#internally squeaks and covers face

[ieirism]

intertwined. | preview

pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader

setting: omegaverse!au, university!au

genre: angst, smut, some fluff

contains: yandere, estranged childhood friends to enemies to lovers, mentions of self-identity issues, dubious consent, obsessive behavior, loss of virginity, mutual(ish) pining, gojo is bad at expressing his feelings so he’s kinda a jerk, lovesick!gojo

summary: you just want to lose your virginity, no strings attached. how could you have known that gojo satoru is in love with you?

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

release date: tbd | ask for taglist if interested

-

“I want you to take my virginity.”

Satoru’s cocky grin wipes clean off his face. His stare goes blank and his jaw drops open comically wide. For the first time in the twenty-one years you’ve known him, Gojo Satoru is at a loss for words.

“We never have to talk again afterwards,” you add quickly, your cheeks starting to heat up in embarrassment. “This is just gonna be a one-time thing.”

Satoru is silent, expression tense as he observes you carefully. His crystal blue eyes seem to darken a few shades as he takes your hand in his. His thumb strokes once, slowly over the back of your knuckles.

“Just a one-time thing,” he repeats languidly, lips stretching into a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Perhaps if you weren’t so focused on the rapid, frantic beating of your own heart, you would’ve noticed Satoru’s gaze wander—only to lock right on the clear patch stubbornly covering your neck’s scent gland. You would’ve seen the way his pupils dilate and his tongue swipes over his lips, with hunger written all over his face.

“Well then,” he all but rasps out, voice thick with desire. Without warning, he pulls your body against his with ease, trapping you in the warmth of his arms. Satoru rests his forehead against yours, letting out a groan that is too soft, too vulnerable, too intimate.

He’s so big, you realize. You can hardly believe that you once stood a whole head taller than him. Satoru towers over you, his lean frame completely dwarfing you. His large hands squeeze at your waist as he presses a barely-there, tender peck to your forehead.

You feel like you can’t breathe.

“I hope you know what you’ve gotten yourself into, sweetheart.”

You’ve heard stories about what he’s like in bed; it’s inevitable that as the most desired alpha on campus, he’s gotten around. You don’t expect tenderness or care; if you did, Gojo Satoru is the dead last person to approach. You’re waiting for him to start man-handling you, tearing your clothes off, chasing after the carnal pleasure that only sex can bring. You’ve prepared yourself for that.

Instead, Satoru cups your pretty face between his large hands, running his thumb along your cheekbone. His blue eyes are a swirling pool of emotions, burning with not only lust but something deeper. “Been waitin’ so long for this.” His hushed whisper falls on deaf ears as he leans in to kiss you.

You let out a surprised squeak as his lips press against yours; this isn’t how things are supposed to go. You’re not here to play romance with Satoru—yet, the slow gentle kisses he’s giving you and the gentleness with which he’s holding you are cutting it too close.

“W-Wait,” you gasp out, pulling away to catch your breath. Satoru is panting too, cheeks flushed pink as he stares at you like a man dying of thirst discovering an oasis. His hand trails down your side to rest on your waist, pulling himself forward so he can drop his head against your shoulder. “What are y—“ your words die in your throat as you feel his nose nudge against the most vulnerable part of you.

“You smell so fuckin’ good…” His groan against your neck reverberates through your entire body, shaking you to your very core. Your internal alarm flares to life, blaring loudly in warning. You can’t even pay much attention to that, though, not when—

“Y-You do, too…” The words leave you before you can even process them. You knees feel like jelly as his scent washes over you, deep, musky and addicting. Satoru stiffens against you, huffing out a short breath of frustration.

“You’re gonna kill me.” You feel it. You feel his teeth scrape against the spot your mating bond would be. Satoru knows just as well as you do that you don’t have one, and that if you had things your way, that would never change. He teases the edge of the bandage covering your scent gland, rolling it between his teeth. Your fingers curl into his shirt, tugging nervously.

“N-Not there,” you protest, stumbling over your words in panic. Satoru pauses, and for three very long seconds, neither of you move. The only thing you can hear the is the pounding of your own heartbeat, his shallow pants against your neck, and the hum of the air conditioning.

He’s close, too close—you’re terrified of what he’s capable of, only because you don’t know if you can count on your own willpower to stop him. You’re slowly going limp in his arms, becoming nothing but putty in between his fingers—you’ve never felt so weak.

You hate how he makes you feel. You’ve always hated how he makes you feel. Weak. The world has always told you that you are. You’re nothing but a little omega whose only fate is to be a strong alpha’s obedient mate. You’ve fought back, resisted, protested—yet, Gojo Satoru has always managed to put you right back in your place.

This time is no different. Once again, you find yourself at his mercy. Your stomach boils with bitterness, with anger, with hatred… with longing.

Too slowly, he pulls away from your neck, only to lock eyes with you. “Right.” Satoru’s lips quirk into a crooked grin. “This is just a one-time thing, huh?”

You recognize that smile.

It’s the one that Satoru gave when he broke his mama’s favorite vase and blamed the cat. It’s the one that Satoru gave when he stole a candy bar from the store and got caught by the cashier. It’s the one that Satoru gave when he claimed you were no more than a stranger and left you to fend for yourself through high school.

He’s lying.

Far too late, you realize you’d made a big mistake.

-

author’s note: i can’t even lie this little word vomit was just a way to get some gojo thirst off my chest. i’m not even sure if i’ll ever get around to writing a full fic because i’ve been planning this in my head for weeks and there’s so much i want to include. yet i have too little time because of uni :(

if you are interested in being part of a taglist just in case i ever actually get around to writing the full fic, just let me know in the replies.

thank you for reading this far :)

[captivating-flavors]

protection | caleb

pairing: yandere!caleb x reader

prompt: -

summary: caleb locks you up as a way to protect you.

words: 1,299

warning(s): MDNI, PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION, yandere!caleb, obsessive!caleb, ooc caleb, cursing/profanity, caleb is (very) insane in this, spoilers to caleb's lore, rearranging of caleb's lore

a/n: ok this is super experimental since ive never tried this sort of style and ive never written anything as dark and unhinged before but rewatching caleb's main story and myth got me wanting to rearrange it a bit and make him a little bit (ok a lot more) unhinged. so enjoy?? reblogs, comments and feedbacks are much appreciated <3

masterlist

Tedious.

That was what Caleb thought when he arrived back at his home in Skyhaven. He had just gotten back from the occasion he had been planning for the past month. After all, as the Colonel to the Farspace Fleet, it wasn’t hard for him to fabricate all the necessary cover story and circumstances along with paperwork that was required. But he wished, oh how he wished, that you would just stay put and stop putting yourself in harm’s way so he wouldn’t have to go through the lengths he did.

“Pip-squeak, I’m home.” You heard him call out to you from in front of his bedroom door.

You were on the other side of said door, but you refused to give him a response. You’d let out a curse internally, not expecting that he’d be back so soon, especially when you’re nowhere close to breaking down the door. At this point, you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve cussed him out in your head.

You were smart. But Caleb was always one step ahead. Especially when it comes to ensuring your safety. He had made sure to take the precautions of installing a new and unbreakable door and he’d also taken the liberty to install a padlock in front of the door. He’d done all that when you passed out last night, due to the exhaustion of yelling and fighting him to let you go.

He took a leave of absence, reasoning being grief, to make sure to not let you out of his sight in the past month, leaving all his Colonel duties to his adjutant and Lieutenant Colonel. Of course, they were the only ones to know that that was merely an excuse. Caleb had no idea, though, how long his leave of absence would be, since you are not to be left to your own devices. For now.

But he had to leave the apartment today. And true to his preconceptions, you had planned to make the most of it. You had been trying for hours to break the door down, to no avail of course. Hence, you’re still stuck here.

Caleb sighed from beyond the door, “I’m coming in, so you better stay away from the door.”

You stepped back and true to his word, the door swung open a few moments later. He was wearing his usual black colonel uniform, looking as put together as ever. You felt his gaze assessing you for a moment before he closed the door behind him.

“You’ve hurt yourself.” Caleb said, noting the bruised and slightly scraped areas on your shoulders, elbow and knees.

You still refused to give him a response, turning your face away from him. He sighed, “C’mon, let’s get you patched up.” He reached out and grabbed your arm, steering you towards the bed.

“No. Fuck you, Caleb.” You moved away from him, dodging his touch.

Oh, how stubborn you were. His unruly little captive bird. He was not planning on using his evol on you, but he eventually does. You were being difficult, he had to keep you from putting more distance and to get you to sit on the bed.

“Let me go, Caleb.” You said with gritted teeth, trying to pull your arm out of his grip.

“Don’t make this hard for yourself.” Caleb said as he loosened his evol to get you to sit on the bed and knelt in front of your sitting form.

He had one hand on your thigh to make sure you’d stay put, as he used his evol with his other hand to retrieve the first aid kit from atop one of his bookshelves. He took his hand off you since he needed both his hands to get the disinfectant onto the cotton balls.

“Screw you!” You pushed at his shoulders as he attempted to press the disinfectant-soaked cotton ball against the scrape on your knee.

He hated using his evol on you but god, you were making it so difficult for him, leaving him no choice.

“Now, now. That’s not what you’re supposed to say when I’m the only one who knows you’re alive.” He chuckled.

“No! The Association–”

“–believes you’re dead. They all did.” His tone laced with finality.

Yes. He did just come from your funeral. Well, fake funeral, technically. He had to make up a reason for your friends and colleagues not to look for you. It wasn’t hard to orchestrate a fake explosion and tell everyone that you died in it. He didn’t even have to provide a body for them to bury, telling them that your remains were unretrievable.

He didn’t plan on actually following through with his threats, at first. But you kept sneaking out and venturing off to the abandoned research facility. Not just once or twice, which he would’ve let slide, but you just kept doing it. Don’t you know that curiosity usually kills the cat? He was just worried about you. He just wanted to keep you safe. Why can’t you just understand that everything he does is for your own good?

“Caleb, you… you can’t do this.”

“Oh, Pip-squeak. I just did.” He looked up at you and smiled. His smile, the one you used to love. The one that used to be accompanied by that warm gaze of his, now nothing more than an expression that felt cold, sinister and detached. “Now, all you have to do is be a good girl and stay put.” He added and continued with patching you up with a band-aid, before moving on to the scrape on your shoulder.

“No!”

“C’mon, Y/N. Stop fighting me.” His tone was calm, but you could feel that he was getting angrier by the moment.

Why couldn’t you just stop fighting him? Why can’t you just be willing to accept the protection he so willingly offers you? Why can’t you just understand that everything he does is for your own good?

“Let me go.” You thrashed within the restraint of his evol and you felt him tighten his grip.

“This is all for your own good, Pip-squeak.” He continued to press the disinfectant towards your scraped shoulder, ignoring the hiss you let out. “Why can’t you just accept my protection?”

“Your protection?” You scoffed, “This is captivity, Caleb.”

“Protection, captivity. Same thing. As long as you’re safe. And you should know that you’re only safe when you’re with me.” He said with certainty. Because it’s true, isn’t it? He’s the only one who can keep you safe.

“If this is what you call protection, then I’m sick of it.” To say you were angry was an understatement, but you just couldn’t stop the tears of anger from falling. Upon hearing you sniffle; he looked up at you. The fact that you’ve been confined to this room for several weeks makes you want to rage, but you knew that this new version of Caleb is… unmovable. A detachment from the Caleb who’d easily fold at the sight of a single teardrop from you.

“If this is your attempt to have me give you more freedom, it’s not working, Pip-squeak.”

“Please, Caleb. Just let me go. I can’t take this anymore.” More tears started flowing.

“You can’t cry your way out of this, Y/N. This is all for your own good.”

He stood as he finished putting on the band-aid on your elbow. “I’m going to make you some food. Your favorite braised chicken wings. So, stay put.” He said as he left the room, leaving you alone with your tears and your determination to find some other way to escape. Because you have to. This was no longer the Caleb of your childhood and this was no longer a version of Caleb you’re willing to tolerate any longer.

-

taglist: @mayooness

[smallestapplin]

Spike warming

I got this idea speaking with @cyberrose2001 (I hope you don’t mind the tag👉👈) and I couldn’t let it go.

Warnings : semi-public sex (in the common room), cock warming, Blades overloads early, he is also whiny. Gn!afab reader, kinda dom reader.

Mdni, you will be blocked! Adults only please.

Word count : 841

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Blades couldn’t breathe, not that cybertronians needed air, but he felt like he was choking on nothing, his spark thrumming loudly in his chassis but all he could think about was your pussy warm and wet around his spike. Some movie played that he couldn’t even remember, but he was trying so hard to behave, trying so hard to hold and not overload but it just felt so good!

This was torture, it had to be!

Blades leans his helm back against the couch, his optics glowing bright orange as fizzling, his entire face plate was flushed blue with the energon coursing through him. One servo over his intake to quiet him down and the other is gripping the arm of the couch tightly, splintering the wood under the fabric.

And yet you remain so calm, it’s not fair! You have his spike pushed all the way deep inside your stretched pussy, and yet you are lounging on top of him, your back against his chassis and enjoying your movie.

“I can feel you twitching, are you that close to overloading when I haven’t even moved?” Your teasing voice was like a siren's call to his audials.

Blades whines, his pedes struggling for purchase to keep him stable but he can’t, he leans over, moving his servos to your hips and burying his face into your shoulder. You can hear his fans whirling working hard to cool him down as he ex-vents, you have him so worked up and you’ve barely done a thing.

“P-please, please I can’t take it anymore…!” Tears welling up in his optics choking on a whimper, feeling yout velvety walls clench down around him.

“Just a little longer, okay? Just until the movie is over with, and I’ll make sure to milk your spike for all you’re worth. But you gotta be good for me, and be quiet, we don’t want the others to hear.” You bring a hand up to hold his cheek, cooing so sweetly at him.

Blades squeezes his optics shut as he bites down on your shirt, his body shaking as you gasp, biting your lip and eyes fluttering shut as your cunt is pumped full of his transfluid. Blades mewls, his drool soaking into your shirt as he begins to babble apologies.

“M’sorry, I couldn’t…couldn’t last- mm! Feels- feels sooo good- ah!” His back strut arches and his thin wings begin to flutter as you roll your hips, grinding down on his spike.

“No fair, I haven’t cum yet and you broke the rules. You’re just a naughty little thing tonight, aren’t you?”

By the All-spark he wants to sob, he wants to be good for you, so so good! 

“I didn’t mean too! Just too much, too good…haaa…please, I’ll do better just frag me more.”

He wants to be your toy, he wants all your praise, to be the reason you feel good, use him like he’s nothing by sharewear, all for you, only for you! But you stopped moving leaving him whining and desperate for more.

“Such a mess you’ve made, it’s leaking out of me.” You breathe out, your body heating up as you look down as the pink fluid leaking out from around his spike and down to the couch and floor, you internally groan knowing you’re going to have to clean that.

Blades kisses your neck gently nibbling across your heated skin. His servos hold you tighter as he trembles.

“Can I give you more? Please please please lemme overload again, I wanna fill you up- I need to- ohhh please you’re teasing me too much!” Blades cries, his back arching once more and both servos flying up to cover his intake.

His optics flutter, rolling back into his helm as a pathetic high pitched sob leaves him, his hips bucking up into your clenching needy heat. You squeak, placing one hand on his knee to steady yourself and the other over your mouth to muffle your own cries.

His spike is a lot for you to handle as is, you can feel the air being punched out of you with every wild buck of his hips as if they have a mind of their own. You aren’t going to last long at this rate, you need to get control back but with every thrust sending his thick tip right into your sweet spot, he’s fucking the thoughts right out of you.

“B-blades slow down- hnn! It’s too much, you’re gonna get us caught!”

The bot barely manages to stop his hip, his entire body shaking with drool leaking passed his servos with each heavy ex-vent. You are no better, your clit pulsing with need, and pussy clenching wildly around his spike wanting nothing more than to continue to let him have his way and fuck you stupid.

You can barely collect yourself to realize maybe you shouldn’t have let him try spike warming out in the common area, not with how loud he can get.

Oh well, there is always next time in his habsuite. 

[wbbobsesser]

ᯓ sweet spot — chapter four

pairing: paige bueckers & azzi fudd

notes: i honestly had so much fun with this chapter, i loved writing drunk paige lol she’s so messy. again, thank you guys so much for all the sweet comments, i love each and every one of you. i’ll keep trying to write and post new chapters quickly, but ima be in the absolute trenches the next couple of weeks with school. chapter five should be out soon! love you.

wc: 3.4k

it was raining the next night— soft and steady, tapping against the windows of azzi’s dorm like a heartbeat.

paige was squished on aubrey’s tiny twin bed, a hoodie half-over her face, scrolling mindlessly while aubrey and nika argued about some stupid tiktok challenge. she was laughing at them— at least, pretending to— until her phone buzzed.

new text. from azzi.

a: hey, are u busy? no big deal if u are

paige sat up so fast she almost fell off the bed.

“chill,” aubrey laughed, caught off guard by her sudden movement. “where’s the fire?”

“nowhere,” paige muttered, already typing back.

p: no what’s up

the reply came a second later.

a: i just don’t really wanna be alone rn
a: if u wanna come over. if not it’s okay!

paige’s heart hitched. she could almost see azzi typing it, all shy thumbs and worried expressions.

without even thinking, she sent:

p: omw

“where you going?” nika called as paige slipped on a pair of nike slides.

“important business,” paige answered, and bolted.

paige barely remembered getting there.

one second she was running through the hallways, hoodie clutched over her head, slides squeaking against the floor, and the next she was standing outside azzi’s door, heart punching at her ribs.

she knocked, fidgeting with her sleeves, trying to look chill and casual and not like she was about to throw up.

azzi opened the door and smiled— soft and sleepy, wearing a giant t-shirt and fuzzy socks— and paige immediately forgot how words worked.

“hi,” azzi said, stepping aside to let her in.

“hey,” paige croaked, her voice two octaves too high.

the dorm was cozy and warm and smelled like coconut lotion and takeout. azzi had a candle burning on her desk— something vanilla— and paige almost died right there.

she stood awkwardly by the door, hands jammed into her hoodie pocket, trying not to stare stare stare.

azzi gave her a look, amused. “you don't have to hover. come sit.”

“oh, right. sorry,” paige stumbled over to the bean bag, flopping down too hard, almost tipping it over.

azzi giggled, the sound light and soft, and paige was pretty sure she blacked out for a second.

“i heated up some thai food,” azzi said, crossing the room with a container and two forks. “hope you’re hungry.”

paige’s brain short-circuited when azzi sat down next to her.


right next to her.


close enough that paige could feel the warmth radiating off her skin.

“thanks,” paige mumbled, taking a fork and immediately dropping it. it clattered to the floor.

the blonde took a deep breath, trying her best to not want to die.

“oops,” azzi said, laughing gently. she bent to grab it at the same time paige did, their heads almost bumping.

“sorry,” paige managed to say, cheeks flaming.

“you’re fine,” azzi said, nudging her playfully. she adjusted her head to look directly at her, “are you blushing?”

paige made a dying noise in the back of her throat. “what— no! no, i— why would— i’m not.”

“your cheeks are red.”

paige’s hands flew to cover her face instinctively, palms warm against warmer skin. “it’s just hot,” she stammered, then immediately started fanning the front of her shirt, pulling it away and towards her chest in little tugs. “your dorm is— it’s warm in here. really warm. like… oven levels. i think the heat’s on. is the heat on?”

azzi blinked at her, clearly holding back a grin. “the heat isn’t on, paige.”

“oh,” paige said, voice small, like the single syllable had betrayed her. “then maybe it’s— i don’t know. internal heat.”

azzi leaned back slightly, just enough to get a better look at her, eyes glinting. “righhttt.”

paige looked up at the ceiling, hoping and praying god would finally put her out of her mercy. once and for all.

after that catastrophic failure at pretending to appear calm, they ate— kind of. mostly they picked at the noodles, stealing glances at each other and pretending not to.

“so,” azzi said after a while, poking her fork into the container. “thanks for coming over.”

“of course,” paige said too fast. “like, anytime. literally. whenever.”

azzi hugged her knees to her chest, turning to look at her fully. she went silent for a moment before whispering: “noah texted me today. said he booked a flight.”

paige’s heart stopped beating altogether.

she tried to say something smooth— something cool— but all that came out was a choked little, “oh.”

“i told him not. didn’t want him spending the money.”

paige looked away for a split second, “but he didn’t listen?”

azzi bit the inside of her cheek, glancing down. she shook her head, just once.

paige lowered her gaze, throat tight. he never listens to you. but i would. i always would.

paige scrambled for something to say— anything— but her brain was mush. every part of her wanted to fix it, to fix everything, but all she managed was a weak, “maybe he just wanted to see you.”

azzi gave a small, tired smile. “yeah. maybe.”

for a few beats, the only sound was the rain and the soft clinking of plastic forks.

“you’re really easy to be around, you know that?” azzi randomly stated, her voice light. “like... you don’t make it complicated.”

paige swallowed hard. “i try not to be complicated.”

“you’re not,” azzi said simply. “you’re just... you.”

paige blinked at her, completely knocked sideways. her mouth opened, but nothing came out.

azzi smiled at her, so soft, so real it almost hurt.

a second later, azzi scooted closer and rested her head gently against paige’s shoulder, just a soft, trusting weight.

paige didn’t move. didn’t even breathe.


she just sat there, heart slamming against her ribs, praying that whatever this was— whatever they were— would never end.

because azzi wasn’t just under her skin anymore.


she was inside her.

it was a saturday.

game day.

paige had been locked in all morning—music loud in her headphones, tied-up shoes, tunnel vision. she was laser-focused, until she walked out of the locker room and saw him.

noah.

tall. broad. pretty smile. usc hoodie. arm around azzi’s shoulders like he belonged there.

and azzi?

she looked up at him with that soft, open expression paige had only seen in rare moments. she was laughing, leaning into him, hands tucked into her sleeves like she was nervous. like she was seventeen again and in love with the boy she thought she’d marry.

paige froze mid-step.

nika, walking beside her, paused too. “is that…?”

“yeah,” paige muttered.

“you okay?”

paige nodded, but it was the worst lie she’d told all week.

azzi saw her then. her face lit up— like it actually lit up— and she waved, eyes warm.

paige waved back, small and tight.

and noah?

he leaned down and kissed azzi’s cheek. right there. in the middle of the arena tunnel. like he had the right.

something in paige’s chest went quiet.

not broken. not torn. just… quiet.

she didn’t say anything until they were halfway through warmups. she didn’t have to. nika came up beside her while they were stretching and whispered, “you don’t have to pretend, y’know.”

paige blinked. “pretend what?”

nika gave her a look. “that seeing noah and azzi together didn’t hurt.”

paige swallowed. “i’m fine.”

“you were literally vibrating yesterday when azzi texted you ‘wanna come over.’ giddy as hell. you are not fine.”

paige didn’t respond. couldn’t.

instead, she stared across the court.

azzi was tying her shoes, noah crouched beside her, saying something in her ear. she laughed again. not fake. not forced.

and paige hated how jealous she felt. how helpless. how small.

because she couldn’t say anything.

she couldn’t tell azzi she was falling so fast she couldn’t sleep. couldn’t tell her she had memorized the shape of her dimple when she smiled and the way her voice softened when she was tired.

she couldn’t say: i love you. and i wish it was me you looked at like that.

but what really hurt— what really dug in—was knowing that for one quiet moment last night, it had been her. azzi’s head on her shoulder. her words soft. her hand brushing paige’s.

and now it was like none of that had ever happened.

paige made every three she took in warmups.

but none of it felt good.

not tonight.

the game was a blur.

uconn won, but paige barely noticed.

she had 27 points, 6 assists, 4 steals. and still, all she remembered was the image of noah’s hand on azzi’s waist.

in the locker room afterward, people were celebrating, music loud, towels snapping, energy buzzing— and paige was quiet.

too quiet.

almost on autopilot, paige packed up, pulling on her hoodie, when azzi jogged over, all bright-eyed and sweet.

“hey! before you head out— wait a sec.”

paige paused, tired but loyal. “yeah?”

azzi beamed. “someone wants to meet you.”

and then he walked up.

noah.

big smile. fresh fade. still wearing his usc sweatshirt with the sleeves pushed up. paige saw the way azzi leaned toward him and felt a thud in her chest. not pain. not quite. just that sick feeling like something was slowly twisting inside her.

“paige, this is noah. noah, this is paige— my teammate and close friend,” she added, grinning.

paige blinked. close friend? that would've felt nice if her whole stomach didn’t drop when azzi said it while holding her boyfriend’s hand.

noah reached out. “i’ve heard a lot about you.”

“yeah?” paige forced a smile so plastic it could’ve cracked. “hope she didn’t lie too much.”

“she didn’t have to. i saw the highlights.”

azzi bumped his arm. “he was impressed.”

“oh wow.” paige’s fake grin widened. “the boyfriend’s impressed. must be my lucky day.”

there was an awkward beat of silence. noah didn’t catch it. azzi kind of did.

“you okay?” azzi asked after a second, soft.

“totally,” paige chirped.

she said it like she’d rather eat glass.

“cool, well, i’ll see you later,” paige added quickly, turning and walking out before she could throw up or cry or do something embarrassing like confess her undying love in a hallway.

later that night, the team went out. nothing wild, just an off-campus bar with loud music, red solo cups, and too many people in a too small area.

paige was already four shots deep when nika found her on the couch, hoodie off, bra strap showing, legs folded like a pretzel.

“jesus,” nika muttered. “you okay?”

“living,” paige replied, voice hoarse. she took another swig of whatever was in her cup.

azzi walked in fifteen minutes later, noah trailing behind. paige clocked it. of course she did. and then immediately poured herself another shot.

it wasn’t even about impressing anyone. she just needed to forget.

nika tried to cut her off. “paige, maybe slow down a bit—”

“i’m fine, nika,” paige said, way too loud. she was smiling, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

and then azzi was beside her.

“hey, hey, you doing alright?” azzi crouched down, concern all over her face. she touched paige’s arm, warm and gentle.

paige looked at her, eyes watery. “m’good. just celebrating.”

azzi laughed, nervous. “celebrating what?”

“you,” paige said, way too fast.

azzi blinked. “what?”

“uconn. teammates. close friends.” paige’s voice dipped on that last part. “you’re like… so cool.”

azzi tilted her head. “are you drunk?”

“drunk on life,” paige slurred, dramatically slumping against the couch.

nika shook her head. “she’s gone.”

paige blinked up at azzi, eyes glassy. “you’re so pretty. like it’s actually unfair. did you know that?”

azzi flushed. “paige…”

“i’m not hitting on you,” paige whispered. “no— you’re taken.”

azzi didn’t respond.

“you make it hard to breathe sometimes,” paige added, voice suddenly quiet.

azzi’s brows pulled together. “what?”

paige shook her head fast, like she was trying to erase the words. “nothing. i’m drunk and rambling. ignore me.”

but azzi wasn’t ignoring her. she was staring. right into her.

and paige hated how much she loved it.

nika appeared by her side, trying to save paige from herself and drag her away from azzi. but paige gently pushed her away, insisting on staying put.

because paige was already unraveling.

azzi didn’t leave. she sat down next to her instead, folding her legs neatly, like she didn’t even notice how paige was slowly coming apart at the seams.

“you’re so good,” paige mumbled suddenly, voice cracking halfway through. she leaned her head against the back of the couch, eyes fluttering closed. “like, not just basketball. you’re good... like in here.” she pressed a clumsy hand against her own chest, right over her heart.

azzi blinked, caught somewhere between amusement and heartbreak. “paige…”

“i mean it.” paige forced her eyes open, blinking hard. “you’re... you’re like the best thing that’s happened to uconn since— since ever. since... the dinosaurs.”

azzi let out a tiny laugh despite herself. “the dinosaurs?”

paige nodded solemnly. “prehistoric times.”

azzi shifted closer, just enough that their knees brushed. paige looked down at the contact like it was holy.

“i’m glad you came here,” paige slurred, her voice dropping to something softer, almost reverent. “i don’t know how we got so lucky. how i got so lucky.”

azzi’s cheeks pinked. “paige—“

but she wasn’t finished. far from it.

“you make everything better,” paige barreled on, like if she didn’t get it out now, it’d eat her alive. “practices. games. just... walking into a room. it’s like...” she struggled, words slippery on her tongue. “it’s like the whole place shifts— brighter, easier, just— better.”

azzi looked at her, this soft, stunned kind of way, and paige felt herself getting hot even though the room was freezing.

“and you're so nice,” paige continued, hiccuping slightly. “like stupid nice. like, makes-me-wanna-cry kinda nice.”

azzi bit her lip, her smile trembling at the edges.

“and you're pretty. like, duh, everyone knows that. but it's not even just that,” paige rambled. “you're pretty in your soul. like your soul is wearing a dress.”

azzi let out a soft, helpless laugh.

paige smiled dreamily. “if there was a beauty contest... you’d win. every time. landslide victory. no recounts.”

azzi opened her mouth to respond, but paige wasn’t quite done.

“and you smell good,” paige said, dead serious. “like heaven. if heaven had a scent, it'd smell like you.”

azzi was turning pink from her ears down.

“and your laugh,” paige continued, stubbornly, like she had a checklist to complete. “your laugh could end wars. i swear. they should record it and play it at the UN or something.”

nika reappeared at that moment, looming behind paige, clearly having heard at least part of that disastrous speech.

“we gotta go,” nika told her, grabbing paige under the arms like she was a misbehaving toddler.

paige clutched the couch dramatically. “nooo. i’m talking to azzi.”

“you’re drunk-talking to azzi,” nika corrected.

azzi just smiled, soft and bewildered, and stood up with them. “it’s okay. she’s not bothering me.”

paige looked up at her, eyes glassy. “you’re an angel. did you know that? you fell straight from the clouds, huh?”

azzi's heart squeezed painfully in her chest.

“c’mon,” nika said gently. “let’s get you home.”

as they started toward the door, paige swayed dangerously, and azzi caught her with both hands, steadying her. for a second, they were close— closer than they’d ever been— and paige’s breath hitched.

“you’re so good,” paige whispered again, voice cracking, eyes swimming with more than just alcohol. “i’d protect you forever, if you asked.”

azzi blinked at her, frozen.

but paige just grinned— this goofy, soft, drunken grin— and leaned heavily against nika, letting herself be dragged away into the night.

azzi stood there for a long time after they disappeared, hand still tingling where she’d touched paige.


feeling like something massive and irreversible had just shifted between them.


even if she didn’t have the words for it yet.

mornings after used to be easy.

paige had a system: advil, iced coffee, sunglasses, pretend nothing happened.

worked every time.

except this time.

because when she opened her eyes, her phone had three missed calls from nika, a blurry selfie with a bottle of tito’s, and one unread text from azzi that said:

a: hey, just making sure ur okay. i was kinda worried last night. lmk if u need anything

paige groaned into her pillow like she was dying.


her head throbbed. her stomach felt like a dumpster fire.


but worst of all—


she remembered.


god, she remembered.

she remembered azzi’s hand on her arm. her big brown eyes. the way she smelled like coconut shampoo and concern.

you make it hard to breathe sometimes.

she wanted to die. just collapse and rot in peace.

at breakfast, paige wore her hoodie with the strings pulled tight around her face like she was in mourning. because honestly? she was. mourning her dignity. her pride. her entire chance with azzi fudd.

azzi slid into the seat across from her, looking stupidly perfect with a smoothie in hand and a soft little smile.

“hi.”

paige mumbled something that could’ve been “hey” or “end my suffering.”

azzi pushed the smoothie toward her. “strawberry banana. figured it might help.”

“you’re too nice,” paige muttered.

azzi smiled softly. “you were pretty out of it yesterday.”

paige closed her eyes. “please don’t tell me what i said.”

azzi laughed— this light, sparkly sound that made paige want to slam her forehead into the table. “i won’t. you already looked like you died once.”

there was a pause. not tense. just… quiet.

azzi tapped her nails against the table. “you really don’t remember anything?”

paige looked up at her, eyes bloodshot. “nope. not a thing. total blackout. who are you again?”

azzi raised a brow. “paige.”

“i’m serious.”

“no you’re not.”

paige sighed, defeated. “okay, fine. i remember some things.”

azzi leaned in, interested. “like?”

“i remember nika trying to drag me away. and me throwing up all over my bathroom.”

azzi snorted. “anything else?”

“nope.” paige sipped the smoothie dramatically. “blacked out immediately after that”

azzi gave her a look.

azzi didn’t push. but her face said she didn’t believe her.

which was fair. because ten minutes later, noah showed up at the table. he plopped down next to azzi, still riding the high of whatever fratty, sweaty party energy he carried with him like a curse.

“good morning, babe,” he whispered to azzi, kissing her cheek. “morning,” he said to paige, clapping her on the shoulder a little too hard.

paige grunted. didn't look at him. “morning.”

“you were hilarious last night,” he said, grinning.

azzi laughed softly. “she was something.”

“she kept calling you pretty,” noah chuckled, nudging azzi.

paige coughed on her smoothie. “oh my god,” she muttered.

azzi’s face flushed pink. “she was drunk.”

“yeah, but like… extra sweet drunk. real touchy, too.”

paige stared at the table so hard she thought she might burn a hole through it.

“guess that’s the bestie bond, huh?” noah joked, shoving azzi’s shoulder again.

azzi smiled— barely.


he didn’t notice. paige did.


she saw the tiny shift in azzi’s mouth. The way her eyes flicked to paige, unsure.


like she was thinking something she shouldn’t say out loud.

paige’s chest ached.

when noah left to grab food, it was like a fog lifted. azzi stayed quiet for a second, just watching her.

“you okay?” she asked softly.

paige nodded, barely. “yeah— yeah, fine.” voice too high. hands too still.

azzi smiled a little. sad and sweet at the same time. “you don't have to be weird around me, you know.”

“i’m not being weird,” paige said immediately.

azzi tilted her head, “kind of.”

paige bit her tongue. hard.


because if she opened her mouth again, it would all come spilling out.


i’m obsessed with you. i think about you every second. i hate him. i love you.

so instead, she grabbed her smoothie and slurped aggressively to fill the silence.

azzi giggled under her breath. then she said, almost shy, “hey, um… if you’re feeling better later, you wanna maybe hang out? just us?” then quickly added, “noah’s going out.”

paige almost choked again.


she nodded frantically. “yeah— yes. totally.”


too fast. too eager. dammit.

azzi grinned. “cool.”

and for the first time all morning, paige forgot about the headache, the nausea, the regret.


all she could think about was her.


and the way her heart felt like it might actually, literally, physically explode out of her chest.

© wbbobsesser

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Idk who i want this ask for other than Firefly, but an S/O who’s such a light weight that basically one sip of alcohol gets them spouting about how much they love their girlfriend.

(H:SR/Genshin Impact) Firefly, Arlecchino, Rosaria, Chiori, Xinyan, Clorinde and Dehya with a drunk S/O being overly affectionate

I don't even need to be drunk to do that for Firefly

Firefly lets out a sound that could be interpreted as a squeak, laugh, or cry of embarrassment. The answer was probably a mixture of all three.

Firefly wasn't that easily affected by alcohol due to her genetic engineering, but she wanted to tag along with S/O just to spend time. She swore they just tasted the drink before they started loudly exclaiming how adorable she was.

Sure enough, one glance over to their glass and it was still completely full, making her pout.

(Firefly) "S-S/O! Please lower your voice! It's a little embarrassing hearing all that out loud-"

(S/O) "But how else is everyone going to know what a cutie you are? That face right now is sooooo pretty...Wait, you're right, it only belongs to ME!-"

Firefly lets out a quiet sigh. At least she couldn't argue that S/O didn't love her so much.

(S/O) "Even when you wear your armor, you're my Firefly, not SA-"

Firefly's hand instantly moves to S/O's mouth, covering it before they could continue, eyes rapidly darting left and right.

(Firefly) "Okay, we're going home!"

The bar watches as this tiny woman manages to lift S/O over her shoulders with zero issue out the door.

Arlecchino watches with silent amusement as she hears what's so great about herself.

Would Arlecchino use any of the terms S/O was shouting out into the room to describe herself? Archons, no.

But...it was endearing to hear S/O think so highly of her.

Tracing the edge of her glass with one finger, Arlecchino hums as she sips her wine.

(Arlecchino) "Would you tell anyone else of how you felt about your 'lovely' girlfriend?"

(S/O) hic! "To the world, I'll shout about her on the top of the city!"

Slowly, her eyes trailed down to their glass. They haven't even got it to halfway.

(Arlecchino) "How entertaining..."

(S/O) "H-hey...! Are you making fun of my affection for my Arle!? DO YOU WANNA FIGHT?!"

With an eyebrow raised, she turns back to S/O.

(Arlecchino) "You are aware of who you're speaking to, correct?"

(S/O) "Some punk who's making fun of my girlfriend! I don't care that you look like her, I won't let you insult her!"

(Arlecchino) "...Maybe we should pour you a less alcoholic beverage next time."

(Rosaria) "Oh good gods no."

Sure Dandelion Wine was strong, but it couldn't be strong enough to knock S/O flat on their ass like this, right?

(S/O) "Your eyes are so pretty too...the way they look like you want to-"

(Rosaria) "Okay, I get it, thank you. Don't finish that."

As annoying as their volume was, especially considering people were giving her and S/O looks, this was pretty damn funny.

And also sweet, she had no idea they had this much love stored for her.

Part of her feels bad, she hadn't even done that much to deserve such praise.

Rosaria just chuckles and reaches out a hand to rustle their hair, which they hum at the cute gesture.

(S/O) "See?! Just like that, you're such a darling!"

(Rosaria) "Not the word I'd use, but sure."

(S/O) "I can use a hundred different words to-"

(Rosaria) "Do not."

(Chiori) "Ew."

Chiori would not use any of these terms to describe herself, much less anyone else.

To have S/O use pet names like "sweetie-pie" or "honey-bunches" was having her internally cringe to the point she might die.

(S/O) "Hey, don't you say ew about my girlfriend!" hic! "I-I'LL KICK YOUR ASS!"

Now that got Chiori to laugh, one hand rushing to her mouth as she fails to contain her own volume.

(Chiori) "You'd kick your girlfriend's ass, S/O?"

(S/O) "Huh...? NO! I LOVE HER, I WOULD NEVER LAY A HAND ON HER!"

(Chiori) "Then check who you're talking to."

(S/O) "No, this is some mindgame! She'd just tell me that it was her and not play around! She's too honest!"

Well, at least they were right about that part.

Next time she should pour them a shot glass of sake, if one sip from not even a full cup was enough to get them riled up like this, Chiori wouldn't have wasted so much.

(Xinyan) "K-Keep your voice down, yer gettin' rowdier than my guitar!"

(S/O) "Yeah, and you're SOOOO hot with the guitar too! You shreds it and...and...shreds it!-"

(Xinyan) "For the love of...!-"

Xinyan gets extremely flustered with S/O screaming about how lovely of a woman she is.

Which would be great, if half the Harbor couldn't hear them at this very moment.

She wants to hide away to avoid all the stares, but at the same time Xinyan wants to give S/O the best kiss she can.

She was always so insecure about herself, but to hear S/O's unfiltered love for her was something she could never have prepared for.

...Probably because they were shouting it, but regardless, it was enough to get her to tear up from love and embarrassment!

(Xinyan) "S-Sshhh! I'm beggin' ya, S/O! Tell me how much ya love me when ya ain't so loud!"

(S/O) "You want me to whisper my love for you?"

(Xinyan) "Yea-"

Xinyan then thought about that sentence for a few seconds.

(Xinyan) "...N-NO!"

She honestly forgets about the drinks in their hands, being too preoccupied with S/O.

Clorinde flushes red, and not because of the alcohol.

Thank Archons they drank at home and away from the media vultures, because the things they were doing was mortifying.

To both her, and themselves.

(Clorinde) "...D-Dear, that's enough drinking."

They were nuzzled into her chest, noises of approval coming out as they cuddled closer.

She had to stop their hand reaching for the drink, or more accurately, stop it from spilling over.

(S/O) "You're really strong, you know that?"

Clorinde lets out a quiet chuckle, rubbing their hair.

(Clorinde) "I have been told on occasion that my skills are-"

(S/O) "And you're so pretty...! And smell nice...!"

(Clorinde) "...That, less so."

(S/O) "Your chest is super big too...and pretty...!"

(Clorinde) "...I wish I have heard that one less."

Alright, romantic mood over. She moves them off her, though their whine almost made her rescind her actions.

But they needed to sleep. Or at least get ready for the worst hangover from a single sip.

Dehya is laughing in both disbelief and from second-hand embarassment.

As shy as she was getting from the heartfelt compliments, it was more the fact S/O was shouting so loud the other mercs could hear them and began laughing that made her feel antsy.

They would never never live this down, especially because they drank a couple sips from the wine they bought.

But damn if this wasn't funny/cute.

(Dehya) "Hm...what else do you love about me S/O? I'm open to hear them.~" And so is the rest of the camp, apparently.

(S/O) "You're so tough and kickass and..." hic "And super cute!"

(Dehya) "Cute? Not hot?"

(S/O) "Nah! The way you're so happy applying...the...the makeup thingy, its really cute!"

Now she was the one getting silent, and all red in the face.

(Dehya) "I-Is that right? Dunno if I should be happy or angry about that."

People complimented her physical attributes, perhaps a little too much, but this was the first time it was flat out ignored.

Especially since this was S/O speaking from the heart.

[pure-smut]

iron wall.

featuring: Takanobu Aone x f!reader

contains: some angst to fluff to smut, happy ending!!, tattoo artist!Aone, social anxiety!reader, thigh riding, fingering(ish), missionary, NOT an accurate representation of getting a tattoo (call it creative liberties)

word count: 3.7k

note: all characters are aged up to 21+!

MDNI | 18+ content

Masterlist

a/n: I'm sorry, I love Aone so much, he's so babygirl!! I'm a sucker for a gentle giant so I needed to get this story down I love him

You’re so excited for your first tattoo. So excited you could throw up, in fact. Oh wait, no, you’re terrified.

The tattoo studio does nothing to soothe your nerves. It’s a small space, seeming all the more cramped for artwork covering every inch of wall and shelf space. You try your hardest not to shrink into yourself.

And then your tattoo artist steps out and a year of social aversion therapy dwindles into nothing.

Takanobu Aone is one of the best artists in the country and you’ve been so, so lucky to get a spot with him. You researched hard, not trusting your first tattoo in the hands of anyone less than perfect. When you saw Aone’s portfolio online, you knew he was the one. Beautiful linework and sweeping designs that seemed to mould to the person’s body. You fell in love with his art.

But his portfolio didn’t have any pictures of him. So when he steps out and greets you with a silent nod, you nearly shrivel up on the spot.

Aone is scary. He’s tall, broad, and – unsurprisingly – coated in tattoos. A seemingly permanent frown is etched on his face, his ice blonde hair cut short. But it’s his eyes – it’s like he’s glaring at you.

“Sorry,” you squeak out before internally scolding yourself.

Sorry?? What are you apologising for? No one’s said anything yet!

If Aone’s confused, he doesn’t show it. He only gestures to an intimidating-looking chair, fitted with an overhead lamp.

Your hands shake so you clench them into fists. You can do this, you tell yourself. This was the whole point of your tattoo. On wobbly legs, you make your way over to the chair and sit down.

Aone looks down at you. You look back up at him. When neither of you says anything, he twirls his finger in the air.

“Oh!”

Idiot, you think to yourself. It’s a back tattoo – he needs to see my back.

You turn around, your chest pressed against the back of the chair, as Aone sits behind you. Even without seeing him, his presence is so large that you feel it. You take a shuddering breath as you hear the buzz of the needle and squeeze your eyes shut.

The tattoo hurts, like a relentless, stinging scratch against your skin. But honestly? You thought it would be worse. Still, the nerves haven’t dissipated yet, and nausea swirls in your stomach. Especially when you feel Aone’s hands on your skin, resting against your back as he works.

“You’re doing well.”

Aone’s voice is so sudden and unexpected that you nearly jump. It takes a second for you to register what he’s said but when you do, warmth rushes to your cheeks.

“Th-thanks,” you stammer out.

“Will music help you to relax?”

His voice is deep and smooth. You’re glad you’re facing away from him because you don’t want him to see the blush in your cheeks just from listening to him speak.

You tell him your favourite songs and he sets up a playlist. By the time he starts up the tattoo again, you are feeling more relaxed. It helps that you don’t need to look him in the face, that you don’t need to mould your reactions to what you think is right. Every so often, Aone will let you know how well you’re sitting for him and each time, it makes your body feel like it’s on fire.

By the time he’s finished, you’re nearly dizzy.

Aone must notice because he offers his hand to help you stand. You take it, gratefully, but keep your eyes averted, too embarrassed to look him in the face.

“First tattoos are hard,” he says solemnly and you’re glad he thinks it’s the tattoo that’s had an effect on you and not him.

Aone hands you his card as you pay up. It has a list of tattoo care instructions as well as his phone number and socials.

“Any problems, contact me,” he says.

You finally look up at him. What you had thought had been a glare before now looks completely different. Aone’s eyes are sharp but they’re kind, his face serious but concerned. Under the intensity of his gaze, you find it suddenly hard to breathe.

You want to thank him, to tell him you’ll be happy to contact him if anything comes up. To say anything normal at all.

But an iron wall wraps around your chest. You don’t want to say anything stupid or embarrassing. So you give a short nod and leave without saying anything at all.

*

It’s only a few days before your tattoo starts to itch. You diligently cream it as Aone’s card instructed you but the position of the tattoo means you can’t reach all of it. There’s a patch in the middle that’s neglected and so, so goddamn itchy.

After all the research, effort and money spent, you desperately don’t want your new tattoo to heal badly. But you have no one to ask for help. It’s your own fault, you know. You’ve spent the years since you left home for college isolating yourself from everyone. Too worried about saying the wrong thing or doing something embarrassing. Too concerned over whether people are laughing at you instead of with you.

And now you’re stuck with an itchy tattoo that you can’t fully reach.

Aone’s card sits innocently on your desk, almost taunting you. It takes another two days before you gather up the courage to tap out a message to Aone.

He responds within minutes with instructions to come to the studio.

That’s how you end up back in the chair, your favourite songs playing again, too embarrassed to look behind you at Aone.

“The itch is worse than the pain,” he says, rubbing cool, soothing cream gently over your tattoo.

Despite yourself, you smile. Maybe it’s your favourite music in the background, maybe it’s the fact you don’t need to look at him. Maybe it’s the feel of his gloved fingers being so gentle on your skin. For once, you don’t overthink before you speak.

“The pain wasn’t so bad after a while,” you say quietly. “But the itching goes on forever.”

Aone chuckles. It catches you off guard – you wonder what he looks like when he’s smiling.

You sit in comfortable silence for a while.

“This is so embarrassing…” you mumble to yourself.

“What is?”

You startle, not realising he heard you. Your cheeks burn.

“O-oh… just… y’know, all of this,” you say clumsily.

“All of what?”

“I-” A lump appears in your throat. You realise how stupid you sound. “I can’t reach my tattoo.”

A puff of air escapes Aone’s nose.

“Not embarrassing,” he says. “I fainted during my first tattoo. That is embarrassing.”

The image of Aone – broad, muscled, serious-faced Aone – fainting during a tattoo is so unexpected you snort with laughter.

“You didn’t!”

“I did,” he says gravely. “I was too nervous to eat breakfast so my blood sugar was low.”

Aone withdraws his hands to lean in close. You can feel the warmth radiating off him on the back of your neck and shoulder. When he speaks, his breath tickles your cheek.

“They had to give me a lollipop.”

You burst out laughing, clapping a hand over your mouth. Aone chuckles and stands, snapping his gloves off. You rise with him, still giggling, and get a glimpse of his smile for the first time.

It’s small, just an uptick at the corner of his mouth, but you can’t stop looking.

“Next time you feel embarrassed, remember the lollipop,” Aone says with a firm nod.

You grin, meeting his eyes. Inside you, a small chip skitters down the iron wall.

A crack.

*

Aone tells you to come back every day at the same time for a week, until your tattoo heals. You find yourself looking forward to it and you end up chatting long after he’s finishing creaming your back. You wonder if this is it – you’ve beaten the insecure demon inside your head.

Until one day you don’t.

It’s the last day you’re scheduled to visit Aone’s studio. Maybe that’s the reason why a stab of icy fear lodges itself in your heart every time you try and open the door to leave.

You stand at your front door, key in the lock, but your hand is frozen. Your breathing turns ragged and your vision swims. You can’t turn the key. You can’t leave your home. Your sanctuary. The only safe space you know.

Except Aone’s studio.

Except Aone.

You know you’re going to be late but still, you can’t bring yourself to leave. With shaking hands, you message Aone, apologising and saying you won’t make it. He messages back instantly.

Are you okay?

You don’t know what prompts you to respond honestly. Maybe it’s the exhaustion from fighting the anxiety in your head. Maybe it’s because Aone has always been sincere with you. Maybe it’s because you don’t have to look at him when you respond.

Maybe the iron wall is breaking.

No, you type back.

He asks for your address, saying he’ll come to you. After chewing your thumbnail down to the quick, you give it and throw your phone onto the other side of the bed.

You barely have the energy to drag yourself from your bed when the doorbell rings. You know you should feel embarrassed opening the door in your pyjamas, hair unbrushed and eyes puffy with no sleep. But when Aone steps in, face serious, and pulls out a lollipop, the only thing you feel is relief.

You burst into tears as Aone pulls you into his arms, pressing you against his chest. He’s firm and warm and holds you tight. He doesn’t say anything. He lets you soak the front of his shirt with your tears.

When you’ve cried yourself dry, your sobs dwindling into sniffles, Aone pulls back to peer down at you.

“Food?”

You spend the day with takeout, watching movies together on your laptop in bed. You sneak glances at him every so often, admiring his profile, and have to quickly look away every time he notices. It should be embarrassing… but you know he’s looking at you too. You can feel his intense gaze when you’re watching the movie, can feel him watching you when you get up to go to the bathroom.

When you return, instead of lying side-by-side, you turn your back to him, pulling the laptop in front of you. Aone turns to spoon you, wrapping one large arm around your stomach. You melt into him, immediately relaxed.

It reminds you of being in his chair, faced away from him but knowing he’s there.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, your voice nearly drowned out by the movie. “I know I get too nervous and say weird stuff.”

“What weird stuff?” You can’t see him but you can hear the frown in his voice.

“Like…” You swallow past the lump in your throat. “Like when I first met you, I didn’t even say hi. I said sorry, for some weird reason.”

Your mouth goes dry as you recall your first embarrassing memory with Aone. The one that still keeps you up at night as you replay it, thinking about how awkward you looked and how weird he must think you are.

“That wasn’t weird,” Aone says, breaking you out of your thoughts. “People think I’m scary. They don’t sit next to me on the train and they apologise when they meet me.”

You blink at the laptop, twisting slightly so you can look at Aone. He looks back at you.

“They do?”

He nods.

“You’re not weird. You’re normal.”

Aone says it with absolute sincerity. You think on this for a moment before fully turning, facing him. Aone settles his hand on your waist, his sharp eyes locked on yours.

You’re normal.

A rush of relief floods through you and your eyes water, nearly bursting into tears again. Aone notices because he tightens his grip on you, his hand on standby to brush away any tears.

“I’m okay,” you reassure him. “I’m okay.”

And it’s true. It’s the most okay you’ve felt in a long time. A flood of affection clouds your mind and you look up at him to smile.

“Thank you for rescuing me today,” you tell him.

“Always,” Aone says seriously.

It’s only one word but it steals your breath. You feel like you’re falling. You grip onto the front of his shirt, anchoring yourself.

One word and your iron wall crumbles.

You tilt your head up until Aone’s face is only inches from yours. You’re offering yourself up, offering your heart on a platter, open and vulnerable. You close your eyes and wait, blood rushing in your ears.

Aone moves his hand up from your waist to cup your face. His skin is hot against yours and you can feel his heart beating through his chest.

“Always,” he whispers once more before he closes the gap between you.

Aone presses his lips softly against yours. Your hands snake around his torso, feeling the hard muscle of his back. His lips part yours gently, cautiously, wary not to pressure you too much. You let him, meeting his tongue with your own and melting into him.

Aone uses one arm to wrap around your back, pulling your body flush to him as his other hand grips your thigh. He tugs your leg over his, nestling his thick thigh between your legs, and pressing against your mound. You gasp lightly into his mouth.

Aone pulls back, eyes opening.

“Is this okay?” he asks, searching your face for any sign you’re uncomfortable.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “It’s… it feels good.”

You try hard not to grind against his thigh but when he leans down to kiss you again, you find your hips moving on their own. His firm muscle pressed against your clothed pussy makes your clit throb with need. You haven’t felt this turned on by anyone in a long time, your sex drive long since evaporated. But Aone is awakening something inside you, a heat in your stomach unfurling.

You hold onto his shoulder, solid as a rock, and grind against his thigh.

Aone trails his hand down to your hip, his grip gentle but firm.

“Are you sure?” he murmurs against your lips, reluctant to break the kiss.

“Mhmm.” You catch his bottom lip lightly between your teeth. “I’m sure.”

Aone hardens his grip on your hip, guiding you as you rub your clothed pussy against his thigh. The friction is delicious, sending little sparks up through your body and soaking the crotch of your panties and pyjama shorts. You’re forced to break the kiss to bury your face in his chest, whimpering.

He’s bringing you close to the edge, so, so close. But it’s not enough.

“More,” you practically beg him. “I need more. Please.”

Aone grunts and rolls you onto your back, slotting himself between your legs. He’s large enough that you’re spread lewdly beneath him, thighs open. It would normally make you flustered – embarrassed – but it doesn’t.

Because it’s okay. It’s Aone.

He looks at your with stars in his eyes as his hand reaches down, sliding under the waistband of your shorts and panties. Your hips buck as his fingers find your swollen clit, slippery with your arousal. He traces small, featherlight touches around your sensitive bud. Aone knows his own strength and he’s always cautious of being too rough. He watches your face carefully to see your reaction, applying slightly more pressure until your nails sink into his biceps.

“There!” you gasp. “Fuck, right there. I’m so close.”

Aone listens, his cock straining against his jeans. You would normally feel your cheeks burn under the intensity of anyone’s gaze, let alone Aone’s, but you’re too caught up in the pleasure he’s giving you to care. His fingers are relentless, keeping up a steady pace, no faster or slower than exactly what you need.

When your back arches and your mouth falls open, Aone dips his head to swallow your moan, kissing you deeply through your orgasm, his fingers never stopping. It’s only when you pull away, too sensitive to continue, that he withdraws his hand.

But he can’t stop kissing you. Your soft lips and the taste of the lollipop he brought you still on your tongue. Aone knows you’ve opened yourself to him, he knows you’ve summoned every ounce of courage you have. He feels like he has a baby bird in his hands and he’s scared to hold you too tight. To crush the precious thing you’ve given him.

So when you come down from your high, he makes to roll off you, not thinking of himself or his throbbing cock.

You stop him, hands on his biceps and wrapping your legs around his hips.

“I want you,” you whisper, voice hoarse from moaning. “All of you.”

Aone searches your face for any uncertainty. He only sees your eyes alight, holding his gaze firmly. He thinks back to your first arrival in his studio, when he couldn’t even tell what your face really looked like, you kept your eyes so averted. The corner of his mouth upticks with pride.

You reach up to wrap one hand around the nape of his neck, carding your fingers through his short, white-blonde hair as your other hand reaches down to his jeans. He helps you unbutton them, tugging them down along with his boxers and throwing them both off the side of the bed. Aone straightens to pull his shirt over his head, tossing it to the side.

Your eyes widen at the sight of him. Tattoos decorate his thick torso, artwork following the curves and dips of his body. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, not even hiding how absolutely, completely attracted to him you are.

Aone’s expression doesn’t change much but his eyes glint and you know he’s pleased by your reaction. He reaches down, hooking his thumbs under the hem of your pyjama top and tugging it off. He gazes down at you, face soft, his eyes tracing over your body.

You’d normally be fighting the urge to cover yourself but you don’t feel the need to do that with Aone. You want him to look at you.

Aone leans down to pepper soft kisses down your neck, to your breasts. One large hand massages your tit, tweaking the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. It’s like your nipple is directly connected to your clit, making it throb with every touch. Aone sucks your other nipple, mouth hot against your skin as his teeth lightly graze you. It’s electrifying. You can feel yourself getting wetter, a scorching heat between your legs.

You need him inside you.

You tug on the roots of his hair gently, pulling his face back up to yours. Aone kisses you deep and slow, one hand reaching down to line his cock up with your entrance. You can feel the fat mushroom tip nudging between your folds. You pull your knees up, wrapping your legs around his hips to give him better access.

Aone pulls back from the kiss. You chase his lips with your own but he cups your cheek, holding you away.

“I want to see your face,” he says.

 He locks eyes with you and pushes himself inside.

Your mouth falls open and your brows scrunch in the middle as Aone slides his cock into your tight hole. You’re more than wet enough for him but his cock is as thick as the rest of him, stretching you with a burn that’s half pleasure, half pain. You whimper, eyes squeezing shut as Aone shallowly pumps himself inside you, going a little deeper each time. Each stroke of his cock sets your nerves on fire, sparks running through your whole body to the tips of your fingers and toes.

“Holy shit,” you grit out. “You’re – ah! – You’re so b-big.”

“Are you okay?” Aone stops still. “Are you in pain?”

You shake your head, wrapping your legs tighter around him.

“Don’t stop,” you beg him.

He gives a short nod and keeps going, slowly working himself deeper until he’s bottomed out. Aone waits there for a while, letting you adjust to the size of him. You’re desperate for more friction, your pussy clenching him tight.

“You…” He collapses onto his forearms, burying his face in your neck.

His hand tangles in your hair at the back of your head, holding you to him.

“You feel so fucking good,” he breathes. “You’re doing so well.”

Aone’s praise sends a thrill up your spine, so reminiscent of the first time you met. He presses his mouth against the shell of your ear.

“I’m going to move, okay?” His voice is hoarse.

You nod and he starts to pull back, keeping his body pressed against yours. It should feel smothering, his large body covering yours, but instead it feels safe. Secure.

Aone keeps a steady pace, not pulling out all the way before thrusting back into you. Your greedy pussy pulling him back in every time, your plush walls squeezing him, not wanting to let him go. His cock rubs against the sensitive spot inside you, the trimmed hair at the base stroking delicious friction against your clit. The combination is indescribable. It doesn’t take long for your eyes to roll back again, your orgasm building faster than you can register.

Aone can feel it. The way your tight pussy gets even tighter, the whimpers you make from the back of your throat, the way your thighs squeeze his hips. He can’t get enough of it. He wants to last as long as possible so he can stay here forever. Stay with you, like this, forever. But the way you’re gripping him, milking his cock, makes it impossible.

“I’m gonna cum, angel,” he groans. “Cum with me.”

His words are enough to tip you over the edge. Stars burst behind your eyes. You cry out his name as your thighs tremble and your toes curl, creaming on his cock. Aone grunts, half-moaning, as buries his cock inside you, thick ropes of cum coating your walls.

You hold him close, not wanting him to leave even as his cock softens inside you. Aone stays where he is, wanting to prolong this moment as long as he can. He presses gentle kisses against your neck, hugging you close to him.

“You’re perfect,” he mumbles in between kisses. “Thank you.”

You smile and catch his lips with your own.

“Always,” you whisper back.

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[unintentionalseductress]

The Office Pet Part 5

warnings: MDNI, pet play, name-calling, exhibitionism, oral (fem receiving), women on women, suggestions of harem play, mentions of cum play

a/n: Sorry this took so long! Here it it! Not really proofread.

Part 4 - Part 5

A delightful mewl leaves your lips as a wet tongue strokes smoothly through your folds, covering your clit so perfectly. Your eyes are closed in pleasure and your hips gently rock at a comfortable pace. The face you’re sitting on gazes up at you, dreamily enjoying your expressions. 

From a distance, Geto and Nanami observe you both closely, but there’s an air of satisfaction as they watch. Geto chuckles and shakes his head.

“My pet seems to have developed a crush on yours,” he confesses. “I hope you didn’t mind the abrupt playdate.”

The blond man smiles good naturedly as he watches you lost in pleasure while Geto’s pet buries her face into your pussy. “Not at all. She was quite excited.” 

“Well that’s good.” They walk over and sit down on the plush carpet, watching the erotic scene. You hear them as they kneel and your eyes crack open a fraction as Kento pats your head. 

“She feels good hmm?” Kento purrs, the sight of you so aroused and smitten sending a rush of lust straight into hs cock. He reigns it in for now, knowing he’ll get his turn once he gets you home. There were more urgent matters at hand. 

Geto returns with a glass of cognac for Kento, which he accepts, sipping appreciatively before he squeezes one of your perky nipples. “Enjoy then. I have other matters to discuss.”

He and Geto retreat to his office, while you and his pet continue your salacious plays in the waiting area. Geto’s pet was utterly adorable with her button nose and wide eyes, and her face carried a deep flush of satisfaction as she licked your wet pussy, her small tongue lapping up everything that was slipping out of your drooling cunt. You brace yourself, feeling the familiar clench of heat in your belly, getting ready to orgasm prettily all over the woman’s face.

In the privacy of his office, Geto asks Nanami what he thought about Atsuya and his abilities. Kento sips his drink, considering. 

“He’s hardworking. Dedicated. But…he can be a prude.”

“I’ve heard. It’s disappointing when a man of power fails to acknowledge and take advantage of stress relief tools.”

“The other day, Higuruma’s pet requested for a multiple creampie session. Not internally of course,” he clarifies. Penetration of a pet by anyone other than her owner was highly discouraged, and it was the golden rule of the office.

“I see. She just wanted you to finish on her? Cover her with cum?” Geto asks as he brings his fingertips together.

“Yes. On her clit exactly. It was expressed clearly, and both she and Higuruma had given consent. Naturally, I obliged and so did Gojo. Kusakabe, however, got nervous. Couldn’t get himself to finish and by that time…of course the pet had lost interest.”

Geto tsks and shakes his head. “Considering the high regard the office pets are held in, that’s practically an insult.”

“We’ve been trying to get him to loosen up for over a month now. It’s a shame because he’s a hard worker. He believes in the company’s mission and goals. But He can’t seem to bring himself to have a little fun.”

Geto strokes his chin as he considers. “Do you think perhaps…he’d be more comfortable if…he was in a setting without men?”

Kento thinks about this, then raises his head as noise comes from the waiting area. Geto also glances through the open door in interest, then smirks.

“It never gets old, hearing them orgasm. Their pleasure is our success. We can watch if you want to. I know I’d never miss an opportunity if I can help it.” 

You on the other hand, are bucking demurely, trying not to smear Geto’s pet’s face with your tangy juices as you near orgasm. You squeak as you feel a pair of strong, calloused hands on your shoulders press you down onto the woman’s face, who moans in surprise but continues with her sensual licking.

“Don’t be shy my dear,” Geto reassures you as he holds you in place on his pet’s face. “I assure you she loves being suffocated by pussy. And with yours tasting like watermelon candy, I’m sure she’s in heaven right now.”

You blush then stay still as his pet’s lips form a gentle suction around your swollen clit and sucks. All thoughts fly out of your head and you hump in desperation, moaning loudly. 

“Oh, it’s ok pet. The place is soundproof. You can be loud.” Geto pets your head as you writhe in pleasure. Kento gently tips your face towards his and offers you a kiss which you accept gratefully, sucking his tongue to ground yourself, then with a jolt, you feel your body grow light and tingly as your orgasm finally arrives, sending ripples of pleasure through your body as it happens. Your cries of pleasure fill the room, hands digging into the carpet as Geto’s pet licks you through the aftershocks. 

“Enough now,” Geto gently reminds his pet before he lifts you at your armpits, pulling you off her face and letting you rest next to her. “Overstimulation should be done in moderation.”

She immediately rolls over and cups your cheeks in her hands, nosing you affectionately and you snuggle back into her soft skin, smelling lilacs and honey as you do so. Her hands stroke your back as she cradles you against her body, her pillowy breasts the softest cushion you could imagine. 

Satisfied, Geto and Kento walk over to the large sofa a few feet away from both pets and sit down to finish their discussion. 

“I believe you were asking me about putting Kusakabe into a setting without us, that is, the other men in the office.”

“That’s correct. While not ideal, some men are…more inhibited than us. The presence of only women may help him calm down and act on his more…perverted thoughts.”

“I hadn’t thought of it like that. So, you mean to say, we let him into a private space with all our pets?”

“Exactly. The pets are seemingly becoming good companions now.” He glances over at the carpet where you’re still snuggled with his pet, now gently suckling one of her nipples and making her sigh in delight. 

“I believe having all the pets in the room with Kusakabe will help balance out the energy. He can touch and practice on whichever one he wants, or all of them if he’s feeling bold. And because there will be four of them-”

“I’m sorry, four?” Kento couldn’t help but interrupt, and Geto smiled generously at him. 

“Yes, four. I think my pet would enjoy the socialization. And any chance to meet your pet again.” His eyes glimmer with unhidden desire as he watches her purring on the floor as you played with her nipples. 

“With all of them together in the room, the pets get to have some fun and they can keep Kusakabe in check, maybe give him some pointers. What do you think?

Kento does a once-over in his head. It was unconventional to leave a pet with another man without the owner in attendance, but this wasn’t a bad idea. And it was true that if the other pets were present, they would support each other. They might be sweet and submissive, but that’s only when they were feeling safe and secure. They knew how to hold their own in case things went sour. 

“Yes, I think that’s a great idea. I’ll ask my pet later to make sure I have her consent.”

“Perfect.”

They toast in agreement, but you’re blissfully ignorant of their presence, focusing instead on the pliant and yielding woman in your arms. She smiles cutely at you and your heart flutters, feeling content with your current position. 

© unintentionalseductress original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

@sweets-kozume @supernaturalbaesduh @brekkersgf @shddyboo @venussakura @ravenclaw-jojo @thesoftuglywrites @snatched-bubblegum-bitch @theshxaverse @l0v3m3-p13as3 @marusatonanhin @pwd54gr54 @unheolybakugo @mouthfullobats @sugusmonkeyy @aniniyah @facelessfionna

[yuukirita]

I was reading Baby Bee's adventures in the multiverse again, I need Elita, Megs and Op from Earthspark to have a moment with him! I need angst and someone to have a complete mental breakdown.

It might also be nice to see them spend some time with the Terrans, he's almost the same size as Trash and he's just a baby!

... yeah yeah that seem good.

---

A sight

It was quite a sight, for those that knew what they were looking at. Not many beings still had the option so say they did.

Optimus did. Optimus knew that the young bot, who shared Bumblebee's colour, was a Cybertronian sparkling. How? How could it be? This. Here and now. It should be impossible.

He'd been sent with Elita-One and Megatron by G.H.O.S.T. to investigate a weird energy flux in the woods near Witwicky. They expected trouble. 

They'd split up to cover more ground, his partners minutes from his location just in case. Then he saw it. A portal. With no structure to support it, it clearly was unstable- and Optimus couldn't say he ever saw a portal that looked this way before. It felt Alien.

He opened his comm as he inspected it, looking for tracks of anything that might have come out of it. "Optimus to Team, I believe I've found the energy disturbance. No hostiles in sight, but be careful-”

He was cut off as the portal shifted, extending and stretching. Optimus raised his axe, on guard. It wobbled before it spat a small yellow ball into the ground before collapsing onto itself and disappearing with a clean ‘pop’. 

The Autobot leader didn’t lower his guard, never one to underestimate an inconspicuous creature in this kind of scenario. He stayed calm and ready, knowing that his team would reach him soon. 

He watched the Yellow sparkling groan and clumsily get up from where he'd fallen face first- He dusted himself off and looked around. Even then, Optimus didn’t lower his guard, this time not out of suspicion but from shock. 

“Weird nature stuff… everywhere… ew, I swallowed some.” Said the sparkling in soft Cybertronian, hitting his heels together to let out wheels under his feet. Rolling forward as he started exploring further- 

BabyBee squeaked out when he saw Optimus just standing there, hidden by the tall trees, illuminated by the glow of his still raised axe, looking quite intimidating. 

The small cry snapped Optimus out of it and he immediately put the axe away, lowered his mask and raised his arms to seem non-threatening, hoping the gesture would be understood while searching his processor for Cybertronian speech-  it’d been so long-

He didn’t have time to say anything before A spark of recognition lit up the sparkling’s optics “Optimus!” The young bot rolled forward, smiling- then stopped. He squinted at Optimus and his shoulders slumped “Not my Optimus…” 

Optimus, externally keeping his cool but internally having his mind blown that one: he was seeing a sparkling. two: that sparkling was just spat out a portal. And Tree: that sparkling KNEW HIS NAME- or at least mistaken him for someone with the same name- it- it was a lot. Optimus kneeled down as much as he could, speaking in Cybertronian “Hello, young one- em… I am Optimus Prime.”

The sparkling didn’t feel distressed or anxious- and Optimus intended to keep it this way. Which is why he wasn’t scooping up the young bot despite how much he felt the need to do so to check on him. 

“I know… But you’re not MY Optimus Prime…” The young bot pouted and kicked the dirt, making his wheel roll in the air, defeated. “Again.” 

The leader felt tears in his eyes, simply because he was seeing a part of Cybertron’s lost history- or perhaps not *his* Cybertron’s lost history. 

BabyBee noticed this Version of his friend tearing up and he froze, blinked and quickly rolled to his leg to comfort him. “Ey- it’s okay. Sorry I said you’re not my Optimus! We can still be friends! I’m B-127- My friends call me Bee! You can call me Bee!” 

Optimus winced when he felt babybee's tiny hands tap his leg. He’d kept it together when Twitch and Trash were revealed to him- but this was apparently his tipping point. 

He whipped his tears away as he scrambled himself back together “Do not apologies, young Bee. I am simply- processing emotions.” He looked down to look at the sparkling, B-127 he said his name was- sharing the number with his scout could not be a coincidence “May I pick you up?” He offered his hand for him to step onto.

 BabyBee didn't think twice before hopping on “Yeah! You can check me over. I’m not hurt or anything if you’re worried about that.” Optimus "How could this be?" He whispered as he checked the sparkling over- he hadn't seen a sparkling in... eons. The memories of them are practically lost to the newer generations. 

BabyBee let himself be examined, after a few dimensional jumps he learned that 'inspecting sparkling to make sure he's okay' to be a... pretty much universal reaction to most Optimus Prime he’d met. “Well. You know what a space bridge is?” Optimus nodded “Well- that. But gone wrong-”  

His explanation was cut short when Megatron and Elita entered the scene. 

On reflex, he closed his hands around the sparkling to hide it from Megatron’s view- an old distrust resurfacing as it often did. A distrust he felt ashamed he couldn’t let go of. 

“Optimus, everything alright? You got cut off-” His old friend spoke calmly as Elita one surveyed the surroundings. 

“Ey- What’s that about???” BabyBee’s voice came muffled from his newfound prison “RUDE!” 

Elita picked up on the muffled Cybertronian and lowered her guard after finding the area was clear. “Prime, What’s this?” 

BabyBee kept tapping at his fingers as the Prime failed to come up with an answer. “em… One moment.” He turned away from his allies and opened his hands, whispering to the sparkling “Sorry young one, My friends arrived and I… didn’t want you to panic.” Because Megatron was there. And if this Sparkling was from another Cybertron then… “Megatron and Elita-One are my friends- do you know them too?”

 He gave a slight awkward smile looking back at his friends, who were curiously standing there, letting him do his thing and trying to catch what he was saying. 

“You guys are FRIENDS?!” The small bot exclaimed, shocked. 

Optimus sighed, saddened that other versions of them were still enemies. “Yes, friends and trusted allies so you can believe me that my Megatron will means you no harm-” 

“THIS IS AWESOME!” The little Bee exclaimed with joy. He skillfully ran up Optimus’s arm to climb up his shoulder before Optimus could stop him- his little blue optics landed on Megatron, unafraid and unbothered “WE’RE FRIENDS!” He gestured towards the old war criminal to come closer- then seeing Elita, he did the same gesture towards her. 

Megatron blanched and took a step back “Is that a-” 

Elita-One similarly froze up, simply staring. 

Optimus picked up BabyBee from his shoulder to turn and walk a bit closer to his allies- “Sparkling… Yes.”

End part one of 3

[consciouscarrot]

day 25 - daddy kink [j.price]

john price x fem!reader

content warnings; mentioned wet dream (r), oral (f!receiving), p in v sex, creampie, daddy kink (obvi), sweet sex <33

notes; he’s so daddy oh my gosh, and i’m slowly catching up on these fics yay :) longer one again tday, can you tell i love him? as always, mdni and blank blogs get blocked.

kinktober/flufftober masterlist

—————

you’d been tossing and turning for a while, having woken up after a very memorable dream with slick smeared between your thighs and an ache deep in your belly.

you’d tried to ignore it at first, not wanting to disturb john, thinking you could just go back to sleep and everything would be fine.

but almost an hour later, it had only gotten worse, and it didn’t help that he’d forgone a shirt, the sight of his softened stomach and hair covered chest making you nearly salivate, subconsciously rubbing your thighs together to try to ease some of the tension.

biting your lip, you decided to just try and wake him up, and figured that if he denied you, you’d just sneak off to the bathroom to get it out of your system. carefully shaking him, you whispered his name, internally praying that he’d say yes.

he startled awake, quickly checking the room over for threats before turning his concerned gaze to you, pulling you into him.

“what’s the matter, sweetheart?” he let out a heady groan, further worsening your condition, pussy throbbing around nothing and sending you reeling.

you whined, burying your face into his neck and squeezing your eyes shut as you bucked your hips against him, far too shy to tell him aloud.

he chuckled, chest shaking against you as he realised what was going on, strong hands rubbing your back in sympathy.

“my girl feelin’ needy? we can’t have that now, can we?”

grunting lowly, he rolled over on top of you, leaning up on his elbows to look at you, stroking away the stray hairs that had fallen over your face, your eyes still shut as he planted a sweet kiss on your lips.

“open your eyes f’daddy,”

your lids fluttered open, eyes glazed over as you looked up at him dreamily, hopeful for him to provide you relief with his body. you visibly melted beneath him when he traced over the edge of your jaw, sighing softly at his delicate touches.

“i love you, daddy,” you whispered, chin tipping up in a honeyed plea for more kisses, smiling sleepily against his lips when he gave in, mouths moving together in slow movements, your tongues swirling together sluggishly.

“i. love. you. too,” john said, words split up by chaste kisses pressed all over your face, grinning at your little giggles, squirming from the ticklish feeling of his beard.

you pawed at him, wiggling your hips to try and get his attention a little lower. ever attentive, john’s hands slid over your body, rubbing at your waist as he leant down, trailing wet kisses down stomach, lips grazing over your soft skin. your breath hitched when he hovered over your heat, gently blowing air onto your pearl, grinning at the breathy moans you let out from such little stimulation.

purposely avoiding where you wanted him, he shifted down further to your inner thighs, rough hands palming at your skin whilst he kissed there too, eyes never leaving yours.

you really tried to be patient, but he was so close to your pussy, tangy slick pooling along your slit, that you couldn’t help but buck your hips again, chewing on your lip in anticipation.

“you’re neglecting me,” you whined, voice wobbling with crocodile tears.

“shh, i know,” he laughed, “gon’ be good f’me, baby?”

“yes i promise, please, daddy,” you squeaked, nodding along eagerly.

“okay, bug. i’ll give y’what you want,”

he licked a broad stripe over your cunt, groaning into you at the taste, sending vibrations shooting up your body. you cried out as he slurped at you, tongue focused on your clit as he flicked and sucked at the delicate nub, all messy and sloppy with his arms holding you firmly into the bed.

your back arched slightly, desperately grasping for anything to hold onto, patting at the sheets, only relaxing when he reached up and intertwined your fingers together, happy to let you dig your nails into his skin.

sweet moans slipped out from between your parted lips, eyes rolling to the back of your head at the delicious way his beard scratched against your skin, high rapidly approaching both from being so pent up and his ravenous mouth.

another deep moan into your cunt sent you over the edge, thighs enclosing around his head as you gripped tightly at his hands, powerful waves of pleasure washing over you, rendering you near breathless.

he rubbed along your thighs, massaging slowly as he waited for you to come down, resisting the urge to hump against the mattress, cock throbbing from both your taste and sounds.

“good girl, honey. ready for more?”

“yes daddy, need you,”

pulling your legs around his waist, he hovered above you, leaning down to kiss you, the sweet taste of you bleeding from his tongue to yours, nipping at your bottom lip, meeting your gaze with half-lidded eyes.

john quickly stripped off his boxers, bringing his thick cock up to your weeping pussy, tapping his tip against your clit a couple times as he lubricated himself with your arousal.

you whined, growing increasingly impatient, one orgasm not enough to satisfy your urges, desperately needing to feel him inside you.

“easy,” he said, drawing out the word deeply, eyes flicking up to yours in warning.

you both moaned at the relief of him pushing into you, slowly forcing you to accommodate his thick length, walls pulsing around him as you gasped, faces so close together you could see every little scar on his face, every hair on his jaw, every shade of blue in his eyes.

he internally sighed a breath of relief when you finally settled under the heavy weight of him, tummy grazing against yours with each thrust of his hips, your pretty lips parted with the string of cries slipping past them.

you wrapped yourself around him the best you could, in all ways possible, legs wound tight around his waist, arms around his neck, fingers clutching at whatever pieces of him you could reach, cunt sucking him into you, silently begging him to fill you with his spend.

he adored the blissful look on your face, wishing that he could be here all the time, so that you would never know anything but everlasting ecstasy, that you would be constantly full of his cum, belly swollen and round with his babies.

fingers lacing through his hair, you tugged him even closer to you, exchanging sloppy kisses as your dragged your nails from the base of his scalp, past his shoulders, trailing down his broad back, eliciting rugged moans from him, making you clench down on him.

you mewled loudly, his skilled hands circling your clit as the coil deep inside of you tightened again, you were barely able to hold back, waiting for his permission, only moments away from it snapping.

“oh- can i come, daddy? please?”

normally, he would’ve dragged this out, waiting until you had begun to lose control before saying yes, loving the way you trembled at the sheer effort it took you to stifle your orgasm, the look of panic on your face as you involuntarily began to give in. but, john himself was so close to falling over the edge, and knew that if he waited he’d end up embarrassing himself, so aroused from you waking him up from neediness and the feel of you coming against his tongue.

“cum for me,” he commanded, gasping as his hips stuttered, eyes locked onto the way your face contorted to the point of almost looking like you were in pain.

the coil immediately snapped, whole body shaking as euphoria flooded you again, whimpers and groans coming from the two of you as you came together, your slick mixing with his pearly cum inside of you, velvet walls spasming around his cock.

thoroughly worn out, you went fully slack, limbs falling back on the bed as you already began to drift back off, finally satiated and happy.

he collapsed next to you, rubbing gentle circles over your damp skin, letting out a slow, relaxed sigh, very pleased that you had ended up waking him, and eventually got up to clean the mess between your sore legs.

you were half aware of john moving about, whimpering when a warm cloth bristled against your sensitive clit, his shushing and quiet praises, before he joined you, pulling your body into his, sleepily groaning into your neck when you melted into his warm embrace.

[thevoicefromanotherworld]

"YOU'RE WELCOME, BABY"

I WROTE ANOTHER FIC WITH BUCKY

I was planning on adding smut to this fic, but it ended up being adorable and sweet in every way (I'm ovulating guys, my mood swings are crazy right now)

Hope you like it!

POV: You're in those days of the month, and Bucky doesn't hesitate to give you the support and comfort he knows you need

Bucky paced in front of you every few minutes in his black leather suit and bright, clear eyes, making your ovaries physically ache from how much you needed him.

It was that time of the month, so you were much more sensitive than usual, and him pacing around like that didn't help at all.

You were alone in Avengers Tower.

Steve knew about your condition, and since Tony asked him to go with him on a quick mission, he asked his best friend to keep an eye on you.

You didn't know if he did it on purpose or if it was just his way of moving, but when he pulled a water bottle out of the fridge and leaned against it, making the metal of his arm squeak slightly, you thought you might faint right there.

He noticed your scrutiny, and a soft smile spread across his face.

"Do you want some?" —he asked, raising the bottle. You shook your head.

“I can’t drink water that cold,” you replied. “It’s not good for my…” You blushed violently.

You had no idea why you were talking about it openly with everyone and why you were embarrassed with him.

“…ovaries,” he finished for you. “I can make you something else if you want,” he offered. “Are you hungry? Wanda taught me a couple of recipes, both without paprika.” He laughed. “I know you don’t like spices.”

The fact that he’d paid enough attention to let him know that about you made you squeal internally.

“Thanks, Bucky, but I’m fine for now,” you added. “I mean, I could be worse.”

“I’m glad you’re not.” He smiled, sitting down on the couch, leaving a little distance between you. “What do you want to do?”

“God, why does everything he says have to sound so sexual?” You thought, shaking your head and shrugging your shoulders.

"I don't know," you murmured. "What do you want to do?"

He watched you intently for a few moments. He lifted his metallic hand to trace the curve of your cheek with his index finger, making you shudder at his touch.

"I can think of a few things we could do, doll," he whispered, his voice lower than before.

His presence, his touch, his smell, that damn leather suit, and the tone he used made your ovaries ache more than before. You needed that man, you needed him NOW

"Oh yeah?" you asked playfully. "What were you thinking about?"

Bucky smiled when he saw you playing along. His hand moved to cup your cheek, his thumb running over your lower lip.

"I was thinking about how much I'd love to feel your lips around my cock," he blurted out, getting straight to the point, making you let out a stifled gasp. "I was thinking about how much I need to taste you and make you cum in my mouth." He continued, slowly slipping his hands under your shirt to rest them on the skin of your hips, making slow, tortuous circles there. "But above all else, I was thinking about how beautiful you are," he whispered, looking at you with equal parts tenderness and intensity. "God, you have no idea, do you, baby?"

Bucky, my face is covered in pimples from my period. I'm not pretty, especially right now.

"You're wrong about that," he whispered, holding your face in his hands. "You've always been beautiful, especially right now." He smiled. "I don't care about your physical appearance. If you have pimples, wear sweats, or if you suddenly have gray hair, I don't care," he listed. "What really matters is what you look like here." He placed the palm of his hand on your torso. "And here." He pointed at your head with his index finger

"Oh, Buck," you blurted out. "You're going to make me cry." You complained, feeling the tears threatening to come out.

"That's the last thing I want, honey," he replied. "I just want you to be okay, and above all, to show you how precious and special you are." He whispered, opening his arms on either side of him. "Come here, doll."

You snuggled up against his chest, and before you fell asleep, you called out to him:

"Buck?"

"Hmmm?"

"Thanks for everything you said, I…" you swallowed hard, "needed it."

"You're welcome, baby," he murmured, placing a loving kiss on top of your head, "go to sleep."

And that's what you did.

Within seconds, you fell asleep because, let's be honest, who wouldn't fall asleep in Bucky Barnes's arms?

[hattersrabbit]

Can you write a fluff peace about Ranpo and child Reader trying to play a prank on Fukuzawa. Fukuzawa notices what their doing but plays along anyway to see his kids laugh.

DOUBLE TROUBLE

fukuzawa & ranpo & reader | sfw

cw! child reader, gn! reader, all platonic relationships

thank you for the request. this is such a cute prompt

"Ranpo!"

You giggled as he put his index finger on his lips signaling you to be quiet. His lips formed into a big and cheeky smile.

Mischief was loud in his eyes as he grabbed your hand gently and pushed the door open to find Fukuzawa in his office.

Currently the vacant office of there's only consisted of you two and Fukuzawa.

"C'mon!"

With the soft click of the door Ranpo pulled you along. You laughed as he made you follow him. Both of you ultimately cracked up into giggles as you two went down the steps of the office.

Fukuzawa looked up from his desk and looked towards his desk. The door that was closed had those two kids he saved those many years ago.

They had something planned. A soft smile spread to his face hearing such giggles.

The exact plan you guys had was devious. While the president was out of the office, everyone else like the main detective was off on missions.

Unbeknownst to him, the other workers were onto it too, and they gladly participated. Light fun that no doubt would make even the stoic President crack a small smile.

"Grab the bubble wrap!" Ranpo opened the president's door to his office. A sublime office that was clean and honorable of a man like Fukuzawa.

The only way Fukuzawa had any idea was because of the hoarding of bubble wrap in your room. The man had been taking care of you for a time and it wasn't hard to find things you were trying to hide.

You hadn't been on the streets long enough to develop that skill.

Plus he heard you rambling about it to Yosano who came to visit.

"Got it!" You brought mountains of bubble wrap rolls which made Ranpo grin widely. He patted your head gently, "Good job!" You visibly brightened at the praise.

It was then that you guys got to work.

To the desk to the chair was covered in the stuff. As you did Ranpo gave you candy after candy. A rare chance any agency member; and you happened to be an exception.

Fukuzawa could hear the shuffling. The numerous interns and such watched with bated breath. They saw a soft yet faint smile on his face. Hearing you and Ranpo scurry about as you did your prank.

He heard the two of you stop moving at the sound of his feet stopping at the door. A chuckle was stuck in his throat as he imagined you and Ranpo standing there wide eyed.

When opening the door he found bubble wrap around the furniture in his office and no you or Ranpo in sight.

His eyes drifted to the desk where a chair was slightly more put than normal. His smile threatened to become bigger.

"Ranpo." His voice was deep with softness and familiarity. He heard a squeak and then a hush. He said your name gently and it wasn't hard to hear your voice hitch.

"Shhh!"

You giggled in response. Another hush was followed with, and then groaned from the younger man.

Fukuzawa pulled the chair out to find Ranpo against the wall of the desk and you pressed against his chest. His arms wrapped around you and sharing that same childish look.

"Hi!" You giggled brightly. Fukuzawa mentally clutched his heart at your cuteness.

"President." Ranpo was pouting and it was just as cute. Fukuzawa might as well died right there.

"You got me. Very creative." He was a man of simple words. Fukuzawa was impressed even if he knew that they were up to something.

Ranpo whined, as he could see that the older man knew, but he remained smiling seeing you happily clap that he was surprised by your bubble wrapping prank.

Fukuzawa loved his kids. You two along with the rest of the agency were his kids.

He watched with a faint smile of you gleefully cheer with Ranpo who was albeit sulking under the surface that he figured it out.

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

Smooth Operator

Pairing: Warriors x Reader

Warning(s): References to age-appropriate drinking and a few dirty jokes, but this is surprisingly tame compared to my other Warriors works

Notes: Ugh I love Wars so bad, writing him is such a treat.

Masterlist

The tavern was as crowded as it could be; a heavy throng of people milling about the small space, some in time to the cheery music and others to the swirling rhythm of their heart, swaying on their feet as bodies and inhibitions melded together. The atmosphere was darkly carefree, the air thick with the scent of sweat and alcohol. It wasn't an ideal meeting spot, but you needed information more than your dignity.

The candlelight flickered as you brought your glass up, wetting your lips with the gentlest sips of red wine, tongue flicking to carefully swipe over the painted curve of your bottom lip, not wanting to disturb Wild's handiwork. You had no idea where the champion had learned to apply lip stain like he had, but you weren't complaining when your eyes caught the rough silhouette of your target, a well-connected merchant rumored to possess knowledge on the whereabouts of a certain black lizalfos.

The music swelled and dipped, filling you with a sort of confidence as you pulled away from the side of the bar, smoothing the nonexistent wrinkles of your dress–a gift from Warriors–and stalking forward with the grace of a panther, the deep neckline accentuating the curve of your chest and the tasteful slit in the thigh revealing hints of flesh beneath, though not enough to label you as something... more than you were.

The crowd seemed to part as you made your way forward, the merchant's back to you until the very last second, when your shoulder brushed his and you squeaked in a tone borrowed from Wind himself. "My apologies, my lord��"

The man turned, his disgruntled expression quickly turning into something far more appreciative. "Why, my lady, no apologies necessary," his gaze swept down your body in a way that made you feel horribly exposed, but you covered it up by placing a hand over your mouth, batting your lashes softly. "I can't help as though I've seen you before."

You tensed when his unoccupied hand–the one not holding a massive mug of beer–swept down to rest on the curve of your waist, lightly covered by patterned mesh. His breath, hot and rank, washed over you, and you regretted not taking the fan Sky offered you. "Oh, my lord..." you cooed, putting as much simpering charm as you could manage into those three words.

"But how could I forget a face as delicate as yours," the merchant mused, brown eyes glinting like dried blood on cloth. "Especially not with a body so... enticing."

You were positive you could have thrown up in that moment, bile rising in your throat, bitter and burning. You needed to take control. Now. "You flatter me when I am but a humble traveler."

"A traveler? And where, pray tell, is your destination?"

"East, my lord."

"East," he hummed, and your skin crawled, hands gripping your glass hard enough to shatter it. "Pity, I am returning West myself."

"How coincidental, should we have both headed West," you said, keeping the conversation in motion until you were ready, putting on the best vexed face you could. "After the attacks, I fear..."

The merchant raised a brow. You smiled internally, knowing you had him hook, line, and sinker. "Attacks?"

"Yes," you glanced around the bar, and his gaze followed. "I have heard rumors... of a creature. A lizalfos, as dark as the night itself."

"Ah, and why would a delicate creature such as yourself be concerned with those matters?" The man pressed, eyes lighting up with hunger and lust as he considered his next words. "Unless, of course, you travel alone?"

"I'm afraid so," you confirmed, biting your tongue when his hand tightened around your waist. "If I knew the whereabouts, perhaps I would be more inclined to," you paused for effect, making sure your lips were as pouty as you could make them. "accept companions on my travels."

The merchant's eyes shone in a way that made you want to stab him with the dagger cleverly hidden in the folds of your dress. "Companions, my lady?"

You opened your mouth to respond, and that's when you saw him out of the corner of your eyes, a rogue flash of royal blue among the milling crowd. The hero. Your hero.

Warriors.

Warriors, who currently stalked forward like an apex predator. Warriors, dressed to the nines in his captain's uniform, scarf billowing behind him like the sail of a deadly ship. Warriors, whose gaze held nothing but broiling rage at the sight of you in the arms of someone other than him.

And you, the decoy, not quite able to remove him from the corners of your vision as you used the ticking seconds to simper about the whereabouts of the lizalfos, praying to whatever deity existed that you got your information before the hero got his penitence. Your wishes were granted when you caught sight of a tan scroll in the pocket of the merchant's coat, practically begging to be noticed by nimble minds and stolen by even nimbler fingers.

"Won't you tell me, my lord?" you simpered in one last ditch effort, trying to look as pathetic as possible to tempt him into submission. You didn't notice the way his gaze roved over every inch of your body, so focused on getting that map.

You didn't notice him look over, face falling slightly as he met the hero's glare.

You didn't notice the tension crackle between the two men.

But you did notice the shattering of glass and screams that filled the tavern as the merchant's grip tightened around your waist, turning into something painful and bruising as he drew himself up, attempting to intimidate Warriors with his height.

It didn't work.

You gasped when the Captain's fist collided with the merchant's cheek, sending the taller man staggering back into the wall, before seizing your wrist and pulling you against his side in a protective embrace. "Come on," he all but growled, though it wasn't directed at you, and you hardly had any time to react before he was tugging you in the direction of the exit, the sound of curses and breaking glass following you all the way out.

Warriors practically shoved the door open, gently pushing you into the alleyway before grabbing a stick from the ground and shoving it into the hinges, preventing anyone from coming through. You turned to face him, arms wrapped around yourself as the chill of the night began to take hold, hissing: "What the hell was that?!"

"You looked uncomfortable," the captain said, mirroring your stance with a stern, dangerous look, his tone devoid of its usually flirty cadence.

"I– that's the point!" You pinched your temples. "Or have you forgotten how these things work?"

Warriors' gaze darkened, and you knew you were pushing him. Too bad, because you were pissed, too. "He was looking at you like you were a piece of meat, (Y/n)– and don't get me started on how he was feeling you up. I'll be damned if I sit back and watch you get–"

You interrupted him with a scoff. "Thanks, but I don't need your help, Warriors. I can handle myself just fine."

"It's not about that," he pressed, looking more and more frustrated. "It's about the fact that he touched something that doesn't belong to him."

"And what's that?" You shot back, knowing full well what he was referring to. This wasn't the first time you and Warriors had been at odds like this before, but it was certainly the most spontaneous.

"You."

You made a face at the insinuation. "I never said I belonged to you–"

"Neither did I, but you sure as hell don't belong to him," the hero interrupted with a snarl, cerulean eyes flashing with something vaguely protective. He was pissed, but not at you.

"I don't belong to anyone," you said, willing yourself not to think of the kiss you shared with him under the moonlight a few weeks ago. It happened during one of the rare breaks, with the chain stopping at an inn for a few days to recuperate after a particularly tough series of events, and, being the consenting adult you were, you had taken advantage of the downtime and gone to buy a flask of wine, which led to you and the captain sharing it in the back of the inn like a pair of misbehaving teenagers. You could still remember the chill of the tree as he pressed you against it, kissing you until all you saw were stars.

Nothing had happened since then.

Until now, though you weren't quite sure if the look in his eyes meant he was going to kiss or kill you.

"You don't," Warriors agreed, though there was something in his tone that hinted to something more. "I could have killed him, (Y/n)."

"And ruin that stellar reputation of yours?" You snarked, glad that the mood was lightening slightly. "Besides, I've gotten what I wanted."

His eyebrows shot up. "You–"

"Of course," you reached into the front of your dress and pulled out the scroll. "What, did you think I was flirting with him for fun?"

Warriors gave a noncommittal grunt, arms crossed over his chest.

You clapped a hand over your mouth to muffle your laugh. "Pfft– seriously? Besides, it was either me or Wild, take your pick."

"Wild could have–"

"Wild would have set him on fire within the first minute," you interrupted with a grimace.

"Good."

For a split second, you were silent, mostly because you agreed with him and partly because the satisfied grin on his face was a bit much for your poor, exhausted brain at this time, but you managed a disapproving tut. "Nope, gotta preserve your reputation, pretty boy."

"Pretty boy," he echoed, trying and failing to look offended. You shrugged, offering him the scroll, which he took with an expression of shock. "You really..."

"What can I say?" you grinned. "I'm a great actor."

"Among other things," said the hero, and you laughed softly, irritation melting away like snow on a summer's day. You had gotten the plans with minimal casualties, so why waste the evening on some smudged feelings? Cerulean eyes scanned the scroll with careful attention, and you had to force yourself not to preen when his gaze turned slightly awestruck. "This is... everything. I don't think you could have done better."

"You think?" You parroted, still wearing a wide grin. It wasn't that he never tossed compliments your way, but this went so much further than your daily encounters. The night hardly felt cold when he was so close, though you wouldn't mind wrapping yourself up in that scarf of his. "Is the night over or am I required to flirt with more merchants to earn my keep?"

Warriors regarded you with a flat expression, looking seconds away from rolling those beautiful eyes of his. "Tch. If you think I'm going to let anyone else disrespect you like that again, you've got another thing coming."

Your smile was good-natured, even as you leaned over to sling an arm across his upper back, nudging him to walk with you, which he did without complaint. "My hero. Let's head back, yeah? I'm starving."

"Starving?" for a moment, you swore there was a glimmer in his gaze. A arm settled around your own back, so light that you hardly felt it. "In that case, allow me to escort you back, fair maiden."

You smacked his shoulder with a snort. "Pfft, save it for the girls back home, flirt."

"What girls?" he joked, but there was something far less teasing in those eyes of his. You tried not to think of that night.

You tried.

And failed.

The feeling of his soft, wine-stained lips was still fresh in your mind, as were the gentle hands holding your cheeks and the warmth of his body pressing you to the tree. There was nothing remotely platonic about that night, and yet, you dared wonder if it was all a fluke, a drunken mishap that he hoped to erase from your minds. You didn't even remember being that buzzed, just hopefully tipsy in a way that made your toes tingle and your heart beat a bit harder in your chest.

There were lines, you knew, but the scariest part was that you had no idea how many either of you were willing to cross.

You were torn from your thoughts when the Captain called your name, soft enough for only your ears to register. His arm drew a bit closer, letting you feel the respectful press against the semi-exposed skin of your upper back. It was such a stark difference from your reaction to the merchant's touch that you would have fallen back into wondering had he not been staring directly at you with... what was that emotion. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," you said on reflex, only to freeze when he unlooped his scarf from his neck, setting the warm, soft fabric atop your own shoulders, deftly adjusting it so that it sat perfectly on your frame, not unlike a great billowing cloak. You were hit with the overwhelming urge to smell it, but held back at the last second, fingers fiddling with the embroidered end. "Thank you."

"My pleasure," Warriors responded with a soft smile that you couldn't decide fit his face or not. His cheeks were flushed the softest pink, and you had a hard time believing it was from the cold. You turned a corner, joining a slightly busier street. "You look stunning, by the way... I don't think I ever told you."

He had, but you weren't about to tell him. "You don't look too bad yourself," you nodded to his outfit and grinned. "Do you wear it on all your espionage missions or am I just lucky?"

"Actually–"

"Hey! You!"

Your head whipped around as a shout tore through the street, stiffening when you recognized the merchant from earlier. "Shit," you hissed, a rush of adrenaline shooting through you. The man looked unfathomably angry, four lackeys at his heels, and you really didn't want to fight in a dress and heels. "Run?!"

Warriors' eyes met yours and he nodded. You yelped when the hand hovering over your shoulder clamped down, forcing you to pivot slightly as he scooped you into his arms and took off down the street like a keese out of hell. "Wars–!"

"Stay still," he huffed, turning a corner in a move that nearly gave you whiplash, arms instinctively wrapping around his neck for some semblance of stability. There were several gasps from the townspeople as the Captain barreled down a couple of alleys, holding you close as his scarf flapped in the wind like the tail of a bird. After what felt like an eternity, he slowed to a jog, head swiveling to gauge your surroundings. "Do you see them?"

"No," you whispered back, canvassing the street with keen eyes. "I think we lost them."

"Thank Hylia," he breathed. You did the same, too high on adrenaline to register the suggestiveness of the situation. "I think that's enough excitement for today."

"You think?" You asked, somewhat sarcastically before your tone grew serious. "No, seriously, if I don't get out of these heels soon, I might actually ruin both our reputations... and status as law-abiding citizens."

"You? Law-abiding?" he chuckled, eyes glinting with amusement. You wanted to kiss and kill whoever taught him to apply eyeliner like that. "Never heard that one before."

"Because it's implied, you wet rag," you smacked his shoulder, huffing as the breeze hit the bared skin of your arm. "Hylia, it's freezing. Maybe Wild would have been better for this."

The Captain arched a perfectly-manicured brow. "Didn't you say he would have set that merchant on fire?"

"Didn't you say he should have?" you countered without missing a beat.

Warriors grumbled, averting his eyes. He began to walk, and you could say with absolute certainty that you had no idea where you were going. "Are you going to put me down or...?"

"Or?"

"I can walk," you huffed.

"And I can carry you."

Your scowl deepened, eyes narrowing. You were upset, and neither was he, but it was more fun this way. "I will break your arms."

"Kinky."

A long-suffering sigh slipped past your lips as you briefly, seriously considered throttling him. However, he had technically saved you–twice, but you would rather die than let the little bastard know–and you would hate to get blood all over that scarf of his. "At least buy me a drink first, weirdo."

Warriors made a curious noise, not rising to the bait like you expected him to. His gaze flicked to the left, head tilting as a grin split his features. "There's a tavern," he told you; seriously, thoughtfully. "And I promise you won't have to flirt with any old rich merchants to have a good time."

"Oh, so now you're saying I can't have fun?" You joked, and he snorted good-naturedly.

"My deepest apologies, I assumed you were a person of high-standing–"

You smacked his shoulder. "Oh, I'll show you high-standing–!"

Warriors didn't flinch. In fact, he almost seemed to enjoy the banter, if his widening smile was of any indication. Weirdo. "I'll take that seriously when you find a way to be taller than me."

"That is not a problem, I promise you'll be just fine without your kneecaps–"

You cut yourself off when he began to laugh. It wasn't mocking; rather, the opposite, a sound of pure delight that had you blinking in surprise. His hold on you shook withe the force of his chortles, head tilted back, neck bared, adam's apple bobbing. You tried not to look. You really did, chewing your bottom lip in an attempt to remain unbothered.

"Yeah, laugh it up, you weirdo...."

It was a losing battle.

After a few minutes, the Captain seemed to regain control of himself, though it did nothing to quell the dumb grin spreading across his face. "Now, about that drink..."

You rolled your eyes. He was cute, but not that cute. "Don't push your luck, Captain."

"...I can't believe I let you drag me here."

"Hm?" Warriors' gaze, which had previously been focused on the grimy ceiling of the tavern. Cobalt eyes sparked with mirth, and you immediately regretted opening your mouth. "That's funny, because I could have sworn I carried you."

"Tomato tom-mat-o, Cap," you waved a hand and took a perfunctory sip of your drink as an excuse to not look at him. Until he did the same, and you got another eyeful of mug he had been nursing for a solid fifteen minutes. "You look like you're preparing to have your heart broken."

"I'll be fine so long as you're gentle with me," he winked, and while you knew it was suppose to be a joke, there was little you could do to stop the clenching sensation in your chest.

You gulped down the rest of your drink, placing the now empty mug onto the counter with a slightly violent thunk. "You're an idiot," you told him; matter-of-fact, testing. "Or is it the other way around?"

Warriors' gaze sharpened. Suddenly, the tavern didn't feel quite as bad. Suddenly, you were wishing there was a bit more noise to distract you. Suddenly, you wondered what this drink would taste like on his lips. "What do you mean by that?"

This was dangerous, you knew, yet you would be a fool to stop, when it felt as though the stars themselves had aligned to grant you this chance. "I mean," you paused, wishing you had a bit left in your mug to fill the silence. "Is it me or the alcohol, Link?"

His lips parted, then closed. The Captain's eyes narrowed as he leaned an inch forward, expression far too serious for what likely looked like the beginnings of a tavern hook-up to anyone who was watching. "You're not drunk," he said; too pointed to be a question, and too soft to be a statement.

"Not yet," you shrugged. Should you call for another round? Did you need another round?

"Then why," there was a pause; a long pause, one that had your hands fidgeting in your lap, head held high in a manner that felt more exposing than anything. "Did you think it was the alcohol?"

It was as if the scarf around your neck weighed a thousand pounds.

Your sigh was soft as you combed a bit of your hair back. Back-and-forth was exhausting. "I'm not in the mood for games, Link."

"Neither am I," he responded quickly, to-the-point. You readjusted your butt more firmly against the seat.

A beat passed. It was a long beat, one that made the silence only more profound. You were no longer sure if this was a good idea; you had never known time spent with him to be so loaded, so... uncomfortable. Why were you uncomfortable?

From across the counter, your eyes caught with the blonde barmaid. She was watching you, hands frozen on a spotless glass, eyes flicking to Warriors. An eyebrow arched. She waited.

All you had to do was scream–

With a sigh, you let your gaze fall back to Warriors. If he noticed your poignant eyeing with the barmaid, he said nothing. He didn't need to, because you knew he wasn't like the others. Captain Link of Her Majesty's army was a good man.

Cocky, but good.

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips, no less redder than when Wild sat you down to apply it. "Are you going to finish that?" you jerked your thumb to his mug.

"Depends."

He didn't elaborate.

You let yourself lean an inch forward, hands on the middle of your thighs. It was no one's goddamn business if the action caused your chest to plump under the fabric of your beautiful, terrible dress. "On what?"

There was a light stiffness in his tone. "Whether you'll stay here and enjoy it with me or not."

Ah.

"What?" you could believe yourself, though it remained to be seen whether it was for rising to the bait or how pathetically biting your response came out as. "Trees are too good for you now?"

Your attention was rapt when he took a long-awaited sip. The mug was placed on the counter with a heavy thud. Warriors folded his hands in his lap, somehow managing to look both regretful and pleased. "Everything's too good for me."

You couldn't resist. "Even me?"

Cobalt eyes pinned you where you sat. Was it hot in here or was it just you? "Especially you," said the Captain, and you remembered hands, tangled in the mesh of your hair, and lips, sealed over yours like they belonged. Maybe they did.

That was it. You were done. Warriors blinked, caught off guard, when you reached across the counter, grabbing his mug. You took a long, slow sip, letting the alcohol burn all the way to your heart, as if that would give you the bravado needed to conquer a man like him. "Uh–"

"Link."

He was a bit closer now. You could have kissed him if you tried.

"Yes?"

You swallowed. You licked the plump of your bottom lip. Now or never. "If you don't kiss me right now, I'll find someone who will."

It happened in an instant; a hand shot forward to cup the back of your neck through the scarf, coaxing you forward, as a pair of lips bridged the gap. You grabbed his shoulders, fingernails clinking on the polished metal of his left pauldron, and it was the most perfect sound in the world. Warriors was warm, and a bit wet, but he tasted sweet, a soft undertone of strawberries beneath the lull of mediocre alcohol. When he pulled back, your heart thumped at the rose imprint your lipstick skewed across the planes of his own lips.

He was beautiful.

But he wasn't yours.

"I think," you paused; for breath, for moral support. He was watching you, so carefully that not even a fall could break your heart. "We should get out of here."

Warriors reached into his pouch. Warriors plopped a fat red rupee onto the counter.

You caught the blonde barmaid's approving thumbs-up as you left.

A bit ambiguous, but I'm still proud of this!

[bandgie]

I was just thinking about hannie starting an online shop for anime (hentai 👀) style costumes and asking hyunjin to help taking pictures. The reader would be modeling with the outfits. At first they'd be finding excuses to touch the reader to fix the clothes or help her change, then they'd ask her to do different poses that were showing her body more than the clothes, not that they were covering much skin anyway, then hyunjin would ask jisung to help with the poses bcs the reader on her own can't do it properly. and then ✨️threesome✨️

a little manipulation, a little manhandling, a little corruption, the best combination ever

yes anon you are correct

mdni18+ | fem!reader, dubious, pussy play, (un)solicited photos

"are you sure this is necessary?" you turn your head back towards the men. you've got your elbows perched on the table, arching your back so your ass widens for the camera. the underwear you're wearing leaves little to the imagination. you're sure they can see every crease.

click! "yes! i need customers to know it's fine material. it's business, babe. you wouldn't understand." han's reasoning makes your eyes roll. you turn to face the front again, forced to hear the clicking of hyunjin's camera.

a hand comes on your hip. guiding you to arch your back more and spread your legs. you squeak, snapping your head around to see Hyunjin carefully moving you. 

"chill," he doesn't even look at you. "i'm just fixing it." but there's something off about the way he touches you. hyunjin squeezes your flesh, massaging the skin until he travels to your inner thighs. you want to say something, but you recall han telling you that he's a professional. it would be better to let him do his job, but it's weird. 

it's instinct when your legs snap shut, his fingers had went to your crotch. 

"okay! dude! that's so fucking not necessary."

"the underwear was all messed up. im just fixing it," it's the calmness in Hyunjin's voice that gets you to settle. he's so stoic, so poised. his overly professionalism makes you simultaneously comfortable and uncomfortable.

"han, can you help me over here?"

you internally whine. now there's gonna be two men essentiality gawking at your cunt. you shut your eyes and try to pretend you're anywhere else, but it only does more harm. it focuses the feeling of ghost touches from their fingers, the accidental flicks to your clit. it makes your hips jolt, your breath hitch. it's a normal reaction for you to get wet, for the substance to leak through the underwear for han and hyunjin to see.

"god damn." it's low, but you hear han. he gets bold, using two digits to run up and down your slit while hyunjin spreads one of your cheeks for easy access.

"w-wait. hannie, it gonna get dirty."

"dirty?" he scoffs. "it's gonna look good. just let me and hyunjin get you nice and wet, okay? it'll look really good for the photos."

"mhm." hyunjin nods. "adds realism, you know?"

you don't know, but they're the professionals. might as well let them do what they think is best.

[hoe4sports]

How this ends p5

Fridolina Rolfo ft Alexia Putellas x Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 alternate

Author’s note: Here is the ending to the “how this ends”. I hope you have enjoyed my series, and that you keep reading my stories.

Warning: non

Summary: Alexia tries to repair what she once broke.

-

After coming home from your trip to Sweden with Fridolina, Alexia had begged you to come see her. At first, you bluntly refused. Never again, you promised yourself. But then. the leafes turned brown, and the ocean changed into a temperature only a fisherman could handle swimming in. Just like the seasons changed, you came around and agreed to meet her.

Picking a spot to meet her wasnt as easy as it seems. She suggested to meet up at her place, but you refused. You decided that meeting up in what once was your own homes would remind you of too many good memories and you would end up forgiving her on the spot.

Meeting up at Fridolina's place, just felt inapropriate. You had too many good memories with her to ruin your peace. It wasnt like you still loved Alexia. You loved her, but like the number of dates she took you to declined, so did your feelings for her. Fridolina picked up the pieces of what Alexia broke, and she worked hard every single day to glue it back togeter.

Arriving at the cafe, you immediately spotted Alexia among the tables. You felt your heart drop to your gut at the sight of her. She was wearing a cap covering her dark baggy eyes as she looked down. Her outfit didn’t resemble something Alexia would normally wear, only a plain pair of jeans with a stain and a white t-shirt.

Even though you felt less affected by the breakup by the day, just like your wounds had started closing up: they definitely hadn’t healed. You felt like your stomach was about to twist inside out, and tried to take a deep breath which only ended in you suppressing a yawn that turned into an embarrassingly squeak.

Alexia immediately shot her head up in your direction before practically tumbling out of her chair. Her frame moved towards you with her hands reached out in your direction. You looked at her hands. The gesture was out of pure routine after spending 13 years together. When she reached you, you gave her an apologetic look and she pulled her hands in, slightly redder in the face.

“hi” you tried to say confidently, but it ended up being more of a whisper. “Hola” she whispered back.

The pair of you standing completely dumbfounded in the middle of the cafe surrounded by couples and families. The tension was thick, and it made you feel like you were on display for the whole cafe to see. “Wanna walk?” Alexia asked, but it ended up being more a telling you instead of a suggestion.

It’s odd, you think. You haven’t seen Alexia since before the summer. Now, it’s late September. Everything is different now. It’s has all changed. Eventually, you moved out of Frido’s apartment into your own home. A place with only one tooth brush, one hairbrush and one water bottle. A home where you could eat lasagna on a Wednesday because you didn’t need to cook for an athlete.

As you walk quietly on the gravel listening to nothing but your shoes hitting the rocks; the sound of the silence becomes unbearable. “How are you?” Alexia spills out. You raise your brow at her. Did she really just ask how I am, you think to yourself while internally rolling your eyes.

“I’m feeling pretty good. Going to Sweden this summer and staying with Fridolina’s family really really helped.” You practically spit the words at her.

A part of you feels good saying that harsh truth to her, to be brutally honest, but a part of you does still love Alexia. You see the hurt on her face, but she hurt you. She chose this for you, and she dosent get to slip away from the responsibility of the situation.

“What’s the deal with Frido? Why do you car-“

“Listen, Alexia. I’m gonna be transparent here. I’m only here because I wanted to tell you in person, before it comes out through media; I’m seeing Fridolina.”

“It’s kinda hard not seeing her when you stay at her place, no?” Alexia laughs.

Your eyes tear up.

“I love her, Alexia. I’m in love with Fridolina.”

-

After your walk with Alexia, that was cut short because of your confession; you retreated hom to Frido. The only issue with what you had just confessed to Alexia, was that you hadn’t confessed your feelings to the girl you were in love with.

When you got home, you immediately popped yourself into the couch lying down on your belly. You let out an audible sigh before laying your head down. Why did it feel like a conflict of interest?

You knew that you loved Frido, and you had loved her since you woke up from mourning your relationship. Frido had been there every step of the way. Always patient, always kind and always good. Frido was the greater woman. She was just perfect.

Abrudly, you were cut off from your own thoughts when Frido suddenly appeared from the corner. The pair of you both let out a scared scream before laughing at each other.

“Sötnos, how was your walk with Alexia? Did you get any answers?”

Frido moved towards you before sitting down next to your head. Her hands running through your somewhat knotted hair from the wind at the park.

“Yes”

You sat yourself up, looking straight into Fridolina’s blue sparkling eyes.

“Not to be noisy, but. And?”

You moved towards her face, gently reaching your fingertips towards her face. Your face just centimetres from the Swede.

“And…” you repeated silently, barely whispering trying to catch your breath.

“Y/n? What did you talk about? The cat? A possible regroup? Fill me in please! And what?”

The way Frido’s natural curiosity kicked in had you grinning at her. You looked at Frido’s lips before looking at her eyes again. Your hand tucking away a few strands of her blonde hair. A soft smile on your face leaning towards her ear before whispering softly:

“And, I love you, Fridolina Rölfo”

-

You and Frido had just come home from Mapi and Ingrid’s when you felt a sudden overwhelming feeling of missing your cat. Your tears were dripping, softly hitting Frido’s couch while looking at your phone. The screen was showing you your cat’s adorable little face. Alexia always complained about how many pictures you took of the little guy, but you loved him to pieces. She always complained about cat litter. How expensive cat food was. How expensive taking him to the vet was. How he couldn’t be in your bedroom or in the kitchen. But you didn’t care. He had never betrayed you, so you never betrayed him.

You looked at his sweet little face while swiping to the next picture. It was a picture of him sleeping on your chest while you were fast asleep aswell. The next picture was your cat with a flower on his head. After the flower picture, a video of him chasing a robotic fish popped up. Your tears kept pressing while you laughed at yourself.

“YN? You will never guess what Mapi just texted me! Oh, are you crying?” Fridolina said as she barged in clearly in shock. You looked up at her, and she was already moving towards you in the speed of lightning. Her hands reached out to you as she arrived at the couch and your hands immediately intertwined with hers.

“I.. It’s just silly, don’t worry about it”

“Skatt, it’s never silly if something makes you cry. I always worry about you. Is there anything I can do to help? Hell, I’ll find a way to catch the moon if that is what you want.”

You flashed your screen towards Frido who looked back at your black cat.

“Is it your cat?”

“It was, but he lives with Alexia now. She refuses to give him to me..”

“Do you want him back?”

“Yes, what kind of question is that? Of course I do”

“Okay; you get what you want, love.”

“But there will be cat litter, he has midnight zoomies and he loves to yell, AND you don’t even like cats?”

“If he makes you happy, then I’ll find a way to get him to you. I’ll be any type of animal person for you. Maybe not a spider or a snake, but a cat? No issues there!”

“But, Alexia dosent want to let him go”

“Don’t worry about the practicality, I’ll sort it out”

The next day, Frido arrives from training with her bag and your cat in a carrier, making you feel happier and more grateful than ever for finding someone that loves you the way you love them.

—

Your eyes filled with tears while looking down on the woman in front of you on one knee with a velvet box in her hands. The idea of marriage, a big grand wedding with all of the people the you loved was something that had lingered in your head since you saw your mum in her wedding dress back when you were 6. Since that moment, you knew you wanted marriage.

Frido’s blue eyes were sparkling reflections the stars in the dark sky above her. She had gone above and beyond to make the proposal special. With the help of Ingrid, she had planned a secret trip for you to Lake Como where she planned to purpose by the gate to heaven at the date of your 3 year anniversary. Frido being Frido, didn’t stop there.

“Y/N, from bestfriends to girlfriends. You are the light of my life. The last years with you have been the best years of my life. I might not have gotten the chance to grow up with you, but I’m ready to grow old with you. Y/N, will you please do me the honour of marrying me?”

“Yes, Fridolina. Yes, yes, yes!” You cheered before throwing yourself around her. She caught you and spun you around in circles. It felt exactly like a scene from a romantic movie. Then, it was time for the ring. It was sparkly and grand, but elegant and classy. It was exactly what you wanted. You looked into Frido’s eyes as she slid the ring on your finger while tears of joy were rolling down your cheeks.

«Its perfect, its everything I’ve ever dreamed of. You are everything I’ve ever dreamed of.” You say as your tears spill down your cheeks while framing Frido’s cheeks with your hands.

“You deserve it, you are so good to me. You are perfect, everything I could’ve ever dreamed of. I would be a fool miss out on trying to wife you up” the last comment made you giggle leaving a smile of your fiancé’s face.

She then reached around her back and somehow pulled out a bouquet of flowers. Not roses, you don’t care much for roses. Alexia would buy you roses, and you’d say “thank you”. But you don’t care for roses. The flowers Frido picked out for you, were bluebells: your favourite. A flower that was rare in the nature, even rarer in shops. The gesture brought tears to your eyes.

“Close your eyes, baby” Frido commanded before she put her hands carefully on top of your eyes.

“There is more?” You whisper, a hushed cry chocking your sob. You felt slightly confused, but you trusted her. She turned you around to face another direction. Music started playing, or rather a live band started playing Ed Sheeran’s “perfect”. Her hands dropped from your eyes and you immediately opened them. There, just 50 meters away from you; You and Frido’s families and friends, 60 people flown in from all over the world to be there on your special day. Your nearest friends came sprinting towards you before wrapping you into a hug knowing that all the pain was worth it.

[soelstress]

Those Words

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female!reader

Summary: Bucky knows what to expects when he hears them. But what if just once they were used for something else?

Warnings: angst , some violence , character death

Word count: 2.1k

Square filled for @avengers-assemble-bingo “Bucky Barnes Birthday bingo event": Square 3 'Trigger Words’

Card - 4B011

A/N - Hello lovelies! My third entry for the above bingo event. Please don’t hate me for the angst, I promise a light hearted piece for my last entry!

The pic is sourced from Google

Do not Steal, Copy or Plagiarize any part of my work

“What the hell is this?”

“Why don’t we discuss your home? Not Romania. Certainly not Brooklyn. No. I mean… your real home.”

Bucky froze when he recognised that book. The book red as blood with a thick black star dark as his nightmares embossed on the cover

“Longing”

“No.” Bucky shook his head in despair and closed his eyes as the sound of screaming began to echo within his mind.

“Rusted.”

Tremors rocked his body when realised it was one person screaming. “Stop.”

“Seventeen.”

“Stop.” Bucky gritted his teeth trying to fight the pain that ripped through him, not only from the memory of the torture that Hydra subjected him to but also from the whirring and activity of his metal limb which had been dormant for 18 months.

“Daybreak.”

A scream of agony tore from Bucky’s soul as he ripped free of the restraints within the pod and began punching the door in an attempt to escape both the horror of his present situation and the memory of the screams ringing in his head and the last time he heard those words.

************************************************

When the door of your apartment squeaked open followed by the creak of worn flooring you breathed a sigh of relief. Until that moment you hadn’t realised how worried you were. Filled with dread that he might be seen or captured and unable to return to you or even let you know what had happened to him. But he was here now.

You watched as James walked into your bedroom and sat on your bed leaving some space. As his fingers twitched with nerves you waited with what looked like patience but internally you were dying to know what happened.

After what seemed like an eternity he took a small breath. “Bucky.” You blinked in confusion. That was not how you expected him to start but waited for him to elaborate. “My name is James Buchanan Barnes. But he called me Bucky.”

“He?”

“Captain America. Steve. My best friend.”

When you caught a glance of his blank face you realised he was reciting the information emotionlessly. Cautiously you probed him. “You remember that?”

There was a pause before he shook his head. “I read it. The exhibit at the Smithsonian.” He broke off and resumed his fidgeting.

There was a swooping sensation in the pit of your stomach. This was it. His opportunity to find his friend who would hopefully be able to help restore his memories and determine his future. You shouldn’t be surprised as you had encouraged him to go to the museum and see if it would help him remember. “What now?”

He sighed heavily. “That man who fought all those years ago alongside his best friend… I’m not him. He’s gone. He was experimented on and changed into something different. And I don’t want to be what they made me. I want to be someone else.” When his flesh hand tipped your chin up you saw him looking at you with a timid smile. “These past few months I’ve started to learn about who I am now. I’d like to learn more about who I am… with you.” As he spoke a softness entered his eyes, so different to the caution you first saw months prior. The day after SHIELD had fallen both literally and metaphorically.

Debris from their headquarters along with the three helicarriers had rained down upon the city causing destruction and damage which had led to your short shift as a student nurse at a hospital in DC turning into overnight volunteering as you helped wherever possible. Once the worst injuries had been treated and a semblance of calm returned to the building you were told to go home. You were exhausted but decided to walk the few blocks home rather than get a cab hoping to clear your mind of the chaos you’d faced. As the sight of the main door entered your eye line you’d been too distracted to focus on your surroundings and notice the three men following you. They had yanked you into an alley before shoving you against a wall and demanded your purse and phone. One held a blade and had sliced your cheek when you failed to move or respond from exhaustion and your head hitting the wall. The other two held you against the wall with one hand covering your mouth to muffle any noises. A noise of pain had barely formed when they were yanked away from you. As you slid down the wall surrendering to exhaustion and pain all you saw were a pair of blue eyes that you hoped would relieve you of your pain.

The next thing you remembered was waking up in your apartment. The man had sat watching you from a chair at the foot of your bed. In short sentences he had said that he wasn’t able to take you to a hospital but had stayed with you in case you had a concussion. He had also treated the cut from the knife on your cheek. You offered him money as a reward but he declined. When you saw he was filthy and bloody you’d offered him a shower and a change of clothes which he had hesitantly accepted. While he showered you checked your phone when breaking news alerts popped up about the Avengers. Clicking on the alert you saw snippets about SHIELD, Hydra and their weapon. The Winter Soldier. The man in your shower. A ruthless assassin was in your shower. A ruthless assassin… who had saved you.

Instead of running or calling for help, you couldn’t help wanting to know why he helped you. He confirmed everything you had read but said that after SHIELD and Hydra he wanted to run and be free from their clutches. His memory was obviously flawed so you gave him the basic information the article had revealed. He had said that while this information was fresh he needed to hide until he could figure out what to do. Whether to learn about his past or to move on and leave it behind. You’d never understand why but you offered to let him stay with you. During that time you had witnessed his nightmares and tried to help comfort him in the little ways he could bear; a glass of water, a blanket or pillow to hold on to because he still flinched at the slightest contact or just sitting close by so he wasn’t alone. Slowly but surely he began to open up and a tentative friendship was born with soft touches, small smiles and him sharing the little flashes of his life before Hydra. But you knew this couldn’t go on forever, he needed to decide what to do with his life. So you started mentioning the Captain America and Howling Commandos exhibit at the Smithsonian. And today he had finally gone.

“Come with me.” You couldn’t help giggling at the puzzlement adorning James’ face. It was a look he often wore when looking at you as if there was something about you he couldn’t figure out. You gestured to a black backpack which held your passport and your savings in. “James, you know I’ve saved up to go on a long vacation. Come with me. See the world. Learn who you are.”

The next few moments were all a blur. There was a sudden bang and smoke filled the apartment. Over the ringing in your ears you could hear some noise and when you looked up James was speaking to you but there was no sound. He was suddenly yanked away from you and you were also hauled to your feet as men dressed in black with large guns swarmed into your bedroom.

You barely registered the blade pressed to your throat as James was forced to kneel with his hands restrained behind his back. Both of you knew that he could break the restraints with laughable ease. But as you struggled to free yourself the hopelessness of the situation sank in. From what little you could understand there were reinforcements coming. James refused to leave without you. And the cold reality washed over you that you were going to die. But instead of worrying about your own life and trying to fight the inevitable, your concentration was the man who had such an impact on your life in such a short time.

Shame and defeat burned through Bucky. He had failed. To escape Hydra. To free himself. But most importantly he had failed to protect you who had done so much - risked so much - for him. His actions had led to this moment. They had almost certainly followed him from the museum. Bucky trembled as he met your gaze. Why did you look so apologetic? Bucky shook his head in reassurance and tried to brave a smile which caused yours to falter. He looked away guiltily.

“Longing.” It was breathed so softly that Bucky only heard it because of his enhanced hearing.

“Rusted.” Bucky’s skin began to crawl at the familiar words before he noticed the confused muttering in the room.

“Seventeen.”

Panic began to descend when his metal fingers flexed restlessly and his arm crackled. Bucky looked up to warn you, to hope you’d remember what he’d said but the words died in his throat. He had seen so many of your expressions - happiness, sadness, anger and even pity when he told you what little he could remember of his past lift and the torture he had been subjected to with Hydra. But to watch devastation and heartbreak twist your kind features as you used the words that he had taught you to beware and that he had dared hope to never hear again. His heart plummeted, not from betrayal but dread. You weren’t using them against him. You were using them for him.

Bucky struggled to fight his captors. Even as two goons dragged you into the adjacent room you continued to scream the words which sounded odd with your poor pronunciation but also in your sweet voice. Bucky roared as the cuffs snapped with a flick of each wrist and fought his way towards the door you had been herded through. The words still bled through the walls muffled but discernible to his ears. Screaming for you Bucky began to ram against the door.

As the whole wall seems to shudder from impacts on Bucky’s side you still reeled off his words that you remembered solely from memory. Tears streamed from your eyes as your heart shattered at Bucky’s pained cries for you. You only hoped that if he remembered this that one day he might realise your intentions. The last word had barely passed your lips before ending in a wet gurgle. One of the goons had stabbed you with a blade which now stuck out of your chest as you collapsed to the floor in a heap. When silence reigned through the space the second goon went to the door which then exploded in a shower of fragments and splinters and knocked him down. A familiar figure slowly stepped closer to the man who stabbed you. Though you knew this man he did not know you. His blue eyes were cold and remote.

“Soldargh!”

You watched the man squirm in the silver chokehold which slowly cut off his circulation and dropped him carelessly to the floor. Over the pounding in your head you heard a low mumble of Russian but it wasn’t until silver fingers glided along your wound that your attention moved back to your saviour. For a moment you thought that he might do something to end your suffering but instead he stared at you and you distantly realised he was waiting for instructions.

“Run.”

You weren’t sure if he understood but the slight dip in his brows was enough to show his recognition. Spluttering through the warm metallic liquid pooling in your mouth you lifted your leaden arm and pointed to the pack in the corner. There was a moment's hesitation before he walked over to the pack and picked it up before glancing at you when he heard your breathing become slow and shallow.

“Run. Don’t let them catch you.”

Your vision began to darken but you fought with every breath to watch as he tugged the bag over his shoulder. The last thing you saw before the darkness consumed you was a pair of blue eyes that you hoped would one day forgive you.

[carolmunson]

orange colored sky (older!modern!eddie)

older!modern!eddie - setlist inspired by the fact that i fall in love with someone new every time i got to trader joe's and @loveshotzz new older!steve series. manip by my fave @eddiemunsons-missingnipple tw: nothing really, very much a meet cute at a grocery store. eddie is in his early 40s, reader is late-late 20s/early 30s. lemme know if you guys want this to be a whole thing.

the automatic doors rush cool air into your face, a sweet reprieve from the sticky heat of this summer. a much muggier july than you remember having as a kid. but then again, you don't remember that much about being a kid these days. trader joe's is a little busier than usual, which makes sense with the holiday weekend coming up -- but you hate when it's busy. there's already too many sounds -- some summer 90s playlist and the squeaks of the carts, people in their hawaiian shirts milling around with boxes and box cutters. you just want some snap peas for god sakes. 

you grab a basket and adjust your canvas bags on your shoulder, tossing your headphones in them for later. you feel 'running errands ugly' but everyone seeing you in the bike shorts you threw on this morning doesn't think that view is ugly at all. your music drowned it out on the train ride over here. you're already sort of annoyed. people just don't know how to do anything anymore -- why are we just standing in front of produce. get what you need and go! you think hastily. but you wait for people to stop gawking at the produce and make their selection before you grab the romaine, snap peas, and shredded brussel sprouts you need. when you turn you almost walk entirely into someone's cart, eyes flitting up briefly and muttering a 'sorry, s'cuse me'.

can everyone just get off my fucking ass? you huff to yourself internally. you maneurver over to fruits, a few stands in a row -- citrus, apples, berries. all separated by category in large cargo looking boxes. you snag a big box of cherries, the three pound one, knowing you'll go through the small ones too fast. you frown over the lack of watermelon, continuing along while someone turns the corner into your aisle. you look up for a moment, just to scan your surroundings, to see who it is.

 you've never seen him before, but you've never seen anyone here before. it's not like there's regulars at the grocery store in a city like this. his hands hang over the handle to his cart by the wrists, knuckles tattooed in shapes you can't make out. you follow the leather banded watch up to a full sleeve of ink, only obscured by the start of a cuffed t-shirt sleeve, a crisp white that blinds against the black of the elvira pin up tattoo on his tricep. horror icons blending into each other seamlessly. you can see more black and color peeking out from the collar of his shirt --vintage judas priest, mint condition, tucked comfortably under a well perserved denim vest covered in patches of bands you've never heard of. you're surprised by the black chino shorts on his bottom half, not expecting someone who was clearly still stuck in their grunge phase to wear those over cut off jeans. the busted up reebok's on his feet make up for it though -- pairing nicely with the tattoos on his calves and thighs, not quite sleeves, but enough to make a statement. 

you grab a box of strawberries and pop them into your basket, surveying the mangos on the top shelf at your eye level while he maneuvers behind you. you think he's cute but you don't take too much stock in it -- it's so like you to have a 'train boyfriend' or 'trader joe's boyfriend' for a brief moment in time. someone cute that you spot outside and never speak to. it's one of those days.

he has brown eyes and thick lashes, hair dark wrapped in a bun on the top of his head with streaks of silver poking through, bangs in his face. some curls stick to the heated skin by his neck and jaw. not that you're looking. the scruff on his face is littered with salt and pepper -- maybe that part of him aging more than the rest. he grabs a heap of bananas to his nearly empty cart. he also has a big box of cherries in there. he wears a cologne with spice and suede in the notes, it's familiar, a little smoky. maybe an old boyfriend used to wear it. you shrug it off, grabbing a mango or two and popping it in a produce bag before hocking it in. more veggies for a greek salad. an onion. some pre-packaged turkey slices. 

you turn into the first frozen food section, weaving through more people who just stand there and you grit your teeth. you snag some frozen broccoli, the coolness bringing you a moment of calm so that you don't lose your mind inside the store. more like traitor joe's. you grab a few more things, a veggie medley for a tofu scramble, some scallion pancakes that you’ll use as meal replacement because no matter how many times you think you’ll food prep you never do. you see him at the end of the aisle, rifling through bags of frozen shrimp to find one he likes. you notice he has a ring on but it’s on his pointer finger, two more rings on the hand that holds his cart by his hip – a silver chain dangles from what you assume is his wallet in his back pocket. his keys jingle from a carabiner by his front belt loop. slut, you think to yourself. you grab a bag of small frozen salmon filets, not paying much mind to your grocery store boyfriend of the week when you turn the corner to the next frozen food aisle. he’s there not soon after you, grabbing frozen fruit medleys and a few bars of chocolate on the non-frozen shelving above. you aren’t sure if he sees you, but you see him. you can smell the suede and spice of his cologne as his moves past you to the other end. bread is on the back wall of the store, you want to get sourdough but you know you’ll just eat it plain and not make sandwiches so you opt for the tuscan loaf instead. you snag a bag of mini bagels, forgoing the small baguettes this time. you can’t afford the good burrata this week for any special girl dinner you come up with, so it’s best to not have it around if you can’t pair it with anything pretty. further down the back wall you get to snacks and don’t ignore the bag of yogurt covered pretzels – a basket must. seaweed snacks for salmon rice bowls. plantain chips. Your basket feels a little heavy but at least this errand is almost over. you turn down the pasta, beans, and rice aisle and there he is turning down the other end. you both catch each other this time, because this time feels like it’s not a coincidence. you both break eye contact as quickly as you make it, both of you looking down and smiling to yourselves. you feel the heat on your cheeks but you don’t see his blush, both of you too preoccupied with whatever you have to pick up to pay attention to the other. you smell the suede and smoke even after you lose him to the next couple of aisles. 

pre-packaged tortellini, lox, shredded cheese. chicken thighs. a six pack of some pretty sounding beer you’ve never tried. your basket overflows but it’s fine. the errand is over, at least here, before you need to run into target which for some reason is far less overstimulating. he’s a few people ahead of you on the opposite line, still leaning over the edge of his cart with his hands hanging, one thumbing a text to someone before he stands up fully to push the cart ahead. he looks over his shoulder and your eyes briefly meet for a moment – heat on your cheeks – before he moves ahead to turn down the long row of cashiers to pay. you don’t see him when it’s your turn and by the time you’re done paying you’ve already forgotten about him, lost in a flirty conversation with the guy ringing you up. target only has half of what you need and that’s fine because nothing else will fit in the big canvas bags you brought with you for your groceries and it’s at least an eight minute walk back to the train. you groan when you get back out into the heat, the boiler room of the subway cooking you as you make it down to the platform. a pleasant sigh passes your lips when you see it’s at least only a four minute wait until your train makes it to you – only a few more minutes of suffering before you’re on your way back to your air conditioned studio apartment. you look across the platform where some old lady’s push cart rattles as it makes it down the stairs on the other side. her little body walking ahead, a voice saying ‘i got it, ma’am don’t worry,’ echos down into the chamber of the subway.

there he is. a canvas bag on each arm filled to the brim and the push cart lifted in front of him. while you can’t see from this distance, you have a feeling you’d like how his arms looked at full capacity like this. the cart’s metallic jingle continues when he places it on the concrete ground, pushing it over to the woman who now sits pleasantly on the bench. you watch their conversation while they say quiet ‘thank yous’ and ‘your welcomes’ to each other and he checks his phone while he finds a spot to stand, waiting for his train on the opposite side.

you check your phone just the same and look up again as he puts his phone in the pocket of his vest. his attention catches on you from across the way.

he gives you a small wave and smiles. he has a nice smile, infectious.

“hi.”

you wave back with two fingers, a small salute, “hey.”

“i’m eddie,” he starts as the red glow of the light on your train starts to pull in. 

the chug, chug, chug starting to drown him out. he raises his voice with a boyish grin, you hear him just before the train obscures him from view – whooshing past you as it pulls into the station. “i normally go to trader’s on wednesdays!”

you get on the train when the doors open, seeing him still on the platform, searching for you in the windows. you put your hand up again in an awkward wave and he grins when he finds you. ‘stand clear of the closing doors, please!’ he puts a hand back up with two fingers, mouthing out a message. ‘wednesdays around two.’

you give him the okay symbol with your fingers and nod at him, chuckling at the ridiculousness of the situation, he chuckles too. his smile is pretty, lips are full. his two fingers point to his eyes and then at you – ‘see you then’. 

the train pulls away before you get a chance to reply. 

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