Seonghwa's thrusts never stopped, in fact they got more desperate. Leaning over, he began kissing along your back.

"Really? I can breed you my little bunny?"

You nodded your head as you felt yourself cumming once again, nearly squirting when you heard his next words.

"Then let's knock you up. I wanna see you full of my babies."

❥𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸

Your fingers couldn't keep from fisting at your skirt, your eyes looking everywhere but at the tv in front of you, where a movie your loving master had put on for your weekly movie nights you often had. You hated this, you thought you could distract yourself and ignore the immense throbbing that started that morning, but it was becoming too much.

"Baby? Are you ok? What's wrong pup?"

Yunho's voice snapped you out of your thoughts and until then you realized you had been unconsciously rutting yourself on his thigh, your cheeks burning red with embarrassment. But Yunho didn't seem to mind as he began kissing your shoulders, hands sliding up under your shirt to knead at your exposed breasts.

"It hurts doesn't it puppy?"

You nodded, melting into his touch and tilting your head so he could suck hickeys into your neck.

"Is this ok? Does this feel better?" He asked you as he pinched your nipples.

You whined loudly, loving your master's caresses, but wanting them places elsewhere.

"Yes but-but.." You were too scared to ask him.

"But what pup? Still hurts? Where do you need it?"

Humming softly, Yunho dropped one hands inside your skirt, pushing your panties to the side to slide a finger, then 2 inside of you. You cried out at the stretch his long fingers gave you, spreading your legs out more so he could add a 3rd one.

"Master will take the pain away for you pup."

❥𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓰

Coming home to find you, his fox hybrid, in pain and furiously grinding yourself onto a pillow somehow didn't phase Yeosang. He knew that you were bound to start your first heat anytime soon. You on the other hand, didn't fully understand what was happening to your body.

"M-master, please help." You begged him, your eyes becoming brimmed with tears.

Gently, Yeosang calmed you down first before ushering you to lie your naked body down onto the bed. Petting your ears softly, he went to his closet to get out the box he had stashed away until this moment arrived. Coming back over to you, he took out a weird device you had never seen before, but it was pink, long and cylindrical in shape. Turning on a button, it began making a buzzing noise and Yeosang then lowered it down until it touched your throbbing clit.

"Oh! Oh my god." You squirmed as vibrations pulsated all over your body.

Yeosang's fingers went back to your ears, stroking them as he moved the device around your sensitive little nub.

"This is called a vibrator my dear. It will help you out at times like these."

Soon he moved the vibrator from your clit and slipped it inside you, sliding it in and out of you until you were a shaking mess and came for the first time in your life. Taking it out of you, Yeosang studied the glistening juices left from your orgasm.

"Of course, one day even this won't be enough for you..."

You blushed and let out a squeak when you saw him lick some of the cum off as he winked at you.

"But that's what my cock will be here for."

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷

San's fingers yanked your hair from the pillow, not willing to let you muffle the screams pouring out of your mouth. You cried out even harder as he began landing hard slaps on your ass.

"Stop trying to hide now, acting like you weren't rutting yourself on Mingi's lap just 5 minutes ago like the little bitch in heat you are."

Tears came down your cheeks as your legs threatened to give out underneath you. You didn't want to make San mad, but your heat was unbearable and yes, you accidentally rutted yourself on his friend while he was cuddling you on his lap.

"I'm sorry master! My- can't control my heat!" You exclaimed.

San let out a pensive hum, his hips slowing down until they stopped and he pulled out of you, which made you whine harder at being denied to cum.

"You're right....you really can't control yourself when you're in heat. All you can think about is getting fucked over and over."

With a sadistic grin, he threw you over his shoulder and stormed out of the room and into the living room, where his other members had reddened faces at having heard what was going on, but now they looked in shock as San set you on the floor, displaying your naked form to them.

"Guys my little puppy hybrid is in heat and needs a little fucking. Correction....a lot of fucking." He emphasized the last part.

Using his foot, he made you open your legs so they could all look at your soaked hole which ached to be filled once more, stuffed to the brim with cum.

"Come on guys, I've seen you stare at my little bitch too many times. If you want to fuck her, now's your chance. "

❥𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲

You couldn't ask for a better caregiver than Mingi. You absolutely loved him and he absolutely adored you. He took great care of you and was always displaying his affection towards you. And he always made sure to satisfy your needs, especially when you went into heat. You always looked forward to those times because he was extra attentive and even romantic towards you.

"There you go my pretty little kitten. That's it. Just take it nice and slow."

Your head was thrown back, eyes closed as you lost yourself in the immense pleasure of grinding against his huge cock. Mingi's hands were holding onto your waist, guiding your movements so he could hit your sweet spot each time you sunk down on his length. The splashing sounds of the water in the bathtub you two were in were the only other sounds besides the moans coming out both of your mouths.

Mingi attached his mouth to your neck, sucking down on your wet skin, brushing away some of your dampened hair.

"You're so beautiful my pretty one, and you're doing so well taking my cock." You lived for his praises and sweet words.

"Thank you master. Thank you for making me feel-"

You were silenced when he suddenly pressed his lips against yours, his tongue running itself across your upper lip as he began bucking his hips harder into you.

"Shh. Hush kitten."

You melted and immediately came all over him, feeling overwhelmed with not only euphoria but with love as well.

"Don't thank me kitten. Master just wants to make sure you're taken care of properly."

❥𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰

Wooyoung hummed a soft tune to himself as he carefully flipped the pancakes he was currently cooking on the stove. It was early morning and he was wearing nothing but his sweatpants, hair a mess and in tangles from his previous night with you. He squealed when he suddenly felt a body press itself to his.

"Don't give me a heart attack so early in the morning." He scolded you, swatting the utensil on one of your fluffy ears.

Letting out a huff, you turned him to face you and he was kinda surprised to see you there naked. Just as he was about to ask, you pulled him in for a desperate kiss, fingers raking against his bare chest as you pulled him over to the table.

"God dammit Y/N, are you seriously this horny this early?" Although he complained, he still made no effort to push you off him nor stop your hand from palming his growing hard on.

"I'm still in heat! Please, I need you." You whimpered at him, taking one of his hands to cup and feel your dripping mound.

Growling, Wooyoung flipped you so you were laying on the table, his hands spreading your legs open. Pulling his sweatpants down, he surprised you when you saw he had gone commando that morning.

"What? I knew there would be no use in wearing underwear."

You gasped when he entered you promptly, immediately pounding his into you. He was going at it so hard you reached your hands up to grip onto his arms to steady yourself as you felt the first orgasm of the day washing over you.

"Fuck! You really are just a horny little bunny. Just wants to pounce on my cock and get fucked dumb."

You shook under him when he snaked a hand to wrap around your throat, making you go dizzy as you began chanting his name over and over again.

"I'll make sure to fuck you dumb my horny bunny."

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓙𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝓸

Catching your ears poke out from the doorway, Jongho set his weights down and turned to look at you, who immediately hid.

"What's wrong my little vixen?" He celled out for you.

You nervously stuck your face out.

"No....nothing master. I'm sorry for disturbing you."

Just as you were about to run away, Jongho called out for you again.

"Wait! Babygirl come over here." He ordered you.

Seeing you walk in with your fingers tugging at your oversized sleeves, cheeks pink and ears down, Jongho could already guess what was going on. Cupping your chin, he tilted it up.

"Well then? What is it my little vixen?"

You wanted to cry from how embarrassed you were and for disturbing Jongho with your dirty needs when he was obviously busy.

"I'm sorry m-master ... I'll go-"

"Nonsense my darling. It's ok. I know you're still in heat so don't cry ok?"

Pecking your lips, he picked you up and walked over to the couch, sitting down and immediately stripping you out of your shorts and panties, which were drenched at this point. Jongho then gently placed you on one of his thighs just as he always did when you went into heat, his hands giving your ass cheeks a gentle squeeze.

"Ok. Go on my little vixen. Put on your little show for me, fuck yourself on my thigh as much as you want."

Gifs not mine. Credit goes to their respective owners.

#ateez #ateez reactions #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez smut #ateez fluff #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez san #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #ateez jongho #ateez hybrid au

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some-unoriginal-fandom-trash · 2 years ago

Note

for the word meme: i pick "fall" (or "fell")!

!! oooo!! another one!! ty!! So this one is a character study of Wash, and all the names he’s picked up throughout his life :) kinda neat that the two asks I’ve gotten coincide with literally the only two rvb fics i’m working on lmao

You’re twelve when you decide to dye your hair for the first time. You walk into a general store, your dad twirling the car keys around his pointer finger. “Sure you wanna do this?” He asks, an eyebrow raised at you.

You shrug, and stuff your hands in your pockets. “I mean, yeah. It’ll look cool. And it’ll come out, and we don’t even have to do that whole bleaching thing.”

Your dad nods, and says “alright kiddo, if you’re sure” and leaves it at that. You walk along the isles, tracing a finger down the item labels. Your dad walks behind you, amused at your adamant refusal to ask an employee for help. You find the hair dye eventually though, so it works out anyway.

“So,” your dad says, and claps his hands together as he does so, “what color are we thinking?”

You stare at the rainbow of options. Some are more natural colors, probably for touch ups or something. You don’t need, or want, that. You keep looking. There’s almost every shade imaginable, when a spot of blue catches your eye. You grab the box.

“Good choice,” your dad says, and ruffles your hair with his hand. He knows you hate when he does that. “It’ll fade to a sort of aqua at one point, you still cool with that?”

You shrug. “Yeah, it’ll look pretty cool either way.” You turn the box over in your hands, and start skimming the directions. You’ll have to get someone to help you, but you kind of already figured that.

Your dad grabs a pack of mint gum, and then a case of lite beer, and the cashier rings those up along with your hair dye. She rattles off your total, and you grab the bag with your box of hair dye in it as soon as your receipt prints. Your dad grabs the case of beer, and the two of you pile into the car.

You kind of can’t wait to dye your hair, so you start reading the box instructions again. Your dad turns up the stereo and hums along to his playlist, and though you recognize the songs, you tune them out.

You unbuckle as soon as your dad pulls into the driveway, and he looks over at you, eyebrows raised again. “What?” you say, deadpan. He shakes his head, puts the car in park, and then turns it off.

“Go inside, and let your mother know what we’re about to do. She’ll set up a chair and plastic wrap.”

You roll your eyes. You were gonna do that anyway. You take your garage stairs two at a time (which isn’t all that impressive, there’s only five steps anyway), and open the door. The bag goes on the kitchen table, and out comes your prize.

“Mom?” You yell, unsure of where she is in the house. “We got the hair dye! Can you set up the kitchen so we don’t make a mess?”

She comes down the stairs, clapping her hands together to get imaginary dust off. “David, manners please,” she says, teasing.

You roll your eyes again. “Can you set up the kitchen please.”

She sighs. “I suppose that’s better.” She pulls out a chair, and you open the box of hair dye.

It takes up the rest of the evening, dying your hair. Your dad does most of the legwork, with your mom cleaning up occasionally. You hop in the shower once it’s done, and a lot of it comes out, but apparently that’s normal. You use the dark towels to dry your hair, and little droplets of bright blue water trace rivers as they fall down your face. Even wet, it looks good. You grin at your reflection.

Your dad knocks on the door, and you turn as he opens it. “Hey kiddo, how’s it lookin’?”

“Pretty cool I think,” you say, and he nods his head.

“Alright,” he says, and then flips on the fan with the switch by the door. “Oh yeah, this was in the bag. You want it?” He pulls out a slip of paper. It's that poster you see everywhere, now that you’ve gone looking for it. “I think it’s a sticker.”

“Just leave it on my dresser.” You scratch the back of your head, and it comes back wet with more blue water. “I’ll have to get used to that.”

Your dad hums with agreement. “It looks good. Anyway, good night David. Sleep well.”

“Night dad!” As he closes the door, you begin to get ready for bed. The sticker stays on your dresser, mostly because you don’t know what to do with it.

You now know the man in the green uniform is a soldier, and the monsters he’s fighting are the Covenant.

Your name is “David”, and you are twelve.

#midnight whisperings #also! I did a little handflap when I saw you asked me #was very excited #rvb #but once again! for. myself #i'm kinda misusing the meme 'cause it says 'sentence' but whatever i'm very excited to show off for my cool mutuals #i want y'all to like me idk #my shit

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unwrittenlibrary · 4 years ago

Text

Honey, Honey

Summary: it's mother's day & harry wants to do something to celebrate you from him and leo.

Words: 1.4k

Notes: i haven't touched my little lion series in so long, and i saw a sweet card at target yesterday and inspiration struck. & i wanted to post something since it's been a few weeks.

Timeline: mother's day in may, about six months after the engagement to harry. leo is almost two. (for the rest of the little lion series see my masterlist.)

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

Harry wasn’t entirely sure how to bring up Mother’s Day with you. Leo was still young, just a little under two years old. And while he was sleeping through the night, and babbling away, he was too young to even comprehend the holiday. Harry knew you weren’t really expecting anything.

But the two of you had been together for over a year now, you lived with them, and even if Leo wasn’t yours biologically, you had made it clear he was your son.

But... Last year, the three of you had skipped over Mother’s Day. Your relationship was still treading through milestones. Meeting families, moving in… So it had been pretty much forgotten about. This year though, Harry wanted to do something for the day, he just wasn’t sure what.

He knew you enjoyed the brunch served at the place downtown, but Leo couldn’t really handle super large crowds and long days yet, both a staple for Mother’s Day brunches.

He had ordered flowers to be delivered, but that didn’t really feel like enough. He could try breakfast in bed, but you were a light sleeper and most likely not be able to sleep through the surprise.

“Gem.” He groans as he flickers through the cards in front of him. “Not only do I have no gift, there are no cards for like, adoptive moms.”

Gemma laughs softly. “H, you know she’ll love it no matter what. I’m sure it’ll mean the world to her that you want to do this.”

Harry shakes his head as he slams another card back into its slot. “I know that. I just want her to know that I appreciate her wanting to be with Leo and I.”

Gemma sighs. “She does, Harry. And she’ll love whatever you choose for her because it’s from the heart.”

Harry picks up another card and sighs. Too many of the cards were dedicated to wives, which you weren’t yet, work was so busy for the both of you planning hadn’t even really come up yet. He assumed a card from Leo would be a little easier, as long as the card didn’t mention genetics, it would work.

But Harry just couldn’t find the perfect one. Gemma sighs again when Harry doesn’t respond. “H, it’s a card. You’re overthinking it because you’re nervous. Just pick one with Leo’s favorite cartoon and she’ll love it. I have to go. I love you, bye.”

Before Harry can respond Gemma ends the call and all that’s on the other end is a dial tone. Harry looks at the cards in front him, exasperated.

“Excuse me?” He spins around and finds a woman who looks to be around your age. She’s looking up at him nervously and fiddling with the car in her hands.

Harry smiles politely. “Yeah?” He asks quietly as he steps out of the way of a teenager shuffling through cards and panicking.

She smiles up at him. “I overheard you talking and…” She glances down at the card in her hands before holding it out to him. “My mom, she isn’t my mom biologically, and cards are tough.”

Harry hesitantly takes the card and looks down at it. It’s a small card, with Winnie the Pooh, Kanga and Roo on the front. Harry’s eyes scan over the words printed on the front. “This is… This is great. Thank you. I-“

The woman smiles and shakes her head. “Mother’s Day was weird when I was young because I knew my mom wasn’t biologically my mom, but she was always there. You know?” Harry nods. “Finding good cards sucked, especially because so many talk about getting their genes or even the favorite kid jokes are awkward.”

Harry drops the card into his basket. “Thank you so much. It’s… We just got engaged and it’s her first official Mother’s Day with us. I want her to know how appreciative I am.”

“She will.” The woman takes a step back. “Anybody who is this worried about a card definitely shows how much they care without it anyways.” She smiles and offers a small wave before turning on her heel and leaving Harry alone in the aisle.

He looks down at the card again and with a newfound confidence in his ability to find something good for you, he ventures further into the store.

Leo’s sitting on Harry’s hip as he messed with the flowers on the dining room table. Your card is propped against the vase while the gift bag Harry had filled was next to it.

“I really hope mama likes this, little lion.” Harry murmurs as he takes a step back, finally happy with how the bouquet looks.

“Mama?” Leo questions as he rests his head against Harry’s shoulder. He lets out a yawn and Harry laughs. He had forced the poor toddler out of bed much earlier than he was used to.

Harry nods gently. “Yeah, mama. We’re gonna celebrate her today.”

“Dada.” Leo murmurs as he points haphazardly to the set up. There’s a knock on the door and Harry rushes to open it.

“Styles?” The man questions tiredly. Harry offers a sympathetic smile as he nods. He was sure this wasn't the man’s first or last breakfast delivery of the day. “Just need you to sign since you paid with a card.”

Harry adjusts Leo on his hip as he messily signs the receipt the man is holding up on the wall for him. The man looks at Harry before sighing. “Have a nice day.”

The bag handle digs into Harry’s fingers as he carries it back to the table while holding onto a sleepy Leo. “Gonna put you in your chair while I set up, then we can wake mama up.”

“Mama?” Leo repeats the word as Harry gently sets him down and straps him in. “Mama. Mama!” He calls louder, out for you.

“No! Stop!” Harry glances down the hallway panicked as he listens for any sign that you’ve woken up. When no movement comes from the hall, Harry lets his shoulders relax and begins to pull plates out of his kitchen.

It doesn’t take long to set up the already cooked food, less than half an hour before he’s picking Leo up again to go wake you up.

His nerves have been high all day, maybe all week. They’d been high since he’d begun planning this whole thing out. But right now was an all time high.

He was proud of what he’d planned, but worried you would be overwhelmed. Did you even want to celebrate? Had he gone overboard?

“Too late.” He mutters as he quietly opens your bedroom door. You’re sitting up and scrolling through your phone.

When you look up, a wide smile stretches across your face at the sight of your boys. “Good morning, loves.” You say quietly. You lock your phone and sit up straighter as Harry sits Leo in your lap.

“Mama.” Leo murmurs. He slaps his hands against your cheeks and squishes. The act makes both of you laugh.

“Hello, little lion.” You say once he’s taken his hands off. “What’s got you and daddy awake?” You look over at Harry with a knowing stare.

“We’ve got a surprise for you.” Harry says quietly. “If you wanna get up.” You nod and stand with Leo clinging to you.

You’re all still in pajamas, and Harry’s sure his hair is sticking in all different directions. The three of you make your way down the hall, Harry leading.

You freeze when you enter the dining room. Your eyes move quickly to take everything in. Harry watches nervously as he tries to gauge your reaction.

“Happy Mother’s Day.” He finally says when you take another step into the room. Leo lets out an excited, “Mama!”

You press a kiss to the baby’s head and finally move fully into the room and towards the table. “Oh, Harry.” You murmur as you look down at the spread.

“Do you… Is this okay?” He asks hesitantly. He realizes he maybe should have just bit the bullet and talked about today with you. This feeling of not knowing was killing him.

You spin around to look at him with teary eyes and a bright smile. “This is… This is more than okay. I can’t believe you did all this for me!”

He lets out a relieved laugh and leans down to press a kiss to your lips. “Anything for the best mom in the world.”

You place Leo into his chair and strap him in as Harry pulls out a chair for you. Once the three of you are settled, Harry hands the card over to you.

“Happy Mother’s Day, love.” He says quietly as you tear into the card’s envelope. “We’re so grateful for you.”

“How do you learn to be a mom?” asked Pooh.

“You just follow your heart,” Answered Kanga.

Notes: hello all. please enjoy this fluff piece for the upcoming american mother's day. hope you're all safe & doing well.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles #harry styles x fem!reader #single dad harry #little lion series

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not-me-simping-for-blasty · 4 years ago

Text

I Melt With You - Bakugou Katsuki

All Parts:

Part 3:

“Okay, so that’s about it.” You smile brightly, pressing a band-aid into the boy’s skin. “Thanks for being so brave for me!”

“Mhm. I’m the bravest!”

The child before you beams, all teeth gaps and kicking legs as he bounces in his seat. You’d just given him a few routine vaccinations, and true to your praise, he had been very brave about it. All he’d done was sit there, holding his breath until his face went red, and trying not to grimace. It reminded you of someone else you’d recently treated- someone else who was currently blazoned in all his snarling glory on the little boy’s shirt.

“Oh, I’m sure! Just like Dynamite!” You agree enthusiastically, gesturing to his clothes. You turn your head, catching his mother’s eye from where she sits next to him. “Isn’t that right, mom?”

“Oh, not if I can help it.” She smiles something a little exhausted, but ultimately fond as her son starts making explosion noises. “Not if I can help it.”

If you’re being completely honest, you sort of agree with her. Just a little bit- actually, on second thought a lot.

“If that’s everything and you have no other concerns for me, then we’re about done here.” You say gently. “Do you know where you’re going? I can point you toward reception again if you need it.”

“No, we’re alright, thank you!”

You nod, holding the door open for them as they leave.

When the door closes, and you’re swept back up into silence, you can’t help but think of that interaction as just more proof- more proof that no matter where you were, no matter what you were doing, you absolutely could not escape Bakugou.

When you weren’t actively thinking about him, then you were seeing his face everywhere. He was on television, and he was on the cover of newspapers, and as evidenced, he was printed in perfect grumbling, snarling accuracy on children’s t-shirts. It didn’t help either that every day brought another civilian who was saved by him, and every night brought another small-time criminal who was beat to hell by his fists. You swore he was responsible for a solid 70% of all of your hospital’s traffic- it was pure insanity when you really started paying attention.

You quickly come to realize that Bakugou is a plague; and a horrifyingly effective one at that. You’re not sure how you never noticed it before.

Still, you can’t help but find yourself worrying a little bit. When you think of him, all you can see is his face covered in blood, the pallid hue of his skin under the hospital’s sterile lighting, and the deep-set bags under his eyes. You remember the way he practically fell asleep, laid out and injured on a hospital table. The way he was drifting while you were digging a needle and thread through his skin.

Thinking back on it always makes you a bit sick. No one who wasn’t absolutely exhausted would ever fall asleep in a hospital- especially not in the middle of being sewn up. When you match that to the anger and terror you’d felt, that very first night you’d ever met him, it doesn’t paint a pretty picture. You come to realize that even if Bakugou was an asshole to you, you still wouldn’t wish that kind of mental torture on anybody.

Your rest of your week goes by quickly after that, and by the time Saturday rolls around, you’ve gathered quite a few bones to pick with him. It seemed the amount of criminals you were patching up was only increasing, and their injuries were only getting worse too. Each passing day only brings more lowly criminals and thieves flooding into your hospital, all covered in the same scorch marks, broken bones, and dark bruising. It was overkill, plain and simple, and you knew exactly who the culprit was.

You began to think that, even if it was Bakugou’s job, he really shouldn’t have been digging graves for people who were just stealing purses. There was a massive difference between a super villain and a petty thief, but he didn’t seem to understand that. Dynamite punished everybody just the same. You saw that first hand.

Still, you try to shake off those lingering frustrations. You were on your way to take out his stitches, and you didn’t want to accidently bring them up. Bakugou only mildly tolerated you the last time around, but you were sure that generosity would cease the moment you criticized anything about him. True to his quirk, Bakugou had proven himself to be a teetering powder keg- just a little bit of friction, and he’d explode on the spot.

“On your way to help his majesty?” Your superior remarks, smiling sardonically as you pass her. “Good luck, I’ll be praying for you! Try your best to come back with your head still intact, yeah?”

You nod, smiling uneasily, but your stomach turns a little bit.

That had been another reoccurring theme that week- jokes about how your impending doom was imminent. Apparently, Bakugou had been making a name for himself for years now- a name that was a lot less loved by your hospital then it was the rest of the outside world. You’d been hearing horror stories for days now; tale after twisted tale of nurses and doctors getting chewed up and spit out by his bad temper. It always read as a little strange to you though; in every story you’d heard, he was either hardly injured or on his death bed- no in-between whatsoever. You figure that it didn’t really matter though, the result was always the same. Relentless, explosive anger.

Which you sort of begun to think you were in for, when you opened the door to his scowling face.

“Hey!” You greet unsurely, trying to walk into the room with a confidence you didn’t really feel. Moving past him, you rinse your hands, drying them and then slipping on a pair of latex gloves. You then pull the medical cart over to him, taking out the blood pressure cuff. Just like his last visit. “You ready to get those stitches removed?”

“Yeah. Obviously. Why the fuck else would I waste my time here? Witch.”

Yep. There it is- just what the other nurses and staff were warning you about. His attitude.

“Oh. Okay, so I see we are still using that nickname. Great.” You mutter wrapping the cuff around his arm. You fall back, crossing your arms as you wait to jot down his vitals. There’s angry tension rolling off of him, and you smile uneasily, trying to discharge it with a subject change. “On an entirely different note, though, I did want to congratulate you.”

Bakugou just scoffs, turning up his nose. A beat passes and then he folds, minutely nodding at you to continue.

“You’re not covered in any blood this time! Congrats!” You say breezily, unwrapping the cuff from around his arm. “Guess the third time really is the charm for us, huh?”

Bakugou just looks away, hardly even acknowledging you as he rolls his eyes. You think you see his lip twitch though- just a bit, and it only lasts half a second, but you count it as a success.

“So, any worries about the stitches? You been cleaning them as instructed?” You ask, gently taking his forearm in your hands. You remove the bandages and gauze with feather-light touches. “Wow, you must’ve been. They look pretty good to me.”

When you look up at him, he’s got that same prideful smirk you’d seen before; it doesn’t distract you from his condition though. His skin somehow looks paler than before, skin purple and darkened under his eyes. You see the cut on his head, still hardly healed and scabbed over. He’s overworking himself, but you didn’t need to have any medical background to see that.

“Obviously they look good. You think I’m fuckin’ stupid?” He says.

“No, but I really did think you would’ve exacerbated them by now. Especially with all the hero work you’ve been doing. Which, believe me, I know is a lot.”

“What- you stalking me now or somethin’?”

“Not exactly. Me or somebody else here always end up treating all those people you save.” You tell him, setting his arm down on the empty surface of the medical cart. You try to keep your voice light, keep it entirely void of anything accusatory, but you can’t help your next words. “And every person you beat into the ground.”

Bakugou’s eye twitches when you look at him. He breathes deep, eyebrows creasing.

“Oi- somethin’ you wanna fuckin’ say to me?” He utters, eyes glinting like blistering wildfire. He leans forward, flipping his palm up towards you as it begins to crackle. “Better choose your next words real fuckin’ carefully.”

It’s his tone that catches you off-guard.

You knew it was a stupid move, your comment, but the pure poison in his response surprises you anyway. His voice is dark and angry, smoldering like a low heat as he stares you down. The words are vicious thing, a gripping threat that drips from his mouth, seeming to bite back around his teeth as he speaks it. It makes you shrink. You think that it would probably make even the strongest people shrink.

“No. It’s- I wasn’t. I’m sorry.” You apologize professionally, pasting on your best appeasing smile even as you fight off the anxiety. There’s nothing left to do but try to defuse the situation- so you turn away from him, busying yourself with grabbing a discard tray and your stitching kit. “It’s really wasn’t my business. Shouldn’t have said anything. Sorry.”

Bakugou just huffs at that, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. He somehow looks even more annoyed than before and you don’t know what he wants from you. Doesn’t he know how intimidating he is? Why does he even bother acting surprised when people fold for him? Especially if he chooses to address them like that?

You wish you were the sort of person who could stand up to him- the sort of person who could put him in his place. After all, there was no room for arrogance in a hospital, and you’d always thought egotism to be a selfish waste of valuable time. But, even so, you just couldn’t be that person this time. There was a lot you could power though, but you’d never seen hot-and-cold anger like his before. He wasn’t like any of your other difficult patients- none of their threats ever sounded like promises.

There’s tense silence as you start removing the stitches, only the sound of your scissors and Bakugou’s own breaths. You try to keep your hands steady, try to keep focused, but you’re finding it hard to keep still under his intense gaze. You feel he’s looking right through you again, waiting for any excuse to blow up again.

You’re almost done removing them entirely when he huffs, rolling his eyes as he shifts uncomfortably.

“You’re so fucking sensitive, you know. It’s pathetic.”

You stiffen.

There’s a lot you’re willing to put up with- being underappreciated and overworked was pretty much your entire job after all- but Bakugou was really wearing on you. He wasn’t the first patient to insult you, and his comment was far from the worst thing you’d ever been told; but it’s something in the way he spits the insult. Sly and challenging like he knows something you don’t. It makes you look up at him, and all you see are his sharp canines. His smirk and the way he looks down on you.

He’s picking a fight, but there’s no threat. He’s testing you.

It makes your blood boil.

“If you don’t like me, and the way I do my work,” You bite out, staring right back and speaking through own clenched teeth. “Then you shouldn’t have asked for me. No one made you come back.”

“I told you, witch. No cutting corners. You put the fuckers in my arm, you take them the fuck out.”

“Why are you fighting with me?” You ask, swallowing as you try not to shy away from his glare. “I told you last time, if this works better for you silent, then just say that.”

He flares his nostrils at that, setting his jaw. When he goes silent, you go back to snipping away his stitches. At this point, you just wanted to finish as quickly as possible.

“Silent is fuckin’ boring.” He grits, flexing his fingers. It makes the skin on his forearm shift, throwing off your work. When you look at him in frustration, you can see he did it on purpose. “It’s wimp shit.”

“Pardon?”

“I said-” He leans in close, voice low and venomous. It feels like he’s trying to paralyze you with his stare alone, sitting up straight until he’s glaring down at you. “Silence is boring. You’re fucking boring.”

You’d had a long day- you’d had a very long day and he was being extremely rude and your patience was wearing thin hours ago. That’s why you let him break your careful composure- at least, that’s what you tell yourself.

“Oh yeah, I’m boring?” You ask in frustration, entire face warming in fury. “I’m boring? Really! At least I don’t spend my entire day blowing things up and beating people half to death!”

Bakugou blinks. He blinks, sucks a breath, and then you watch his smirk crawl slow and sure across the entirety of his face. He got you. He got you to break, and he won, and he knows it.

He knows it and he settles back on his good hand, leaning away to get a better look at your flustered face. He cocks his head to the side, studying and analytical for a moment. He nods.

“There. We’re fuckin’ even.”

“Excuse me?”

“Even. You shouldn’t have fuckin’ pried around in my head and not expected me to pry in yours.”

“That’s what this is about?” You sigh incredulously, putting your scissors down on the medical cart. “Really? You’re still on that- how- how does this even tell you what’s in my head? You’re just insulting me. It doesn’t!”

“It does.”

“It doesn’t.”

“Then why are you so fuckin’ pissed right now? Hah?” He squints his eyes, voice smooth and dripping with arrogance. “It’s cause I’m right. You’re so fuckin’ boring when you play nice all the time.”

“Play nice? What the hell are you even on about? You don’t know me.”

“I know that you piss me the hell off bein’ fake. If I fuckin’ irritate you then say so. Don’t put on your fuckin’ kid gloves and try and be professional. It’s weak.”

“No. It’s how I keep my job. Which you know, you wouldn’t understand, because you literally pick fights for a living!” You huff, pushing the medical cart off to the side and stepping back from him. “Actually- you know what, no. I’m done with this. This conversation. Your stitches are out, and you can leave since you obviously can’t stand me and would rather be anywhere but here.”

You watch him flare his nostrils again, a snarl ripping from his mouth. He slams his closed fist down on the hospital bed, eyes like blazing conflagration. Bakugou looks pissed, but more than anything he looks vulnerable. Worn raw.

“I can’t.” He grits.

“Yes! You actually can! Just walk out! Literally just walk out an-��

“God, you’re so fucking dense! I can’t leave without figuring out how the fuck you do it!”

“Do what?” You nearly scream, your owns hands beginning to clench into fists.

“I need to know.” He repeats again, hopping off the hospital bed.

His feet hit the ground, steps like rolling thunder as he nears, broad shoulders and muscular arms casting an intimidating shadow. Bakugou looks like an angry bull storming toward you. Like he’ll obliterate you given even half the chance.

“Take your fucking gloves off.”

You’re scared now, eyes darting over to the door. You knew nobody was doing rounds in the luxury wing right now, and sound didn’t pass through walls that were made to ensure silence. Heart racing in your chest, you size him up, try to think of a way to escape but he’s so close to you and he’s built like a linebacker and-

“Jesus christ. Not like that. Fuckin’ idiot.” He growls, hand pinching the bridge of his nose. He stops a few feet in front of you, sneering. “You’re not my fuckin’ type, so don’t flatter yourself. Now, grow the fuck up and take them off before I do it for you.”

You’re not sure what makes you listen, maybe it’s fear, maybe it’s something else, but either way you listen. You pull a glove off, just barely dropping it on the counter before Bakugou speaks again.

“I’m gonna touch your hand- but do not use your quirk. Don’t even think about using it. Just fucking stand there. And don’t freak the fuck out and put up a fight about it. You’re just gonna waste time.”

You nod, hand shaking as you extend it. Bakugou seems to roll his eyes at that, but he surges forward anyways, fingers meeting yours.

You feel it almost immediately. Your heart speeds up, but just slightly, beginning beat against your chest where it had just barely been grazing it before. You breathe deep, close you eyes, focus in on the buzzing of your skin- the way your bones sing of subtle fire. It’s barely there but it feels like warmth. Reminds you of that night, with Bakugou, when you were burning alive. Reminds you of how your bones felt too large and your skin felt too small and there somehow wasn’t enough room in the entire world to hold the weight of your rage.

“You ambient fucking bitch.” Bakugou swears under his breath. When you look at him, he’s fluttering his own eyes open, dropping your hand like it burned him.

Then he steps back and you’re gasping for air. It’s not entirely back again- but it’s reminiscent. There’s an inkling of that bone-deep exhaustion. That weariness that so often stole the air from you lungs and the ground beneath your feet.

“Your quirk. It’s ambient. Through your skin.”

You shrink back even more, blinking owlishly up at him.

“What? You didn’t fucking know? Jesus, how clueless are you?”

“It’s-I-” You drop your head, running a hand through your hair. “I never- I always wear gloves. Always. And long sleeves. Since I was little. Never wanted to take the chance- how did you even know.”

Bakugou seems to turn his nose up at your question. He steps back, further and farther until his back hits the hospital bed. There’s distance but somehow he keeps the air just as charged, averting his eyes when he speaks next.

“Went to sleep. A week ago. When I saw you-”

“What? Bakugou that doesn’t- you’re not-”

“If you’d let me fuckin’ finish,” He glares down at you again, trying to beat you into submission with eye-contact alone. It works and you fall silent, holding your breath as he resumes. “You put me to sleep. Then and three months ago. I haven’t slept peacefully like that in fuckin’ years. So obviously you used your quirk on me. It’s easy. A fuckin’ moron could’ve figured it out.”

“No- but I didn’t touch you! Well, the first time, yeah, I did, but not a week ago. I was wearing gloves and I-”

“When I told you to do the splint over, the sleeve of your coat rode up.” He grits out, cheeks slightly flushing as he averts his eyes. “Then I almost fell asleep. Not like the first time, but still. Asleep. So obviously it’s your fuckin’ skin.”

Suddenly, the ground is ripped out from under you.

Your entire life you’d always been tired. Day in and day out, constantly dragging your feet like you could never get enough sleep. Like there wasn’t enough hours in the day for you to live and be rested.

Was it your quirk this entire time? Were you somehow ambiently draining people of their pain- even if you just accidentally brushed their skin with yours?

You don’t know how you never realized it. How you never put two and two together.

You’d spent your entire life purposefully using your quirk to help people- had then sacrificed days and weeks of your life afterwards tucked away in bed and sleeping off the exhaustion. When you used your power on purpose, depending on the severity of someone’s pain, it would debilitate you. But you still did it- over and over and over again because you wanted to help people. Because you knew you could and that became the only reason you needed.

You’d always just assumed your constant exhaustion to be aftershocks of how often you used your quirk- you never even considered the possibility that it was something you were doing unintentionally. That you were draining yourself with every hug and handshake and high-five that should’ve made you feel better.

You’d always sort of disliked being touched. Somehow always walked away with your skin prickling uncomfortably for as long as you could remember. You just never knew why until now.

“Oi- I thought I told you not to freak the fuck out.”

“It’s- how the hell am I not supposed to freak out about this?” You gasp, hands braced behind you on the counter. “I didn’t know! My entire life! And you met me like, what, twice and you figured it out and- Are you falling asleep right now?”

In your spiral Bakugou had somehow ended back up on the hospital bed. He was still sat up, but his shoulders were completely slumped over and his eyes were half-lidded. He looked completely drained of all previous anger, swaying slightly as he blinked himself back to perfect alertness.

“Yeah. Probably.” He grumbles. “It’s your fuckin’ fault.”

“You barely touched me! How the hell is-”

“Don’t ask me, you fuckin’ leech.” He yawns, hand closed into a fist as he rubs at his eyes. “You’re the one with the stupid goddamn quirk. Not me.”

“That’s- sorry. I didn’t know. Holy shit,” You curl arms around your stomach, eyes widening. “Have I been doing this shit to everyone? My entire life?”

Bakugou groans. Audibly. Loudly.

“You’re the stupidest goddamn idiot on the face of the planet. Swear to fuck, I don’t get paid enough for this shit.”

“You’re not helping!” You exclaim. “It was rhetorical question! Excuse me for freaking out right now- I’m sure you’d freak out too if you suddenly found out you were osmosis-ing people’s emotions your entire life!”

“Heh.”

“God, and just what the hell are you laughing about? This isn’t funny!”

“Osmosis.” He reiterates, mouth drawn up into a shit-eating grin. “Change your quirk name. To osmosis. Alleviate is shitty and stupid and it makes you sound fucking dumb.”

You bristle again, suddenly shaking any and all tiredness, rounding on him as you seethe.

“You- you are a goddamn asshole! You know that?” You start, stopping just a few feet in front of him. “You come in here, and insult me. Call me boring! In my own fuckin’ workplace! While I’m literally taking your stitches out! And then you tell me how my quirk works- somehow have the audacity to be fucking right about it, and now you’re insulting me? Again?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re just sitting there, completely fine, smiling like there’s something funny! This isn’t funny! I’m not funny! This is my life- which you literally have been bulldozing through for months now- are you falling asleep? Again? No! No! Not in my- wake the fuck up! Asshole!”

You’re snapping in his face, just inches away from his eyes, and Bakugou hardly even blinks. He just sits still, calm and sated as you seethe just inches away from him. You huff in absolute hatred and that finally shocks some life into him. He smiles. Tiny and barely-there, but he smiles.

“See, not so nice anymore. Knew you weren’t. Fuckin’ liar.”

You want to scream. You want to tear your hair out and maybe take Bakugou’s too, and scratch and claw until you’re bathing in all the rage you’d accidentally stolen from him. You can’t though- you can’t because suddenly the sun starts to set. It falls behind the horizon line, seeping the gold from his skin and drowning him in sterile, white, artificial pallid-ness. His skin goes translucent and the only color in the entirety of his image are the bags under his eyes. Well, the bags under his eyes and the stark red of the barely-healed slice on his forehead.

You curse your own heart. Nearly collapse under the weight of your own sympathy. Bakugou was an asshole, an absolute, irredeemable dick, and you still wanted to heal him. Help him. Somehow. Miraculously.

So then you’re centering yourself, rubbing a hand down your face to soothe your wound-up features.

“God, you actually do look pretty bad.” You say, all attempts at grace and keeping it professional completely gone. “You really weren’t kidding about needing to sleep, huh?”

“No shit. Leech.”

“Oh. Yeah. Sure. That’s fine. Trade one mean nickname for another- I mean, hey, at least this one’s accurate right?”

Bakugou does actually exhale a laugh at that remark, limbs a flurry of chaotic movement when he throws himself back on the bed. His head hits the pillow and it’s only seconds before he’s shutting his eyes.

“So, what, you’re just, like, sleeping now?” You ask, rolling your eyes.

“Yeah.”

“You can’t.”

“I can.”

“This is a hospital, Bakugou.”

“Yeah. Whatever.” He mumbles, yawning into his hand. “‘m fuckin’ Dynamite. I’ll do whatever the hell I want.”

“I’m sorry- do you, do you actually think you can ego your way out of rules? Seriously? You can’t sleep here! Not unless you’re critically injured and need like, round-the-clock care.”

He stills, breath evening and you think he’s fallen asleep. Then he’s lazily bringing a hand up, pointing it loosely at his head.

“I’m critically fuckin’ injured.”

“No- you’re not. That’s a cut and it’s already healing and-”

“I need round-the-clock care.”

“Oh my god, are you kidding me?”

“No.” He grunts, flopping as he turns away from you. Then he’s facing the wall, nuzzling into the pillow. “I’m tired.”

“It’s-” You start, but then you’re once again falling victim to your own empathy. One look at his translucent skin is all it takes. “Fine. You know what? I don’t give a shit. Do what you want, I guess. Nobody else is using these rooms.”

“Okay. Leave.”

“Excuse me?”

“Get the fuck out.” He slurs, cheek pressed up against the pillow as his eyes flutter beneath his eyelids. “Bein’ too loud. Leave.”

“Fine. Enjoy your sleep. Jerk.”

“Leech.”

You nearly punch him in frustration- until you realize that would probably only relax him more; because apparently this really is Bakugou’s world and you were the unlucky one just living in it.

He’s out before you’re even finished packing up. You’re wiping down all the surfaces either of you had touched, just about to leave, when he starts snoring. It’s a soft, almost kitten-like sound, just barely audible over your own breathing. It pisses you off. Boils your blood in your veins because it’s so goddamn humanizing even when he acts like the anti-christ with an even worse temper. It’s stupidly endearing and ridiculously sobering and incredibly, incredibly irritating.

That stupid sound is why you double back upon leaving the room. Why you’re suddenly choosing to reverse instead of moving forward, why you’re suddenly reaching into the cupboard instead of shutting the door behind you.

When you carefully unfold the blanket, settling it gently over his sleeping form, there’s only one thing on your mind.

Fuck being an empath.

--/--

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eideticmemory · 4 years ago

Text

TWO GHOSTS | MATTHEW G. GUBLER

It’s been 15 years. 15 years has to be long enough . . . right?

Set 15 years after the end of Ever Since New York, so give that a read first!

Word Count: 3.1k.

Warning: Usual angst, porn, and poor communication amongst characters.

SOUNDTRACK:

Maps - Yeah Yeah Yeahs

Stop the World, I Wanna . . . - Artic Monkeys

Space Song - Beach House

May 16, 2002.

New York City, New York.

“[y/n] . . .” Claire whispered. “Honey, c’mon . . . just, try to sit up.”

You couldn’t. You just, couldn’t. It was as if your entire body was filled to the brink with sand — coarse, wet, heavy sand — and it was weighing you down, keeping you anchored to Claire’s bed. Your head rested in her lap, and your fist gripped, tightly, onto the fabric of her jeans — which were stained with your tears. Her hand ran along your spine, and her arm wrapped around you, protectively. She wanted to shield you, she wanted to keep you safe, happy. She wanted to distract you from your luggage laid out on the floor.

But, the pressure of her body, coddling you, God, it just hurt. Everything hurt, and you couldn’t get it to stop, and you couldn’t stop sobbing, ugly sobbing, snot running down your lips.

“Cl—Claire . . .” you whined. “I . . . I . . .” your hand flew to your mouth, muffling a loud and painful sob that echoed throughout the room.

“I know, I know . . .” she cooed, kissed the top of your head, and ran her hand over your hair. “It’s okay, don’t try to talk, just rest.”

Claire held you, all day and all night on May 16, 2002. She held you until you lost your voice, until you cried yourself to sleep, and after that, she still held you.

Because it was May 16, 2002.

And May 16, 2002 was day one without Matthew Gubler.

After crying yourself to sleep that morning, you awoke alone in Claire’s bedroom that night. You rubbed your tired and sore eyes, and sat up, surprised to see the sun had gone down. Your mouth felt dry, and your throat was sore. Claire had left you a bottle of water, and you chugged it in one gulp. You stood from the bed, slowly and groggily, stumbling your way through the boxes of clothes, and decorations that Claire hadn’t even put up yet.

You wandered aimlessly into the bathroom, and switched on the light. You didn’t recognize yourself in the mirror. Only a faint resemblance of what you looked like that morning, before the airport, before the tears.

You had dressed up. Did your makeup. And now, your clothes were wrinkled, and your face was smeared with mascara. You looked miserable, you felt miserable, you were miserable.

Claire walked in just as another tear rolled down your cheek. You looked at her reflection, and saw she was eyeing you, sadly.

“Hey,” she attempted to smile. She stepped over to you and held onto your shoulders, catching you as you fell back, dramatically, into her arms.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” she whispered. You hiccuped as you looked in the mirror, making eye contact with her. “It’s just day one . . .” she said. “It’s just . . . day one.”

And it’s true, what everyone says: one day turns into one month, and one month turns into one year.

And one year turns into one decade.

October 13, 2017.

New York City, New York.

Today, is Friday the thirteenth.

Day 5,629 without Matthew Gubler.

And somehow, someway, you feel just as stuck, and frozen, and scared shitless as you did on day one.

You haven’t felt this way in a very long time, though. And of all the days, of all the nights, to feel like this, to be stuck and frozen and scared . . . tonight is not the night.

A knock rings at the dressing room door, startling you from your thoughts. You cleared your throat, and found yourself, once again, focused on your reflection.

You know this person. You’ve spent 5,629 days growing into this person. And y’know what? She’s fucking hot.

“[y/n]!” Another knock follows.

“I’m coming!”

“When?”

“Ramona, I will fire you, and trust me, I really need an assistant!” You shout, fixing your dress in the mirror once again.

“Oh, yeah, right. Then who would make your coffee and make sure you’re on time?” she replied. “. . . You’re late!”

“Okay!” You stumbled to the door in your heels, flung it open, putting your hand on your hip.

“Wow . . .” Ramona said, nearly speechless. “You look . . . hot.”

“That is not how you speak to your boss, dude,” you laughed. “You really think I look hot?”

“Marshmallows on an open fire, smoking, kind of hot.” She winks.

You chuckle, “Thanks, I needed that. Walk with me.”

“Okay, um,” she starts, walking beside you as you strut down the hall. “Hair and makeup are gonna take care of you in no less than thirty minutes, that gives you, approximately, two minutes to get into the studio.”

“Two minutes?” You stop in your tracks. “That’s it?”

She can’t help but grin, just a little, “Told you you were late.”

You scoffed, “Okay, so are we shooting when I step into the studio?”

“Yep!”

“Great . . .” you sigh, walking over to the cosmetic chair.

“But, hey, you’re the big boss, they can’t film without you.”

“Yeah, except big boss told everyone we’re filming at seven sharp, and big boss probably won’t even be ready at seven sharp!” You ramble.

“Okay . . .” Ramona nods, slowly. “Are ever gonna tell me why you’re so nervous about tonight, or . . ?”

“Uh, why am I nervous about a major, televised, celebrity event that I not only put together myself, but choreographed?” You rambled. “I don’t know, pick a reason!”

“Wow . . .” She says. “As valid as all those reasons are, I think something else is going on and I will find out, so you might as well spill.”

“Can’t talk!” You pip. “Getting my makeup done! Tell them I’ll be in at seven.”

You exhaled deeply the minute Ramona stepped away, closing your eyes. Not opening them until your hair was done perfectly, and the makeup artist added her final touches.

You, once again, came face to face with your reflection.

“[y/n]!”

But you didn’t have time to process it.

“[y/n], cameras are rolling, thirty seconds to seven.”

Of all the days, of all the nights, you tell yourself, looking into the mirror, to feel like this, to be stuck and frozen and scared . . . tonight is not the night.

“[y/n]!”

Because you are the big boss now.

Your purple dress — perfectly matched to the NYU logo — hugs your body tightly as you walk across the floor, the hem splayed over feet, which are covered in tall, silver heels. The clack of your shoes silences everyone as you walk by. Everyone, except for Ramona, who steps in before you can enter the studio.

She clips an NYU pin to your dress, “For good luck,” she smiles.

“3, 2, 1 . . . rolling.”

You enter the studio, and the room fills with a flood of “oooooh!” from each and every one of your students. The camera pans over their faces as you walk across the hardwood floor, smiling at them, laughing at their expressions. Their jaws are dropped, hands clutched over their chests.

“[y/n]! Holy shit!”

“Hey!” You laugh. “Language! We’re rolling!”

“You look great!”

“Thank you, how are you all?” You ask.

“Nervous, thanks for asking.” They all laugh.

“You guys will be fine, I’m an excellent teacher,” you giggle.

“Damn right, but are you sure you can’t hold our hands while we’re on stage? Just for a little bit?”

“Big babies!” You shake your head. “You’re ready. Signals from off camera indicated a time crunch, and you quickly brought the group together for a big hug.

It’s been a long time coming. Tonight. Or, as printed on all invitations and promotional materials:

New York University’s 2017 Celebrity Alumni Event: In Support of the Ballet class of 2017.

Coordinated and Choreographed by [y/n] [y/l/n], executive producer and star of the hit reality show, New York Best and Ballet.

Big boss.

The camera follows you as you exit the studio, walk down the hall, “They’re gonna kill it,” you smile into the lense. “I know it.”

All you can think about is the blatant, gross hypocrisy. The way you’re completely, beyond a shadow of doubt, confident in your students and their ability to pull this off.

And you can’t even say the same thing about yourself.

With the cameras off of you, you put your hand against the wall, and steady yourself. Ramona walks up to you, walking along your side. “Got you a water, you should stay hydrated tonight.”

You give her an appreciative look, taking the bottle of water and standing up straight, “Is it too early to start drinking?”

“I guess not, guests are starting to arrive.”

“Holy shit, already?” You gasp.

“You did plan this thing, right?”

“Ugh,” you huff, dramatically rolling your eyes.

“You’re expected in the ballroom, a margarita will be waiting for you at the bar.” Ramona grins.

You continue down the hallway, as she watches you walk away, a crew of people following behind you.

“[y/n]!” Ramona calls.

You turn to her, stopping in your steps.

“Marshmallows on an open fire, smoking, kinda hot,” she smiles.

You laugh, out loud, and give her a nod. Then, you continue on your way downstairs.

More people had already arrived than you thought. The ballroom was packed, covered by a sea of people, tables, cameras and crew meandering through the crowd to catch every ounce of footage they could. You were filmed as you walked down the steps, passing the stage and stepping onto the floor with a grand smile.

“Pretty good turn out, huh?” You chuckled, beaming at the camera as you branch out to greet your guests.

This helps.

The smiles, the laughs, the presence of people that support you and your program enough to show up, pay a lot of money, and witness the magic of NYU ballet in all its glory. The light highlights the brightness of your smile, the glow around you in your element. Your chuckle echoing around the room, as you coasted from table to table, person to person, thanking them for coming.

Reconnections were made, stories were told, and retold, and thoughts of college had you blushing on the spot. You’re so lost in the whirlwind of energy, of being the proper hostess, and managing everything in sight, you didn’t notice that an hour had passed.

Until a crew member taps you on the shoulder, and tells you it’s five minutes to show time.

“Excuse me,” you nod, removing yourself from your current conversation and heading backstage.

You blow kisses to the band of nervous students, give them two thumbs up as cameras trailed behind you. “And . . . you’re on, [y/n].”

You stand up straight, hand your margarita off to a crew member, take in a deep breath. And walk. You march up to the podium, the bright lights beating down on you as you stand in front of the large crowd.

“Hello, everybody, welcome!” You announce, bringing the room to a gentle silence. “Thank you all so much for being here. I’m [y/n] [y/l/n], director and head of the ballet department here at New York University.”

You become flustered at the wave of applause, cheering the crowd and backstage. “Thank you, thank you so much. As a NYU alumni, there is truly nothing that makes me happier than to teach this extraordinary class of students. They’re focused, they’re determined, incredibly talented, and the best of the best. So, without further ado, I present to you the NYU ballet class of 2017, presenting a remastered rendition of their first performance in 2014.”

You exited the stage, the curtain behind you shielding the students that were already positioned in place. You stood backstage, watching them on screen, with your hands bound against your chest. The curtain was drawn, the music kicked up, and they went.

They move effortlessly, dare you say it . . . perfectly. In sync, and with a wide range of motion that rolled without a hitch. The crowd watched in awe, and you were right there along with them. Cameras focus on your face as you’re entranced by the class, and so immensely proud.

“They’re incredible,” you beam. “Aren’t they amazing?”

The full set took about half an hour, and when the curtain flies down, closing dramatically, you jump up and down, and run over to the group of kids who couldn’t wait to see you. The joy can be felt through the lense of every camera trained on you.

Their energy and excitement is putting you on cloud nine. Your own adrenaline is rushing, and pumping in your ears.

You let your guard down. You hand out kisses and hugs left and right, and step back in the crowd on a high, head empty, no thoughts. No feelings except for happiness and pride.

“That was incredible, [y/n], absolutely incredible.”

“Wonderful show!”

You were saying thank you faster than you could hear the accolades, caught in a rush of people passing you by.

You turn to see your students trailing behind you, shaking hands as they’re showered in praise. You grin at them, entirely consumed with elation by their looks of satisfaction, of relief, of relaxation and accomplishment.

You let your guard down.

You got comfortable.

“[y/n]!”

You let yourself slip.

“[y/n], [y/n]!” A hand is placed on your shoulder, causing you to turn around, a smile still plastered across your face.

“You know Matthew, right?” Your co-producer asked. “You guys graduated the same year?”

You nearly collide with him. You stop on the toe of your heels, and come to a screeching halt. Your eyes connect like magnets, the pull is strong and intense. Your breath catches in your throat, you smile fading along with your breath. You instantly begin to sweat under the light of the cameras, your skin heating up, your hands shaking.

“U—u—uh,” you stutter. “Yes! Hi!”

“Hi, [y/n]!” He exclaims, happily, opening his arms to give you a hug.

“Oh!” You gasp as he pulls you into his chest.

And he smells, so good. He’s grown, and it feels different holding his tall frame in your arms. But the embrace is quick, and brief, and he holds your shoulders in his palms as he speaks to you, “The show was amazing, blew me away!”

You’re expected to talk. You’re expected to breathe. But you’re left speechless by the scruff lining his jaw, the curl atop his head, the suit shaping his body, and topped off with a jet black bow tie.

“Thank you, thank you,” you ramble. “Thanks for coming, um, let’s catch up later,” you nod, to which he politely nods back, and clears a path for you to walk on by.

You let your guard down.

And now you can’t seem to catch your breath.

Your feet were killing you by the end of the night. You didn’t get to take a proper seat — without the cameras, and the crew, and the crowd, until nearly ten o’clock at night. As you were trying to regroup, Ramona found you hiding away in your dressing room, halfway asleep.

“[y/n]?” she taps your shoulder. You groggily lift your head, and look to her, “There’s a car waiting for you out back. It can take you home or to the hotel across the street. What do you think?”

“Mm,” you hum. “Hotel. Hotel is fine.”

The Lillian Hotel had been acquired specifically for tonight’s event. A cozy room, with an even cozier bed was waiting for you, calling your name. And after tonight, after day 5,629, it’s all you can think about.

You give Ramona a quick hug, and thank her for everything before you sneak out of the building. You take the back exit, avoiding an entanglement of people and paparazzi.

The atmosphere of the elegant hotel was much calmer. You were given the key to your room, and you turned on your heels to head to the elevators. Your shoes created an echo against the tile, and the sound suddenly silenced when you saw him. Waiting for the elevator.

“Matthew?” You call, timidly. The courage comes out of nowhere, flies out of your chest before you can catch it in your throat.

He stops in his tracks, and turns to you, holding the strap of his bag. “Hey!” he grins.

You give him a shy smile, as you let out a dry laugh and step closer to him.

His eyes darken, not noticeably, but just a little. He looks down at you, and you look up at him, and all you can say is . . .

“Matthew . . .” you clear your throat. “Thank you for coming tonight, and supporting the program, and for . . . being so professional about everything, I know it . . . couldn’t have been easy, I really appreciate it.”

His eyebrows furrow, only for a second, and his face almost goes blank. He looks down at his shoes, taps his foot as his mind swirls with words to say. But all he can is chuckle. Laugh.

“I knew you were gonna do this,” he says.

You tilt your head, “Do what?”

“This . . . think . . . think that what I did today had anything to do with you.”

“I—“ you stutter. “Okay . . .”

“I came tonight to see friends, to catch up, to visit New York. And I knew I would see you, and I knew . . . I knew you’d, I don’t know, expect me to fall to my knees the second I saw you. I can’t do that . . . I, personally, see no reason to do that. I acted professional, because I am professional, not to cushion your feelings.”

And although, he’s changed, he’s grown, he’s matured, and he’s a completely different person than when you saw him last, Matthew Gubler still knows how to make a dramatic exit.

He turns away from you and continues down the hall, boarding the elevator without looking back at you. You — who’s paralyzed, stuck, scared shitless. Standing in the foyer of the hotel lobby, wondering why you’re unable to move, to breathe, to keep your eyes from misting.

And back to day zero.

You knew for sure that you’d struggle to sleep. That Matthew’s word would eat at your gut and brain like a parasite, haunting you, rattling around your head. But, the second your head hits the pillow, you were out like a light.

And you dreamt of him instead.

The way he was 15 years ago.

The way he made you feel.

Bing, bing, bing!

“Huh!” You jolt awake, spasming out of your sleep violently. Suddenly, the sun had risen again, and it was burning your eyes through the windows.

Bing, bing, bing!

“What the—“ You sit up, rub your face, and anxiously search for your phone, wondering why you were being called so early in the morning.

Ramona’s name flashed upon the screen, and you swiped to accept her call. “Hello?”

“[y/n] . . .”

“Ramona . . .” you slur.

“Have you checked twitter this morning?”

“Tw — no? No, it’s . . . seven in the morning, of course I haven’t checked Twitter.”

“Check it.”

“Ra—“

“Check it!” She shouts.

You groan, and navigate to the Twitter app. “Oh . . . oh, I’m trending . . . that’s good, right?”

“Yeah, uh-huh, check who you’re trending with . . .”

“Okay . . .”

Clicking on your name, you instantly sat forward, your eyes going wide, “NO!”

TAGLIST:

@muffin-cup

@pinkdiamond1016

@ncsls0515

@spencersbed

@safertokiss

#mine #esny #mgg #Matthew Gray Gubler #matthew gray gubler fanfiction

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blackmissfrizzle · 4 years ago

Text

Don’t Make Me Say It

Characters: Angel Reyes x black!reader

Summary: Angel takes care of you after one too many drinks.

Warnings: it’s me so smut, duh 😂

A/N: Shoutout to my muse, my enabler, my lending ear @starrynite7114 for helping me brainstorm this!

If you like what you read, here’s my masterlist and if you want notifications here’s my taglist.

Gif credit @xxrouxx

“I can’t believe me you got me to wear this.” Angel pulled at the crotch of his costume, but you couldn’t stare at him for too long or you’d jump his bones and that wasn’t appropriate best friend behavior. “You could’ve chosen the other costume,” you whispered in his ear and ran away before he could catch you. Now he really had to readjust his pants as he watched your dress flap against your bottom showing a bit of the booty shorts you wore under.

“Damnnnn, Y/N!” Coco whistled while he twirled you around.

“You couldn’t have chosen another costume?” Angel snatched you back from Coco. You looked up at him with furrowed brows, “I thought you liked it? You said I look like a total badass.” Angel kissed your forehead, instantly feeling bad at poking at your self-confidence. “I do like it and you are a total badass. It’s just even with the booty shorts, your ass is hanging out. You’re lucky I can fight.”

“Coco is harmless.” Angel looked over your head to his brother who caught another glance at your backside. “Yeah, he’s gonna be harmless in a few.” Angel was making his way to the bar when Cynthia stopped him.

“Hey, Angel,” she gave him shameless head to toe once over and stroked his arm. You cleared your throat, there was no way you were gonna let this hoe ignore you. “Oh hey, Y/N. What are you? Supergirl?”

“No, dumbass, you’re thinking of Wonder Woman and you would still be wrong. I’m Xena.” Cynthia just looked at you with an open mouth and blank stare. “Warrior Princess?” You added, hoping it would help her out. “Nope, never heard of her.” She dryly stated but pepped back up when she turned back to Angel. “What are you, Angel?”

He looked down and smirked at you. If Cynthia didn’t know who you were then it was doubtful, she would get Angel’s. “I’m Ares.” She got that blank look again. You and Angel had to try your hardest not to laugh at her. “God of War.” Same blank look stayed on her face. “Okay, well catch you later,” he gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder and made a smooth getaway to the bar, where EZ had shots waiting for you two.

You took a group shot with the boys and immediately after told EZ to rack em up again. “Uh, chiquita you sure about that? We got that good shit.”

“Yes, I’m sure, Johnny!” You rolled your neck and took your shot. “I can match you shot for shot.” A sly smile crossed Coco’s face as he slid a twenty on the bar. “Wanna bet?”

Angel grabbed your wrist when you went for your wallet. “You sure you want to do that? Coco can drink.” You jutted your chin towards your opponent. “Him? See how skinny he is…man I’ll drink him under the table.” Angel threw his hands up in surrender as he watched you put your twenty down. “Okay, but I’m not holding your hair later.”

You overestimated yourself. You lost twenty dollars and to top it off you got a hangover.

Last night, Angel cut you off when you were dancing on the tabletop with Xiomara. And he’s glad he did, because as soon as you got to his house you ran for the bathroom.

“I told you so,” Angel sung while holding your hair. However, you didn’t have the energy to get smart, you were too busy throwing up your stomach lining.

Angel lived up to his name. He held up your hair until you were done vomiting, he started the shower for you. While you were showering, he got your clothes out since you kept some at his place for these types of occasions and before you went to bed, he made you drink some water and take some Tylenol.

But when you woke up the next day, Angel wouldn’t let you hear the end of it. “Just one more shot, Angel.” He mocked you, he made his voice higher to match your pitch. “Okay, okay you won. I should’ve listened to you.” Groaning, you roll over and grip a pillow for comfort.

Angel came and sat next to you and rubbed your back, making your back heat up from his touch. “Nah, but for real, you good?” Turning back towards Angel, you intertwined your fingers with his. “Better now, thanks to you.” Taking your conjoined hands, you turned them to kiss Angel’s. You missed the smile that graced his lips when yours met his hand. It was an asshole thing to think, but he wished he could get you drunk like this all the time, so he had an excuse for you to be laid up in his house.

“I got you, Warrior Princess,” he patted your thigh and got up, giving you a perfect view of his dick print in those damn sweats. “I’ll make you some breakfast. Don’t want you puking all over the place again.”

“Fuck you, Angel!” You threw a pillow at him. “Promise?” He clasped his own hands together and bashed his eyelashes like a schoolgirl. “You wish,” you scoffed. “Then no food for you.” Angel walked away, his wide back disappearing into the kitchen. “No, Angel come back! I was just kidding!”

Angel popped his head around the corner with a big ass grin on his face. He came back to you, his dick print at the arm of the couch, making it eye level to you when you lean your head back. “I know, querida.” He kissed your forehead and went back to the kitchen.

The whole time Angel was cooking you tried to wipe every impure thought of him. Currently, you were watching Lion King, hoping the children’s movie would cleanse you, but it didn’t. Angel kept interrupting your viewing by talking to you, his deep timbre leading you to daydream about how he would sound deep in your guts.

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,” Angel repeated your name until he finally clapped in front of your face to get your attention. “Huh?” “I said, did you like the food?” “Uh huh, yeah it was great, thank you.”

Angel eyed you warily as he took your plate to the kitchen. “Okayyyyy, imma get you something to drink because you’re still out of it.”

Fuck it, you thought. The worst thing that could happen is that he rejects you and all you have to do is blame it on the alcohol. “Cum or water,” you asked boldly. Angel came out bugged eyed with a glass of water. “Excuse me?” Sitting up, you tried to make yourself as presentable as possible. “Do you want me to drink your cum or water?”

This had the be a cruel joke, Angel thought. “Shut up, you’re still drunk.” He shoved the glass of water in your hand and tried to walk away, but you stopped him. “No, I’m not Angel. I’m very sober right now and I know what I want.”

“And what do you want?” Angel asked, keeping his back towards you. Taking a hold of Angel’s bicep, you turned him towards you. His eyes were downcast, trying his best to avoid yours until you lifted his chin. “I want you Angel Reyes, but if this is not what you want, we can pretend this was a drunken mistake.”

His silence scared you and caused you to back away. Leave it to you to make a fool of yourself and possibly ruin your relationship with your best friend. “Alrighty, then, imma get my things and go home.” Dejected you bent down to grab your purse and went for the door, but Angel grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards him. His name barely left your lips when his was on yours. At first it was soft and hesitant, like he was testing the waters, but once he felt you kissing back it became harder, like he was making sure he never forgets the feel of your lips.

He gripped the back of your thighs and carried you until the back of his knees hit the couch. He only backed away, so you two could get an inhale of breath. Taking advantage of him releasing you, you slid down his body onto your knees. “I need you to hold my hair again,” you told him before you pulled down his sweats.

Good god almighty. Xiomara told you that the other girls at Vicki’s said that Angel’s dick was big, but you weren’t expecting this. How would he fit all in your mouth? And then who goes around not wearing any underwear around their best friend? “Scared, querida?”

“No,” you crossed your arms and pouted. “I was just wondering what kind of psycho doesn’t wear boxers with their best friend around?” Angel laughed and cupped your face to kiss you. “Maybe deep down I was hoping this would happen. Now are you gonna keep stalling or you gonna suck this dick, mami?”

Whew, you can do this Y/N. Taking a deep inhale, you rolled your shoulders and cracked your neck side to side. What was the first thing Xio said? Oh right, lube it up. Gathering the moisture in your mouth, you spit on Angel’s dick. In no way this could be sexy, you thought, but then you heard Angel mutter, “Oh fuck.” You gripped his dick and you didn’t expect it to feel so warm, smooth, and heavy.

His red, swollen tip was leaking precum and now you had to get a taste. First, it started with a little lick of the mushroom head, then it led to a lick from the underside all the way to the tip, then from his balls in your mouth while you jerked him off, and until finally your head was bobbing up and down from sucking him off.

“Yeah, just like that, querida.” Angel hissed, his hand wrapping around your hair. “Slow down, baby or I’m gonna cum.” You hopped off his dick momentarily. “That’s the point,” you smiled and went back to work, picking up speed. “Fuck, baby.” Angel grabbed your head and drilled his hips, fucking your mouth until his hot seed exploded in your mouth.

“Open up, baby. Lemme see,” he pulled your chin down to see his essence in your mouth. “Swallow,” he ordered, pushing your chin back up.

When he saw that you swallowed, he leaned down and kissed you, pulling you up with him. “Good girl. Let daddy return the favor.” He laid you on your back and pulled your shorts down with his teeth. “Mmm, you smell delicious, baby.”

The anticipation was killing you. His heated breath could be felt against your covered core, sending tingly sensations throughout your body. “Pretty ass pussy. Can daddy get a taste?” He snapped back your panties with his teeth.

“Mmhmm, please,” you whimpered under his touch. “But these panties are so soaked, mami. I think I should dry them out.” Angel fixed your panties into their rightful place and clasped his mouth right where your clothed clit was at.

Even through the fabric, you could feel Angel’s tongue and the man could work magic. Your vibrator paled in comparison to him. “Angel, please! I need the real thing.”

“You sure you can handle it?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Alright, brace yourself.”

“Angel, shut th- OHMYGAWD!” Your back lifted from the couch and you clawed at it. Angel should’ve given a better warning than that. How were you not supposed to lose your mind?

‘Fuck’ was the only word you seemed to know. “Come on, mami. Cum all over my tongue.” You followed Angel’s command with screams and quivering. Never before had you experienced such a strong orgasm and Angel took notice.

“Damn, you good? Nobody made you cum like that before?” Angel murmured against your neck as he started to finger you. “Nope.” Your answer was breathy due to Angel’s ministrations. “Cause you’ve been fucking with little boys. I’m a man and imma take care of you, mi dulce.”

He ran off to his room to get condoms. Should you tell him? Would it be bad if you didn’t? But what if he stops if you do tell him? But Angel would want to know. What if he laughs at? Would he laugh at you? Nah, he wouldn’t, not your Angel.

“None of them made me cum, because I haven’t fucked any of them.” You whispered, covering your face with your hands.

“Huh?” Angel stopped rolling the condom on and looked at you through fallen strands of hair. “What do you mean, Y/N?” Angel knew what you meant, but he needed to hear you say the words. He needed to hear it come directly and unmistakably from your mouth.

“You’re really gonna make me say it?” Angel looked at you patiently with raised eyebrows. Evil bastard. “I’m a fucking virgin!” You yelled and then covered your face with a pillow, hoping you would be able to disappear.

“Fuck, Y/N!” You peered from behind the pillow to see Angel rub a hand over his face and your heart dropped. Of course, Angel didn’t want to screw a virgin. What sex god wants to be with one?

“I’ll go now,” you tried to roll off the couch, but Angel stopped you with a hand on your hip. “Where you going?”

“Home, Angel. You clearly don’t wanna do this now.”

“Did I say that?” Angel pinned you beneath him, his face getting closer to yours. “No,” you whimpered, feeling yourself getting wetter at the waves of his dominance. “Then how did you get to that conclusion?” “Because you fucking blanched when I told you!”

“I fucking blanched, because your first time doesn’t need to be on my couch! You deserve the candlelight dinner, the wine, the flowers, a better fucking place than this!” He outstretched his hands around his home. “So, don’t you ever fucking presume that I don’t want you. I want you so damn bad that it hurts.” His voice croaked a bit, revealing his true feelings.

Cupping his cheek, you kissed him. “But I don’t want all that, Angel. I just want you. My first time will be perfect because it’s with you.”

“You sure?” He kissed the palm of your hand. “There’s no going back after this. I’m making you mines.”

You lifted your shirt and unhooked your bra, fully exposing yourself to Angel. His wanton gazed made you feel desired and a bit stupid for doubting Angel’s attraction to you. “Make me yours, Ignacio”

Angel growled and lifted you from the couch to carry you to his room. “Wait a minute,” he stopped in the middle of the hallway and pushed you against the wall. “How the fuck did you learn how to suck dick like that if you’re a virgin?”

“I had Xiomara teach me,” you nuzzled your face in Angel’s neck to escape the embarrassment. “Vicki’s Xiomara?! What the fuck, Y/N? Who the fuck was he?” He gripped your chin, fury covering his face until he saw you laughing. “What the fuck is so funny?”

“You,” you gasped between laughter, wiping away your tears. “Xio had me practice on a dildo, not on a john.”

“Oh,” Angel had that adorable little pout on his face when he got stunned. “So, did she wear a strap orrrr…” You slapped Angel against his chest. “None of your fucking business.” “Well, next time I see her I’m tipping her. She did a damn good job.”

He continued walking to his room and went to get a towel to lay you on. At first, he didn’t join you in the bed. Angel just stared down at you in disbelief that he finally had you naked in his bed. “I love you. You know that, right?”

Smiling up at Angel, you gripped his wrist to pull him down to you. “Yeah, I know. I love you, too.” Angel kissed you once more while he reached out for a condom.

He was trying to open the condom packet with his mouth when you snatched it out and threw it to the side. “I’m on the pill.” Angel had to remind himself that he couldn’t jump on you like he really wanted to. There would be plenty of that later once you got use to him.

“God, I love you.” He bent down to kiss you, to distract you from the upcoming pain you were about to experience. You hissed and bit on Angel’s bottom lip when he finally began to stretch you out. “You good?” He lifted up to check on you. “Yes, please keep going.” Angel continued pushing until he felt something pop and checked on you once more. “Angel, I swear I’m good.” You strained, clawing at his back.

Angel didn’t know how he was keeping it together. “Querida, you feel good. You were made for me.” He whispered against your lips. “Can daddy move? Can daddy make you feel good like you did to him?”

“Mmhmm,” you nodded your head, tears pricking your eyes from the delicious pleasure Angel was giving you. Angel pulled almost all the way out, just leaving the tip in then slowly slid back on. “Angel,” you gasped. “Louder, baby. I want my neighbors to know who’s making you feel this good.”

“Harder!” You were not beneath begging. Angel was going slow, almost pulling all the way out just to fill you back up while he laid his forehead against yours and gave you praises. “No, not yet. I gotta savor you baby.”

Angel pushed up on his arms allowing him to reach new depths and watch him slide in and out of you. “Such a pretty little pussy, especially with my dick inside of it. Don’t you think?” He grabbed the back of your neck to make you watch. It was glorious, a marvel to look at. “Oh my god, daddy. Please fill me up.”

“You want my cum? You want me to fill my pussy up so much it is leaking down your thighs?” Angel prayed you said yes because he couldn’t hold out much longer. “Fuck, yes! Please!” At your cries, Angel gave you controlled snaps of his hips and thumbed at your clit. As you screamed Angel’s name, he screamed yours, both of you cumming together.

Angel looked down at your conjoined bodies and admired his work. He did that to you. He made you cream like that, that it was dripping down your legs. But his eyes also caught the sight of blood, the evidence of him taking your purity and your well-being was back at the forefront. “I wasn’t too rough, was I?” He cradled you, scared that he hurt you. “No, worrywart. Actually, I was thinking next time you can go a little harder?” You shrunk yourself, scared that Angel might think you were weird for wanting it rougher.

“Alright, be careful what you wish for,” Angel warned you with a sly smirk.

Coco watched you limp across the yard all day. He knew it wasn’t with exercise because you told the crew you spent the weekend recovering from the Halloween party. But then he caught the little smile you gave Angel and the one Angel returned back and there was only one explanation he could come up with. “You hit that?” Coco tapped Angel’s knee and then pointed to you helping Chucky spread out some desserts.

“Y/N, come here.” Angel yelled from the picnic table. He watched you hold up one finger to Chucky and then run over to him. “What do you want, Reyes?”

“Come closer,” he ordered. You stepped in between his legs and he buried his hands in your hair and brought his lips to yours. The kiss was supposed to be sweet and chaste, but Angel couldn’t help himself. One taste of you and he couldn’t stop.

“Okay, we get it!” Bishop yelled, slightly disgusted at Angel tonguing down the young woman he considered a daughter. “You finally got your heads out of your asses and got together.”

Angel pulled away from you and both of you had silly, goofy, ‘I’m in love’ smiles on your faces. “Reyes you hurt her feelings and I’ll bash your knees in!” Bishop threatened, even though he could tell it was useless by the way Angel was looking at you.

“Yeah! You’ll be a no knee having ass bitch!” You teased, pretending to bash his knees in with your air baseball bat. Angel mushed your face, “I got it, Prez!” He yelled over your forehead with no worries about being a no knee having ass bitch.

Taglist: @ourlittlesecretsoveragain @starrynite7114 @sambucky8 @mygirlrenee @richonne4life @readsalot73 @chaneajoyyy @ljstraightnochaser @my-rosegold-soul @angrythingstarlight @brattyfics @lovebennycolon @langiinspirations @chibsytelford @trulysuccubus @spookys-girl @brownsugarcoffy @thesandbeneathmytoes @fvckthisbxtchup @theartisticqueen @vsfavs

#black!reader #angel reyes #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes x black!reader #angel reyes fanfic #mayan mc #mayans m.c.#Mayans mc #Mayans #frizzlefic #frizzlesfic #frizzlewrites

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nakamoto-aesthetics · 4 years ago

Text

Jealousy | l.dh

lowkey makes me think of jealousy by monsta x

synopsis: hyuck gets jealous

pairing: boyfriend!donghyuck x fem!reader

genre: angst

warning: possessiveness

“babe?” you say loudly. “kitchen” the distinct voice of your boyfriend calls. you follow the route to the kitchen and see him eating at the table.

“why’d you leave the room?” you plop on the bench next to him. “I was hungry” he says and brings the chopsticks to his mouth. you thought you were gonna see him after you got out of the shower but the room had been empty.

“you know I could've fed you” you pout and cross your arms over your chest.

“with what we all know you can’t cook” his words made you sulk and pout further. “I can too” you whine. “you almost burned down the kitchen last time,” he says with food in his mouth. “that was one time” you huff. “don’t forget the time before that and the one before that one” he adds on. “okay okay fine you win” you sigh and smiles happily and continues to eat his food.

you start to feel a little thirsty and you get up going over to the fridge that was a few steps away. you grab a drink and almost immediately chug it down.

taeyong walks in “hey- “ he begins and then you hear him stop in his tracks. “is that my shirt?” he points to the shirt your wearing. the line catch’s haechans attention and he looks over at the both of you.

“uh.. is it?” you look down at the shirt. it had a large face printed on it with hair sticking up on the sides of his head. it was a weird shirt no doubt about that but you didn’t think twice about it and just threw it on. in your defense it was in haechans clothing pile so he couldn’t get mad at you.

“yeah” he chuckles. “you can keep it if you want. it looks better on you anyway” he smiles softly. ‘was he flirting with you?’

you shake your head and put your drink down and pull the shirt over your head. you had a baby pink sports bra under the large shirt but you didn’t see a problem with that. it wasn’t like you were wearing a regular bra. taeyong was agape, to say the least, he didn’t expect you to undress right in front of him. it made him blush madly making him look down to the ground so you couldn’t see his face.

you handed the shirt to taeyong and with that he muttered a quick “thanks” and turned on his heel walking as far away from the kitchen as he could. you sighed and pulled out your phone, leaning back against the counter. you didn’t notice the way your boyfriend had been glaring at you the entire time you talked to taeyong. you didn’t realize it but haechan saw everything. needless to say he was past the point of angry, in fact, he was boiling.

he didn’t like the way taeyong looked at you and talked to you especially the slick comment that came out of his mouth. ‘you can keep it if you want. it looks better on you anyway,’ haechan felt like he was gonna burst when he heard that, jaw clenching and fists tightly clenched until his knuckles turned white. he also didn’t like that you were wearing taeyongs shirt in the first place and when you took off his shirt only having a bra under. his tongue instantly pressed against his cheek and he silently laughed, gritting his teeth. he was done. especially with the way you were now standing in the kitchen with no shirt on.

he got up, picking up the empty dishes and placing them in the sink beside you. that made you look at him and smile.

“me and you time” you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed his cheek gently. in an instant, he grabbed your arm and pulled it down backing away from you without a word.

“hyuckie?” you say softly with furrowed eyebrows. you couldn’t tell what he was thinking by looking at his face like you usually could, he didn’t display a single emotion, his face was like a blank canvas. you hold his face in your hands and your eyes soften. he doesn’t even react to that and walks away from you heading in the direction of his room.

you felt instant sadness as he walked away from you. all you wanted to do was spend time with your boyfriend but he was upset about.. well you didn’t know. ‘did you make him upset?’ you sigh and decide to go sit on the sofa in the living room, going on your phone.

“y/n?” you hear mark's voice making you turn your head toward him. “why are you out here isn’t haechan home?” he stops walking and looks at you.

“haechan doesn’t like me at the moment” you look back at your phone feeling yourself get a little upset.

“why what happened that’s if you wanna tell me,” mark said softly and you told him the whole story. marks sighs at the end of it and sit down next to you. “he’s jealous y/n” he said making you furrow your eyebrows. “why would he be jealous?”

“because you had on another mans shirt and then taeyong flirted with you and on top of that you undressed in front of someone who was not haechan” mark pointed out.

that made sense, how could you be so blind. maybe you just didn’t take the situation in like haechan did. you were in love with him and only him, you were not worried about any other guys and you needed to tell him that.

“thanks mark” you hug him. “I have to go make it right” that made mark smile and he patted your back. you got up and walked but not before you heard mark say, “oh and y/n” “huh?” you look back at him.

“put a shirt on” mark chuckles and gets up before you point at him and nod. you walk over to the entrance of haechans room before walking into it. he was playing video games like usual. you shut the door back. he didn’t glance at the door not once. you walked over to his dresser and picked out a shirt before putting it on. you looked at him and let out a breath before walking to him.

“hyuckie?” you say softly but he doesn’t respond, you know he heard you too which made it worse. “baby I’m sorry okay? I didn’t know that the shirt wasn’t yours, it was in your clothing pile so I just assumed it was and I’m sorry that I undressed in front of him. this is just a sports bra, not a regular one so I assumed it didn’t matter but obviously, it did and I’m truly sorry” you try to wrap your arms around himself he lets you, he doesn’t say anything but your okay with that. you smile sweetly and watch the screen as he dies.

“shit” he mutters and then takes his hands off the keyboard. he picks up his phone and then notices your arms. he furrows his eyebrows before pushing your arms off him. you pout at that and pull away from him. “did you hear a word I said” he continues to scroll through his phone as if he couldn’t hear you.

“you know what-“ you snatch his phone and throw it on the bed. he immediately protests but you don’t listen to him, pulling his chair from under the desk and sitting on his lap, you lay your head in the crook of his neck and kiss his skin softly making his protests immediately stop. you knew exactly what he liked, it was the smallest things that set him off and this was one of them.

he moaned ever so slightly at your touch especially when you kissed his sweet spot located under his ear. he had to bite his lip before louder noises came out. his arms wrapped around you and he took you to the bed, laying you down on your back as he hovered over you. he made his way up to your neck and to your ear. “I’m sorry I was so jealous,” he said unexpectedly, it threw you off, to say the least.

“i’m sorry I was so oblivious. I didn’t take the situation like you did.” you brung his head to your face so you could like him in the eyes. “I don’t like taeyong or any other man except for you.” you sigh. “hyuckie I only have eyes for you. I fucking love you and only you” you look deeply into his eyes, meaning it from the bottom of your heart. it made haechan grin from ear to ear, he immediately kissed you and then kissed all of your face making your nose scrunch up in return.

“mine. youre all mine you know that?” he kisses under your jaw and squeezes your waist. “yes sir” you moan softly. “good girl” he nips at your neck.

“maybe I should make you jealous more,” you say, making him stop and look up at you.

“keep doing stuff like that and you’ll end up in a wheelchair,” he says in a serious tone.

“why would I be in a wheelchair?”

“because you’re not gonna be able to walk at all,” he says against your lips. the words went straight down to your core and you crossed your legs.

hyuck noticed this and smirked before looking back up at you. “let me make it all better baby” his hand rubs the tops of your thighs. you nod and he moves down immediately getting to work.

#nct x reader #nakamoto yuta #nct doyoung #nct haechan #nct imagines #nct jaehyun #nct fluff #nct johnny #nct jungwoo #nct mark #nct scenarios #nct taeyong #nct taeil #nct 127 #lee donghyuck #haechan x reader

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the-fiction-witch · 4 years ago

Text

Books

TV SHOW: THE QUEENS GAMBIT COUPLE: BENNY WATTS X READER RATING: FUNNY + FLIRTY

I walked down the half broken, foul smelling new york streets. Hearing my heels clacking in the pavement as I walked, the swishing of my petticoats and my dress, the small sun trying to peek through the thick grey clouds. I put my sunglasses in my handbag as I arrived at the tall buildings I saw the beaten up beetle parked in the street and the small handful of parking tickets it had under the wiper blade so I picked them up and sighed turning to look down into the ever stretching darkness of the stairwell. I stepped down trying not to touch the handrail to the first level of little doors with some lights and then down the second stairwell into the dark nothing's, it smells like shit down here.

I got to the door trying to not touch the gross walls tapping in the door as hard as I could hearing the metal echo through the basement.

The door opened tenderly and careful a first as if trying to peak before it opened fully revealing a barefoot, Benny watts. Stood in his black dirty jeans where he'd clearly wiped his hands down his legs for some reason, his black t shirt with his usual chains, his hand fixing his hair out of his eye with a small smile on his lips

"Hey you"

"Hey" I smiled briefly stepping inside, as soon as my foot crossed into his apartment he put his hand on my waist and gave my cheek a kiss "move your car" I told him pushing the tickets into his chest he took them and I headed inside slipping my Jacket off and laying it over the chair

"I'll move it in a bit" he says "coffee?"

"Tea" I Answered "extra milk t-"

"Extra milk two sugars I know" he laughs going over to his kitchen setting the tickets down in a forming pile on his kitchen counter

"You should pay them"

"I should do a lot of things"

"Pay your parking tickets Benny"

"Suck my dick y/n" he says leaning against the counter looking at me crossing his arms over his chest "we both don't do what the other wants us to"

"You make me suck your dick I'll bite your cock off" I sighed sitting at the table

"I know, I still have the bite mark from Last time" he sighed bringing the cups over sitting across from me with his coffee instantly I took my little hanki from my handbag and cleaned the top of the cup seeing the white cotton turn grey

"What is it Benny? What did you summon me to the slums of new york for?"

"Oohh sorry, next time should I request an audience at mi lady's palace?"

"What do you want Benny before I pour this tea down your pants"

"I need your help"

"... Hu. Never thought I'd hear you say that but go on"

"I need your help with something that only you can help me with"

"Right…"

"I wanna write a book"

"A book?"

"Yes"

"What kinda of book?"

"One with... words?"

"No shit. Fictional or non fictional?"

"What's the difference?"

"Fictional is a story, non fictional is real life."

"Oh, non fiction"

"Okay, do you have a plot structure"

"A who what?"

"What's the plan for the book Benny?"

"I shall write it. And then I shall publish it."

"Did you wanna edit it somewhere in the middle there?" I laughed

"Eh, you can do that"

"Okay… so lemme guess this is a book about you? Or about chess?"

"Little I'd both"

"Who's publishing it?"

"Me?"

"Ohh so you have four thousand dollars laying around do you?"

"What!"

"If you wanna self publish Benny, the basic level is four thousand dollars and that will get you local distribution if your lucky which is about five states out if that."

".... Uuuughh, I'll publish through a publisher? Your publisher?"

"Eleanor doesn't take non fiction"

"Then she has to know someone who does? Right?'

"She does but then have to pay for meetings which cost roughly fifty bucks per ten minutes, and you have to get an approved manuscript before they'll even meet you, and even though a publisher for international you’re taking nine to ten thousand. Dollars."

"Uuuuuuughhh, wait. It's a chess book so I could get funding for it from the chess federation"

"Maybe, but then they are going to need to approve it first, and the send to a publisher willing to carry it, and then designing, and editing and printing and stocking which could take over five years"

"Five years!"

"Yep. The novel world is a slow one Benny" I said "besides that's all publishing stuff, you can worry about that when you have a manuscript"

"A what now?"

"Manuscript is like the… actual book pages and all the words that will be on them"

"Ohh, well that shouldn't be too long, bang it out over a long weekend or something"

"You think you can write a book manuscript over a long weekend? Three days?"

"Yes"

".... Okay, so you wanna write a book? Which for non fiction about chess really a good level would be five or six hundred pages minimum, your going to get it written, edited, and ready to send to the chess federation for approval by Monday morning, even though they might reject it or just plain not fund it, you'll be already one thousand dollars in the red, before you add shipping, handling, copywriting, paying me for editing because I ain't doing that shit for free and as it's currently four pm on a Saturday afternoon and you haven't even writen a word yet"

"Oh."

"Yeah. Oh."

"How long did it take you to write your book?"

"Six years, in and off with a full time job and without an editor"

"I'm fucked aren't I?'

"Not fucked Benny. Overambitious" I laughed "do you have a title?"

"No."

"Do you have a synopsis?"

"No."

"Do you have a typewriter?"

"I was going to write it by hand?"

"With your handwriting?"

"What's wrong with my handwriting?"

"Benny, it looks like a spider learnt cursive and then got drunk"

"I don't own a typewriter. May I borrow yours?"

"No. Buy one"

"There like sixty dollars!"

"I will buy you a pre-owned typewriter"

"Aww thank you sugar"

"How are you intending to pay me for being your editor?"

"... Royalties?"

"Awww Benny darling, if you sell your book for a dollar each you'll be lucky to make 25 cents per book in royalties, less if you go though a publisher, and even less if it's being funded by the federation… you'll maybe get about six pennies if your lucky" I explain

"Then how the hell do you afford your car? Your house? Your dresses?"

"I sell alot of books Benny"

"I'll give you three pennies if my six pennies royalties?"

"Of your not yet existing book? So I'm just meant to wait and see if I get paid?"

"I'll bake you a cake?"

"You can't cook Benny"

"... I will eat you out?"

"No deal"

"I promise you half of all royalties, editor credit and I'll fuck you as much as you want, now will you please just help me?"

"Fine. I'll be needing a deposit payment" I said

"Alright, you know where the bedroom is I'll finish my coffee and be there in a sec"

I sat on the leather chair looking at the handwritten chapter structure Benny had given me "Benny?"

"Yeah?" He asks slightly jumping where he had been sat for so long at his table with his notes and the old typewriter I got for him trying to figure out how he loaded paper in it

"What is this word?"

"What word?" He asks

"The something with something"

"Which chapter?"

"Four?"

"The faults with defense"

"That is how you write an s?"

"Yes"

"... How do you not write an s right it's in your name?"

"No it's not?"

"Yes it is"

"B. E. N. N. Y. No s there?"

"Watts?"

"Ooohh yeah"

"You fool"

"Also, does this have a E?"

"No."

"And how am I meant to write a chess book without the letter e? I sort of need it? Chess. Defensive. Queen. Benny."

"Antidisestablishmentarianism"

"That's a word?"

'"yep"

"Can you use it in a sentence?"

"Screw you bitch I can spell antidisestablishmentarianism"

"A.n.t.i.d.i.s.t?"

"Nope"

"Damn it" he sighed "but I need e how am I meant to write chess without an e?"

"Write an o and then draw a line in the middle?"

"Fine" he said starting to type one key at a time "Openings… and… tactics… by… Benny… watts" he said but the typewriter had got to the end of the spool "y/n! Why won't it type!"

"Benny just… ughh come here you child" I sighed getting up going over and moving the spool back to the centre so he could write "there. You have to do that at the end of each line"

"Really?"

"Yep. Isn't writing fun" I smiled kissing his head

I sat listening to the clicking and clacking of his typewriter keys, sounded like music to my ears in his quiet dark and cold apartment

"Fuck!" He yelled breaking me from my relaxation as he stopped

"What?" I asked

"How do I undo?" He sighed rubbing his eyes

"You can't what happened Benny?"

"I typed porn instead of pawn" he sighed resting his head in his hands

"You fool" I giggled "you wanna know how we fix mistakes Benny?" I giggled going over wrapping my arms around his neck

"We we write the whole page?"

"Nope. White out" I smiled handing him the shall bottle

"Fuck! That smells like paint"

"Ehh pretty much is"

"Thank you y/n"

"Your welcome" I smiled giving his head s kiss "call me when chapter one is done I'm going for a shower"

"Uuuuhhh… yeah I'll do that" he says not sounding confident

"How close to finished are you with chapter one?"

"Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhh… next week sound good?"

"And you could bang out a whole book in a weekend" I laughed sitting back on the chair

"I said I'm sorry! I didn't know it was this hard" he says

I sat the other side of the table with my lovely blue pen, my leg over my knee, smirking slightly at him as Benny sat on the other side his hands to his face watching me Intently, panic in his eyes everytime he saw me use the blue pen, which I was having to do alot.

"Here" I said throwing it back to him now I was done "you should probably re write that's a little too much editing for white out watts"

"What's wrong with this?" He asks as he looked over the page

"You used the wrong there"

"I hate you. Beyond words can express."

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spencersawkward · 4 years ago

Text

switchblade faith//spencer reid - chapter 9

summary: one month after joining the BAU, Clea is still settling in. between solving murders and getting acclimated to DC, the only comfortable thing in her life is her new friendship with Dr. Spencer Reid. (Baby Spence)

pairing: Fem!OC x Spencer

word count: 4.1k

content warnings: tattooing/tattoo aftercare, mostly fluffy!

A/N: hi! it's been a while since i updated this series, but i love it too much to leave it behind and i'm also always going to be obsessed with sub!spence. anyway, all my tattoos are stick and pokes atm so if some of the tattoo stuff if a little off, i'm sorry!

masterlist

it's really a matter of principle that keeps me bound to the promise. if I were a weaker woman, I would back down from the chair, would have shaken my head and told JJ that no, actually, I will not be getting something permanently inked on my body purely for the fulfillment of a bet.

but with most of the team around me and a couple flutes of champagne flowing through my veins, I give in. it's going to be small, even though I'm not going to see it until it's done. Penelope and Morgan being in charge of the design scares me, though. I start to get nervous that I'm going to end up with a unicorn tramp stamp.

"where are you gonna get it?" Garcia nudges my shoulder once we get inside the tattoo parlor. her eyes are traveling over all the intense artwork, which I can already tell is very much not her style. the walls are covered in intricate prints from past customers.

I think to myself for a moment. if I'm being completely honest, there's one place I've been meaning to get a tattoo, but never have. it's easy to hide, which is good. as long as the design they choose isn't horrifically embarrassing, I'll do it.

"I'm thinking..." I pull the waistband of my jeans down a little until it's right below my hip bone. "there."

"sexy." she says suggestively. I laugh.

"depending on what you guys have decided to give me, yeah." I angle for a hint, but Penny isn't caving.

"are you ready?" Morgan asks, having returned from the front desk area, where he's been talking to the artist. I take a deep breath, peer around at the rest of the team. we look like an odd bunch in here, an assortment of ages all gathered in a dark tattoo parlor.

Spencer's watching me with a concerned expression and I realize that I've been staring around for a decent amount of time. he doesn't say anything, although I've noticed that he's got a certain face he makes right before he does-- and he's making it.

"Clea, are you sure you wanna do this? you don't have to." JJ touches my shoulder suddenly. I realize that they think I'm genuinely worried and I let out a laugh.

"yeah, I'm fine," I turn to Morgan. "lead the way, handsome."

the tattoo artist has me lie down while he preps all his tools, snaps on his gloves. everyone sees me on my stomach and Emily gasps.

"are you getting a tramp stamp?"

"what? no," I giggle. "I'm gonna get it here." I show them the spot I just showed Penelope, and Spencer raises his eyebrows. Prentiss whispers something in Morgan's ear and the suave agent smirks.

"you're gonna like this." Penny grins. I glance at the tattoo artist to see how he reacts to that statement, but he's got a good poker face, unfortunately.

"are you being serious or are am I gonna hate all of you?" I ask.

"maybe a bit of both?" Spencer says in a slightly higher pitch, looking pleased to be in on the joke. I stare at him in disbelief.

"he knows what I'm getting, too?" I point disdainfully. Morgan laughs at the attitude.

"I told him on the way here."

I shake my head slowly and turn my attention to the boy genius, who is hiding a proud smile. there's a boyish quality to it that makes me feel a little better. I have to pull the side of my pants down as I turn on my side for the artist, and a peek of my black underwear makes Prentiss let out a whistling noise. my cheeks turn pink.

"shut up."

"are you ready?" the tattoo guy asks me. it's only then that I notice we're close to actually getting this done. I have no idea what's going on my body-- but there's no time like the present, right?

"sure."

it's the buzzing of the machine when he finally touches the needle to my skin that surprises me more than the pain itself. I feel myself resist the urge to move away, but I'm still enough for him to keep working.

"how's it feel?" Emily asks.

"like getting a tattoo." I wince. Penelope softens, looking between her coworkers guiltily.

"oh no," she complains, then comes over to me and grabs my hand in hers. "is this better?"

I squeeze tightly at the stinging sensation across my thigh, but she doesn't pull away at all.

"yeah." I smile. everyone is watching me intently, so much so that it puts me off a bit. "can we talk about something, maybe? it doesn't help when you're all staring."

"sure," JJ grins. "so..."

the pressure to start a conversation kills any potential for one, and then Spencer clears his throat. "anybody wanna see a cool magic trick?"

I snort and the rest of the team lets out a chuckle as the genius pulls a deck of cards out of his pants pocket. Morgan pats his shoulder. "I hope it works this time."

"it worked last time!" Reid protests, but his cheeks have taken on a slightly rosy hue. I watch him shuffle the mysterious deck and do some fancy tricks that I've never seen before, the corner of his mouth quirking with a sudden air of confidence.

Penelope is still holding my hand, and I can feel the metal of her sparkly rings pressing against my fingers. I choose to focus on the theatrical movements that Spencer is definitely using on purpose instead of the strange, sharp pain.

he fans out the cards and shows them to me, smiling. "pick a card, any card."

"hmm..." I tap my chin thoughtfully and stare at the bright red designs covering the back. I wonder if it's a rigged deck, or if he actually knows tricks. he doesn't seem like the type of person to be into magic. but then again, Spencer is full of surprises. I grab a random one in the middle, pluck it out and memorize it. a red six of spades.

"alright, then..." he grins and slams the deck back into one neat pile, then does some weird shuffling move again and shows the fanned-out deck to Morgan this time. "your turn."

Morgan's gaze flickers between the cards and Reid's face, which is trying to suppress a smile. the dimple on the right side of his cheek twitches once. when Derek taps a card near the end, Spencer nods and does the same thing that he did when I picked one.

except this time, as soon as he's got the whole deck together, he taps them a bit too hard and they go flying. fifty-two-pick-up style, Queens and Kings and Jokers tumbling to the linoleum floor in a defeated descent. my eyes widen and second-hand embarrassment rolls in, followed by the team's stunned silence.

I even feel the tattoo artist falter a bit in his work.

"oh." Spencer says. JJ puts her hand on his shoulder.

"Spence, it's fine."

"no, no, it's not-- I practiced this, like, fifty times last night--" his face is bright red as he drops to his knees. Penelope glances once at you and you return her stare with a pitying expression. Emily goes to help him, then Morgan and JJ.

"let me just..." he gathers up the remaining cards that they hand him, putting them back together into the pile again. I watch as he goes through them, somehow counting at lightning speed before frowning. "we're missing one."

everyone looks around, but it's obvious that there aren't any more stray cards lying about. I feel bad for him, not only because it didn't work but because he practiced it so much. I've been wondering what he does on the weekends-- magic tricks never even crossed my mind.

then Spencer's face lights up.

he comes over to me and gestures to my side, right by the spot where the tattoo artist is working. "may I?"

"uh--" I glance down at where he's pointing, the small patch of bare stomach. "sure?"

his fingertips graze beneath my tummy, between my skin and the smooth leather of the tattoo table, and snatch a card out from under me. it's barely a touch, but my breath hitches in my throat. my fingers tighten just slightly around Penelope's.

he holds up a red six of spades. the enormous grin on his face gives him away. "this wouldn't happen to be your card, would it?"

I gasp and nod, amazement on my face before it's wiped away by the sharp pain of the needle. Spencer displays the red six of spades to the whole team, then basks in their surprised applause.

Emily's smiling in disbelief. "you really had us going for a second."

"wait, wait--" I poke his leg and Spencer turns to me. "how did you do that?"

there's no way he could have hidden it there without me knowing; if he had slipped a card beneath my bare skin, surely I would have felt it. but the magic man just shrugs and shakes his head at me.

"a good magician never shares their secrets, Clea."

this time, the blush spreads over my cheeks. he's cocky right now, and I'd be lying if I said I'm not enjoying it. he's in his element, I realize, even if it is an unexpected one. and as he puts the cards into his back pocket, the group erupts with questions.

he's done magic before in front of them, but they seem to be awestruck by his performance this time. admittedly, I think the whole klutz act really added a nice dramatic element to it.

I'm mostly quiet for the rest of the tattooing process, although everyone else is chattering about the trick and how well the ink is going to turn out. I'm still wracking my brain for ideas of what they chose, but I honestly don't know. I've been banned from peeking.

maybe this was a mistake-- I've only recently joined this team, and already allowed them to decide what's going to be on my body forever. at least it's small. and maybe I'll actually like it; who knows?

when the artist lets out a satisfied sigh and turns the needle off, however, I find myself twisting around and staring frantically at the new design.

"oh my god."

it's a tiny airplane, with two dotted loopty-loops behind it. just small enough to be adorable.

"what do you think?" Garcia asks, eyeing it herself. they all gather around to admire the new design that sits on the outside of my upper thigh. I giggle.

"I love it."

"don't sound so relieved." Emily laughs. I can't help the bubbly excitement in my stomach.

"sorry, I just didn't know what to expect."

Spencer is staring at the ink when he turns to the tattoo artist. "how long until you think it'll be healed?"

the guy stands up to get treatment stuff for it. "I'd say about two weeks, but it varies from person to person." he leaves to grab cling film.

"I thought for sure you'd be the one to know that." I smirk at the genius. he shoves his hands in his pockets, makes sure the artist is out of earshot, and then looks back at you.

"I do know." he scoffs.

"uh huh." I laugh.

"actually, for the record," he lowers his voice. "I'd recommend at least three weeks instead of two. the last thing you want is infected flesh."

"yum, Spencer. thanks for that image." I smile with wide eyes and he shrugs.

...

it's quiet when I shut the door of my apartment shut behind me. I've got a bag full of supplies with me to clean the new art, and I'm feeling lethargic after getting lunch with the team. because Rossi wasn't around to foot the bill, I made the mistake of offering to pay.

we've got the day off after the most recent slew of cases, so I've determined to spend the rest of my day well. I could curl up with a nice documentary, or I could scrub my kitchen and do a little tidying up around here. god knows the film of dust on my bookshelves needs to be wiped away.

oh my god.

am I boring? maybe. possibly.

I shake the thought from my head and bring my things into the kitchen to organize. after spending a few hours cleaning up, I go out grocery shopping, then come home to sit down with a book. my errands take up so much time, I don't even notice the DC sunlight sinking beneath the harsh lines of the city, drenching my apartment in a silky darkness poked through with lit lamps.

it's already 9pm and I kind of want to hang out with someone, but I doubt any of the team wants to spend any more time with me than they did before lunch. or they might have plans with their families.

well, I know one person who definitely doesn't have plans.

I pull out my phone and hit Spencer's contact before I can talk myself out of it, knowing full well that it's not a big deal but still becoming a little nervous. it rings three times before he picks up.

"hello?"

"hey, Spencer."

"Clea. what's-- what's up?" he sounds more confused than anything. probably because I just saw him about an hour ago.

"I know it's late, but do you wanna come over? I'm bored and I feel like you know more about tattoo cleaning than I do." it's a weak excuse.

"why would I know more about tattoo cleaning--"

"you know damn well why, Reid," I laugh. "don't fish for compliments."

there's a slight laugh on the other end of the line before he replies. "I'll be over soon."

I wait patiently, preparing two mugs of coffee in the meantime. I'm sure we'll both want the caffeine, because I have no urge to turn in early tonight. my stomach twists a bit when he calls to tell me he's here, and I go to let him in. I'm not nervous.

except I actually am a little bit nervous when I open the door and there's Spencer with a shy smile and a coat that's a bit too big for him. it hangs off his narrow frame, and I realize that it must have just started raining. his hair is wet and there are dark spots on his clothes where the water has seeped through.

"get inside, my god." I move aside so he can come into the apartment and warm up. he walks in, looks around at my walls. I realize that he's never been here before. "welcome to my humble abode, Dr. Reid."

"it's nice." he compliments without much emotion. I lock the door and turn just in time to see his hand shaking at his side.

"thanks. let me take your coat." I glance out the window, where I now notice the rain pelting the glass.

Spencer shrugs off his jacket and hesitantly lets me hang it on the hook by the door before turning to him with my hands on my hips. "so, how are you?"

"I'm good," he smiles a little and runs a hand through his hair. "I actually read an article on the way here about those psychedelic mushrooms we were discussing the other day."

"is that, like, our thing, now?" I joke and gesture to the couch, where two mugs of hot coffee rest on coasters. he sits down gingerly on the cushions, sitting at the very opposite end of the couch from me.

"I can send it to you, if you'd like." he smiles.

"please do. I've been hoping for some titillating reading, recently." I hand him the mug and he stop before taking a sip.

"how many sugars did you put in this?"

"relax, genius, I'm not out to get you--" I catch his eye. "yet."

he giggles and takes a sip, then another. the smile tugging at my lips is too obvious for my liking; I'm just glad that I got the amount of sugar correct. it would have been funny to ambush him with a sweetness attack, although I think making him come here in the rain was punishment enough.

"have you ever had oat milk?" he asks out of the blue. I frown.

"yeah, why?"

"just wondering. I'm lactose intolerant and was considering trying it."

"you're lactose intolerant?"

"mhmm." he nods enthusiastically.

"I watched you eat three yogurt cups in a row yesterday." I chuckle at the memory of it. he eats so much and remains as skinny as a telephone pole.

"I love dairy." he shrugs it off. I pull my legs up beneath me on the couch and give him a serious expression.

"well, personally, I think oat milk tastes horrendous and it makes me want to vomit, but you should try it."

"noted."

we start to talk about various nondairy alternatives for coffee and it ends up being a surprisingly fun conversation. talking to Spencer has its own charm-- it's not just a conversation, it's a fully immersive experience. from his ambitious vocabulary to the unconscious gestures he makes, all of it keeps me hooked.

I rest my cheek on my palm, elbow leaning against the back of the couch while I nod along to him talking about almond farming. he's got a disdainful expression on his face as he brings up its environmental consequences, punctuating every few sentences with another sip of his coffee.

the rain is still pouring outside. thunder occasionally rolls over the sky and shakes the windows in their panes. my eyes flit from his face to the view when a flash of lightning catches my attention.

"--sorry, we should clean your tattoo." he seems to catch himself mid-thought, realizing that he came here to help me and not just rant about the business of almonds. I smile.

"no worries. this stuff is interesting to me, too."

"there's this documentary out now about it, too, that I've been meaning to watch."

"really?"

"yeah!" his face lights up. "if you want, we can--" he clears his throat. "we can watch it together."

he blushes as he says it, and I can tell that he's worried about how his intentions will come off. he can't take it back, so he runs the pad of his index over his middle finger and fidgets in a subtle way.

"that sounds like fun." I don't want him to feel weird. we've only hung out a few times, and I'm sort of looking forward to it.

"great," he straightens and adjusts his shirt, which has gotten slightly rumpled from his curling up on the couch. his tie is crooked, too. "where are the cleaning supplies?"

"in the kitchen."

"perfect, we should be doing it in there anyway." he stands, pushes a bit of his hair behind his ear while he waits for me to follow-- and I do, albeit with a wince from my tender side. it doesn't hurt as much as I expected.

he follows me into the minuscule kitchen and doesn't hesitate to start going through the things the artist gave me to take home. there's some foam wash and special moisturizer for it, not a lot. it's small enough that the care will be minimal, which is reassuring.

it's only when Spencer's washing his hands that I realize I'll need to unbutton my pants again in order to reach the tattoo. which means this is about to get at least slightly awkward for the both of us.

he turns around just in time to see me unzipping my jeans and his eyes widen.

"how else do you expect to clean it?" I laugh, and he gulps, visibly. his Adam's apple bobs in his throat and he nods in understanding.

"y-yeah, of course." his eyes are everywhere but on me. suddenly, my kitchen walls are incredibly interesting.

I shove down the waistband of my pants until they're just below my upper thigh, then I sit up on the counter and clear my throat. "I can cover some of myself if that makes you more comfortable."

"no, no, that's okay--" he speaks too quickly, then recognizes his mistake. "it's okay. this shouldn't take very long, anyway."

without another word, I shrug and watch him delicately peel away the film. his fingertips are back to barely touching my skin, just like when he pulled that card out from beneath me, and I stop breathing for a moment.

there's also a gel-like substance under the covering, which he tells me is just standard petroleum jelly. Spencer moves with a near surgical (and altogether unnecessary) precision. his eyes are glued to my skin as if forcing them not to stray to my now exposed panties. it doesn't feel sexual at all because it's not, thankfully.

when he uses the foam wash and begins to rub it into my skin, he frowns with concern and looks up at me. "is this okay? you can do it yourself if--"

"it's fine, Reid," I answer too quickly this time. heat rushes to my cheeks. "I honestly thought this was going to be a more complicated process than it really is."

"it's pretty simple, especially for something this small." he shrugs. "obviously, you don't want to get it infected, so I'd just think of it as treating a cut."

silence in our respective positions at the moment makes me nervous, so I change the subject.

"magic tricks, huh?" if anything, I need to distract myself from the way his hand is rubbing over my skin in a totally nonsexual and platonic way.

he relaxes a little, lifting his gaze to mine with a somewhat pleased countenance. "yeah, I love magic."

it's like peeling back a corner of wallpaper and seeing a shade of red beneath; not a lot, but enough to pique my curiosity. "a man of science?"

Spencer shakes his head at the air of faux sophistication I pour into it. "the world needs some wonder."

he says it in an offhand way, although I feel the weight of it from the way he runs a damp paper towel over the last of the cleansing foam. his touch presses into me and his eyes are lowered in a slightly distant way.

"how long have you been into it?" I fight the urge to ask a million questions at once.

"since I was a kid," he jerks back to attention. the grin on his face tells you just how special this is to him. "I used to buy all the books and practice for my mom constantly."

"did you ever do the trick with the never-ending string of handkerchiefs?" I recall one of the only classic moves I know. Reid laughs.

"that one's easy."

"what about the coin behind the ear?" I throw out another one.

Spencer straightens, doesn't even bother to set down the paper towel, before reaching up behind my ear and pulling away with a shiny quarter set between his thumb and forefinger. "you mean this one?"

there it is again, that confidence I saw in the tattoo parlor. he's standing just close enough for me to notice, and I grin as I snatch the metal out of his hand and set it on the counter beside me. "thanks."

"no problem." he laughs.

"you should do that more often."

"the coin trick? I'd go broke." he jokes. I laugh at the rare appearance of Spencer's playful side, hoping to get a bit more of it before we have to go back to being serious at work.

"magic in general, I mean. I think it would brighten up the office a bit."

he thinks about it for a moment, washing his hands again. the sound of the faucet reminds me to put my lotion on my leg. I get to it while he thinks of what to say.

"yeah, maybe you're right."

"I still find it funny that you're into that kind of stuff." I say honestly. of all the things for him to nerd out about, this feels almost comically unexpected. but Reid only gives me a shy smile before replying.

"it always made my mom laugh when I was a kid."

"is she also good at it?"

"tricks? no," he chuckles. there's a washcloth between his long, slender fingers that he's been using to dry them for the past two minutes. at this point, I think he's doing it to keep from fidgeting. "she says it's an old fashioned thing, and that only made me wanna do it more."

"well," I cap the bottle and set it down on the counter, pull my jeans up and lean against the counter with a smile. "I like old fashioned."

Spencer gives a friendly smile. "me too."

taglist (add yourself here or message me to be added/removed!): @reidsconverse @donald4spiderman @awritingtree @gingeraleluke @bewitchedbibliophile @multixfandomwriter @xoxomgg

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nastybuckybarnes · 4 years ago

Text

Monsters - Three

Pairing: Dark!Bucky X Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes is a man who just wants to do better. But he can’t stop the monster from coming out every now and then. As a last and hopeless attempt at calming The Winter Soldier, SHIELD finds him something they figured would help. An innocent young woman with not a lot going for her. Or, The Winter Soldiers newest victim.

Warnings: Angst, Violence, Language, Injuries, INTENSE SMUT (NONCON), GUNPLAY, HUMILIATION, DEGRADATION, NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART, Major MENTAL HEALTH TRIGGER,

Word Count: 3.5K

A/n: Oof sorry. This is dark as fuck. it’s really triggering. If you complain I will block you because I have many warnings in place. This is a very triggering chapter that involves very sensitive and triggering topics so read at your own damn risk!

THIS IS A DARK FIC WITH SEXUAL AND TRIGGERING CONTENT!!!

MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER!! READ AT OWN RISK!!

~*~

He doesn’t look at you the next morning.

You’re thankful for that because you don’t think you’d be able to withstand seeing him without crying.

Your neck is dark and covered in bruises, and your wrists look no better, the skin discoloured to a near-black colour. It hurts to breathe, to walk. Your lower regions burning with each step you take. You’re part glad he doesn’t look at you, but you’re also frustrated.

He said he wasn’t a monster and yet look what he’s done to you. Your body is broken and bruised and beat badly, and he doesn’t even have the stomach to look at the damage he’s caused.

You stay in your room for most of the day anyway, in far too much pain to venture anywhere except the kitchen for a glass of water which does little to soothe the burn in your throat.

As you sit there, alone on the mattress that holds disgusting memories, you ponder what Fury said yesterday about the fine print in the email. Surely you would have seen any more writing. You wouldn’t have just accepted the position without being properly informed of everything that you were going to have to do.

But it seems to be too late. If last night was any indication of your fate, you almost understand why they gave you little to no warning.

He was barbaric. Brutally taking advantage of your body, and thwarting your attempts to get him to be gentler.

A knock on your door startles you from your thoughts. It opens quietly and the man who’s been occupying your thoughts walks in with his head down.

“I uh... I brought you some soup. You haven’t eaten all day.” You stare at the steaming bowl held in his metal hand. The same hand that crushed your wrists.

“I’m not hungry,” you tell him, voice barely above a whisper. He looks up at you and swallows hard, eyes zeroing in on the dark marks on your neck. He lets out a shuddering breath and nods.

He opens his mouth to speak but snaps it closed again, setting the bowl down on the dresser then leaving the room.

The soldier doesn’t come to you that night.

Or the night after.

On the fourth day, three nights of him not coming to you, you finally venture out of your room. You nearly run right into his chest as he opens the door to talk to you. He grabs your waist to stop you from toppling over then pulls back as if you’ve scalded him.

“I’ve got a mission briefing to go to. I’ll be gone for most of the day,” he informs you, voice hard and emotionless. You simply nod and watch as he leaves the house in a hurry. When you’re sure he’s gone, you creep down the stairs and into the kitchen, stomach cramping for food.

You find a few pieces of bread and some crackers on the counter, along with a note that says ‘Dinner will be ready shortly after I get home.” You take the crackers and shovel them into your mouth, not caring about how much they dry your throat. They go down like sandpaper, and you wash them down with a glass of water, finally silencing your growling stomach.

With the house to yourself, you explore, your feet taking you to another bedroom upstairs.

It must be his, you realize, eyes finding a small, leather-bound notebook. You look around the room quickly then snatch the book up and sit down on his bed, eyes devouring the words scrawled carelessly on the pages.

Horror fills you as you read, each page giving detailed descriptions of the horrible things this man has done.

You find yourself terrified for your life once more as you realize just how quickly he could end it. It would simply be another life to him, nothing he cares about considering how many he’s taken already.

You put the book back and leave the room, running to the front door and banging on it mercilessly, hoping to catch the attention of someone passing by.

~*~

“Tincan!” Bucky groans and looks up as Tony walks to him. “Relax. I’ve got a gift for you.” He hands over a tablet and Bucky furrows his brows in confusion.

“So you can watch your little pet. I hooked it up to all the cameras in your house, so you can keep tabs on her. Before you ask, Fury’s not all that good at keeping secrets.” Bucky makes a mental note to talk to Fury about keeping this off the radar, but for now, he’s curious to see what you’re doing.

He accepts the tablet with a soft ‘thank you’ then quickly turns it on, flipping through the different camera feeds until he finds you.

You’re banging a lamp from your bedside table against a window in your room, tears on your cheeks. You look hopeless.

He toys around with the tablet for a while until he finds a rewind button, wanting to know what has you so desperately wanting to escape.

He stops it from rewinding when he sees you sitting on his bed, his journal in your lap.

The pieces click into place and he shakes his head, angry that you would invade his privacy like that and pissed at himself for not putting it away.

“Listen Stark, I’ll come back later to be briefed. I’ve gotta go... deal with something.” Tony nods and watches as Bucky walks away, his heart aching for you but he knows that there’s nothing he can do to help you.

Bucky pulls up to the house and throws the front door open, the ride over giving him plenty of time to stew in his anger.

He slams the door shut behind himself and stomps up the stairs to your room, kicking the door open and staring at you. You hold the lamp tightly in your grasp and turn to him slowly, terrified at the dark look in his eyes.

“You need to learn some respect!” He spits the word and marches over to you, grabbing the lamp with his left hand when you swing it at him. He throws it to the ground and grabs you by the jaw, tossing you onto the bed. You crawl backwards, shaking your head at him desperately.

He grabs your ankle and yanks you down the bed, then flips you onto your stomach. He tears your pants and panties down your legs and starts slapping your ass. Hard.

You scream in pain as he punishes you, slapping again and again and again, each one being harder than the last.

By the time he finally lets up, your ass is on fire, skin bruised and burning. He grabs you by the hair and tugs, forcing you up onto your hands and knees.

You’re trembling on the bed, terrified of what he’s going to do to you.

“You’ve been bad,” he whispers, dragging something cool across the skin of your ass. You subconsciously lean into the soothing touch and he chuckles.

“You read something you weren’t supposed to. You went snooping into my business.” He rips you up by your hair so that you’re right beside him, head leaning back on his shoulder. “Don't you ever fucking touch my stuff again.” The words are whispered but the threat is shouted, and you find yourself nodding quickly. He shoves you back down onto the bed but keeps your hips raised.

Something cool and blunt is pressing against your entrance and you jolt away, yelping when he smacks your ass again.

“You’re gonna fuck yourself on my gun, or I’m gonna make you wish you were dead, understood?” You feel absolutely humiliated, blood running cold as he presses the gun into your cunt, your warm walls clinging to the metal as he slowly pumps it in and out of you. He stops for a moment and you hear the weapon click.

“Safety’s off. Now fuck yourself on it. And then maybe I won’t hurt you.” You jump on the opportunity of not getting hurt anymore and start slowly thrusting your hips backwards. You hate it. You hate how good it feels. You hate how he’s humiliating you and you’re enjoying it. Your body betrays you with each thrust of your hips. Slick gathers between your thighs and drips down onto the mattress while you fuck yourself on his gun.

“Such a fucking whore. Fucking yourself of my Glock. Gettin’ all messy and wet. So fucking desperate for something to fill that cunt of yours that you’ll fuck anything.” His words crack your pride, tears stinging your eyes as you continue to rock your hips.

“Fuck yourself faster, slut. I wanna watch you cum.” That’s what makes you start to sob. The fact that not only is he watching you fuck yourself on his weapon of choice, but he’s going to force you to make yourself cum while doing so.

You rock your hips faster, squeezing your eyes shut as broken sobs leave your lips, the mortification nearly too much to bear. You just want to cum and have this all be over with.

Your clit brushes against the trigger guard and you jolt away from it before repeating the action. “Look at that. Such a stupid mindless slut, fucking yourself on a gun. You’re such a pathetic whore.” You hate it. You hate the names, the fact that he’s saying it out loud, bringing light to what you’re doing.

You risk a glance over your shoulder and feel the blood leave your face. If you weren’t appalled before, you certainly are now. He’s got his phone camera pointing at your most intimate area, filming you fucking yourself on his gun.

You hiccup a sob and press your face into the pillow, rocking your hips faster, hoping to get this over with.

“Look at that,” he murmurs, his hand already covered in your slick. You ignore him, rubbing your clit on the metal hard, toes curling as your orgasm approaches fast.

With a sound that’s half a moan and half a sob, you cum, cunt clenching hard on the metal.

He groans, watching as you lose your dignity on camera.

When your cunt stops pulsing, he pulls the gun out and slaps your ass.

“Face me,” he orders. You comply, eyes red and puffy, snot dripping from your nose and tears falling down your cheeks.

“You’re gonna suck this gun clean. If you leave one drop on here I’ll make you regret it.” You open your mouth and suck on it, licking off the taste of metal and your essence, trying not to cringe at how embarrassing it is.

Bucky holds the camera up to your face, and what little dignity you had left is crushed.

“Look at how worthless you are. Such a pathetic slut.” You suck harder, wanting to get the gun clean so you can end this torture. You’d rather have him physically hurt you. This... this mental abuse? It’s far worse.

He pulls the gun out of your mouth and nods, shedding himself of his pants and boxers then sitting on the bed, his back against the headboard. He motions with the gun to his cock and you sniffle, climbing onto his lap. You slowly lower yourself onto him and he moans, aiming the camera at where your abused pussy is taking every inch of him.

“You’re gonna fuck yourself on my cock just like you did on my gun. Understand?” he presses the barrel of the gun to your temple and your bottom lip wobbles.

“Cry all you want, skank. As long as you make me cum.” You squeeze your eyes shut tightly and raise yourself off of his cock, only to drop down on him again. He groans and watches through hooded eyes as you ride him, darkness filling his eyes as he presses the gun harder into your head, finger hovering over the trigger.

“Faster!” He shouts, grinning at the way you flinch. You start bouncing up and down on his lap, the squelching sound of his cock in your soaked pussy making you burn with shame.

Your legs ache, your injured thigh on fire as you continue to use it in a way that you really shouldn't. You fuck him hard and fast, praying to any and every god available that this ends soon.

He moans loudly, thrusting up to meet you, and you cry out in pain. The tears won't stop, they drip down your face and splatter onto his chest, but he doesn't seem to mind. In fact, it spurs him on. He brings the camera up and focuses on your face, watching the way you sob and cry, humiliation clear as day on your face.

“Oh fuck!” His thrusts stutter before he stills, and you follow, staying seated on his cock as loud sobs tear out of your chest.

“Get off and lay on your stomach, ass up. I wanna see how wrecked you look.” You do as he says, nearly choking on your own snot as you press your face into the bed again.

“Look at that,” he whispers, the camera zooming in to capture the way he’s abused you. Your cunt is swollen, all puffy and red, and cum oozes out and over your engorged clit. He tosses the gun aside and smacks you hard, right on your centre.

You jump away from the pain, but he doesn't stop. He slaps your pussy over and over again, catching your clit and sending you spiralling in pain. He doesn’t stop until your shrieking and your cunt looks as abused as your ass.

“Have you learned your lesson?” He asks, the camera staying on your pussy as it flutters and clenches, clit throbbing almost visibly.

“Yes,” you whisper. He slaps your cunt again and you scream.

“Yes what?” He demands. This is new. You’re not quite sure what to call him, but another harsh slap against your clit has you screaming the first thing that comes to mind.

“Yes sir!” He seems to like that.

“Good. Now fucking clean yourself before I make you dirtier.” You don’t wanna know what he means by that, and he doesn't give you a chance to think too hard on it before he’s leaving the room, stopping the gun off the ground and flicking the safety back on.

You hear him stomp out of the house, the door slamming hard enough to shake the whole house. Your heart races and your tears don’t stop. The humiliation and mental abuse that he just put you through has you trembling, anxiety skyrocketing.

You haul yourself off of the bed and stumble to the shower, turning the water on as hot as you can handle, then hotter still, determined to burn the feeling of his hands off of your skin.

You stand sobbing under the spray for a long time, long enough for his seed to drip down your leg and get washed down the drain. The thought of having any part of him in your body makes you feel sick, and you grab the showerhead. You switch the setting to a more powerful one then press it to your core, determined to wash him out of you.

The heat of the water scalds you, and it burns like a bitch, but you don’t care. You’ll endure any pain to get the feeling of him out of you.

Finally, after nearly ten minutes of washing yourself out, you switch the setting back to normal and stand under the spray, shivering despite the hot water.

You feel hopeless. And absolutely terrified. He hurt you. Mentally and physically. There’s no escape. Nothing for you to do. You’re stuck here. Trapped. Just like Fury said. THere’s no way they’ll let you out now, not with the way he’s treated you. You’re sure of it.

An idea pops into your head and you slowly open your eyes.

Maybe you’re not as trapped as you thought.

You hobble out of the shower and into your bedroom, grabbing the glass of water off of your bedside table.

When you’re back in the bathroom, you smash the glass against the counter, tears continuing to fall silently, although you feel less overwhelmed now that you have a plan.

You grab a large shard of glass then get into the shower, sitting down in the corner under the warm spray of water.

With two deep breaths, you press the glass to the inside of your wrist, wincing as you push down against your bruises. You drag the sharp shard up towards your elbow, closing your eyes for a moment as blood spills out quickly. You slice another, cleaner line, up from your wrist to your elbow, then repeat the process on your other arm.

You lean your head back against the tiled wall and let out a few shuddering breaths, basking in the warm water as your body slowly starts to get colder.

Bucky sits in the briefing room, feeling guilty about what he did to you. He had a point to prove, but he thinks he took it a tad too far.

If the dead look in your eyes is anything to go by, then he absolutely took it too far.

On the drive to the compound, he found it nearly impossible to keep his eyes off of the tablet, hungry to see what you would do and how you would react. He’s disappointed but not surprised at the fact that you tried to wash your body clean of him, inside and out.

But now in the briefing room, Steve drones on and on about a potential threat and yada yada ya. Bucky just wants to check on you, make sure you’re not hurt too bad. See how you’re reacting to his... extreme punishment.

With a glance down, he pulls the tablet out of his jacket and holds it under the table, eyes looking up to see if anyone’s noticed. They’re all focused on their captain, the same way he should be. But he’s not. He can’t help the gnawing feeling in his gut that he needs to check on you. He flicks through the cameras, stopping when he gets to the one in the shower.

He tries to be inconspicuous about it, but he struggles when he sees you sitting in the corner, not moving. After a closer look, he sees the puddle of red that’s slowly seeping down the drain.

Blood. And lot’s of it.

He stands up abruptly and all eyes turn to him.

“I’ve gotta go,” he mumbles, shoving the tablet back into his jacket then running out of the room. He drives fast. Fast and reckless, but he’s afraid. Why? Because if you die, it’s his fault.

He doesn’t know where the blood is coming from, but he hopes to god it’s not anything he physically inflicted.

He takes the stairs three at a time, shoving open the bathroom door in your room and ripping open the shower door. You’re sitting there, skin dull and eyes closed while red pumps from your arms.

“Fuck,” he whispers, grabbing your arms and pulling you out of the shower. You whimper, eyes moving slowly beneath closed lids.

He grabs a towel and presses it to your arms, then digs through the cabinets in search of a first aid kit.

His hands shake just the slightest bit as he wraps your arms tightly in gauze, slowing the blood flow. His heart clenches as he sees the bruises on your wrists, the ones he gave you.

Maybe he is a monster.

“Hmm... no...” you whisper, pushing against him weakly. He looks down and finds your eyes staring up at him, slightly glazed over.

“No,” you whisper again, this time stronger.

“No!” You shout, struggling out of his lap.

“How could you?! Why?! Why couldn't you just let me die?! Haven't you hurt me enough?!” He swallows hard and holds your arms tightly, stopping you from hurting yourself more.

“Calm down. Please. I’m gonna dry you off and put you to bed. I won’t hurt you, I promise.” You shake your head then instantly regret it, feeling dizzy and weak.

He scoops you up in his arms and carries you into your bedroom, stopping when he sees the wrecked sheets. He glances at you and your trembling body then brings you into his bedroom. He sets you down on the bed then runs and gets a towel, drying you off quickly. Your teeth continue to chatter even after he’s dressed you in a sweatshirt of his and a pair of sweatpants.

He tucks you under the blankets then scoots in bed next to you, hoping the high temperature of his body does something to warm you up.

You fall asleep rather quickly, body and mind exhausted from the traumatic events of the day, and Bucky feels himself being quickly overcome with guilt.

He did this to you. He let himself go, far too much. The monster within clawed it’s way out. He took out his aggression and anger on you when he should’ve just punished you lightly. He broke you, right down to your soul. And he’s not sure how or if he can fix you.

~*~

798 notes · View notes

writteninkat · 4 years ago

Text

i - your grandma must have been strong

word count: 2,007

"I'll spend forever wondering if you knew I was enchanted to meet you."

index

You zipped your last luggage closed, huffing tiredly as you stood up. You looked around you- your empty room, your plain, pink walls that were once decorated with many posters and pictures, your floor that was once covered by a big fluffy white rug and some clothes and stuffed toys.

You sigh, smiling. You were surely going to miss this place. Your back tingles as you turn around to see your mother leaning on the door frame, looking at you with sad eyes.

"Do you have to go?" Her voice is soft and calming- it always has been. She's the only person who could ever calm you down especially when your father left the two of you to work at the Heroes Association in Japan.

"I want to be able to protect people. Children, women, the elderly... I wanna be someone people can depend on. Someone you can depend on." You place a hand on her arm which she covers with her own, he warm palm along with her soft smile about to send you to tears.

She nods, walking inside your room to help with your baggage. "The movers just finished loading up your other stuff. All we need is your excess baggage." She pushes the luggage towards the door, you mirroring her actions.

She cups both of your cheeks, looking you at you with adoring, glassy eyes. It's your first time being separated from your mother in you sixteen years of existence. The two have always been attached to the hip, you traveled everywhere together, even as the two of you had constant arguments you could never stay mad at each other for too long.

She was the only one you had.

"Stay safe in Japan, okay? If your father gave you a hard time, call me. I'll pick you up no matter what time it is, no matter where you are. I love you." She kisses your forehead and you finally let your tears fall as you wrap your hands around her thing wrists.

"I love you so much mom." You sob, hanging your head as your mother wrapped her arms around you. You hear a voice of a woman through the speakers, telling you your flight was taking off in a few minutes.

You quickly give your mother a kiss on the cheek before letting one of your guards assist you with your bags. You waved good bye to your mom and soon after, your trusted body guard.

You were on your way to Japan, to a new life, a new school, new friends and hopefully to reach your new goal: to prove yourself worthy of becoming a hero without your father's help.

You walk towards the giant gates of UA, taking a deep breath before finally taking a step inside the campus. Your heart thumped on your chest nervously as your palms began to prespire. You kept your eyes forward, not wanting to do anything with the teens around you as your only goal was to pass the entrance exam. You walked inside the building you were lead to, taking a seat at the very back in fear of attracting any unwanted attention.

"What's up UA candidates?! Thanks for tuning into me your school DJ! Just as your application said, today you will be conducting your exams in seven different locations! Your location has been assigned to you in the paper you were given." The loud blond man with long hair swept way to the back of his head announced, making you click your tongue. Not to be a mood buster, but isn't he being a little too loud?

You take the piece of paper he was talking about, eyes lower to read the letter that's written on it. Test Location: Battle Center C.

"Excuse me sir but I have a question." Your eyes fall to a purple-headed boy with glasses whose hand is raised. The blond teacher acknowledges him and he begins talking about how there are four villains in the paper you were given and not only three.

He then begins running his mouth about how a minor mistake such as this would be an embarrassment for a school such as UA. You scoff, muttering something about having a stick up his ass.

After the teacher ended his speech, you along with the other students began piling out of the room and to your designated battle centers. As you enter your specified location, you take out the black leather gloves from your pocket, wearing them. You clenched and unclenched your hands to make sure that it fit you well.

"Hey grandma." An unfamiliar voice catches your attention, unfortunately for you the rude nickname was directed towards you.

"Grandma?" You raise a brow, unsure what he meant by it.

"You white hair reminds me of my grandma's." He snickers, pointing at the white streaks of hair you have beside either sides of your face as a few other students chuckling behind him. He looks plain, very, very boring. "Why don't you give up on this exam, grandma? Your knees may start hurting."

The signal went off and the robots began moving behind you. As you kept a straight face, your hands begin glowing a blinding white light as a black with blue and silver accent claymore appears in your hands. You run to your left, applying your speed quirk as you ran towards the gigantic robots, swinging your sword vertically.

The slash creates the same blinding white light, the robots, the buildings and concrete ground that the light touches all disintegrating into nothing. You speed into the other robots, stealing the targets of other students as you accumulated your points. Once you finish and only a few robots are left, you return to your spot to where the plain-looking boy along with his little friends were still standing at, jaws hanging eyes blown wide.

"You grandma must have been very strong."

"I got in." You say into your phone and you hear your mother squeal in delight from the other end of the line. A smile breaks into your face and you feel your phone vibrate, signaling a new notification. As you pull your phone away to see what it is, your eyes widen in surprise as you read your notification banner.

'Mom' sent you $100.

"Mom what the heck is the money for?" You chuckle. "I'm not there with you but I want you to celebrate getting into UA. So go use the money and spoil yourself."

"Mom you don't have to-"

"Okay, mom mode off. I demand you go and award yourself eith the money I sent you." Your mom's tone switches from soft and caring to cold and demanding, making you chuckle. "That doesn't suit you at all." You laugh, you can practically /hear/ your mom pout at the other line.

"Okay, okay. I'll do as you say. Thank you, mom. I love you."

"I love you more my baby."

The call ends and you change out of your usual sweats and oversized tee. You put on a black spaghetti strap and high-wasted mom jeans. You hoop in a black belt and fold the ankles of your pants to show your white sock inside your checkered vans. You finish the look with medium-sized hoop earrings and a oversized red zip-up jacket which you leave unzipped with one shoulder hanging off.

You step out of your apartment, pocketing your keys and taking a deep breath in. Japan is just so beautiful, the scenery, the buildings, even the weather was perfect. You strut down your apartment building, scrolling through your phone as you searched for cafes nearby. It was a five minute walk of calm and relaxing vibes. You step into the cafe, eyes darting around the adorable cottage-core aesthetic it had going.

"Hey my name is Mio. What can I get for you this lovely afternoon?" The cashier beams brightly, your day becoming better and better with every move you make. "I'll have a strawberry shortcake as well as a strawberr frappe with extra foam, strawberry syrup and strawberries." You beam back at her and she takes your order with a bright smile, tapoing away on the computer's screen.

"Does your life depend on strawberries or something?" A rough and deep voice asks behind you, causing you to turn around. Once you do, your eyes widen at the sight of a young blond with vermilion eyes. He looked around your age.

"I like strawberries. Is it that big of a sin?" You ask, soft smile across your face as you cross your arms together. The guy had such piercing eyes, those red orbs looked like they could trap you in them forever.

"Not what I'm saying, but if you're that much of a strawberry fan, I recommend their strawberry pop tarts." His eyes drop to the display fridge beside you and your eyes follow his, landing on the adorable little tarts with red jam on top of them.

Just as you were about to order them, the cashier speaks up. "Your total is 1,500 yen." She smiles brightly, making you pout. You didn't want to cause more trouble for her seeing as your bill has already been printed by the machine.

You scan their QR code, paying virtually as she hands you your buzzer. "We'll give you a signal whrn your order is ready. You can find a seat and wait there thank you!"

You turn around at the blond who's looking at you expectantly, "I guess I'll have to try your recommendation some other time." You smile at him, walking off to the table catering two chairs. It was seated at the far back of the cafe, away from the many customers the cafe had.

You began scrolling through your social media, liking the posts of your past classmates and chuckling at some memes you saw.

A plate full of the same tarts with red jam is placed on your white table and you didn't have to look to see who it was. "Is this you way of flirting with me, rubies?" You ask, looking up at him with a teasing, smug smile. His face contorts into annoyance, "Hah? Flirting with you?" He scoffs, "Not a chance. And who're you calling rubies?"

"Your eyes remind me of rubies. They're pretty."

The blond's face relaxes and you push the seat across from you, silently telling him to sit down. He does as 'told', huffing as he watches you pick of a tart and bring it over to your lips. You bite on it, eyes widening as the flavor explodes in your mouth. It tastes sweet but not the sickeningly sweet kind, it's soft soft in the inside and lightly crunchy on the outside.

"You look like you just ate food made by gods." He chuckles, "You look dumb."

"But it really does taste so good!" You've never felt this much excitement since you found out you got into UA. And that speaks a lot given that you've only ever felt this kind of feeling with your mom.

"I should have bought the entire stock if I knew you liked it that much." Your heart skipped at his words. What is this feeling? You felt nervous all of a sudden, you can barely contain your smile and somehow, you didn't want to go home yet. This is a very new feeling for you. It's kind of... scary.

"I'm L/n."

Idiot. Stop it.

"L/n Y/n." You extend your hand towards him which he looks at for a few moments before taking. You shake both of your hands with a soft smile, your thoughts going haywire at how soft his palms feel.

"Bakugou. Katsuki Bakugou."

You pull your hand away, finishing the last piece of strawberry pop tart on your plate before your buzzer turns on. You pick it up, standing up. "Thanks for the tarts. See you around, rubies."

"Call me that one more time and I'll blow your face up."

You snicker, smirking. "Whatever you say, rubies."

#bakugou fanfiction #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x y/n #mha bakugou #bakugou bios #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x you #bakugou imagine #bakugou x fem!reader #mha imagines #bnha imagines #bakugou fluff

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ktheist · 4 years ago

Text

muses. brother’s best friend / housemate / touchy!yoongi

min yoongi was everything you hated in a man. clingy, sleeps too much and sloth-y. if anyone had eyes, they’d know that you’re a clingy hug away from committing murder on campus.

“hey, pumpkin,” a dead weight snakes around your shoulders and a hand wraps around your wrist, directing the fry you’re about to pop into your mouth to his mouth.

“what the-” venom drips off your words.

“babe, i missed you!” jennie whines, wounding her arm around min yoongi’s friend, who happens to be her boyfriend.

in fact, your world going down a wayward spiral started with jennie’s secretive ‘i’m texting a boy, he’s kinda cute!’ to a full out ‘i’m dating kim taehyung!’ a month later. and with that, came the grueling begging of her trying to get you to agree to go to dinner as a ‘her friends meets his friends’ kind of thing.

you thought to put up with it once but for some reason, after a few hang outs too many, min yoongi has come to calling you a ridiculous nickname and putting his hands on you whenever he sees you.

“they’re so in love, aren’t they?” the boy next to you snickers while his free hand snakes down to your thigh.

“what do you think you’re doing?”

the whine that slips out of his mouth doesn’t bring you satisfaction even if you’re the one who opt for pinching his hand with all your might.

he looks at you, eyes looking like the midnight lake, sparkling with moonlight, “my hand slipped. did you have to pinch me that hard?”

“oh hey, lisa,” hoseok greets your blonde haired, doll-like friend, “we’re having a match with xxx university, you wanna join?”

at the mention of the long standing rival of your uni, lisa’s delicate features break into that of an angel of death, “the fuck? they have the nerve to fuck with us? that-”

“oh wow, she’s fired up, isn’t she?” yoongi chuckles, his breath fanning your cheek.

you still your hand from coming up to fan your face. why is it hot all of a sudden?

“yeah, her ex-best friend goes there and they’ve been competing against each other in dance ever since,” you say plainly, not realizing it’d spark a different kind of fire.

a loud smack echoes in the air as you look at the hand on the table and up at the owner of said hands, “we were never friends! let alone best friends!”

“o-oh yeah, my bad, you and your non-best friend’s been trying to take each other down since you both left high school,” you lean backwards to widen the distance between her hand and your face but consequentially, you end up leaning into min yoongi who gladly welcomes you into his arms, locking his hands together over your chest and trapping you in a hug.

“so, you guys gonna practice before the match?” yoongi’s ask is what makes her snap her head at the man happily munching on her meal after she had her attention averted to a certain non-best friend.

“hobi, we’re gonna practice till our limbs feel like falling off,” and with that, she drags the man away, his whines and begging to finish the (her) food falling on deaf ears.

for the briefest moment, things seem to have calmed down. that is, until you turn your head to the smiley boy clinging onto you like a koala.

“what? i saved you from lisa’s wrath.” he states, as if sensing your own wrath coming to surface if he doesn’t-

“get off me,” you order, glaring daggers at the boy.

“make me,” he smirks, the gummy smile now gone and for some reason, your heart’s beating too fast than your body can handle.

“seriously, what’s wrong with you? jimin’s right there, why can’t you go and cling onto him? at least he’s your friend. i barely even know you,” you sigh, feeling his arms loosening around you yet your chest is the one clenching as he drops his gaze.

“___, you’re breaking my heart,” he bumps his head to yours, those dark brown eyes glinting with a sort of deviousness that you know will do you no good if you hang around him any longer, “especially when we’ve kn-”

“my class is starting in ten.”

he doesn’t stop you when you stand up, his arms slipping away from your body like withered vines on stone wall.

that’s the last you see of min yoongi. well, until you’re walking out of the ecology club, fist smacking against that sore spot on your shoulder as you trail behind your club mates. the meeting about the outdoor event to raise awareness on carbon print ended a little later than you thought it would and by the end of it, everyone’s like a walking corpse.

“i thought you’d never come out,” a voice husks from behind you as your body freezes and your heart jumps to your throat.

“what the fuck, min yoongi?” you glare at the gummy smiley boy who doesn’t seem to bear an ounce of guilt for causing your soul to astral project into oblivion.

“did i scare you?” he chuckles, “don’t worry, johnny won’t get you as long as i’m here.”

“johnny?” you feel your eyebrows coming together in annoyance rather than confusion.

“you know, the ghost that’s living in the ecology club room,” he raises his eyebrows twice as if insinuating something.

you scoff.

“oh yoongi, you’re been waiting for ___?” jisoo waves from a few steps ahead, “you guys going back together?”

“no- wait-” you’re about to run after your friends when an arm wraps around your waist and pulls you to a warm body.

“yeah, drive safe guys!” the boy waves, smiling that stupid smile until the car’s out of sight.

placing one hand on his chest, you push him away from you until you’re at least three feet apart, “seriously, why’d you have to wait for me? i could’ve gone home on my own.”

“what do you mean why? because i wanted to see you sooner,” he grins, arms wrapping around your waist as he rests his chin on top of your head.

“w-what the hell,” you fumble with your words, turning away as your cheeks flare up with warmth, “let’s just go,” you say, holding onto yoongi’s pinky finger and dragging him with you.

you get home before 10 o’clock despite yoongi’s whining to take the longer route home along the river.

“oh, you’re back? whew, i was worried there for a sec,” seokjin’s voice rings throughout the house as he greets you from his room, “but i shouldn’t be since yoongi’s with you. it’s lucky you guys got into the same uni.”

“i could’ve gone home with my friends,” you say almost sulkily, glaring at the boy who’s walking towards his own room as if he’s ready to black out as soon as his head hits the pillow.

“yoongi, you’re not gonna have dinner?” seokjin asks.

“nah, i’ll sleep first.” and with that, the door of the room across from your brother’s clicks shut.

“he really needs to get his sleep schedule fixed,” the older man shakes his head whilst you place the plate of fried rice seokjin made into the microwave.

“let him be, he’s a grown man, he can take care of himself. you cooking for him is more than-” you can’t even finish your sentence when seokjin’s fast padded footsteps crosses the hallway and to the kitchen. hands shaking your body more than an earthquake could.

“___, do you... do you really see yoongi as a man? are you guys dating?!” seokjin’s concerned gaze bores into yours, offering you no escape unless you answer him.

“no? i mean, he’s grown - we all grew up, seokjin, we’re in uni,” you say in a matter of factly. every once in awhile, seokjin gets a wake up call that-

“oh thank god,” he envelops you into a bear hug, “i thought my baby sister was interested in my best friend.”

well, guess that wake up call just got pushed back.

you suppose you get where seokjin’s coming from. just three little kids with mismatched ages growing up together in the same neighborhood. you climb trees together, scrape your knees falling off the swings and treat each other to health.

but it was seokjin who introduced you to yoongi. back then, whoever knew whoever first, got the first friend privilege. it was just some dumb rules the kids from the neighborhood came up with. and everyone wanted to be friends with min yoongi who had the chubbiest cheeks and the cutest smile. but seokjin always prided himself to be yoongi’s best friends and the latter never denied it. in a way, the two of them had a sort of bond that nobody could touch, let alone break.

something like brothers for life kind of thing.

because of that, min yoongi had always been your brother’s best friend.

“___, you’re not asleep yet?” a voice rings from behind you where the hallway to your bedrooms lie.

“i’ve got some club stuff to settle,” you say, not away from your laptop as you sit on the spot between the couch and coffee table. an energy drink a few inches away.

“you’re always so busy,” tresses of soft hair tickles your cheek as a head leans on your shoulder, the warmth of another body making you all warm inside.

you sigh, a smile playing on your lips. at times like this, when min yoongi’s barely awake - there’s no way you can push him away, is there?

“you’re the one that has too much free time on your hand,” you say, shaking your head.

the sound of the tapping keyboard fills the otherwise silent room. you thought he’d fallen asleep with his head on your shoulder.

“...you...” he murmurs under his breath, “...i like you.”

your cheeks heat up, body instinctively recoiling from the body that’s leaned up against you as if - as if you’re just realizing that min yoongi is, in every sense of nature, a man.

a shirtless man, at that.

it wasn’t unusual to see him and your brother walking around shirtless since there’s not much to see. but you’ve always known yoongi’s not half bad, he’s got some underlying abs from those days of playing basketball in high school and he’s in the basketball team in uni.

so why are you getting all embarrassed seeing a shirtless min yoongi stare up at you like he’s waiting for you to say something that will make him or break him - now?

note. a little skit from my fried brain. hope yall enjoyed!

#yoongi scenarios #bts scenarios #bts fic #bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #bts smut #yoongi smut #yoongi fic #yoongi fluff #bts fluff #bts imagines #yoongi imagines #excerpt from a fic i'll never write

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