#it always surprises me when I’m on my readers minds when I haven’t updated in so long

[punch-love]

Can I ask the current word count of the lp draft ur editing? Would u split the chap? Have u ever split a chap before because you felt like it was too long? Or do you feel like u would only ever split it for a better reason like flow or something. I’m not like asking for u to split it or to update. This is not like a request ask. Just curious because ur on my mind lol

It’s a little under 10k. I’m not at my computer now but I worked on it the other day and I remember stopping just under a hundred from 10k. I would never split a chapter. I write dual POV so it wouldn’t make sense to split them. There’s been things I’ve decided should happen to one person instead of the other and then moved some things around accordingly though. This chapter was supposed to end on one thing but then I decided it would make sense to start that thing from Wade’s POV next chapter instead.

I don’t mind questions like these. If you’re interested in my process specifically. I enjoy thinking about it when I’m answering questions about it.

[munsonhoneybaby]

Dustin Doesn't Know | Eddie Munson X F!Henderson!Reader

Summary: As things with Eddie start to go farther and farther, you worry how your relationship would impact Dustin if he found out.

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: 18+ mdni, drug use (marijuana), stoner!reader, smut, fwb-esque, oral (m and f receiving), balls??, fingering, p in v (protected), praise, implied subspace?? idk if that was coming across tho???

A/N: there’s a lot of stuff about reader that i’m super vague on because i’m thinking of explaining it more in the final part or maybe additional drabbles and stuff like that (she is adopted tho). i really hope that this chapter lives up to the hype and praise that the first one got since it’s taken me three months to update lol. as always lmk if i missed anything in the warnings.

part one | finale | tmic masterlist

When you heard the soft groan of your window slowly sliding open, you couldn’t hold back the grin that spread across your face. Turning around, you were met with Eddie maneuvering his lean body through the window; it wasn’t quite as awkward as you’d expected, but he certainly wasn’t as silent as he’d hoped to be as his feet thudded on your carpeted floor.

“Not too bad, Munson. You’re definitely lucky being a heavy sleeper runs in the Henderson DNA, though.” As you face him completely, he holds out a baggie of weed and a small box. 

Eyebrows furrowing, you took it to examine it further as he explained. “It’s uh– incense. I noticed you lit some last time, figured it was for the smell.”

“Yeah, makes it a little easier for Mom to pretend she doesn’t know.” Opening the package, you placed one of the sticks in the holder and lit the end. “That’s really sweet, Eddie, thank you.”

“Hope the scent is alright ‘n everything, I didn’t really know what you like.” Shrugging his jacket off, he tossed it over the back of the chair at your desk.

Suppressing a smile, you bent down to the drawer next to him to get out your tray and paper again, “It’s actually one of my favorites.”

“Oh,” He seemed pleasantly surprised, but he kept his head down as he took a seat at your desk. “Good.”

“What’re you doing?”

“I’m gonna roll? Why? What’s it look like I’m doing?”

Flicking the back of his head, you replied, “Suit yourself then, smartass. I was gonna do it this time, but never mind.”

“Jeez, touchy,” He huffed playfully as he swatted your hand away. “I don’t mind rolling, I’d be doing it if I were at home right now anyway. Your only job is to sit there and look pretty for me, alright?”

“A little demeaning, but I think I can handle it,” You sighed dramatically. Much like last time, you stretched yourself out on the bed, lying on your stomach as you watched him roll the joint. His fingers handled the paper so delicately, knowing exactly how to roll and pinch it without threatening to rip it. Every now and then one of his rings would drag or clink against the wood of your desk, and you couldn’t help but squeeze your thighs together as you remembered the way the cool metal had felt against your hot skin.

“So, how’ve you been doing?” He placed the finished joint between his lips and held his lighter to it as he claimed the first long drag of the night. “I haven’t seen you in a minute.”

“I really am sorry about that,” You answered bashfully. “I didn’t mean for that to happen, I swear I don’t usually do stuff like that.”

“What? You mean invite in guys you hardly know to make ‘em dinner and let ‘em finger you?” Wearing a massive smirk, he held the joint out to you. You accepted it but huffed embarrassedly and his smirk only grew. “Nothin’ to be ashamed of, babe. Christ knows I’m reliving every second, I could recite every gory detail back to you.”

“I don’t know why you’re reliving it. You made me come, got blue balls, and went home.”

“So? Making you come is like seventy-five percent of the fun. Jerking off’ll make up for missing the rest,” He shrugged.

“You really don’t hold anything back, huh?” You croaked around a chestful of smoke.

“Maybe I just don’t feel like I have to with you.” You couldn’t tell if that statement went deeper than this conversation. “Should I?”

“You don’t have to hold anything back with me, Eddie,” You answered honestly. “As long as you behave around my brother.”

He pointed a finger toward you in warning as his lips curled mischievously, “I’ll remember you said that.”

Rolling your eyes, you take a couple extra hits from the joint before passing it back. He watched as you laid back on the bed, closing your eyes and slowly exhaling, the smoke billowing upwards. Eyes wandering down your body, he took in the way your shirt had rolled up to show the flesh of your tummy, how the band of your thong peeked out of your pajama pants– a different pair than last time– and accentuated the dip of your waist. He wondered how many people had gotten to see you like this; he wondered if they really appreciated it. 

“You’re about to get ash on my carpet and I’m gonna have to kick your ass,” You spoke abruptly, breaking him from his reverie.

“I’m shaking, babe,” He monotoned as he ashed it in the tray.

“You should be.”

“What’s with you, hm?” He stood and placed the joint between his lips, lifting his arms to stretch his back and shoulders. His voice was teasing as he stepped toward your bed, toward you.“Bein’ so mean to me today. You know, you were a lot nicer the last time we smoked together.”

Scooting over to make room for him on the bed, your eyes caught on the faint trail of hair leading into his jeans before lifting to meet his. Reaching out to take the joint back, you said, “‘M not being mean. Just keeping you in line, Munson.”

Crawling into the bed beside you, he settled on his side, head resting in his hand. “Probably a good idea.” Hoping his fingers weren’t twitching with nerves, he slowly grazed them over the soft skin of your stomach. “You know I’m always gettin’ into trouble.”

“I guess I’ll just have to keep an eye on you,” You posited, taking yet another long drag.

“A close one,” He hummed in agreement. His touch moved up your stomach, raising goosebumps in its wake as your head slumped against his shoulder. “This okay?”

Though you were leaning into his touch, you asked, “Do you think this is a bad idea?”

Eddie’s hand froze and he leaned back slightly to try to look at you. “What? What do you mean? Do you think it is?”

You didn’t meet his eyes. “I don’t know. You’re just so important to Dustin and I don’t want to change the way he sees you. I would never want something between us to affect your relationship with him.”

“In the nicest way possible, babe–” He brushed your hair back from your face, finally locking eyes with you. “You worry too much. We’re both adults, alright? Even if something were to happen, I wouldn’t let Dustin get caught in that. We’d work around it, y’know? I think we could be mature about it. If things went bad, that is– and I mean, I don’t really think they would–”

You stretched your neck to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Careful of the now-unlit joint still in your hand, you squeezed his side. “You’re probably right, Eds.” Your lips trailed to his jaw, lined with a light smile. “I won’t worry about it anymore tonight, I didn’t mean to get you worked up.”

His cheeks flushed and he mumbled only half-jokingly, “‘M not worked up. Just don’t want you runnin’ out on me just yet, you’re actually kinda cool.”

Your eyes softened and your hand slid from his side to his chest, “I won’t go anywhere, Eddie. You don’t have to worry about that. Now,” Pressing against his chest, you urged him onto his back so you could straddle his thighs. He bit down on his lower lip, looking up at you with eager eyes. Slipping your hand into his jeans pocket for his lighter, you continued, “Enough with the heavy. We still have half a joint to finish and I seem to remember getting interrupted in the middle of something important the last time you were here.”

“You know, you really don’t have to feel obligated,” He reminded you. Still, his hands immediately wandered from your thighs, up your sides, and back.

“Who said I felt obligated, hm?” The pads of your fingers brushed his lips as you placed the lit joint between them. “Maybe I’ve just really been looking forward to making you come.”

A cloud of smoke rolled from his mouth as he groaned, clutching your hips to draw you further toward him. “Fuck, keep talking like that and it’s gonna happen way too soon, sweet thing. Been thinkin’ about it, huh?”

“Haven’t stopped thinking about it since you left,” You answered. “About what you’d do when you got home.”

“Yeah?” His hand crept beneath your shirt, running up your spine before guiding you closer. “That’s cute, baby. Thought about me stroking my cock and thinkin’ how much better that pretty pussy would feel instead? You didn’t touch yourself after I left, did you?”

Hips already grinding down against his, you lightly pinched his side. “None of your business.”

“Wait, seriously? I was just fucking around, did you actually make yourself come thinking about me beating off?”

Your head fell back and you let out a laugh that was way too loud for the time of the night. “Eddie, what the fuck?”

He said your name, tone far more serious than his statement required. “You have no idea how fucking hot that is. You’re actually about to make me bust in my pants.”

“Well don’t, alright? We were just getting to the good part when somebody got sidetracked,” You teased. Leaning down, you let your lips graze his and smiled. “Let me make you feel as good as you made me feel, yeah?” After pressing a quick peck to his lips, you sat up. “Take off your shirt.”

“Bossy,” He muttered with false exasperation. As he yanked his shirt over his head and whipped it across the room, he felt your hands drift to the button of his jeans. He tilted his chin to kiss you deeper than before. 

“Of course, you have more tattoos,” You huffed.

He might have asked if that was a problem if he hadn’t picked up on the subtle whine behind your voice. “Mmm, should’a known you’d dig the tatties. I’ll give you a tour later, huh, sweetheart? Wouldn’t wanna get sidetracked again, would we?”

“You’re a jackass, y’know that?”

“I think I’ve been told once or twice, yeah.” Hand framing your jaw, his rings pressed into one side of your neck as his left slow, open-mouthed kisses along the other. “Pretty baby,” He hummed lowly against your ear. “Bein’ so good to me.”

“You still haven’t let me show you how good I can be,” You replied breathily. 

“I just keep on distractin’ you, huh?” He pressed a couple playful kisses to your lips before asking, “Want me to let you get back to work?” Before he’d even finished his sentence, you were unzipping his jeans and scooting backward to tug them past his hips.

“Fuck, I knew you’d be big,” You whined as you eyed the outline of his length within the confines of his boxers.

“I’ll try not to let that go to my head,” He jested with a smirk. 

“I’m sure it will anyway. That’s okay though, your confidence isn’t misplaced, Eds.” When you finally pulled his boxers down, you practically had to bite down on your lip to stifle a moan at the sight. His cock twitched against his lower abdomen, precome almost dripping into the hair there. “Eddie, shit. Gonna taste so good.”

The way his length jumped at the sound of your voice almost had you drooling. He held your hair back from your face, thumb rubbing over your cheek as your hand wrapped around his base. “So fuckin’ dirty, gettin’ all desperate to suck my cock. Go on, baby, I won’t keep you waiting anymore.”

“I think I’m the one who’s s’posed to be saying that,” You hummed. Leaning forward, you let spit drip from your lip to the head, slowly stroking him. 

“Don’t sweat it, you’re worth holding out for.” His words already held a faint pant. As your tongue traced his length he tightened his grip on your hair. When your lips finally wrapped around him, his mouth fell open, a shaky breath escaping him as he hits the back of your throat. “Shit, definitely worth it.” Eyes glazed, he watched how your cheeks hollowed around him, how your lashes fluttered as you kept your eyes down. “Look at me, sweet thing. Gimme those eyes.” Nervously doing as he asked, your gaze locked with his and he stifled a groan. “Too fuckin’ pretty.” 

His hand still sweetly held your hair back from your face as you let his cock slip from your spit-soaked lips, mouthing sloppy kisses along it until you reached his balls. Your tongue laved across one and his eyes rolled back, head falling against your pillows. “What the fuck,” He groaned incredulously. “You’re fucking unreal. I have to be dreaming right now.”

“Vivid dreamer,” You quipped lowly.

Smirk never leaving his face, he tugged lightly at your hair, drawing a small gasp from you. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had this dream, sweetheart. Definitely never felt this good before, though.”

“Glad I’m living up to your expectations, Munson.” Taking him back into your mouth, the musky taste of his precome coated your tongue. The moan he fought to hold back became a whimper as you lapped up every drop. Resisting the urge to gag, you bobbed your head further until your nose brushed the dark curls around his base. Your nails dragged lightly over the ink winding around his hipbone, making them jerk in response. 

“You have no idea,” A whine was beginning to leak into his tone. “‘M already close, baby. You’re s’fucking good. Such a good girl for me.” Hand cradling the back of your head, his hips rutted carefully to meet your movements. Nails digging into his hips encouragingly, you tried to keep your eyes on him as the rise and fall of his chest grew more rapid. “Fuck, you’re g’nna make me come.” You moaned eagerly, vibrations making his thighs tense. 

Not wanting to pull your hair too hard, Eddie clutched your bedding instead. His other hand formed a fist which he bit down on, huffing out ragged breaths around it in an attempt to keep quiet. You could feel his cock twitch as his come filled your mouth and a tremor ran through his body as he watched you swallow all of it.

He was still panting as you crawled to his level, planting a far-too-sweet kiss on his lips and smiling. Shaking his head, he breathed, “Too fuckin’ good.”

“Happy to return the favor.”

“Fuck favors.” His hand found a home in your hair again as he pulled you in for a heated kiss. His free hand lifted your shirt until you leaned back so he could tug it over your head. “I just want you. Are you alright with that?” You just looked into his eyes for a moment– silently communicating something that you weren’t sure either of you fully understood– before your lips met his again, reaching behind your back to unclasp your bra. Calloused fingertips brushed down the sensitive skin of your neck and over your chest to your nipples. You shivered, goosebumps pebbling your skin as he teased them with the pads of his thumbs. Your mouth fell open against his and his teeth nipped your lower lip. Trailing a few kisses along your jaw, he murmured, “Pretty baby.”

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps in the hallway followed by the bathroom door creaking made you both freeze. You glanced at your bedroom doorknob to ensure it was locked before you and Eddie both eyed the alarm clock on your nightstand. It was almost a quarter past three in the morning and Dustin would be getting up for school in less than four hours.

“That’s my cue, isn’t it?” He pouted.

“I think so,” You sighed. Lifting your hips, you allowed him to fix his boxers and jeans before he handed you your shirt. “We can hang out again soon though, okay?”

“Yeah,” He snorted, crawling out of your bed to search the other side of the room for his own shirt. “‘Hang out’. ‘Cause I do this with all my friends, y’know?”

“I’m sorry, do you want me to say you can sneak in my window for head again?”

Laughing, he pulled his shirt over his head and slipped his shoes back on before walking back over to you. His hands cradled your jaw, tilting your head back so he could look into your eyes from where he stood between your legs. “Maybe I wanna give you head next time, hm? How ‘bout that?”

Body heating embarrassedly, you tried to look anywhere but his eyes. “I’ll consider it.”

“Mmm, good.” He pressed a long, slow kiss to your lips before hesitantly pulling back. “I’ve got a lot to think about until the next time I see you.”

“I’ll call you, okay?” 

Grinning, he swiped his thumb over your cheek one last time before he headed for your window. “I’ll be waiting, Henderson.” He ducked back out the window and you peeked your head out after him. Throwing you a quick wink, he started to cut across the yard where he must have parked a few doors down, lighting a cigarette on his way. This was far from the last time Eddie Munson would make an escape from your window.

Letting out another sigh, you kicked off your pajama pants and climbed back into bed. After spending nearly an hour tossing and turning, your hand found its way between your legs, seeking relief so you could finally fall asleep.

Nearly four weeks later, you were watching TV in the living room when the boys came in after school. Dustin threw himself down on the couch with a loud groan while Lucas and Mike both sat down with much less dramatic frustration. “I just don’t understand why they can’t rehearse somewhere else, Hellfire uses the same room every week and they’ve already kicked us out once!”

“Well, it is the drama room and they are rehearsing for the school musical,” You reminded him, going to the kitchen. He grumbled something unintelligible in response as you poured glasses of water for all three boys. “You guys could always have Hellfire here again. Gives Mom a reason to get out of the house and I don’t mind having you guys as long as you don’t totally trash the basement.”

There was a brief pause before he spoke again, cautiously. “...Will you make snacks ‘n stuff?”

Rolling your eyes, you ruffled his hair which made him swat at your hand as you answered. “I suppose I could do something like that. I’m not making anything extravagant though. Let me know if there are any allergies I should know about.”

“Should someone call and ask Eddie?” Lucas piped up. “You know how he can get. He probably won’t like not having his throne again.”

“Eddie would probably have Hellfire here every week if he could,” Mike scoffed. After a none-too-subtle look from Lucas though, he glanced at Dustin, then you, and seemed to think better of it. “‘Cause of the uh- snacks, y’know.”

“Right, anyways–” Lucas took over, inconspicuously trying to guide the conversation back on track. “Someone should probably call him and let him know so he can tell the rest of the guys.”

Over the course of the past month, Eddie had snuck in a grand total of three times, and between these secret smoke sessions you managed to squeeze in conversation at the weekly Hellfire meetings. You called him every now and then when no one else was home, but that was it. While you suspected he’d told Jeff and Gareth, you definitely didn’t believe he would say anything to Lucas or Mike. Whatever suspicions they had, you just hoped they wouldn’t share them with Dustin.

You raised an eyebrow at the two of them questioningly and, in almost perfect sync, they stood and said, “I’ll do it!” You still had no idea how they got away with lying to their parents so often.

You suppressed a smile as you heard Iron Maiden’s “Phantom of the Opera” slowly growing louder until Eddie’s van creaked to a halt in your driveway the next week. The music cut out, replaced by voices and doors slamming. He didn’t even knock before he walked in, Jeff and Gareth in tow. Wearing a wide grin, his dimples were on full display as he leaned across the counter separating the front room from the kitchen. “Heard all this was your idea. You obsessed with me or somethin’, Henderson?”

“Excuse me for trying to be a good big sister, I’ll let them kick you to the basement with newspaper and AV club next week.”

He opened his mouth to respond but got distracted when he caught sight of just how much food you made. It looked like you were hosting a potluck; there were three different crockpots plugged in, at least four covered pots on the stovetop, and countless bowls and foil-covered plates scattered across the countertops. “Woah.”

“Did you make all this?” Jeff asked as he stepped into the kitchen.

“Yeah, I hope you didn’t eat anything before you came. I may have gone a little overboard.” 

The three of them grabbed paper plates and Gareth chimed, “How long were you cooking?”

“I don’t know uh– since around ten this morning? It’s really not a big deal. Dustin was at school all day and Mom was at work and I had the day off anyway, figured I had nothing better to do.” You shrugged, turning to get a few glasses out of the cabinet for them. “You can drink whatever outta the fridge. The boys are already downstairs digging in, of course.”

“Thank you, you really didn’t have to do so much. We would’ve been thrilled for a couple bags of chips and a two-liter.”

“Yeah, seriously. Thank you,” Jeff added, he and Gareth piling their plates high.

“It’s my pleasure, guys. Really.”

Eddie’s plate was still empty in his hand, waiting up for them to head to the basement so he could get a moment alone with you. The other two noticed, exchanging a knowing glance before making their way toward the basement door. “We’ll go ahead and start setting up.”

“Thanks, I’ll be down in a sec,” Eddie nodded. When the door closed behind them, he set his plate back down on the counter. “They’re right, you really didn’t have to do all this, sweetheart.”

“Gave me something to do with my day,” You insisted. “You’d better eat some or you’ll hurt my feelings.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m gonna eat. You’ll be lucky if there are leftovers.” He spared a glance at the basement door before his hands found the counter on either side of you, trapping you between his arms. “Maybe tonight I can come back for dessert?”

“I already made cookies and peach cream puffs–”

He interrupted you with a laugh, “C’mon, now you’re practically setting me up for it.” You shoved at his shoulder, fighting back another smile, and he leaned closer anyway. “How about I just come back to thank you for all your hard work then?”

Tilting your chin up, you pressed a soft kiss to his lips and replied, “How about you make your plate and eat your food first and I’ll think about it?”

“I’m already on it. I’ll get seconds, too. I’ll get fuckin’ thirds, babe, you’ll see. The way to my heart is through my stomach.”

“Save the theatrics for the game downstairs, hm? They’re waiting on you.”

“You in a hurry to get rid of me or something?” He asked, maybe two-thirds playfully. 

“You’re here for Dustin is all,” You shrugged, toying with a loose thread on his Hellfire tee. “He’s expecting you down there and you know how he is, he won’t have any problem asking me questions about what takes us so long when we see each other.”

His thumb rubbed careful circles against your upper arm. “I really think you’re reading too much into it. You’re his big sister looking out for him and I’m the head of his school club, we’ve got plenty of stuff to talk about. Dustin’s not gonna notice  if we make conversation for a few minutes whenever we see each other.” His tone grew more joking as he added, “Besides, I seem to remember being owed a certain phone call that I’ve yet to receive.”

“It’s been a week. I can’t sneak you in every night, alright?”

“You would if you could though, right?” He smirked.

Shoving him away, you rolled your eyes. “Alright, Eddie the Banished is now officially banished from my kitchen. Get your food and go downstairs.”

His eyes narrow at you as he started making his plate. Between crunches, he spoke around a mouthful of chips. “You’re a bully, you know that?” 

Grabbing a roll of paper towels, you tucked it under his arm for him to take down to the rest of the boys. “Just make sure you all clean up after yourselves and maybe I’ll let you come back over after Dustin goes to Mike’s.”

“You drive a hard bargain, babe.” He stole a quick kiss before making his way toward the basement door. “But you’ve got yourself a deal. I’ll try and keep the noise down.”

“No, you won’t.”

“No, I won’t.”

When he left about two and a half hours later, he only drove two blocks away, circling around long enough for the younger boys to have ridden their bikes away from the Henderson house. “I could get used to usin’ the front door,” He chimed as he strolled back in. “Think I pulled a muscle squeezing through your window last time.”

Having changed into an old Judas Priest tee and pajama shorts, you were sealing the last few containers of leftovers and putting them in the fridge. “Uh oh, should I start looking for a new dealer?”

“See, that? Mean. So mean.”

“How about I let you go ahead to my room and light the joint sitting on my nightstand? Would I be less mean then?”

He frowned, taking a step in your direction instead. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay and help you clean up?”

“I’m already almost done, it’ll just be a minute. Promise.”

“If you say so,” He drawled as he headed down the hall to your room. The door creaked as it closed halfway behind him and he looked around your room yet again. He liked being in here, being surrounded by you. He hoped you wouldn’t find it rude that he opened the drawer he’d seen you keep your incense in, lighting a stick and placing it in the holder. The radio was already turned down low when he turned it on, a cassette of Black Sabbath still inside. Then he cracked open the window, taking off his shoes and jacket afterward. 

Holding the joint between his lips, he lit it and tossed the lighter on the bed before continuing to look around. A few necklaces were hooked over the corner of the mirror that hung on your wall. Mascara, rings, and a couple pairs of earrings were left out on your vanity. On your dresser, there was a framed picture of you and Dustin in the Hawkins middle school, your arm around his shoulders as he flaunted a science fair ribbon enthusiastically to the camera. Bottles of lotion and perfume sat beside it and he was obviously lacking a healthy level of self-restraint as he picked one up and popped the cap off to smell it.

He nearly jumped three feet in the air when you spoke up from behind him. “Did you wanna take a pair of panties too or…?”

“Well, if the offer’s on the table–” Still, he had on a sheepish expression as he turned to face you. “I’m sorry, that was probably totally weird of me–”

“Maybe it’s weird of me that I don’t mind,” You shrugged as you took the joint from him and sat cross-legged on your bed. “Thanks for getting everything ready in here. Obviously, I don’t need to tell you to make yourself at home.” 

He sat down backward on the chair at your vanity, facing you though his head was tilted toward the floor. “I swear I wasn’t like– actually snooping through anything. I just looked around the room.”

“Eddie, you don’t have to defend yourself. You were smelling perfume that was sitting out, it’s not like you were rifling through drawers. I told you you could be in here by yourself, I wouldn’t have left anything out I wanted kept private. Besides, I trust you.” Leaning forward, you passed him the joint. “And you don’t have to sit all the way over there.”

“You really aren’t upset at all?” He looked up at you through his lashes.

“Would you just get in the bed? The house is gonna be empty til at least 11:30 and we’ve still got half a joint. I was thinking of possibly smoking a bowl too.”

Suppressing a smile, he settled into the bed beside you. “So, does that mean I still get the panties?”

You replied by jabbing him in the side with your sock-covered foot, but his fingers wrapped around your ankle, pulling your leg across his lap. He traced patterns along the bare skin of your legs as he watched you smoke, occasionally squeezing at your calf or thigh. Feeling a little jittery as the quiet held out, he murmured, “I like your shirt.”

“Thank you, Eds,” You hummed back.

Your little amused smile made his cheeks flush faintly. “Welcome.”

He was flooded with a wave of déjà vu as you crawled into his lap, cupping his jaw to exhale smoke into his mouth. “This feels awful familiar.”

“Well, we’ve got more time than usual.” One hand wandered the expanse of his chest through his shirt as the other placed the dwindling joint between his lips. “I was thinking maybe we could finally finish what we keep starting.”

“You sure we aren’t gonna get interrupted this time?” He asked jokingly.

“We’ve got plenty of time,” You reassured him with a small smile.

“Good.” He drew you closer, “‘Cause I’m thinkin’ we don’t need to go so fast tonight.” Your eyes fluttered closed at the first touch of his lips to your skin, the kisses he left growing sloppier as they moved farther down your neck. A small chill shook his shoulders as your fingers grazed the nape of his neck, caringly gathering his hair into a fluffy bundle and loosely tying it back. So fuckin’ precious. “Thank you, sweetheart. You always think of everything, don’t you?”

“I try.”

Hand cupping the back of your head, his lips molded to yours in a long, slow kiss. As he did, he urged you onto your back, fingers grazing your lips as he settled the joint between them. “That’s enough of that. You don’t have to think anymore tonight. I just wanna take you apart, okay? Make you feel good.” His fingers slipped beneath both your shorts and underwear, gently tugging them past your hips. “Been thinkin’ about this for weeks.” The way he pushed your legs back toward your chest had you spread wide for him, your arms rising to cover your face bashfully. Warm hands eased back and forth along the backs of your thighs as he pressed kisses to the delicate skin at the creases of them. “Fuck, you even smell good.”

Eddie actually moaned when he finally tasted you. His tongue soothed over your clit before delving inside you, hands grasping at any part of you he could touch. Meanwhile, your hands were weaving into his hair, further dishevelling his already-messy bun. “Eds,” You breathed.

He briefly pulled back just enough to pant, “Can you take your shirt off? Please? Wanna see you.”

The second you lifted it over your head he was groping at the newly exposed skin, back to burying his face between your thighs. Looking up at you with those big, brown eyes, he zeroed in on your clit. You gasped, “Oh my god, right there.” When he eased his middle finger inside you, curling it to prod at a sensitive spot, you were unable to stifle a squeal.

“I’m just hittin’ all the sweet spots, huh? Pussy was made for me, baby.” Your hand found his free one on the bed, fingers lacing with his as the other remained in his hair. “That’s right, I’ve got you.” A second finger joined the first inside you, spreading you open. Devoting his effort to making you come, his mouth only ever broke away from you to coo the most knee-weakeningly dirty words. Things like, “Want you to come all over my fingers ‘n’ then I’ll stretch you out with my cock, okay? Know you’ve been waitin’ for it.”

“‘M almost there, Eddie, please. Need more.” Distress colored your tone, muscles tensing and un-tensing sporadically. His hand released yours, choosing to drag the pad of his thumb over your nipple instead. The careful pinch he gave afterward made your toes curl.

Feeling your walls squeeze around him, he fractionally sped up the movements of his hand, tongue still tormenting your clit. Quiet gasping moans overpowered the sound of the music as you clutched at the t-shirt covering his shoulders. “That’s my girl, let it out. I’m right here.” He waited until you’d relaxed to gently draw his fingers from you– arms covering your eyes and forehead as you caught your breath, you didn’t see him lick them clean. His palms were warm and slightly rough as they moved over your stomach and sides, “Still with me, sweet thing?”

“Yeah, yeah ‘m here,” You sighed airily. “Just waiting for the stars in my vision to go away.”

“Oh, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet, babe.” His lips made a path up back up your stomach, sloppy kisses and gentle bites ravishing your skin. Instead, you urged him to kiss you before finding the hem of his Hellfire t-shirt to yank it off. Your nails scraped gently over the tattoos on his chest and he shivered, clutching your hips to his. The icy cold metal of his handcuff belt buckle met the heat between your legs, making you gasp into his mouth. You reached down, fumbling to undo the handcuff design. “Easy, baby, lemme do it.”

Standing from the bed, he took his time working his belt and jeans open, eyes slowly raking over you. His lips curved into a subtle smile making your stomach flip. The way Eddie looked at you sometimes was almost overwhelming. You could see the tip of his tongue poke out from the corner of his mouth as he pushed his pants and boxers down, immediately climbing back over you. “Condoms in the nightstand,” You mumbled against the demon head inked on his pec. 

He reached over to open the drawer, chuckling at the pre-packed bowl in the corner and grabbing a condom. You surprised him by taking it from him, tearing it open, and pulling him down for another long, slow kiss as you rolled it on for him. Humming as you slowly pulled apart again, he said, “You’re kinda fuckin’ adorable, you know that?”

“Don’t be a dick,” You pouted against his lips.

“You always think I’m teasin’ you and I’m not.” His nose brushed your cheek as he murmured, “Just think you’re the sweetest little thing. Let me appreciate you.”

You tucked your head into the crook of his neck a little bashfully. “Wanna feel you, Eds.”

“I’ve got you, honey, don’t worry.” The first few inches already had you clenching around him as he pressed in. His fingers laced into your hair, gently tugging your head back enough for him to watch your face. “There she is. Doin’ okay, pretty girl?”

“Feels so good,” You breathed out. Your voice sounded strained like your throat was tight. “S’big, Eddie.”

“I know, but you’re takin’ me so good. Doin’ such a good job, baby.” He brushed your hair away from your face as he gazed down at you, his thumb stroking over your temple. “Tell me if you wanna stop.”

Your nose brushed his when you shook your head no, nails digging into his shoulder blades. Eddie gripped your thigh, hitching it over his hip. Eyes closing, you didn’t see the way he watched you as he pulled out nearly completely before pushing back in. He admired how your eyebrows furrowed a little, your lips parting with a reserved moan. You still weren’t letting go.

He was gonna change that.

Forgoing the slow pace he’d been giving you to adjust, sudden quick thrusts of his hips had your eyes opening. You blinked up at him with glassy eyes. Thighs squeezing at his sides, you clung to him. Still supporting himself on one arm, the other snuck between your bodies to find your clit. The broken moan you let out made him smile. “S’that what you needed to make some noise for me? Love hearing you, sweetheart.” He hissed as your nails dragged down his back, but that smile never left his face.

Heat licked up your legs starting from the soles of your feet, your stomach tightening as a second orgasm crept up on you. He could tell when you came again, feeling your walls spasm around him while pitchy whines you couldn’t suppress escaped your throat. “Shit,” He panted out. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good. C’n I keep going?”

Nodding, you crossed your ankles behind his back, legs wrapping more comfortably around him and caging him in closer. “Wan’ you to come, Eddie.”

“Jesus, babe, won’t take long if you keep doin’ shit like that.” He kissed you, but your lips fell open against his as his cock ground deeper into you. “God, this pussy’s fucking perfect, baby.” His grunts became pronounced groans as your hands tangled in his hair, hair tie barely hanging on. He gripped your thigh so tight you knew you’d look for fingerprints the next morning. You tugged his lower lip between your teeth and his hips jerked, burying himself as deep inside you as he could when he came.

Neither of you loosened your hold on the other for another minute or two– you just tucked your head into the crook of his neck and let your palms explore the expanse of his back while you both caught your breath. His weight was warm and grounding on top of you, calloused fingertips grazing back and forth along your side.

When you let your head fall back against the pillow you were met with Eddie’s big, warm eyes and soft smile. It was a little flustering, you could only meet his eyes through your lashes. “What?”

But he didn’t answer. He just cradled your face in his hand and delicately molded his lips to yours. It was only after that that he finally pulled out, making your legs twitch around his waist before letting him up. He tied off the condom and threw it away and as he pulled on his boxers, he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Why don’t you go to the bathroom? I’ll get some water and get the bowl ready.”

“Thank you, Eddie,” You hummed quietly in response.

“Don’t need to thank me, sweet girl.” He handed you your shirt, watching you pull it on and head for the bathroom before he went to the kitchen.

Finding him back in your bed, bowl and lighter in hand, you didn’t hesitate to crawl in with him. Your back against his chest, he offered it to you and lit it as you took a hit. His arm settled around your waist and your fingers loosely wrapped around it. He took a decent hit for himself and finally spoke again as he breathed out the smoke. “Is everything alright? You’ve been kinda quiet– I can go if you want.”

Your hold on his arm tightened slightly. “No, not at all. Sorry, I’m just kinda…” Searching for the words, your thumb tapped impatiently on his skin and you nuzzled yourself further back into him.

“That’s okay,” He reassured. “I think I get it. Take your time, baby, whatever you need.” You hit the bowl again, letting him hold it for you this time and resting your head against his chest afterward. Eddie looked down at you, your eyes closed as you sighed out smoke, and he was taken aback again by how open you were being with him– how much you were trusting him with. Warmth filled his chest at the realization that you were letting him take care of you.

Over the next few minutes, your head seemed to clear a bit. Taking a drink of water, your eyes finally met Eddie’s again, giving each other a small smile.

“So, I’ve got a proposal for you,” He began.

“I’m listening.”

He passed the bowl back to you, gaze following your movements as he spoke. “I wanna spend time with you. Not just sneaking in to fuck around or stealing a few minutes when we see each other at Hellfire, I mean really spend time with you. Let me take you out to dinner or– or come watch a movie at my place or something.” His nerves rose as he kept talking, seeing your eyelids sink lower as you inhaled a lungful of smoke.

He fidgeted with the chain around his wrist until you breathed out a response. “Okay. It’s a date.”

 His face split in a grin, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

part one | finale | tmic masterlist

tags: @adequate-superstar @akiratoro420 @bbciwp @trixyvixx @yujyujj @nope-thanks @broccolisoupy @spookybabey @comboboo @thecraziestcrayon @mommybaby-witch @imvirginia17 @therensistance @peacheskiwi @skyfullofsong123 @hcneyedsstuff @aysheashea @prestinalove @ungracefularchimedes @psychospore @bellaisasleep @untoldshortsofthefandoms @ficsaremylife @ohmeg @twirls827 @bellasfavoritesweatpants @sebastiansstanswhore @444aslut444 @ourautumn86 @dream-a-little-nightmare @extrainsanity @poniesandcupcakes @trinuh @cantreadbutcute

<3

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(so tumblr doesn’t eat the end of my fic again)

[jaykesgirly]

quality time - pjs

pairing: Idol boyfriend!Jay x gn!reader

warnings: Absolutely none, this is pure fluff

synapsis: Jay finally gets to spend time with you after a long week of promotions and being unable to see you

wc: 609

a/n: first solo member drabble !! this isn't fully proofread so if there are some mistakes I apologize LMFAO enjoy otherwise!!

As busy as his schedule would be Jay would ALWAYS find the time for you. Whether you go to the company to surprise him at practice during a break or between his schedules, simply seeing your face will make his day a thousand times better.

“Hi baby!” your boyfriend says with a bright smile, walking up to you to hug you. As he engulfed you in his warm embrace he muttered into your shoulder “missed you so much, needed this hug.”

You giggle softly, enjoying his presence. Jay and the rest of the members have been busy with back-to-back schedules and rehearsals, so he hasn’t had much time to see you. Between their comeback and upcoming concerts, he has been all over the place with hardly any rest, only stopping to get sleep at the dorms then it’s off to practice again. Today he finally got a few hours to himself and his immediate thought was to spend it with you. 

“I missed you too, you’ve been so busy recently I hope you’re taking care of yourself,” you only lightly scolded him, wanting nothing but for him to be happy and healthy during comeback season since it was a busy and stressful time for him.

Still not pulling away from your hug, he mumbles “Don’t worry about me baby I’m doing just fine. Just wanna be with you today.” Your heart melted, he was always extra affectionate like this when he was away from you for long periods. The two of you stayed in each other's embrace for what felt like forever when Jay finally pulled away, looking at you with loving eyes.

“Are you hungry? Do you want me to cook anything for us while you have me here?” Jay was always one to cook for the two of you. It was one of his love languages. You always loved his cooking too, however, you wanted to spend as much time with him as you could in these few hours since your time together was limited. So instead of him cooking, you two opted for takeout and spent the afternoon catching up and enjoying the comfort of being in the other’s presence. You let him talk about his comeback, the promotions he had been participating in, and anything else on his mind. 

“Enough talk about me, what have you been up to baby? Anything new with work?” Jay turned to ask you after cleaning up after the food you ate. Compared to him, your schedule is tame. Boring even. The most you did was attend your classes and go to work (and your job was nothing compared to his). Occasionally, you would go out with your friends but lately, you all have been so busy your schedules haven’t aligned for quite some time.

“I don’t wanna bore you with my boring life, love. It’s pretty much the same as always,” He pouts, wanting to hear about your days because he loves listening to you talk.

“But I love listening to you talk about your life, nothing you say could bore me.” You let out a sigh, and in turn, start talking about your day once you two get comfortable cuddling on the couch. You run your hands through Jay’s hair subconsciously, loving the way his soft locks feel on your fingers. 

About fifteen minutes go by of you talking about your day and any current life updates until you realize Jay has fallen asleep in your arms. You giggle to yourself, adoring his cute sleeping form. 

“I thought nothing I say would bore you, now look at you,” you whisper to him knowing he won’t even hear you.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Cut Deep

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, violence, bullying, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Bad news brings the worst out in Logan. [reader is a mutant who can see emotions]

Characters: Logan Howlett (Wolverine)

Note: since this is my first time writing this character, I'd especially appreciate some extra feedback

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

“So, me and Scott just wanted to let everyone know we chose a date!” Jean is ecstatic. You can feel her happiness radiating from her. Despite how often you try to block those vibrations out, hers are so strong, you can’t. “And we’ll send out the invitations soon. Be sure to RSVP! And we know you all can make it because it will be right here at the mansion.” 

She beams as Scott drapes his arm around her shoulders. They are such a cute couple. Perfect. Everyone on the team loves them. Well, everyone except for the one person roiling with black clouds of spite. 

You glance over at Logan as he stews by the door. He stands with his burly arms crossed, his biceps straining in his leather jacket. He glares at the happy couple and curls his lip. Everyone also knows that he has a rotten infatuation with Jean, too. You feel bad for him really. 

He catches you staring before you can tear your eyes away. He tilts his head and narrows his eyes. You quickly look away and swallow. You get up and go to Jean and Scott. 

“Congrats, guys,” you smile, “let me know if you need any help with planning.” 

“Thank you. Of course,” Jean smiles as Scott echoes her. 

You make room for another well-wisher and back away, basking in the good energy all around. Well, mostly. You feel Logan steaming still but you refuse to look at him. You know how he gets when he’s upset. You don’t need to be able to see into his mind to know he’s pissed off. 

As the room converges on the happily engaged couple, you opt to leave before the noise can get too much. You’re always a bit more sensitive with the extra effort of trying to block out the sounds that you don’t want to hear. It’s like a buzz on the other side of a wall. If the door cracks open, it will all blast in like a sonic wave. 

You go into the library and reclaim the book you set left carelessly open on a leather armrest. It’s a history of mutants written in the 1700s. A secret tome Professor Xavier collected among his endless search for compatriots, both past and present. 

Some you know from the history taught in schools for non-mutants. Like the queen accused of witchcraft or the countless people executed for the very same. Emperors who’s legacies are chalked up to folktale and superstition over the reality of their beings.  

You sit up as you sense the shift in the air. That greyness seeps in before the door opens. You know who it is already yet you’re surprised to see him enter. Logan scowls as his eyes pinpoint at you. His rage continues to burn hotter and hotter. 

“Oh, hi,” you close the book, “sorry, did you need the library--” 

“I need you to stop tryna poke around in my head,” he growls. 

You flinch as you stand slowly, “I... I don’t do that. Those are the rules. I stay in my own.” 

“I saw you staring,” he accuses. 

“I just looked. I could... feel. That I can’t control,” you explain. “Sorry.” 

“Feel what? Huh? What do you think you know?” 

You clear your throat and shake your head. “Nothing, I don’t know anything.” 

“Damn right, you know shit all, little girl,” he stomps over to you. 

You gulp as you stare back at him. Logan, Wolverine, X-Man. He’s one of the most admired and well-known mutants alive but that’s all you know of him. You’ve seen him hundreds of times in the mansion, but only in passing. He never wanted to talk to you, only Jean. As far as you knew, he didn’t even know you existed. 

“That’s correct,” you agree. 

You peek down at the book in your hand. You should put it back. You sniff but as you go to turn, he rips you back by your upper arm. His grip is steel. You face him and wince as he squeezes enough to make your bones ache. 

“You think I’m what? Some pathetic creature that’s slathering over another guy’s girl?” He barks. 

You shake your head, “nope. No. I wouldn’t... know.” 

“You fucking wouldn’t,” he grits, his fingertips pushing into your tender arm. You let out a squeak. “Me? What about you? Always around. Riding her fucking coat tails. All for what? Cause you can tell when I’m having a bad fucking day. Every day is fucking bad.” 

You stare at him. A vein bulges in his forehead, another in his neck, and he’s slightly red with his fury. You don’t understand why he’s mad at you. Well, people often don’t aim their emotions in the right direction. Often, there’s too much for them to feel and it just spills over.  

Logan’s aura deepens to a thick black. Darker and bolder than anything you’ve ever witnessed. It tendrils around you as you squirm. You clasp onto the book and try to wiggle free as the blood throbs in your arm. 

“Ouch. Please, let me go. I wasn’t meaning to--” 

“You’re never going to be her. You know that? You won’t even be an X-Man. You’re just one of Charles’ pets.” He reaches for the book and rips it from your hand. “He keeps you in your birdcage and you flutter around and read these stupid things.” 

He tosses the book onto the floor and steps closer. You step back and whine. He keeps on until you’re against a shelf. 

“You’ll never be her and I’ll never have her,” he grits out. “So, we’ll compromise.” He grabs your neck and you writhe and whimper. “What do you feel now, huh?” 

A wisp of red tinges the black fog unfurling from his broad shoulders. More anger but something more. Lust. Love is a delicate pink or a pale purple, but lust is a deep and lurid crimson. Mixed with his rage, it is something more. It’s a tainted hue. 

“I can pretend. You should try to do the same.” 

“Please,” you press your hands against his stomach. 

“Don’t try that shit,” he drags his other hand down your arm and puts his knuckles to your side. He lets his claws out just enough to jab you. “You can’t get in my head. Professor made well sure of that.” 

You squeak and shake your head, “I wouldn’t-- Logan, please--” 

“Shut your damn mouth and pull your pants down. I ain’t got all day,” he snarls. 

“What?” You bat your eyes as they glisten. “No, no, what are you--” 

His claws poke you again, easily piercing your shirt and scratching your skin. You lean back into the shelf as you peel your hands away from him. He glowers at you as he releases your neck. He crowds you in as you wait just a moment longer, hoping, wishing he would go. 

You lower your hands cautiously. You drop your gaze, humiliated. You shake as you hook your thumbs under your waistband and push your leggings down. You gulp as your eyes tingle. 

He grabs your shoulder and spins you to face the shelf. You let out an oomph as you catch yourself against the books. He trails up to the back of your neck and pinches. You squeal into a sob. Your disbelief bubbles to horror. You brace the wood as he yanks on your panties. 

“Fucking girl,” he mutters. “Lookin’ at me... what d’ya fucking know?” 

“Logan--” 

“Stop saying my goddamn name.” He shoves your head so it hits a shelf and you groan. Ouch. 

You close your eyes and lean your forehead on the wood. Jean says you need to breathe. Centre yourself. It’s hard when you’re terrified. 

You inhale, taking in his emotion, his anger, even a tinge of that other desire that drives him so slap your ass. He digs in his nails as you babble. You gather the black cloud and blow it out. 

He hisses and recoils as it ripples off of you like fire. He growls and as you go to turn, he sweeps your feet out from under you. You flail as you fall, landing on your elbow so it throbs. You whine and roll onto your stomach. You drag yourself over the floor as he clutches his head and snarls. 

“I told ya not to try anything,” he barks. 

“Please, please, I didn’t do anything.” 

He steps over you and falls to his knees. He straddles you as you claw at the floor, pushing your toes down as you try to escape him. He swats the back of your head so hard your vision blurs. His anger darkness the room and disorients you. 

You’ve never felt anything so intense and you feel everything. Love, joy, pain, grief, confusion... fear. His anger strangles you as he forces your head down to the floor, leaning his weight on his head as he pins you. 

He raises himself on his knees and shifts. You kick out, thrashing your arms. You open and close your hands and clamp shut your eyes. You can do it. Take his anger in-- 

You scream as you’re scalded by the corrupt energy pouring from him. No, it’s too much. You’re not ready. All that training and you’re still weak. 

You murmur at the floor, “no, no, please, no...” 

He traces his hand down your ass and forces his fingers between your thighs. He feels around roughly, scratching your as he flicks along your dry folds. You gulp and heave. Your tears swell in an unstoppable flow. 

You slap your hands on the floor and tense as he prods around, dipping a thick digit into your cunt with a grunt. Your legs distend and you push your toes down. He delves, in, out, deeper, harder, smashing into you. 

He rips his hand away and you whine again. He leans over you, his hand stretching across your skull entirely. You can feel his strength in your neck. He bends, hot breath scalding your scalp with the flames of his wrath. 

You weep as he brings his tip along your flesh and guides it around blindly. He puts more weight onto your head as he stretches you around his tip. You shriek and jut your arm out straight, the edge of the rug curling in your grasp. 

“Help, someone! Help--” 

He grabs your head with both hands and slams it into the floor. The reverberating impact fractures your voice and thoughts. He rams his hips down and impales you around his thick cock. You murmur as spittle leaks from your mouth and tears continue to smear your face. 

He thrusts, holding himself at his limit and well past yours. He grips your skull tighter and tighter with each tilt. He huffs and puffs, growling and groaning as he tears you up from the inside. 

Finally, he releases your head. The metallic shink of his claws cuts through the delirium of physical and mental anguish. The pain in your bones can’t compare to the dagger of his anger piercing through your soul. 

He stabs his claws into the floor on either side of your neck. The adamantium grazes your skin, keeping you still for fear of cutting deeper. You wheeze and go rigid as he rears back and slams down harder and harder. His flesh clasp louder with each cruel descent. 

The black cloud creeps over the floor like heavy fog. It crawls up the walls as a glimmer of red weaves through it. He ruts deeper and deeper, the motion jarring you so that his claws scrape away the skin at your neck. 

He bends over you, curling his shoulders as you feel him tense. He exhales as the blackness covers the ceiling and casts you into shadow. You reach to grasp at his claws, slicing your palms helplessly as you cling on. 

He thrusts until you feel him in your guts. Once, twice, several time with all the hatred he can summon. He growls and trembles as he spills into you, a heat hotter than even his boiling rage.  

Your hands slip from his claws and you spread your bloodied palms on the carpet. You quake in horrified sobs. He buries himself as he lays his entire weight over you limply. He puffs as he dislodged the metal from the floor.  

He hangs his head next to yours and sneers, “it shouldn’t be him, Jean.” 

You hold your breath. You can’t speak or move for fear of reminding him what he’s just done. Or worse, reigniting his assault. 

He groans and slides out, flipping off of you to sit on his ass. He rests his arms on his bent knees and sighs. You watch the black haze dim to a dull grey. He’s still angry but he can contain it. The storm has calmed but it's far from over.

[hyunverse]

welcome home ★ hwang hyunjin.

hyunjin x gn!reader. fluff, drabble. no warnings.

wc: 600 words.

Hyunjin renovates your new home for you, ensuring each detail is tailored to your liking.

"Watch your steps."

Carefully, Hyunjin guides you around the house, one hand clasped against your eyes, the other resting on your waist.  You could feel the cold tiles beneath your feet, and how it is slightly dusty from the month-long renovations. 

"Careful, don't want you to stub your toe," Hyunjin says, eliciting a small chuckle from you.

Hyunjin walks you through the house, until at one point (you couldn't tell where in the house), he stops. 

"One, two..." he whispers, and you can feel the smile on his face, "...Three. Surprise!"

Hyunjin drops his hand, watching as you take in the sight before you. You're standing in front of the newly renovated kitchen, its appearance far different than the last time you saw it. 

"Oh my god," you breathe out, "What the hell, Hyunjin?"

The walls of the kitchen had been renovated to your liking, the boring brick walls transformed into green marble tiles. The countertop looks like one from your dreams — straight from the house of Monet. All you could do is gasp.

"You like it?" Hyunjin questions, placing a hand on the small of your back.

"Sweetheart, I love it," you whisper. He smiles, content with the perplexed look on your face. 

"I love it," you repeat, roaming around the kitchen with Hyunjin following you like a lost puppy. "I really love it, Hyune."

“I’m happy you do, baby.”

You rummage through the drawers, trailing your pointer against every surface you could touch. All the furniture, even the kitchen cookware sets, was designed according to your preferences — as though Hyunjin had the same mind as yours. Frankly, it’s like your Pinterest board has come to life. 

What you’re unaware of is that indeed, Hyunjin had spent weeks stalking you on Pinterest. His urges of “pleeaaaaseee update your Pinterest boards,” weren’t for nothing. 

"Wait, need to show you this," your fiancee interrupts, taking your hand to lead you to a cabinet. 

He gently opens the cabinet, revealing a spice rack. The spice rack you've always wanted — he knows because he remembers the few times you've mentioned it — is sitting right inside the cabinet. 

“Holy fuck, Hyune,” you mutter, turning your head to him with your mouth agape, “It’s the fucking Lenox Spice Village that I wanted!”

“Yeah,” he giggles, a sense of pride bubbling in him. He lets out a small “oof,” when you throw yourself onto him, engulfing him into a tight hug.

“I love it so much, baby. I really love it.”

“Really?” he giggles, holding you tightly, “You haven’t even seen the bedroom.” 

Hyunjin leads you to the bedroom, then the bathroom, the living room — and lastly, an office. The space in the office had been divided into two, one-half works as his art corner, and the other serves as a study for you. The desk is exactly to your liking, a space designated for you to indulge in your hobbies.

There’s a peg board above your desk — with magnets from the cities you’ve travelled to, and polaroids from your dates with Hyunjin. A memento for all the memories you’ve made with him. 

It all feels like home. 

“It’s really perfect,” you exhale, standing by the desk with an awestruck face. “You know me so well, Hyune.”

“I do?” he mutters, a small smile gracing his face. He inches closer to you, his breath fanning against your neck. A kiss is cheekily placed on your cheek. “I just wanted you to feel at home.”

“And I do,” you whisper, looking up at him. “I feel at home. When you said to move in with you, I didn’t expect for all of this, you know?”

Hyunjin smiles, cupping your face with a tenderness you never thought you would deserve. Soft, akin to the breeze that graces your face every midnight. 

A contrast to his touch, his next words kicks the air out of you.

“Welcome home.”

taglist (send an ask to be added!)

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[firefirefruit]

Steel in Her Veins, Chapter: Thirty-Eight

Read On: AO3 | Table of Contents | Next Chapter

Characters: Fem!Reader x Roronoa Zoro

Notes: I just graduated!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HOORAAAAYYY! I'm finally FREE NOW TO WRITE AS MUCH GOBBLEDUPFANFICSASIWANT AND IM SO HAPPY! SIHV is no longer under hiatus ;ppppp (not proofread properly as i was so excited to update everyone on this story hahahahdsjs)

Chapter Thirty-Eight: A Doctor’s Steady Hands

“Is it this one?”

I unhook my head from beneath a curved plane of metal, wiping the machine oil from my face with my sleeve. I examine the mishap of tools in Bepo’s paws, scrambling to keep them all hooked between his claws.

“Uh, yeah, that one,” I say, nodding at the screwdriver with the yellow handle. Bepo carefully flexes his cushioned paw to pluck one out from the other, then proceeds to stuff the rest of the tools – and the equipment box, mind you, in the front pocket of his overalls. 

Swiftly, I disappear under the side of what used to be Law’s beloved ship and begin to assess the damage. A soft curse comes out of my mouth, incredulously asking myself how Luffy could have damaged this beautiful piece so badly.

Sighing, I begin dismantling damaged parts with a hard-set scowl indented on my face – a scowl I haven’t been able to get of rid for about a week now. Gramps always used to tease me for being so transparent with my feelings, how I’d always wear my heart on my sleeve – and even thinking back on that memory doesn’t help with sobering up my mood, either.

I sneak a look at Bepo who’s looking incredibly out of place at the makeshift workshop we’ve made for ourselves. He looks down, staring down at his paws with a frown set on his face – almost as if he wants to ask me something but doesn’t know when the right time would be. Guilt pangs in my chest, knowing that Bepo doesn’t know what to do with how I am right now. It’s a pretty big personality shock to him, seeing how much I’ve changed compared from when I was a happy-go-lucky kid; a young tweenager with hope in her eyes, now turned young adult with angry fine lines peppered into her skin. It must have broken whatever pretence he had of me in his head. 

Regardless, he still showed up today. Hell, he even offered to be my little work assistant, completely aware of my recent bad temper - still willing to be there for me. It doesn’t help matters that I’m unhelpfully being gossiped about by Usopp to physically anyone he could talk to.

‘I don’t know, I’m kinda worried, ya know?’ Usopp mutters not-too-secretively in the bullseye centre of our temporary camp. ‘Ever since Zoro stormed out of that weird lake magic, they’ve both been acting off…’

‘And not to mention, ever since she turned into that scary Luffy form, she’s been so different,’ Usopp urges. ‘I don’t know if we can trust her from exploding into that-that… THING again. WAAA, I’M SCARED!’

Nami slaps him on the back of his neck, the sound ricocheting against the jagged stalactite ceiling as she eyes him down, anger in her eyes. ‘Oh, shut up, will you? Raya’s still Raya, and she’s one of us. Get that into that thick skull of yours.’

“Yo, Raya!” Franky’s voice echoes from a few miles ahead of me. His large body is somehow perfectly cramped beneath the belly of the Polar Tang, his fists slamming into the metal simultaneously as his head twists 180 degrees towards me. “We’re finally working together, huh? I can’t lie to you; it’s making me feel hella excited!”

I don’t know how he managed to do it, but a surprised laugh breaks out from my mouth; I didn’t know I meant so much to him, it almost makes me feel bad for not working with him sooner.

“Me too,” I say whilst my hands get busy removing each screw from the disfigured plane of metal. “I’m sorry we haven’t done this sooner, Frank.”

He rolls his eyes at me and bats a mechanical hand with a grease cloth clamped over it. “Are ya kidding me? You’ve been through hell and back, Raya. Take it easy. I’ve got an insane number of blueprints to work with you soon.”

I shake my head, turning back onto my partition of the work. He’s too forgiving, sometimes. Too carefree… I wish I was like that.

“Did I just imagine things?” A cool voice reverberates behind Bepo and I. “Did Raya’s face finally do something other than scowl?”

I twist my head so fast I hit my head against the ship, scowling at the figure who made me jump about eighty feet out of my own skin. Law looks down at me with a sly smile twitching at the ends of his mouth, his tattooed arms folded together against his chest.

“No, there it is again,” he continues. “That scowl. I must’ve imagined things.”

“C’mon Law, don’t tease her.” Bepo sighs.

Law turns to stare at his first mate, his mouth slightly ajar. He quickly closes it again, noticing I’ve been smirking at him like a kid who just got some well-deserved payback. “Well, you’ve never ordered me around before.”

I furiously rub at the sore spot on my head, still giving him a shit-eating grin, before my eyes lower to his clothes. Blue work overalls overlay a white shirt on his torso, a huge pocket resting at his belly. I raise a brow, not expecting anyone besides Franky and Bepo to be working with me today.

“Did I mess the memo? I didn’t know we were roleplaying as mechanics today.” My lips twitch into a faint smirk, making Law dismissively scowl at me.

“Well, I prefer to be around my possessions from now on. Since, you know, the last time I trusted you with one, you’d engaged with some more… interesting excursions,” he snaps.

That made me shut right up. I turn around and get busy, ignoring the heat growing on my face.

Bepo eyes the both of us with suspicion. “What? What was that supposed to mean? Law?”

Before Law can wave him off, another voice enters the workshop cavern with a tinge of irritation laced in his words.

“Oi, Trafalgar. Where you want me to put these?”

My heart instantly stops from hearing that cursed voice. I can just tell by his footsteps that they’re his. Fuck.

I don’t look around, pretend to be all cool and nonchalant while I’m actually screaming inside, but no one can excuse the fumbling my fingers are doing, my hand unable to unscrew a section I easily did a few moments ago.

Law faintly turns his head and side-eyes the samurai with a raised brow. “Why are you shouting, Roronoa? We can hear you just fine.”

I breathe in shallowly, feeling a minute sense of fear from his presence. My eyes train on the plane of metal above me, not daring to look in his direction.

‘You don’t scare me, Kozuki.’

You don’t scare me, Kozuki. It rings in my head constantly, even when my eyes grow heavy, my mind startled awake, in one of the dragon’s sleeping holes.

You don’t scare me, Kozuki. But you should be scared of me. I grit my teeth, jaw clenching then unclenching. That’s what he meant, right? He’s threatening me.

“You roped me into bein’ your work slave, this is what you’ll get,’ Zoro retorts, his eye piercing Law’s. Law only smirks in response and rests his frame against his tattered ship.

“No brain, only brawn. I’m not surprised,” Law smoothly bites back. I choke out a laugh, yet immediately shut up when I see Zoro’s eye drink in my crouched frame.

I quickly get back to work, my fingers deftly peeling off the unscrewed plane of metal. There’s an odd silence between all three of them, and I can just tell that Zoro’s still pinned his lion-like gaze on me.

“Are you just going to stare with your mouth wide open,” Law remarks, his feet suspiciously stationing themselves over my crouched body. “Or are you going pass those boxes to Frank?”

I hear Zoro bristle, seeming to be taken off guard. "You’re making things up," he grumbles, though the fluster in his voice betrays him. He finally shifts his gaze from me and turns his attention to the boxes at his feet, nudging one of them with his boot.

"Could've fooled me," Law replies, the smirk never leaving his face. There's a flicker of amusement in his eyes as he watches Zoro struggle to find a retort.

Zoro’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, it looks like he's about to snap back with something sharp. But instead, he just exhales heavily through his nose and lifts one of the boxes as if it's nothing. "Whatever. You could’ve picked someone else for this," he mutters, more to himself than anyone else.

As he starts walking towards Franky, I can't help but glance at him from the corner of my eye. There’s something different in the way he carries himself today, an edge to his movements that makes my heart pound just a bit faster. It’s not fear—not exactly. It's something else, something furiously too intimate to be just anger.

"Don't drop those, Roronoa. We don’t have spares," Law continues to mock, earning another jaw-tick from Zoro.

As his shadow becomes more and more smaller, I finally let out the strained breath I’ve been holding, my hands a little steadier now. But, still, the weight of his presence lingers, those same tan muscles my hands stroked over being a mere few steps away makes it harder to concentrate.

"Well, this is cozy," Law says, his voice low as he crouches down closely, his eyes flickering with mischief. "Maybe we should do this more often."

I shoot him a look, trying to suppress the small smile tugging at my lips. I skid the plane of damaged metal across the rocky floor, thrusting it with enough force to hit it against his thick-soled boot. "Don’t push it, Trafalgar," I mutter, though the corners of my mouth betray my nonchalance.

In all of a sudden, Bepo crouches next to Trafalgar and imploringly looks at me. “Look… Raya. Can we please talk?” He whispers, his eyes nervously shifting towards Franky’s direction to make sure he’s not paying attention. His gaze flickers over to Zoro, who finds purchase on a rocky crevice right in the centre of the workshop, his arms folding to his chest tensely, tanned muscle flexing. I watch him intently, realising that he looks to be asleep - almost as if he’s taken the perfect chance to doze off. A bit too much of a perfect chance, in my opinion.

I sigh, rubbing the raggedy cloth against my oil-stained cheek as I look away. I knew it, of course, that this conversation was inevitable. Bepo, knowing the entire truth – and Law, in direct extension – were both biding their time to gauge me out for more information.

I hand Bepo the screwdriver, silently gesturing for the small wrench that prods out of his belly-pocket. Impatiently, Law quickly picks it out and deposits it in my hand before Bepo even realises what’s happening.

I don’t know what comes over me but when I look, and really look at my childhood friend’s desperate eyes, I soften my tone.

“Of course, we can,” I mumble, my eyes lowering, avoiding his deeply troubled gaze.

“Keep working,” Law mutters lowly. His eyes train on Franky who once in a while looks over to compare his progress with mine. Zoro’s eyes are still closed, his breathing paced, but there’s still something suspicious about the way he’s holding himself too tensely for my liking.

I turn my head to the millions of nuts and bolts I’ll have to begin laboriously undoing, sighing inwardly. I love workmanship, but man, sometimes it can be boring.

“Keep talking, Bepo,” Law continues.

Bepo fiddles with his work shirt, looking down with a frown on his face. There’s a small beat of silence, the only sounds made are from Franky slicing a metal piece with his laser eyes, before Bepo looks back up at me.

“What happened, Raya?” He swallows, searching for the right way to word the questions that hungrily race through his head. He curses a little to himself. “G-god, that’s an open ended question, I know, but… so much has happened, and now you’re part of Luffy’s crew? Why was– well, Gramps targeted? And-and… what the hell did you transform into before?”

I pause, letting Bepo's questions hang in the air. My fingers keep working, twisting the small wrench, though my mind is racing faster than my hands. The questions he’s asked are the ones I’ve been dreading, but also the ones I knew I couldn’t avoid forever. They’re the kind of questions that dig deep, uncovering layers of the past that I’ve buried under years of anger, fear, and guilt.

I can feel Law's gaze on me, and I know he’s just as curious, though he’s better at hiding it. Franky seems to have disappeared in the pursuit of more materials in a different cavern, leaving a different type of silence, one more threatening, in his wake. Even Zoro’s steady breathing, despite his seemingly relaxed state, feels like a pressure pushing me towards answers I’m not sure I’m ready to give.

But Bepo deserves the truth. Maybe they all do.

I clear my throat softly, choosing my words with care. "It’s… a lot. Look, when I was a kid, I had no idea what was really going on; I just knew that every time the Cp-0 came knocking on our door, we had to relocate to a different island and build up our workshop again. Gramps… he knew things, had secrets that I didn’t understand back then that I think I’m slowly uncovering. He tried to protect me, but in the end… He got taken."

I can feel the weight of their attention, even though no one’s directly looking at me. Law’s quiet demeanour, Zoro’s stillness, Bepo’s concerned eyes—they’re all listening, even if they’re trying to be subtle about it.

“That’s the same thing that happened to-”

“Penguin, I see,” Bepo finishes Law sentence, his mouth pursed into a fuzzy, sombre line.

I nod, playing with my fingers. "As for why I’m with Luffy now… I didn’t plan it. I was trying to stay low, to avoid getting involved in anything that could draw attention to me. But things don’t always go as planned. Luffy… well, you know how he is. He promised me that we’d go finding Gramps if I did join him.”

Bepo looks like he’s putting all the pieces together, his eyes searching the tattered ship for answers. Distantly, his voice comes out, slightly uncertain.

“So, that’s why Law went to ask Luffy for an alliance.”

I nod again, not knowing what else to say.

Bepo nods, slowly, trying to process my words, but I can see he’s still deeply troubled. His gaze flickers to the metal I’m working on, then back to me. “But why the alias? Why are you hiding yourself from them?”

I grit my teeth, my eyes trained to a stray bolt, my sentences coming out in quick-paced bullet points. “I don’t want to be known by that name anymore. I hate it. What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

Law quirks up a brow. “Quite the opposite, Raya. You know that could put them in danger, right? If they’re not prepared with what’s coming after you, it could be incredibly detrimental.”

I pause. He’s right, of course. I’ve been so focused on hiding, on keeping my past buried, that I hadn’t fully considered the consequences of keeping the truth from them.

I push that thought away and my resolve tightens. “You saw what I transformed into. I’ll keep the people coming after me at bay, without the crew even realising what went awry.”

“If you were part of my crew, I’d instantly throw you out,” Law coolly says, his torso shifting against the Polar Tang.

I let out a dry laugh. “Even if you tried to recruit me, I wouldn’t join you. Stay humble, doc.”

Law's expression remains neutral, but there's a glint in his eyes that shows he’s not entirely unaffected by my retort. He crosses his arms and leans back against the ship, seemingly unbothered, but I know him well enough to catch the subtle tension in his posture.

“You’re being obtuse, Raya. Not to mention incredibly selfish,” he bluntly states, not even trying to sugar-coat his words. “And if what Bepo’s told me about you is true, then that’s uncharacteristic of you. This'll affect everyone around you, exactly the way your Gramps had been. Taken, by a lifeless vessel, with two bulbous eyes.”

He leans in closer, his eyes now glinting more angrily, his voice lowering to a whisper. “At least your Gramps knew what he was getting into. He had a choice. And you, Raya, are not giving the same one to your crewmates.”

Fuck. Not once, but twice this asshole's statement rings true to me. If something were to happen, if the past I’ve been running from finally catches up to me, they could be caught off guard, unprepared for the shitstorm that I've happily brought along on board

I take a deep breath and meet Law’s eyes. “I never said I was a good person.”

Law's gaze hardens, Zoro’s body twitches, and for a moment, the air between us feels thick with tension. His eyes bore into mine, searching for something—maybe regret, maybe resolve. He doesn’t find either.

“I did some reading earlier,” Law breathes out coolly. “Of a person named Tyr. Tyr was ordinary. Incredibly so – mainly kept to himself, worked at a local mine, brought back food to his table without amiss. He didn’t have to work so hard, callous his hands day after day to scrounge up such measly coin to survive, but he did. He did it for his wife and two children, because he loved them so deeply, and he couldn’t see them suffer.

But that same Tyr also had no awareness of his lineage. Who he was didn’t concern him. He was a bastard’s child, no last name, his mother withered to dust during his childbirth. Until one day, a group of men dressed in black barged into his house and attempted to drag his wife and children away. You know what happened to that same old Tyr?”

I hold in a breath, not even daring to look at him. Even Zoro’s feigned equal breathing stops for a moment. I don’t respond, don’t even want to know about Tyr’s fate, but Law keeps on going.

“He turned into exactly what you are, Raya,” he says, his words quickening, tumbling out of his mouth with no regret. “And you know what he did?” Law leans in, his breath hitting my cheek coldly. “He was so consumed with his power, so lost in his own bottomless, consumed soul, he killed and tortured not only those men, but his two precious children and the wife that he adored more than anything.”

I can feel the blood draining from my face, the wrench slipping slightly in my grip – but Law keeps on going.

“So the thing about ‘Retribution’ is that you can be good. Dish it out to the deserved, change those who are able to be reformed. You can reign it in Raya,” he breathes out.

His eyes then darken, pinning me under his wrecked ship. “Or you can go off the rails. Go so off the rails, you’ll only be able to see red and red alone, and that power will quite certainly consume you, turn you, into the embodiment of Hell, just like good-natured, ordinary Tyr did. You’ll torture everyone, anyone, in sight, without even being aware of your own actions. Because all you will think about in that head of yours, echoing in every sick crevice, is of revenge, revenge, revenge. Pain, pain and even some more. So, if you don’t think you’re a good person now, what will you be when you transform?”

The silence that follows Law's words feels suffocating, like a heavy weight pressing down on my chest. Tyr. The image of him, once a loving family man, transformed into a monster by the same power that now courses through my veins, is impossible to shake. My hands begin to shake.

I can feel the pain in the air, not just from me but from everyone around. Bepo’s usually soft and comforting presence is tinged with anxiety, his paws fidgeting restlessly as he waits for me to respond.

And Zoro… my heart thumps harder, unable to swallow the lump in my throat as I catch his gaze. He isn’t even trying to feign sleep anymore. He stares at me, only steps away, his fingers itching as if to unsheathe his sword and plunge it into me.

Realisation floods into me, my skin prickling in shock as I turn from Zoro to Law. “You brought him here on purpose, didn’t you?” I whisper.

Law’s expression doesn't change, but the flicker of something in his eyes confirms my suspicion. He knew. He knew that Zoro would be here, that he would want to hear everything. A part of me wants to be furious, to lash out at him for orchestrating this, but another part—a deeper, quieter part—knows that this was inevitable. I just didn't want to face it.

Zoro’s gaze is piercing, unflinching, as he stares at me. The air between us is palpable, like a live wire crackling with trepidation. His hand hovers near his swords, and for a moment, I can’t tell if it's a reflex or a genuine threat. The thought chills me to the core.

You don’t scare me, Kozuki.

I know he’s not one to draw his blade without reason, but the way his eyes bore into mine makes it clear that he’s weighing every word, every movement, every breath.

You don’t scare me, Kozuki, but you sure as hell should be worried about me.

Law finally breaks the silence, his voice as calm and steady as ever, his fingers still remaining comfortable against his lap. As if seeing what was going through my head, he twitches his head behind to Zoro, and mutters out, “He didn’t know I was roping him into this, and neither did Bepo. If you want to lash out, do it to me. Not them.”

I swallow hard, the chill between us almost suffocating. My eyes flick between Bepo, Zoro, and Law, each of them representing different facets of my life—my past, my present, and the uncertain future that looms ahead. Law’s calm, calculating demeanour clashes with Zoro’s barely restrained fury, and Bepo’s concern only amplifies the weight of it all.

Zoro’s gaze pierces through me as those damned words echo through my head again, unyielding. ‘You don’t scare me, Kozuki.’

“What the fuck, Trafalgar,” Zoro suddenly manages to bite out, the veins in his hand flexing in tandem to his rushing thoughts.

“You deserved to know,” Law says, his gaze still stuck on me. “Out of your entire crew, you’re the one who’s least likely to be reckless with danger. And this time, that danger is Raya.”

“I listen to Luffy, and Luffy only.”

“Bullshit. Look at you - your hands are itching for a sword.”

Zoro grits down on his teeth, his gaze on me slightly wavering, almost as if he’s feeling a sense of guilt wash over him. My mouth slightly opens in surprise – maybe a little bit of betrayal surging through me as I understand Law’s statement rings true to him.

I bark out an incredulous laugh, looking at both men. Bepo seems to be in looking between Law and I, torn on whether to stand by his captain or his childhood friend.

“So, what, you’re going to kill me?” I bite out, my hand tightening so hard I feel the wrench tear into my skin. “Throw out the rotten fruit? Go on, I’d like to see you try.”

“No.” Law steps forward until he towers over me, dark eyes flickering down to my face. Zoro almost growls out seeing how close Law is, how our bodies almost touch but both of us are too busy to hear him.

As I release a breath, the wind slowly begins to pick up around me, as if challenging Law to fight. My hair flits upwards into the air with small embers of fire that seep through many miscellaneous strands of brown. My eyes remain on him, sizing him up, wondering how it would feel if I could just plunge this wrench into his chest and taste his blood.

My eyes widen slightly at my intrusive thoughts, shock paralysing me and rooting me to the floor. Never in my life have I…

Law only observes me with a curled down frown, his ink black hair whipping from the rising wind.

“It’s happening, isn’t it?” He murmurs lowly, lips pursed only ever so slightly. “You thought of something unsavoury.”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I rise my chin up at him.

He kisses his teeth and grabs my wrist, his tattooed fingers curling over my skin tightly, as if knowing I would try to slip out and run away. A blue light seep from beneath his finger pads, my tan skin consuming its colour like an incubus. A sound, almost faint, whirls around me; a feminine voice uttering out words in a language that was definitely not born from the grounds of earth.

“Don’t fuck with me, Raya. Stop it with the dumbass defiant act,” he warns, the light underneath his hand glowing with more colour.

“Then why don’t you be a lovely doctor and move your hands away,” I retort.

Zoro growls at Law with outrage and boulders his way past Bepo - who looks like he’s about to pass out – and grabs him by the same glowing wrist that lays on me.

“Take your fucking hands off her before I cut them off,” he murmurs lowly, his eyes slitted demonically.

Law, outraged, whips his head around at Zoro. “What do you think you-“

But it’s too late. The glow in Law’s hands and fingers grows larger, bigger, taking up all the air in the room until even the fire that lights up the stalactite ceiling disappears.

It feels like the world around us has taken a deep breath and gasped out, snuffing our vision out.

It’s dark, almost like a black void has consumed me. There’s nothing but black, black, and black, assaulting my vision in drowning shades. My head turns this way and that way, my eyes hungrily, desperately, searching for something, and the sounds of someone scrambling on the floor resound in the chillingly silent cavern.

“L-Law! What’s happened?” Bepo desperately calls out, his heavy footsteps aimlessly thundering around me. I let out a strangled gasp, my eyes subconsciously widening almost as if trying to consume something, anything that I can see.

I hear Law from below me, on the floor, his heavy boots struggling to find purchase to stand up. Whatever he was casting threw him to the ground, his groans an outcome of his power.

A hot breath flattens against my skin, prickling my hair on my neck, making me instantly look up and try to figure out the source.

“Calm down,” Zoro mutters to me, his breath tickling the shell of my ear, my face coming into contact with what could be his hard chest. His rough fingers curl over my wrist, held so tightly it feels like he won’t dare to let go.

Unable to think, I comply and breathe in slowly through my mouth. Law sounds to be standing on his feet, slightly stumbling in blindness, before he growls out,

“You fucked up, Zoro.”

I furrow my brows together, my head whipping to Trafalgar’s direction, but before I can respond, Law bites out another remark.

“Look down.”

With nothing else I can do, I lower my head and my eyes come into contact with my wrist. A small, faint flicker of blue light encircles around my skin like a cuff, laying on my skin so tightly it almost becomes even painful to twist it.

It flickers again as it gains more energy, more colour, until the thin ring of light transforms into a shackled cuff. It glows in the darkness, giving light to my surroundings, my breath catching in my throat as I look around. My eyes instantly lock on to Law, who has his jaw clenched tightly. But a slight twinge of sardonic humour glints in his eyes as he turns to Zoro, who’s looking furiously at him, his grip on me unrelenting.

“Law? What-what did you do?” Bepo squeaks out, his eyes bulging out of his skull. “What just happened?!”

“What the fuck is this?” I demand, staring down at my wrist.

Law sighs heavily, ignoring both Bepo and I. He doesn’t look away from Zoro’s intense gaze, almost frowning in betrayal. “Roronoa, do you really think I would’ve killed her?”

I hear Zoro’s teeth grit together almost too painfully before he says, “You were too close to her for my liking.”

Law rolls his eyes, trying to clear the surprised glint in them. “Well,” Law muses, his finger pointing at Zoro’s wrist. “You won’t be having that problem anymore.”

Immediately, we all look down to Zoro’s wrist.

A faint twin blue flickers against his large wrist, gaining more and more light to restrict his skin into a painfully tight circle. He moves his wrist reflexively, hissing out a curse as it also drags my wrist in his direction. I topple over with a yelp, my elbow barraging into his chest.

Instantly, my face falters. I look closely at the cuff around my skin, the way it sections out into a pattern of interlocked chains, growing and growing to meet Zoro’s. Zoro’s face contorts into a horrified realisation that mirrors mine, his wrist – and in extension, mine - tugging in front of his face as if to test the theory out.

My head whips up as I murderously look at Trafalgar.

“Oh, you did not do what I just think you did,” I snap.

Trafalgar only smiles at me, devoid of any humour. “He should’ve moved out of the way.”

[vivalas-vega]

new perspectives / jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader / part eight

hello !!! I’m back !!! this parts got a whopper in it, apologies in advance, but it’s got a nice ending and something to look forward to if that’s any consolation :) 

new perspectives / jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader / part eight

add yourself to my taglist

prologue - one - two - three - four - five - six - seven

word count: 3k

warnings: language, drinking, I think that’s it?

You felt entirely on edge as your knee bounced erratically sitting in the uncomfortable chair across from your chief of surgery, a million thoughts racing through your mind that you couldn’t really make any sense of. Were you really doing this? Was this really something you were going to go through with? 

“I have to say, I was surprised by your interest, Jupiter,” he said as he organized the papers in front of him and you let out a humorless chuckle.

“No more surprised than I am, sir.” you replied and he sensed the hesitation in your voice.

“Do you need more time to think it over?” he asked and you shook your head. This was the right decision, the right move… not just for your career but it was simply the right thing to do. 

“No, I… I’m sure, I just… I haven’t told anyone yet,” you sighed and you immediately felt your stomach twist in guilt as you said it. You hadn’t told anyone. Not your parents, not your friends, not Jake. Deep down you knew he would be supportive, he would understand… your friends too, they’d understand better than anyone, probably… maybe. You wouldn’t know for sure until you told them. You signed all of the paperwork before asking if you could have the rest of the day, which you were easily granted. You’d be on a lighter rotation the next week, less cases and less time in the hospital to get your life in order.

You stood in the attending’s lounge, changing into your normal clothes… Jake always joked and called them your civvies too, different careers but same little quirks. You felt sick, honestly, to have something so big happening in your life that you hadn’t told him about. This never happened, not since you were ten years old. He knew everything, you simply never could keep anything from him, not what you had for breakfast and not that one time you embarrassingly had to get stitches back in your residency because you slipped in a puddle of blood and cracked your head open - something you still hadn’t quite lived down with your old friends. But this? This was bigger than all of that, potentially the biggest thing you’ve ever had to tell him. 

You sat along the beach in front of the Hard Deck as you waited, eyes so fixated on the push and pull of the ocean you almost didn’t notice the figure dropping down beside you, and you turned to face him with a jump. “This is all very cryptic, Jupiter.” Rooster said, eyeing you curiously. “Is there a specific reason you called and said meet me at the beach before hanging up or was that your way of saying you want to hang out more?” he asked, trying to add a joking tone but the look on your face told him there was something more going on.

“I’m going to the middle east,” you said, deciding not to beat around the bush and the look of shock on his face was not missed by you.

“You’re going… to the middle east?” he asked, trying to process it. “For vacation, or…?”

“With the Army,” you replied and his eyes widened further than you thought they could.

“You’re being deployed? You joined the Army?” his face twisted up in disgust at the last one… of all the branches why couldn’t it have been his own? “When did this happen?”

“A few weeks ago… we had a visiting surgeon, he was teaching the trauma department updated techniques rooted in efficiency, and we got a crash course in disaster response. He and I got to talking afterwards, he said he saw something in me, something that reminded him of himself, he frequently goes on tours where he’s needed to offer medical support.”

“So you joined the Army because this dude saw something in you and just said hey wanna come to the middle east?” he asked and you softly smiled, this was good. This was the reaction you were anticipating, Rooster was a trial run and he was doing exactly what you needed to give you the confidence to tell everyone else.

You shook your head, “I’ve always felt drawn to this, I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this story but to keep it brief during my residency I had to go in the field to respond to a trauma, gnarly train crash… it was exhilarating, if that’s not an entirely fucked up thing to say, there’s something different about being there in the moment when it feels like the sky is falling and there’s no time to get them to a hospital, or even no hospital to get them to.”

“I mean, I get it… I’d be a hypocrite to tell you I didn’t, different context but same calling. I just… this is kind of insane, Jupiter.”

You nodded, “I know. When he told me that he was leaving with a group in a few weeks I just couldn’t stop thinking about it. I really tried to push past it and tell myself it wasn’t real, it was just a fun simulation, but then the train crash dawned on me and I realized I’ve been wanting to do something like this for a while. And it just makes sense to me, you know? There’s a shortage of medical personnel, even fewer surgeons. It feels like the right thing to do.”

“Have you talked to Jake, does he know?”

“No. You were my practice run,” you joked. “How’d I do?”

“Well, you got to the point… gave clear and precise answers, but J… I’m not in love with you. The fear I feel about you going over there into active warzones doesn’t even compare to what Jake’s going to feel.”

You gasped, “you’re not in love with me?” you asked, placing a hand over your chest in faux shock and he just shoved your shoulder at your attempt to lighten the mood.

“Cut it out,” he chuckled. “I was a shitty practice run, you know I’m never going to tell you not to do something you feel called to do no matter how much I want to throw you in a padded room until this desire of yours fades, but Jake? I mean, he just got you back, you two just got settled into the routine of being back together, and now you’re going to tell him you’re shipping out to a warzone.”

“I know, the timing sucks.”

“You’re really sure about this?” he asked and you nodded. “Because, J… you’re going to come back different, you’re going to see things, do things… this is one of those decisions you can’t undo.”

“I know, it’s not going to be easy… for me, for Jake, for the rest of you but, I really think I need to do this, Roo.”

“Well, I think you’re brave. And I’m really proud of you,” he said, wrapping an arm around you as you settled into his side. “But really? The Army?”

You let out a laugh, “if it makes you feel any better I didn’t join the Army, I’m not suddenly active duty. It’s just a three-month tour, think of it like being a private contractor.”

“That does make me feel better, otherwise I might have had to limit our interactions… appearances and all,” he said and you laughed again. “Now come on, you’ve gotta get inside,” he said, pulling you up with him and you looked at him questioningly.

“I have to?” you asked as he tugged you along, “what’s the rush for lukewarm beer?”

“Can’t tell you that, I don’t know if you’re going to find the timing of this terrible or perfect but that’s not up to me.” he said and now you were thoroughly confused as he held the door open for you.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” But, it didn’t matter, he was gone just as quickly as you’d walked into the bar and you smiled as Jake saw you and wrapped you up in a hug.

“There you are, sweetheart, you okay?” he asked, seeing the squirrelly look in your eyes and you nodded, shaking off your conversation with Rooster as you accepted the beer he’d handed you. 

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Rooster’s just being a tad bit bizarre,” you answered and he chuckled.

“Well, that’s what he does.” he replied and you nodded with a laugh as he led you towards your friends and you narrowed your eyes as everyone had a rather mischievous look on their faces. You heard the piano begin the opening notes of Drops of Jupiter and you gathered that’s where Rooster had run off to in a hurry.

“Okay, what is going on?” you asked as you turned around and you furrowed your brows when Jake was no longer there before adjusting your eye line to see him on one knee before you and you brought your hand up to cover your mouth in shock as your heart pounded in your ears. I don’t know if you’re going to find the timing of this terrible or perfect. It all made sense now.

“Jupiter, I have loved you since I was ten years old… It just took me until junior year to realize it and I’ve known it every day since. We’ve spent the majority of our lives following our own dreams until they led us right back to each other and even though it was difficult I wouldn’t change our story for anything… Being able to watch you grow into yourself and become an amazing surgeon has been the single greatest joy of my life, and I’m so excited for us to finally grow together. I’ve wanted to do this since the moment you got to San Diego, so will you do me the honor of finally becoming my wife?” he asked, eyes full of hope as he flicked the box open to reveal the ring you’d loved since you were little and you felt tears slip down your cheeks as you looked at him. The entire bar had gone silent waiting for your answer and you could feel your friends fighting to stay contained behind you as they watched.

“Yes,” you whispered, there were so many things up in the air, so many things you had to tell him but this was an easy answer. You would have said yes to a ring pop in the aisle of a convenience store. The entire bar erupted in cheers as he stood and slid it onto your finger before pulling you in for a searing kiss. Rooster was still playing the melody in the background but you could hear his sounds of celebration from across the bar and you giggled as Jake released you. You were swept up, the rest of the gang wanting to see the ring and crush you in hugs and when the song ended and the jukebox kicked back on you felt Rooster’s arms on you as he came up behind you.

“You need to talk to him,” he whispered in your ear as you rested your hands on his forearms.

“I know, just… not right now,” you said as the two of you watched him excitedly talk with Phoenix.

“I’m really happy for you, J,” he said, kissing your cheek as he let you go and you gave him a gracious smile before walking down to the bar.

“Let me see!” Penny nearly yelled at you and you held out your hand with a laugh as she examined it thoroughly. “He picked a good one,” she said as she set a drink in front of you.

You chuckled, “oh no, as good as he is I basically picked this out when I was thirteen years old,” you replied. “This was one of his grandma’s rings.”

“That’s so special,” she said as Maverick side-swiped you and wrapped you in a hug that had you letting out a surprised squeal. 

“The first Dagger wedding!” he said as you laughed, “I’m so happy for the both of you.”

“Thank you, Mav,” you replied, face hurting from the splitting smile you couldn’t seem to wipe off your face but in the back of your mind you knew it couldn’t last… you were leaving in a week and only one person in this bar knew. You let Jake twirl you around the bar, creating a dance floor where there wasn’t one as your friends shrouded you in love, watching through misty eyes as the two of you enjoyed your bubble of bliss. When the song ended you looked up at him, imprinting this moment into your mind before you drove a wrecking ball through it and you stood on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear talk with me outside?

Your friends watched as you slipped out the door before they went back to their normal routines, assuming the two of you were taking a moment alone but Rooster knew better and he gave you a supportive smile when you caught his eyes. “How are you feeling, future Mrs. Sersein?” he asked and you beamed up at him.

“I like the way that sounds… but it’s future Dr. Seresin, thank you very much,” you corrected and he let out a laugh.

“My apologies, darling,” he said, wrapping his arms around your waist and you were silent for a moment, fixating on your hands currently pressed against his chest and his eyebrows furrowed as he noticed your change in demeanor. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I have something to tell you,” you said suddenly and even you were taken aback by how you spit that out.

“Okay?” he prompted, leading you to the chairs on the other side of the patio where you sat and avoided his expectant stare.

“Do you remember how I was telling you about that Army doctor who came to town a few weeks ago?” you started and he nodded.

“Yeah, the disaster training you wouldn’t stop yammering about,” he teased and you just gave him a sad smile. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, uh… oh, this was so much easier with Rooster.” you sighed and now he was really concerned.

“What does Rooster know that I don’t?”

“He told me about a tour heading out next week to the middle east, a three-month rotation. I… I tried not to think about it, to pretend I didn’t want to go, but I really, really wanted to go and before I could fully stop myself I signed up.”

“You signed up? What does that mean?”

“It means next week I’m shipping out to the middle east,” you said, and you watched him process your words. “For three months.” 

“Okay, uh…” he started, trying to gather his thoughts. “This is set in stone, then? You’ve fully signed yourself up?” You nodded, wishing he would stop asking questions and get to the part where he’s mad at you. “And you didn’t think to talk to me about this?”

“I wanted to… but I was focusing more on trying to talk myself out of it and then it was like a fever dream, I was suddenly calling that Army doc and telling him to put me on the list.” 

“Did you think I was going to get mad at you? Is that why you talked to Rooster first?” he asked and you didn’t miss the tone of hurt in his voice.

You nodded again, “he was my trial run, as weird as that is.” 

“I don’t think it’s weird, honey, he’s your best friend, as much as that’s something that doesn’t make sense to me, talking to him first does, I just… you and I are best friends and partners, you’ve gotta talk to me before you make big decisions like this.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” you said, tears welling in your eyes and he was quick to wipe them away when they fell.

“Well, if you had talked to me before you took this on all by yourself, I would have told you that I want you to do what makes you happy, and if that means doing this tour then I support you. Am I mad you kept me in the dark? Totally, but you and I have been making big decisions separately for almost a decade, it’s going to take time to get used to being partners again.” he said and you couldn’t stop yourself from crying. “This terrifies me, J, but this is just who you are… you want to help people, even if that means shipping yourself off somewhere dangerous. How could I ever fault you for that?”

“You’re not mad that I’m going?” you asked in disbelief and he let out a soft laugh.

“Of course not, sweetheart.” He wrapped his hands around yours that sat in your lap. “You’re going on a deployment, do you know how much of an ass I would be if I even tried to be mad at you for that? I’m going to do this to you at some point, granted I never thought I’d be on the opposite end of this situation, but we’ll figure it out. We always do.”

“I love you so much, you know that?” you asked as he tugged you up and pulled you into his lap.

“Not as much as I love you,” he replied, pressing a kiss to your lips. 

“I want to get married,” you said and he laughed at you.

“Sweetheart, we are… unless you wildly misunderstood what that just was in there.”

“No, right now, this week… before I leave,” you said and his eyes widened.

“Are you serious?”

“Completely, I… I know we’re not talking about the danger aspect because we both understand and we don’t need to get into it but there is danger and… I don’t want anything holding you back from getting answers or being the first one contacted if something does happen.”

“Yes,” he said, kissing you again. “I thought you were going to make me wait a whole year to finally call you my wife.” 

“Never,” you replied, giggling as he swept you up and carried you back towards the bar. “We’re going to be good, right?”

“Better than good.”

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[gayerthanevertbh]

would you say yes? | arcadia pt. 2

pairings: older!natasha romanoff x young!reader

navigation | series masterlist

summary: after a year of despair, y/n has come to terms with her indecisiveness and guilt over her past “relationship” with the older woman. though her marriage is failing, she’s losing herself and mourns for the lost of her own first love. what she doesn’t know is that natasha sent her a letter that her husband has been keeping for over a year.

takes place in “the other woman” & “the last time” series!

warnings: angst, tension, age difference, reader being stupid, slight cheating, and mor - 18+ MINORS DNI

author’s note: wow i haven’t updated this in so long but good luck reading this! LMAO

I didn't understand why I had consented to see Natasha. I felt as though my body was awake but that my mind was in a deep sleep because I was mindless. But given that I was always that way as a kid, that's just an excuse to hide the fact that I'm gullible. I took a quick glance around me before returning to the coffee mug I had just set down on the table. What if I stood up for her? She had every right not to show up; I was the one who abandoned her in the first place. The thing is, she invited me to coffee; it's not like I asked her to join me; it was her idea.

"Would you like a glass of water?" When I looked up, the waitress had bright eyes and a tight smile on her face, and I shook my head in response. I watch her as she walks to another table, wondering what they will order for lunch. Which made me realize, I haven’t had one myself. If she ends up abandoning me, the way I did to her, I guess a sandwich in this cafe might appeal to me.

When the clock struck 12:30, I let out a sigh of disappointment and began to peruse the menu. Natasha sat across from me and grabbed the menu from my hand before I even had a chance to decide what I would have for lunch. She appeared stunningly beautiful, as usual. However, I could see dark eyebags under her eyes, which gave her a worn-out appearance. Considering how much I second-guess my marriage to Patrick, I can definitely relate to that. Yet she always appeared so... refined. So ethereal.

Natasha smiled at me with surprise.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” she tells me, and I let out a strained laugh.

“I’m surprised that I did come.”

She doesn't look at me; instead, she licks her lower lip and focuses on the table. She might have been ashamed that we were sitting at the same table as if nothing had ever happened between us. But in reality, it should be me gazing down at the table, not her. I hear her asking, “Is Patrick with you? I-I’m sorry, I just don’t feel comfortable–”

“He’s away for work,” I replied in a nonchalant tone. Natasha looked back up with questionable eyes, but I tried not to mind that. “I’m all alone for a week.”

“You didn’t come with him?”

“He’s always away,” I said with a deep sigh, taking a sip of my coffee. “I got tired of traveling.”

"But you like to travel," she said, as if she knew me even though she only knew the "younger" me ten years ago. "We went to Italy together, and you loved it."

“That was only one time though, Natasha.”

I noticed her shoulders deflate as I called out her real name and not her nickname. But in a matter of seconds, she smiles again and leans against the chair behind her back. “Right,” she coughed quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

We both ordered our food and sat quietly in front of each other; this was getting awkward, and I should never have agreed to this meet-up. But she seemed at ease with me, like a child who has been wanting a toy for a long time and is overjoyed when they finally get it. We remained silent for a while, and I could tell that her gaze was fixed on my face. She has a tendency to smile to herself before drawing nearer to the table and noting each freckle on my face. I knew that she was trying to memorize me, as this might be the last time I see her.

“You’re getting creepy,” I joked.

She laughs, scratching her nose. “I’m just happy that I get to see you, after everything that happened between us.”

I bit my inner cheek as I nodded. Should I apologize for leaving her? What happens if she sobs in front of me? What should I do? Should I abandon her again? No, I was too cruel for that. Natasha has always had a special place in my heart. And no matter how hard I try to deny my feelings for her, they will always be there - they will never go away with the snap of a finger. "I know you're hurt because of what happened," I said, looking down at her lips.

“I’m trying to move on from it.”

“And I’m sorry for leaving you again,” I said, my throat bobbing with fear and stupidity. “I’m sorry for everything, Natasha. I know my apology is not enough, but hopefully, someday you will forgive me.”

Silence had begun, and I felt uncomfortable in my seat.

After a while, she replied with a quiet voice.

"I've forgiven you for a long time, Y/n," she said, her eyes welling up with tears. "It hurt, yes, but I can't change what happened. It will always be there, and that is something I will never forget. What you did was unfathomable. I had to look for you all over town, but I couldn't find you. I'm guessing you moved in with Patrick because you changed your phone number and left your old apartment. I tried to find him, but he was also difficult to locate. I just wanted to see if I could get another chance. But perhaps I don't, and perhaps I never will. You eating with me is more than enough."

I was debating whether I should tell her I was married or not, knowing that it would break her heart. In retrospect, our situation was somewhat ironic. She was married to Maria when she fell in love with me, and now I'm married to Patrick, and she still is. And I can't deny that I'm in love with her because I've always been. But it's better to remain silent than to witness your loved one's heart full of sorrow and wonder.

My mouth began to speak, “I’m married to Patrick, Natasha.”

I could tell her face had dropped. I wanted to grab her hand, but I couldn't. She said, "Oh," then stopped talking and stared at me. I still hate myself for hurting her, especially when I told her I was married to a boy she despised.

“I’m sorry,” I said with an apologetic look. “I should’ve told you that I’m married.”

"I had a feeling you were," she chuckled to alleviate the pain. She fiddled with her fork while staring down at her own plate. "But I kept telling myself that if you were still available, I could marry you in the end if I found you."

“Y-You wanted to marry me?”

"Of course," Natasha shrugged as if there was no point in saying it. “But you’re married; I can’t do that.”

If I hadn't married Patrick in the first place, I would have been Natasha's wife. I could have been Natasha's wife if I hadn't abandoned her in the first place. And now that I was married, possibly to an unfaithful husband, I had no chance with her - no matter how badly I wanted to, I couldn't come back to her in that way. We have so much history together that it's like reopening old wounds.

“Would you say yes, though?”

“Huh?” I asked, feeling aloof in my head.

“Would you say yes?” she asked, a glint of hopefulness in her eyes. She reaches for my hand and squeezes it gently. Her hand was still calloused. “If you had never left and married Patrick, would you say yes?”

No, I can’t. I’m horrible for you, and you know that so well.

“Y-Yeah,” I responded under my breath, my chest feeling heavy all of a sudden. “Yes, I would’ve said yes.”

She sighs, gripping my hand like it's the last time she’ll hold me like this. She then suddenly let go of my hand and hung her head low. I didn’t know what else to do but sit in silence. Sometimes, I enjoy silence like this.

“Your marriage must be colorful,” she said in a whispery tone, her fingers fidgeting on the cloth table. “Full of rainbows and sunshine, huh?”

“I have a feeling he’s cheating on me.”

Natasha looks at me again, worried, but I try to reassure her that nothing bad has happened - at least not yet. "How are you so certain that he is cheating on you? Have you gone through his phone?”

"He's not that affectionate with me," I explained. “And maybe I’m the fault for this. Do you know I’m still in therapy and I could no longer get better?”

“Don’t say that, you will get–”

“But it’s true,” my voice was getting pitchier, and I saw the way people turned to see who that was. I lowered my head once more and muttered, “I could never get better, I’m forever going to be like this.”

“You know that’s not true, Y/n.”

“Maybe that’s why he’s unfaithful to me.”

"I could never hurt you like that," she says, taking my hand again and bringing it close to her lips. I could feel her breath on my skin and tried not to think about it. What happened between us still hurts me, and her doing this will only make matters worse.

But I couldn’t seem to pull away.

"You're the only girl I'll never hurt," she says. Natasha kisses the back of my hand, and I can feel the wet stain running through my veins. "If he is causing you pain, then leave him. It's pointless to stay if he's abusive to you; leave him."

“It’s easy for you to say that.”

“Nothing is easy in this world,” Natasha mumbled, kissing my hand again. “It wasn’t easy for me to forget you, and here I am being a hypocrite. I can’t ever forget someone like you.”

Natasha walked me home that day, telling me stories about her lonely life in her cold, dark house. I even asked if Lucy would pay her visits, but she only remained silent and held my hand as if we were back together. When Natasha left, I began to question whether this was even a good idea, but we never made such plans. It was all unexpected, which leaves me perplexed. So what happens if I return to her? In the end, I'd abandon her. Nobody deserved it, let alone her.

Around midnight, I decided to send her another email while watching a cartoon on my laptop. It usually helps me sleep, Patrick would call me a child but not in a harsh way. Yet, maybe I’m still a child.

Thank you for today; I honestly thought I'd never see you again. I hope we see each other again soon; I think we're good friends.

Sincerely,

Y/n.

Now I know Natasha will never consider me a friend, but I also know I will never be her lover. It took her thirty minutes to respond, and I tried to watch my show before responding. But I was enticed by her message, so I opened her email, which left me wondering.

We will meet again soon, I know we will. Thank you as well, Y/n. I can’t stop thinking about you, you know? Anyway, I’ll be sleeping now. Goodnight :)

Natasha.

My phone buzzed in my pocket as I closed my laptop. Patrick's phone number was displayed when I pulled out my phone. I had completely forgotten that I was going to talk to him this evening, and he would be upset if he found out that I had been with Natasha all along. Not in an angry way, but in a sad way. And I didn’t like that.

“Hello?” I answered quietly, laying my head against the soft pillow.

“I was trying to call you a while ago, are you busy?”

“Yeah, I’m talking to my therapist.” not true.

"Sorry about that," his voice was deep and quiet, and I almost couldn't understand what he was saying. "I'm leaving Italy in a week; I hope you're doing well on your own."

“Don’t worry,” I sighed, smacking my dry lips together. “I’m keeping myself company with my therapist.”

He laughs, “I bet. Just wanted to check on my best girl.”

“Yeah,” I mumbled, looking straight at the ceiling as I thought about Natasha in my head. I was cynical. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Y/n.”

soooo... now what

[letstrywritingmaybe]

I finally finished reading Catch-22 (I loved it, it’s ridiculous but it makes sense) so now I can read my last library book (it’s a Poirot one!) I’m feeling more on track writing wise too. I wrote the next chapter of the sibling verse and the powers one, and I started Mastermind. I was going to write the fake dating fic too, but I’m wondering if this is the last chapter so I’m hesitant to move forward right now… CoAi week is still the same. I’m on the last prompt and I just don’t know *sigh

Update: I really really really wish people would tag MCD. That would be really fucking great for me. And while we’re at it, I fucking wish y’all would tag the canon ship too. I’m so fucking triggered I can’t deal with it. I fucking hate this bullshit. Look I get why people write these fics and good for them, but I fucking hate them. They hold no value to me and I don’t like them and I’ll never like them. I’m so pissed right now and I can’t even do anything about it cause I support an author’s choice to write whatever the fuck they want. I just really fucking hate when it’s this same fucking shit again. I’m so over it. I’ve read it so many fucking times already. I know you can say the same about my fics too, which is why I never encourage anyone to read my fics cause it’s the same shit. I’m just fucking over it. I was having a pretty good day too till this bullshit. I hate it here. I’m gonna hope I can calm down enough to read my book and forget about how upset I am. I fucking wish I didn’t care so much about this ship that I get excited and read every fic that I haven’t read before. Tags my beloved, when authors choose to use you are the reason why I don’t completely lose my mind every time. I had a bad feeling about it too but I didn’t trust my gut cause again I was just excited. Why the fuck is it always my queen that dies and suffers and he gets to fucking move forward with his life and get a happily ever after. I’m getting flashbacks of my lunch convo over how much I fucking hate endgame too. If you’re gonna kill someone and give the other half of the ship a happy ending why can’t it be Shiho for once? I think I know of only one fucking fic where he died and she lived and married and shit. Cause even when yall decide to kill him, she’s fucking miserable and alone. What the fuck is up with that bullshit???? So he’s allowed happiness with someone else but my queen has to suffer and only love him and fuck up her own life? Fuck this noise. That’s really what I have a problem with. I fucking hate the double standard. Yeah, I’m not calm at all. This shit needs to fucking stop. Or at the very least write the fucking reverse and even it out more. Cause literally the ratio is fucking tipped all the way over on one side. I try to read fics and encourage people to continue writing but I really can’t support this nonsense. And I’m not going to. I know we have a major silent reader problem and I hate contributing to that, but also this shit sucks and I don’t want to be an asshole and tell someone to fuck off with shit I don’t like. I don’t even like book reviews that shit on a book, why would I like it on fics where the author doesn’t even get money out of it? I really need a new fandom. One that is easy and happy and has lots of fluffy fics for me to read. I’m tired of being sad every fucking day over this ship. It’s literally every fucking day. I really don’t know why I’m still here. I’m too weak to do this.

Update 2: one thing to be happy about I guess. I think it’s not technically true cause of all the fics under our tag that are really for the canon ship. But we have more CoAi fics than canon ship ones on ao3? Wow. I’m kinda surprised with the canon ship propaganda going strong still. Yeah I’m still very much annoyed over fics in our tag that are really written for the canon ship. So in my eyes we haven’t surpassed them. I started reading my book and I’m still annoyed *sigh this is gonna be a long night

[kotaka-kun]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

saw @middleearthpixie doing this and I wanted to do it too :)

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

249 works

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

380,279 words

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Most recently I’ve been writing for Phantom of the Opera and Love Never Dies, but according to my AO3 dashboard, I’ve posted fics for just under 40 fandoms and naming them all seems excessive... That being said, my top five are Lord of the Rings, Phantom, MCU (mostly Captain America), Avatar: The Last Airbender, and Harry Potter. 

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

1. thank you for the food (ATLA, zukka, Fluff, Domestic Bliss, Modern AU) 2. Simple Happiness (ATLA, zukka, Fluff, Living Together, Modern AU) 3. Bucky has a belly kink, but Steve doesn’t mind in the least (MCU, stucky, ABO, Belly Kink, Pregnancy Kink) 4. Surprise (MCU, stucky, ABO, mpreg, Birth, Twins) 5. New Colors (One Piece, zosan, Fluff, Color Blindness, Gifts)

5. Do you respond to comments?

I do try, though I know I’ve missed a few over the years... but I do love and treasure every single comment I get!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I’d have to say that it’s probably a tie between The Worst Thing (MCU, Steve/Bucky, omegaverse, infertility, miscarriage) and overboard (LOTR, Frodo/Sam, trauma, depression, suicide attempt)

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? 

Hard to say, since aside from the two mentioned above, I write mostly fluffy happy endings... 

8. Do you get hate on fics? 

Thankfully, no. But maybe that just means I need to write more divisive fics? 

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do write smut, and it’s probably mostly -- if not all -- omegaverse tbh... 

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I love love love writing crossovers! I think they’re fun and silly and a good time all around. Don’t know if I have one that’s significantly crazier than the rest, but I think i read the hobbit (in 1937 when it first came out) is one of my favorites to think about. I’ve got a soft spot for ws!Bucky is all. Putting him in Middle Earth and adding him to the Fellowship was just for funsies :)

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I’m aware of...

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! A reader translated New Colors into Chinese, which was super neat!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Absolutely, 100% -- in the sense of collaboratively plotting out and writing a story, as well as taking turns in an improvised narrative style RP, and also something in between where the premise of a fic was agreed upon and each of us had characters to write, RP style. 

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

I don’t think I can pick a singular ship to label as my favorite... I’d call Zoro/Sanji my OTP, but only because they were the first ship I got involved in fandom for -- I haven’t read a fic of them in years. I’m reading almost exclusively Erik/Christine fics right now, but I’ve come across Erik/Raoul fics that have made me fall in love with them, as well as Erik/Raoul/Christine fics that are so so good... I guess in terms of longevity and my ability to always come back to them, Steve/Bucky has been a solid ship for me? 

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Gonna go with Zoro’s Promise, since it’s the only multichapter fic I never bothered to move from FF dot net to AO3. It’s literally been ten years since I updated it lmao

16. What are your writing strengths?

On one hand, I guess my ADHD-fueled hyperfixation that allows me to write fic after fic could be considered a strength...?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

On the other hand, as soon as my ADHD-fueled hyperfixation loses its vice grip on me, I lose all motivation to write. Especially if I’ve already written out the scenes that I had in my head, I become incapable of filling in the gaps and making it a cohesive fic... I honestly don’t think I have very good writing hygiene even after taking classes on being better about being a hobby writer oops 

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I personally tend to avoid writing in another language, because I think it’s hard to do well. Sometimes it takes you out of the fic because you have to copy-paste it into Google Translate to figure out what they’re saying, sometimes it takes you out of the fic because you speak the language and the author evidently doesn’t and they used Google Translate. 

19. First fandom you wrote for?

First fandom I wrote fic for and then posted would be One Piece... but in actuality, I’ve been writing fanfiction from long before I knew that’s what it was called. I was probably in second or third grade when I wrote self-insert Peter Pan fics. Also Shrek fics. I don’t have the notebooks I wrote them in anymore, but I have a very vivid memory of writing them.

20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

This is maybe the hardest question of all to answer, because while I like a lot of my fics, I don’t know that there’s one that I could call my favorite. My current WIP stranger than you dreamt it (PotO, Erik/Christine, ABO) is one I’m excited to keep working on because, well, omegaverse. But also time and time again (LOTR, Frodo/Sam, Time Travel, Fix-it) was one of the first multi chapter fics I’ve actually finished, so in that regard I’m rather proud of it. I liked the time-travel-y premise of it as well. And even though what comes after (HP, Snape/Harry, Time Travel, Fix-it) is still technically a WIP, I’m still pleased with how it’s coming along... though it’s been a hot minute since I’ve updated it oops

tagging... you! 🫵 if you're an author, i'm tagging u! i want to know about what you write!!!

[infiniteimaginings]

Introducing, me! The author!

note**: This isn’t that organized because I just got back from the lake and I’m actually exhausted. I just had to post it now since it’s been in my drafts for forever and if I didn’t do it today, I wouldn’t do it at all.

Name: You can just call me Space or Infinite, or anything space related!

Pronouns: I go by any pronouns, I don’t mind what you refer to me as. I’m AFAB and people typically use she/her for me, but I really don’t care, female, male, non-binary, I just don’t have labels on anything me wise. (it just doesn’t bother me, you can use they/he/she, literally anything and I promise, i’ll be okay.)

Writing info about me!:

I apparently get sick easily (recent months) if I take a prolonged break (with no scheduled fics out), I probably just got sick, couldn’t write, and I’m trying to recover [in my bio there’s a question of ‘am I sick?’ This is how I update you guys if I’m actually sick.]

I’m in a lot of fandoms, it’s just that I forget. So I write for more fandoms than listed, and for more characters than listed, I’m just forgetful. (You can just send an ask or message me if you want to know if I write for something)

I love writing and I take the stories I write seriously! I spend a good amount of time on them :) I’ve been writing stories since I was very little and I’ve even been writing a book.

I write on ao3 (I post these stories there along with others, don’t get on me too much though because I haven’t been transferring the stories over, I will soon lol)

I was a wattpad kid before ao3 and here (what an era 💀, no i will not talk about the horrors I wrote there that will never leave my mind)

My favorite character at the moment to write for (out of the ones I’ve written so far) is Max Thunderman because he’s fun and he was my favorite as a kid.

I have a million ideas a day, so if you see me yapping about god knows what (i’m so serious about god knows what, because i don’t know what i’m talking about half the time) and then I don’t post for three days (just of me being silly, not fic wise) it’s because I’m writing everything down into my notes and planning them out for when I have time for writing.

I swear I also write for what I enjoy not just requests, but I love answering requests! Even on the list of fics coming out, some of them are stories I just really really wanted to write and requested for myself (not like through the inbox, just in my head)

The reason I always make any of my fics neutral for the reader (unless gender is specified in the request), is because of experience. I’m black, so to be honest as I grew reading fanfiction, it wasn’t very thought of to include black reader descriptions within x readers. It always had to be specified “x black!reader”. If it didn’t, it always said pale skin, long flowing hair, etc, etc. I don’t have pale skin and I have short coily hair unless it’s in braids, so it never resonated with me and I didn’t really get to connect with them, unfortunately.

So, I automatically do gender neutral but also, if you haven’t noticed I don’t specify skin color, eye color, height (but sometimes i make characters put their head on the readers, just depends on the placement, but i try to consider it), nothing of the sorts. It’s completely neutral so that everyone can enjoy it and not feel left out. I try my best to be all inclusive in my fics, because the fics I read for my favorite characters weren’t.

Random things about me:

My favorite color is green (dark forest green) (yes, I know I’m specific)

I play instruments (Piano, ukulele, drums) and I also sing. I was in chorus, theatre, and plenty of clubs growing up.

Studying is something I enjoy which is why I research for the fics I write! If you see anything specifically accurate I either already knew it or decided to research for it. Don’t be surprised if someone asks for where I found information and i put it in mla format as a response.

I genuinely enjoy conversation with everyone, so I encourage you guys to message me for anything.

- You have a question about my blog? I’ll answer it quickly since I have notifs on (for messaging only).

- You’re wondering if I write for something specific since it’s not in my listings? I’ll tell you if i’ve watched it, and if I haven’t i’ll watch it myself and then ask for details on your request.

- You want to ask how I do something? I’ll give you a step by step with links.

- You want to ask about me in general? Go for it!

- You just want to talk? I’m a professional talker, and also a professional listener!!

I’m currently studying psychology 🌝, as a major

I watch anime and read plenty of manga

I always fill my time doing something. I read, write, sing, draw, craft, build, clean, etc. I do anything and everything because I personally believe if I don’t, I’ll just rot away in bed and I hate the idea of that.

I cant do a single thing in the same spot for over two hours, not even that. If i’m writing, I’m constantly taking a break to watch tv, dance break to music, chores, planning for something else, or moving to a different project. (I get uninterested so quickly)

Trust me when I say I actually sleep a lot lmao. Some of you guys go into my messages saying you’re worried I don’t get enough sleep. The latest I’ve stayed up to write has been to like 12:30 in the morning, and I wake up at like 7:30-8:00 in the morning every time. Then I take a nap if I get tired in the slightest.

Most of the time though, I stop writing by 10:30, and go to sleep at 11. If I don’t, me staying up to two in the morning is because of my own poor choices (webcomics, manga, fanfiction, reading my own writings multiple times). Please don’t worry about me, I’m big on sleep so I’m never deprived of it. If I complain it’s just because I’m tired and can’t go to sleep because I’ll end up even more tired.

I have 3 piercings in each of my ears, one on my nose. I have 0 tattoos, because ironically, I’m terrified of needles.

I genuinely love literature more than the average person. I also just love reading and stories in a general sense. I ache to read every book I ever see, even though people say it’s impossible I will try to fulfill my dream until my death. To the point where I can whisper the words of poets who died centuries before my existence has come to mind. Only to keep their spirits alive for a little while longer, to tell the world that these authors are still desired and that the words paint pictures society should be craving to see.

**Any images are from a board I’ve been saving to on Pinterest for the past two years. Images I think reflect how I act majority of the time.

I can’t think of any other useless information about me, so I’ll stop here! I’ll probably add more stuff since I’m a talker lololol! Thank you for reading, love you bunches!

[darkwaveho]

Favors

Acrylic strokes

Parings: Stoner!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Warnings: 18+, Smut, fluff, Soft Wanda and drug use.

Summary: Wanda gives you an up close and personal look at her process of creating art but of course she can only go so long without being distracted by your beauty.

A/n: I’m trying to get back into writing after the flu kicked my ass and since I haven’t updated this series in soo long enjoy this drabble of our favorite pot headed baby. 💜💜 (Promise I’m working on getting the next part out for the main story <3) (also not proofread.)

Series masterlist

One thing about dating Wanda was that there was never a dull moment. She whisked you away this morning to accompany her on a hidden mission, she wouldn’t tell you where she was taking you, she almost never did. Wanda always wants to surprise you and keep things spontaneous. That and the fact that she thinks you’re so adorable when you’re constantly asking her questions or begging for her to give you a hint about your destination. 

When you ended up outside of a janky building you deadpanned to Wanda not expecting this to be her big destination that had you dragged out of bed at eight in the morning, but you’ve come accustomed to not judging a book by its cover and the fact that Wanda has taken you to multiple janky buildings, but you always left with a smile on your face. 

Opening the door and walking past the threshold you ended up in Wanda’s art studio it wasn’t huge, but it also wasn’t the size of your dorm, this was basically like another apartment. Old vinyl records lay on the side table by the window, a small couch with mini cushions and a bean bag chair, her easel and her stool in the middle of the room. Drawing utensils sprawled out on the working station as well as paint buckets and paint brushes laid out on the surface of the table in the back. Wanda finally steps beside you nervously spinning the ring on her fingers. 

“I hope you don’t mind me bringing you here, I just wanted to finish something up, but I wanted you-.” You cut her sentence short when your lips softly press onto hers. “I don’t mind at all, I’m actually glad you brought me here.” You smile as you admire the finished and unfinished work she had laying around. She’s being more open with you about her passion and letting you get a front row seat of it all in the process. With your response Wanda goes about her normal routine when she’s here, after making sure you were comfortable of course. she sets everything up and smokes a blunt occasionally handing it to you to hold it for her or to take a hit if you wanted to, she never pressured you into smoking if you didn’t want to. After the effects start to kick in Wanda turns on her vinyl record and begins working on her project.   

After some time of scrolling on your phone, watching Wanda paint on her canvas and reading the stack of magazines left on Wanda’s table your insecurity grows when you’re not sure if you should truly be here. “Wanda are you sure I’m not going to be a distraction?”

“For the last time you’re not distracting me, now just sit still and keep me company, your presence is enough my sweet girl.” She looks over her shoulder to send you a flirtatious wink. “On second thought, can you come here and help me with something baby?”

“I’m not very good with my hands but sure what do you want me to do?” Wanda’s mind goes somewhere else contrary to what she just told you moments ago. There was a lot of things Wanda wanted you to do, she wanted you to strip down for her. She wanted to paint you bare, stripped down to just your skin. Maybe on a day when she isn’t wrecking her brain to finish her midterm art piece’s.

“Don’t worry all need you to do is help me mix these colors.” She guided you over to the table with various amount of paint and places a few cups in front of you. “And for the record you’re very good with your hands princess.” She kisses the nape of your neck at first it starts as an innocent gesture but the more she stood there with her lips against your skin and her hands gliding down your body she quickly forgot about the previous task of getting more paint mixed.

“Wanda.” 

“Hm.” 

“I’m...all done” she peeks over your shoulder for a brief moment and hums in acknowledgment before she dives right back into placing kisses and marks on you neck. “C’mon, you need to finish your work.” 

“It’s finished already.” 

“Don’t lie to me.” You turn around much to Wanda’s disapproval. It’s true she wasn’t finished but she could get away with saying it was and still get a passing grade for it. “I’m not… I can get a passing grade for it; it’s abstract after all.” She shrugs her shoulders and leans in to finally capture your lips in a long-awaited kiss, she hasn’t kissed you since you two arrived at her art studio. When her lips pull away, she immediately attaches them to the side of your neck enticing an uncontrollable moan. “I’ve been working on it for three hours now” she smiles in the crook of your neck. The sound letting her know she’s got you right where she wants you. She was very good at persuading you to change your mind about things from a simple touch, glance, or even a certain choice of words. 

“Don’t you think I deserve some playtime?”

She lifts you onto the table eagerly prying at your clothes and guiding her tongue past your lips. The force of the kiss takes you off guard your body jumps back but your lips still stay connected your hands slams down against the wooden table. Not aware of your hand placements your right hand slammed down on a tube of paint.

“Shit! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to do that!” You’re quick to apologize for ruining her clothes and wasting her paint, despite the fact that Wanda always had a speck of paint on her clothes, she didn’t care. You don’t get far with the apology when you suddenly feel the cold thick liquid of paint splatter across your face. After the brief shock value wore off you glare at Wanda. “Oops I didn’t mean to.” She stands in front of you barely able to contain her laugh. She totally did that on purpose. it was the slight twitch of her lip that set you in motion to launch some paint back at her. The next thing you know, you and Wanda begin a paint war throwing splatters of paint at each other. Making a complete mess of her working area. Wanda didn’t mind she actually encouraged it, you always found a way to make her relax and unwind. After chasing and running way from one another the two of you collide and tumble to the wooden covered floor.

When the laughter dies down you see the lust and the darkness consume Wanda’s eyes. she places her lips on to yours before you can question anything. she puts her all into the kiss, her tongue making swift and intimate motions as it explores the depth from within your mouth. She inches her knee to your center causing you to dig your nails into her shoulders. You slowly grind on her knee enjoying the subtle sensation. Wanda was not letting you off the hook so easily. You were so firm about her continuing her work a few minutes ago and now here you are desperately trying to get off on her thigh. “Look at you now baby.” she mockingly pouts down at you. “I should probably stop teasing you and get back to work right?” She pulls away from your lips. Wanda was met with a shocked reaction. “Are you serious?” Wanda looks down at you with a smug grin. She only responds back to you with a playful shrug of her shoulders. You spotted her game; she wanted you to beg and plead for touch for denying her access earlier. 

“You know what? I think you’re right.” You lean up giving her lips a quick peck with intentions of getting up from the floor. That’s not the reaction Wanda was expecting but she knows when you’re playing games with her. She rolls her eyes accepting defeat and pushes you back down onto the cloth. “You’re really a stubborn person you know that?” 

“Takes one to know one.” Wanda smashes her lips onto yours not wanting to prolong this conversation anymore. You grin during the kiss knowing you’ve gotten your way. She needs you. She takes up the same position as before, with the same pacing. Her lips retrace each spot from before she adds more pressure to your core, the moment you squirm beneath her. “You’re so beautiful.” Nimble fingers roam your body, ridding you of the rest of your clothing that stood in the way of Wanda’s view of your bare body. 

“Tha-“ you couldn’t even properly thank her for the compliment anytime she spoke so highly of you with admiration you thanked her. Her lips once again made contact with yours, she couldn’t help herself. “And you’re all mine.” She whispered breathlessly against your lips, pecking them one last time before descending her kisses down your body. “All yours.” You repeat the words of reassurance as you laced your painted fingers through her hair, forgetting that the both of you were covered in the liquid hue. 

When Wanda comes face to face with your warm cunt she inhales deeply, licking her lips as her mouth waters from your addictive scent. She kisses your clit softly causing you to buck your hips into her face. The devious smile she presented you with let you know immediately that you were in for a long day. “Since you wouldn’t beg for me to fuck you, you’re gonna beg for me to stop.” She dives in with no hesitation or mercy. Her tongue stays firmly on your clit, moving in circular motions at the same time she reaches up to rub your hardened nipple between her fingers. She tugs and pinches your nipple occasionally just to catch you off guard. 

“Fuck.” You whisper under your breath and clench your eyes shut, embracing the intense sensations. “Don’t stop.” Wanda had no intentions of stopping anytime soon. Her motivation grows more the more you moan and scream for her in pleasure. After you cum the first time, she trails her tongue down to your hole, deeply fucking her tongue inside of you. Each thrust was patient and firm the frantic taps on her shoulder alert her that you were already nearing your climax again. When Wanda’s tongue repeatedly hit the soft spot your back arched from the ground, your fingers clenched Wanda’s hair, your nails scratched her scalp. The groan you receive sends even more sensations to your core from the action. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” The tapping of her shoulder didn’t work so you try to gently push her head away from your overstimulated cunt. Wanda doesn’t back away from your warm, puffy cunt until she gets another orgasm out of you she swears she can hear your moans all day long. Wanda takes mercy on you when your legs start to uncontrollably shake and your desperation grows to push her away. It takes a moment, but she relents after cleaning you up. “Calm down, princess let me clean you up.” Wanda’s voice was just as breathless as yours, her face was a mess. she was completely covered in you. she slides back up your body you give her no time to speak as you pull her down for an intense kiss. Tasting yourself, you pull back from the kiss staring into her loving eyes. “What? is something on my face?” she replies with fake innocence. Wanda gasps in surprise when you pull her impossibly closer and lick a stripe up her face, collecting your own slick and humming in satisfaction when her face is clean. “Not anymore.” you reply against her lips and give her a quick playful peck against her lips. Finally aware of your surroundings again you take notice of something, Wanda was still completely dressed while you lay beneath her on full display. “You know I find this encounter to be completely unfair.” 

“How?” 

“You still have your clothes on.”

“it’s called being spontaneous, it won’t be easy getting me out of my clothes.” she wiggles her eyebrows playfully. “Since when?” she gasps and swats at your shoulder from the harmless insult. “Now you’re really not seeing me naked today.” 

“Oh yeah?

“Yup” 

“Is that a challenge?” 

“Not a challenge my love, it’s the law.” you already had your plan set into motion. you take advantage of the abandoned bucket of paint and the paint brush left sitting to your right. In the mist of Wanda going a mini rant of how she’d make you beg before even one piece of clothing hit these wooden floors was cut short when you fling the paint off the end of the brush. Specks of paint splatters against her face and her top. That wasn’t enough for you, so you quickly dip your fingers into the bucket and smear the white paint into her t-shirt with your bare hand. Wanda gasps in surprise and sends you an unamusing glare. “That was a dirty move.” Wanda replies as she holds the hem of her shirt away from her body.

“I’m sorry, what were you saying baby?” You look up at her fluttering your eyelashes innocently.

“You’re a brat you know that?” 

“Whatever, now strip.” Wanda smacks her lips and carefully lifts the top off of her. “And you’re very irresponsible throwing paint around like that when your pussy out in the open like this.” You arch your eyebrow and swiftly dip your fingers back into the paint smearing it all over Wanda’s chest even going beneath the thin fabric of her bra. She shrieks from the cold contact and pushes you back to the ground pinning your wrists down to the cloth. “That’s funny to you?” Your laughter doesn’t stop only increases with her question. Wanda dips her fingertips into a different paint bucket and smears the pink hue of liquid on your chest. 

As your bodies mesh together the paints smear into one another creating a new hue of red. How fitting the color of red is to describes almost every emotion Wanda feels for you with just one color such as Passion, intensity, dominance, and confidence. Sure, it might sound cliche to anyone else but, she truly feels this way. Hunger complete consumes her as she rid herself of her clothes with much haste. Her lips mark every part of your neck and skin that was untouched by paint, her arms link underneath your thighs, nails digging into you with desperation as her intimacy touches yours. Wanda acknowledges the fact that you were still sensitive, but she loses control of that thought as she was too focused on her pleasure at the moment. She always wanted you but having you here in this setting was burning a different kind of fire inside of her and she needed to have you now. This was part of her fantasy, to have you on display for her as she marks you, molds you, and paints you as her very own masterpiece. 

The moment her paint comes in contact with your bare skin you were marked as hers, forever. When Wanda comes down after her high you both share a few kisses before Wanda flops down on your chest breathlessly panting and letting the comfortable silence reign in. Wanda hasn’t taken her eyes off of you for one second always entranced by your beauty, she’s shameless if you do wind up catching her staring. “I have a question.” You say as you slowly drag you fingers up and down Wanda’s spine, she shivers from the contact while she looks down at you.

“Ask away.” She instantly replies back to you not even a hint of hesitation on her end about the abrupt need of curiosity from you. “Did you always bring girls here to throw paint at them and shove your face between their legs?” You say the question with a teasing response no jealousy present, Wanda hasn’t given you any reason to doubt her loyalty to you as of yet and you hoped it would stay that way, because it was bad enough you still had to deal with Jean. It anything more than that and you weren’t sure if you could handle it. Wanda cracks a shy smile that turns into a smirk. “Once again baby, no one has been here except for you.” she links her fingers through yours and leans down closer to you. Lips hovering above yours the vibration of her words sent from her lips to yours by how close she’s gotten. “I told you, you’re my special girl.” 

“And I-” there was a brief pause with her words, and you wait patiently for her to finish them eventually she continues on but you’re not sure if that’s what she was going to say originally. “I wouldn’t just waste paint on anyone, its expensive.” she shrugs before sending you a playful grin, you wanted to make a snarky comment about her being frugal when it comes to paint but not with you when it came to you needing a new laptop, but you kiss her instead. The kiss you lay upon her isn’t like the one Pryor to the paint throwing fight. This kiss was more intimate and patient you mentally prepare yourself for another round when Wanda pulls away from you slowly and studies your face for a brief moment before she pulls completely away from you and studies your entire figure. Fire and Determination displayed in her eyes as she stares at you. 

“Don’t move.” You see the creative lightbulb go off in her head and you can’t help but smile at the scene every time, you’ve come to adore her spontaneous bursts of creativity for last month of your relationship, you replay every moment you’ve seen as you curiously watch her from the floor. She jumps up with haste not even bothering to pick up her abandoned shirt. She walks around the room searching for items as she comes back with a new blank canvas and a whole new set of paints, Wanda drags her stool and easel closer to you and you finally catch on to what she wanted. “I want to paint you just like this.” She bites her lip anxiously waiting for your consent, you were practically half naked after all. 

“Can I paint you like this, princess?” Hearing the words of endearment and the fact that she asked for consent to do something so suave and romantic was an automatic yes. “Yes.” You give Wanda an airy reply. So here you were again displayed in front of her as she focused in on her canvas, an actual canvas this time and not your skin. Wanda made sure to make you comfortable as possible modeling like this without proper training could hurt if all parties involved weren’t experienced. She propped pillows underneath you and behind you and told you that if you needed a break to please let her know. 

Usually, it takes about a week for a life drawing pose to be completed let along a painting, but Wanda was determined to finish this painting tonight, that was of course if your body was up to it, but if you tapped out before even an inch of your beauty was captured on that blank canvas Wanda would finish it from her memory. She’d never forget this moment you two shared, as the time passed by a comfortable silence filled the room with the help of intense gazing and her adorable reassuring smiles, your nerves mellowed out and you became comfortable in your bare skin. 

Thoughts ran through your mind as you laid there in front of her, retracing every encounter you shared today from the hot and heavy kisses she placed upon your lips to the strokes of her fingertips and the strokes of her hungry tongue. Each day you spent getting to know her on a deeper level the more she had you entranced. Your heart filled with warmth with every stroke her brush made on that canvas, and by the end of the day Wanda would have two masterpieces in front of her that she would hold close to heart, and you would always look forward to anything Wanda created but especially Wanda’s acrylic strokes.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

All In 11

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power imbalance, low self esteem, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you meet a mysterious man on a night out with your sister. (petite!reader)

based on the winning option for this poll

Characters: casino owner!Bucky Barnes

Note: it's a new week

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Your phone buzzes against your leg, ripping you back to reality. Your eyes widen and drift away from the stream of font. You sit up and mark the page with your finger as you reach for the jittering cell. 

You scramble to grab onto it and hesitate to hit the big green button. The screen doesn't look like usual, not that you get many calls. You tap the button and the image changes at once, Bucky startling you as he appears. 

"Hey, doll," he grins and winks at you, moving the camera to lean against something. "How's it going?" 

"Uhhhh," you drone, surprised. He can see you too. You know by the little reflection of yourself in the corner. "Hi. Fine." You put the book down with no mind to losing the page, "um, you?" 

"You busy, doll?" 

"Reading but... no." 

"Mm," he hums, "glad to see you enjoying your treats but... no pajamas?" 

He steps back and you get a view of him from waist up, the edge of a counter in the lower edge. You pout then give a sheepish smile, "sorry, I haven't... had a chance." 

"That's okay, doll, I just wanted a peek before I went to work," he undoes his shirt button by button and pulls it off, revealing his muscular torso. You gulp at the lines of his muscle along his stomach, "why don't you put them on now and give me a look." 

"Oh, uh..." you glance at the wall. It's late. You're pretty sure Roxie already left for work and your mom will probably be settling down. "Right, uh..." 

"Just want something to think of when I walk the floor," he purrs. 

"Sure, er," you nearly choke, "I'll just-- one sec." 

"I can wait, doll. I've been waiting, haven't I?" He purrs. 

You feel a pang of guilt. You place the phone down so the lens faces the ceiling and climb off the bed. He's given you a lot, too much honestly, and now you feel like you owe him. It isn't fair to take his kindness without anything in return. And he isn't asking much, is he? 

You dig in the bag, the crinkle loud as the only other noise is the subtle movement from his end. You fish out the soft pajamas and peer over, making certain the phone is still flat. You change far away from it, paranoid. 

You look down at yourself in the tank and shorts. Oh gosh. It's a lot less than you usually wear. Your legs are showing, your shoulders, and a bit of your tummy. 

"Doll?" He says and you flinch. 

"I don't know... I don't think it fits." 

"I'm sure it fits just nice," he insists, "show me." 

"Oh, uh..." 

"I'm just looking, doll, I'll only think of what I really wanna do," he snickers. 

You cross back to the bed and pick up the phone, careful to stay out of view. You turn back and prop it up on the dresser, overly aware of the unflattering angle as you do. You give a wide-eyed look and back up so you're all in frame.  

You hug yourself shyly and sway. 

"Let me see ya," he orders. 

You put your arms straight and notice how he leans in to look at the screen, smoothing his hair back. He keeps his hands over his dark strands and growls. A flutter starts in your stomach. 

"What do you mean too small? That fits your perfect," he says. 

"I... really?" 

"Sure, doll," he turns and you realise he's getting ready.  

He combs his hair stands straight. He grabs a new shirt and buttons it as he peeks again. You near the camera and move it so he can only see your face.  

"Damn, doll, I'm gonna be all over the place," he says, "you're so sweet and sexy." 

"Bucky," you squeak.  

"I don't lie. That's the one thing you should know about me. I will always let you know exactly what I want." 

You blush hotly and a tap on the door nearly makes you drop the phone. You hide it behind you and shuffle closer. You clear your throat. 

"Uh, yeah?" You call through. 

"Hey, honey, everything okay in there?" She asks. Shoot, she must have heard you. 

"I'm watching something," your heart hammers, "sorry, I'll turn it down."

"It's alright, honey. Just thought I heard you..."

"No, just a show," you wisp out.

You quickly back away and go as far from the door as you can. You look down at the phone as Bucky tucks in his shirt. Ugh, that was embarrassing. He heard all that; surely he must realise how lame you are. 

"Mom sounds real sweet," he says, "must be where you get it." 

"She's working tomorrow. Don't wanna keep her up," you explain quietly. 

"That's too bad, doll. I'll just have to keep waiting... wanting," he shrugs and pulls on a dark jacket, "what do ya think? Look good?" 

He poses for the camera. He looks great, as always. You feel smaller than ever. 

"Yes," you answer softly. 

"Yes? That's it?" He sounds disappointed. 

"Very handsome," you eke out. 

"Handsome?" He squints as he picks up the phone. 

"Er," you search your repertoire and borrow from his, "sexy?" 

"Are you asking or telling me?" He chuckles. 

You giggle. You don't think you've ever told anyone they are sexy. You've never been that bold. 

"Yes." 

"Yes?" He laughs. 

"You're, er, oh, sexy," you touch your hot cheek and look away. 

"You are adorable, doll," he growls, "that's exactly what I need to hear." He grazes his fingertips over his beard, "unfortunately I gotta get on it so... tomorrow." 

"Tomorrow," you confirm. 

"Don't worry about a thing, doll, just bring your gorgeous self." 

🃏

The next day is restless. It's worse having hours to wait around for... what? You don't know. 

You spend your time reading, or trying to. Breakfast is small, what your roiling stomach can handle, and you put on an outfit that you think is acceptable, not that you have much to choose from. It might be strange if your mom or Roxie notice the lack of uniform. You could say you change at work? 

Ugh, lie after lie. It's all so much.  

You don't get very far in the book and your phone buzzes, a reminder from Bucky that your fate is coming. You grab your purse and sit out on the stoop, the sunlight beaming down. It would be a nice say if you were so damn uptight. 

Merv pulls up in the sleek luxury car and you get up, checking over your shoulder to see if there's any curious tug on the curtain. Your mom's already at work but Roxie is puttering around somewhere. She could be sleeping or not. 

Merv gets out to greet you. He opens the door and you thank him. He sits in the driver's seat and Springsteen drones from the radio. You smile as he shifts into gear. 

"I know this one," you say. 

"Of course, a classic," he praises. "And how are you today, miss?" 

"Good, you, sir?" 

He laughs as he steers, "very good, miss. And how could I not be." He peeks at you in the rear view, "with sunshine in my backseat." 

You smile bashfully and cross your legs. You can't help the shake in your foot. You're more and more nervous with each second and turn of the wheel. 

As if noticing your unease, he turns up the music, "I like this one too." 

You sigh and ease into the drumbeat. The tempo keeps your heartbeat in check. You're thankful for his subtle comfort. 

You turn to watch through the tinted windows. You never noticed how scenic this city is. You never went many places to have the chance. 

He keeps the volume up and you let it carry you through the long journey across the city. He pulls up to the casino and steers around to the hotel entrance. You peer through then back at him in confusion. He turns the knob down. 

"Mr. Barnes says to give your name at the desk," Merv instructs, "have a good day." 

"Thanks, you too," you unbuckle the seat belt and sidle across to the door. 

You get out with reticence. Staring up at the grand facade, you're more unsure than you've ever been. You've come this far, you have to keep going. You really have no choice as Merv slowly rolls away.  

You step forward. It doesn't get easier the further you get. Your pulse hammers behind your ear as you enter the lobby and a flash of deja vu overcomes you. That night with Roxie, the morning after, and everything since. How does it all feel as if it happened so fast and yet so long ago? 

You go to the desk, feeling entirely out of place. What if Merv is wrong and you shouldn't be there? What if they just look at you and laugh? No choice, keep going. 

You stop on the other side of the desk and give a stiff smile. 

"Hello, welcome, checking in?" The modelesque concierge asks. She's stunning and you're all the more self-aware. 

"Uh, I think? My name is..." 

She keeps her pristine smile in place and her eyes lights up. She doesn't even bother typing into her computer. She flits away and returns with one of little folders with the room keys inside. Oh, this is really happening. 

You thank her and slowly back away. You make a slow advance towards the elevator and wait beside a couple with their suitcases. You step on with them, avoiding a glimpse through the transparent walls.  

You unfold the folio and read the number, pushing the floor number, then stand back on your heels. You keep your eyes on the door, the motion alone making you dizzy. 

The couple gets off before you. When it's your floor, you thankfully scramble off and take a deep breath. You once more check the number and follow the hallways to your assigned suite. 

You swipe the card several times, you still don't have the hang of it. The door opens and you enter meekly. You focus on every move. Shut the door, slip the card back in the folder, put it down on the corner table. 

You look up at last and let yourself marvel at the suite as you delve further in. The smell of pollen greets you with a large bouquet of roses. The suite is huge, even bigger than last time. Two rooms just the same and a full kitchenette and spacious bathroom. You don't go onto the balcony, not wanting to test your stomach. 

You go back inside and glance over the table draped in a red tablecloth beneath the crystal vase of flowers. There's also a tray of chocolate-dipped strawberries and various colours of macarons. You've never had the delicate cookies before but you'd watch countless recipe videos, wishing on day to try them yourself. 

There's an envelope too. You take it and run your nail along the sealed flap. You open it carefully and slip out the card within. 

'Enjoy yourself, doll. I'll join you shortly. B.' 

As if on cue, there's a knock on the door. Oh gosh, you're not ready. What does he mean? Join you? You hoped for a little long before... before... 

You stand frozen but when the door doesn't open itself, you go to answer it. You slowly twist the long handle and open it just a crack. You peer around the edge and blink in confusion. 

"Hello, dahling," the woman's affectation drags out her syllables, "well look at you, how precious." 

She presses on the door and you let her force her way in. You're dumbfounded. Who the heck is she? Another long-legged beauty you can't compare too. 

"Lovely hair," she remarks as she closes the door without a care, "oh, and your skin, yes, perfect canvas..." 

"Sorry, er, I think you have the wrong room--" 

"Mr. Barnes sent me, dahling," she trills in her way, "and I see you are very much in need of my visit so let's begin. Mm, yes, I have a vision," she struts forward, a rose gold chest in her hand, "not very much, you have a natural lustre I adore." 

You retreat as she advances on you. She lifts her chest onto the chaise and flips back the lid, revealing an assortment of precisely organized palettes and tubes. You're horrified and humiliated as you realise why she's there. Maybe you aren't as pretty as Bucky keeps telling you. 

[watchmegetobsessed]

WILDEST FANTASIES (part 2)

⚫️A/N: you guys blew me away with the reaction to part one, thank you so much!! it was amazing reading all the comments and i really hope you'll like this part just as much! next update however i think will only happen after christmas since i have three fics planned to come out during the holidays!

⚫️PAIRING: Professor!Harry X Reader

⚫️WARNING: sexual content

⚫️WORD COUNT: 5.2k

SERIES MASTERPOST

“Cheers to the bitch, whose written porn Professor Styles is reading!”

Ramona and Kostas giggle as your glasses clink in the middle, but your eyes widen at her.

“Can you not scream that in a packed bar, Ram?” you gape at her, eyeing Dean by her side who is not supposed to know about the story, but judging from how unfazed he is, Ramona told him everything.

“He knows,” Ramona confirms your suspicion and you roll your eyes at her, taking a sip from your drink.

This week has been exhausting for the three of you, Ramona has been miserable without Dean who just returned to town yesterday, Kostas got dumped by the guy he’s been seeing for a few weeks and you… well, you wrote a dirty fanfiction of your professor and accidentally turned it in as your assignment, got busted and then found out he’s been reading it in his free time after finding a copy on his desk. What a wild ride it has been!

You all agreed you need to get out of the apartment a bit, let loose and have some fun, so you decided to reserve a table at the bar closest to the campus that’s that most popular place in the neighborhood to have some drinks, dance and let loose.

It’s been two days since you left your paper on Professor Styles’ desk along with his copy of your dirty story to let him know he was busted. You haven’t heard of him since then, though his only choice to get in contact with you would be via emails and it’s not exactly a topic that should be discussed online. Now you’re just curiously waiting for Wednesday to roll around and see what his next step will be.

Tonight however you’re determined to forget about it all and just enjoy yourself, maybe meet someone new and exciting, you’re definitely in the mood to mess around a bit and you’ve seen a few promising, handsome guys around tonight.

“With the dirty mind you have, you better not give Ramona shit about phone sexing though,” Dean snorts, reaching for his beer.

“My writing is silent, can’t be heard over the wall,” you retort and Ramona slaps your arm in warning. “Alright, sorry! I won’t bring it up again. But you can’t tease me about Professor Styles either.”

“It’s not teasing, I’m actually jealous. Do you guys think he jerked off to your story?” Ramona asks so naturally as if one, you weren’t sitting in a packed bar and two, her boyfriend wasn’t sitting right next to her. It always amazes you how laid back they are, having been together for almost three years, they are definitely comfortable enough around each other to talk about riskier things without ending up having a fight.

“Definitely,” Kostas nods confidently and you just laugh at how invested they are in the story. “I’m surprised the paper wasn’t drenched in cum.”

“Oh my God!” you gasp at how unhinged he is. “Can we just not talk about my professor’s cum?”

“I love how that sounds coming from your mouth,” Ramona cackles before downing her drink and you do the same. You’re gonna need the alcohol to put up with these idiots you call your roommates and friends.

Luckily, they ditch the whole dirty professor thing and let you forget about it for one night. One drink follows the other and soon enough you all move to the dance floor, enjoying the upbeat pop music the DJ is playing tonight. You see a lot of familiar faces from campus and classes, but there’s a fair amount of new ones as well.

When you go to get yourself another drink you notice a handsome, blonde guy checking you out not far down the bar from you. He looks definitely older than the college boys from school, but not inappropriately old for you to feel uncomfortable by his interest in you. He looks to be around thirty, which is still in the range of what you consider decent for your twenty-three years old self.

You ask for your drink and wait for the bartender to return with it, in the meantime you wait patiently, trying your best to look like you haven’t even noticed the guy. From the corner of your eye you see him downing his drink at once before saying something to the guys he is with before heading your way.

“I’m only visiting here, but now I feel like I’ve been missing out not coming here earlier.”

Turning to your left you finally see him, he looks handsome, piercing blue eyes, dirty blonde hair and a cheeky, boyish smirk as he leans against the bar sideways.

“Judging from your accent you’ve come a long way to be here,” you smile back at him coyly and he raises his eyebrows impressed.

“And where do you think I’m from?”

“Undoubtedly Ireland,” you answer confidently. “Am I right?”

“Absolutely,” he nods chuckling before he sticks his hand out. “I’m Niall.”

“Y/N. Nice to meet you,” you smile, shaking his hand just as the bartender places your drink in front of you.

“I’ll pay for this and can I get a beer too?” Niall nods at the bartender and he disappears right away.

“What brings you here all the way from Ireland, Niall?” you cock your head to the side as you grab your drink and take a sip.

“Just visiting some friends. Finally got a longer vacation, thought I would come and see what’s happening overseas,” he smirks, leisurely leaning against the bar. He is wearing a fitted black shirt with short sleeves and a pair of white pants, he looks undeniably good and charming, you’re a bit surprised you caught his eyes, but it also boosts your ego.

“That sounds nice.”

“And I assume you’re a student around here?” he asks, cocking his head to the side.

“I am, yes. Second year of my master’s.”

“Wow, so you’re not only unbelievably beautiful, but smart too!”

You love his accent, how the words roll off his tongue and you can’t hold your smile back as he shamelessly checks you out.

“And what are you studying?”

“Mathematics,” you answer proudly, because most of the time it earns you some surprised and amused looks. Most people assume you’re probably majoring in English or something similar, and though you have an evident passion for literature, which explains why you’re taking Creative Writing for extra credits, you knew you have better chances in a field that has a high demand. You worked hard to be good at what you study and you’ll most likely score a nice job fresh out of college as a statistician at some multinational company earning more than at most starter jobs.

“Wow. I’m gonna have to think twice what I’m saying, because you are definitely the smarter out of the two of us,” Niall chuckles. The bartender returns with his beer and he pays for the drinks before the guy moves on to the next customer.

“What do you do? I’m sure you’re good at something I’m not.”

“I do a lot of things, but lately I’ve been focusing on producing music.”

“Really? Is there a chance I’ve heard something you’ve had business with?”

“There is, though I’ve been working mostly with artists in the UK and generally in Europe.”

“Well, I assure you that you know more about music than I do,” you smirk at him, brushing your hair over your shoulders seductively. Niall catches onto it, his gaze wanders down the length of your neck and shoulder before it returns to your face.

The two of you chat for a while, the conversation flows easily and Niall is flirting heavily with you. You start inching closer to each other until your arm is pressed against his chest and his fingers occasionally dance over your shoulder.

“Can I be brutally honest with you, Y/N? I feel like I can come clean to you,” he sighs at one point.

“Of course, go ahead,” you nod smiling, though you have a feeling what he is about to say.

“I feel like we are great together and I would love to take this even further, but you need to know that I’m not looking for anything serious. I’m not from around here, came here for a good time and that’s exactly what I’m looking for tonight as well.”

Some girls would get offended by his words, but not you, especially since you feel the same way. He is charming and a great company, but definitely not the type you’d even consider thinking about long term. The perfect candidate for some easy fun.

“Mm, and you think that you can find that with me, huh?” you smirk at him slyly, running your tongue across your lips. He doesn’t miss the action, his blue eyes glistening when they return to your gaze.

“Definitely. I hope I didn’t get the wrong vibes.”

“Not at all,” you smirk at him. “Why don’t we go dance a bit and then… see where the night heads?”

“Are you reading my mind,” he chuckles and taking your hand he pulls you to the dance floor, melting into the moving crowd.

You feel no shame as you hook your arms around his neck, his hands grabbing onto your waist as he pulls you against him. He dances well, maybe even better than you, the way he moves his hips is definitely outstanding. This is just what you needed, having fun with no expectations with a hot Irish guy, just letting the steam out after a long and tiring week.

You can tell he is thinking about going in for a kiss, but you beat him and pull him down, lips pressing against his as the two of you unite in a hot, passionate kiss, your bodies still moving to the rhythm, one of his hands flat against your back while the other one wanders down to your ass, giving it a gentle squeeze, just hard enough to make you moan against his mouth.

There is no doubt you’ll go home with him if he asks and you have a feeling he definitely wants to leave with you.

You feel a tug on your arm and pulling back from Niall you’re met with Ramona right next to you with an apologetic look on her face. She leans closer to your ear so you can hear her words.

“There’s a bit of a situation. Kostas totally trashed himself, we should take him home. Dean can help, but he can’t spend the night and I don’t want to stay alone with him if he starts throwing up.”

Damn it, Kostas!

Though you’re disappointed you have to go home without Niall, you know you can’t let your friends alone. Ramona mouths ‘I’m so sorry’ as she looks back at you, peeking at the oblivious Niall who still has his arms around you.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” you tell her and nodding she disappears in the crowd.

“Everything alright?” Niall asks leaning closer.

“I’m really sorry, but one of my roommates drank too much, we need to take him home.”

Part of you is afraid that he’ll flip at you, any guy your age would be pissed they spent so much time with you and then they can’t have their happy ending. However, Niall only seems worried.

“Oh, I understand. Do you need help with him?”

“I’m not sure what state he is in, I gotta check,” you sigh. Niall takes your hand and the two of you make your way out of the bar.

Stepping out into the cool evening, you spot your friends to the right. Kostas is sitting on the ground, his back against the brick wall and he has his eyes closed, he looks pretty sick, Ramona didn’t exaggerate.

“Shit, we should call an Uber, there’s no way he can walk home,” you grimace, taking a look at him.

“Yeah, already called one,” Ramona nods, holding her phone up. “It’ll be here in five.”

“Cool.” Turning you face Niall with an apologetic look. “I’m sorry we have to end the evening like this.”

“No worries, your friend really needs your help.”

“How long are you staying?”

“Another week.”

“Give me your phone,” you tell him smirking and he follows your trail of thoughts just right. He hands his phone to you and watches you type your number in quickly, giving yourself a ring so you have his number as well before handing it back to him. “Maybe we can continue what we started sometime before you leave.”

“Definitely,” he nods smirking. The car pulls over and Dean starts to pull Kostas up from the ground as Ramona opens the car door.

“See you later then,” you smile at Niall, kissing him one last time before going over to help Dean out.

The three of you manage to get him in the car and you finally head home in one piece. Kostas starts throwing up the moment you get home, you barely make it with him to the bathroom, so you left just in time.

“I’m never drinking again!” he growls, his head hanging into the toilet. You just laugh at him, dragging his jeans off of him while Ramona gets his bed ready for him.

It’s a bit of a struggle, but once he has emptied everything he drank tonight, you can finally drag him to bed and he basically faints as soon as his head hits the pillow.

“So, who was the hot guy you danced with?” Ramona asks in excitement as the two of you are sitting in the kitchen, hydrating a bit before heading to bed as well.

“His name is Niall, he is Irish,” you tell her with a coy smirk.

“He seemed older,” she hums.

“Thirty-two.”

“Wow, he is almost a decade older than you!” Ramona gawks at you with an impressed smirk.

“I know, but he was hot, right?” you chuckle, chugging down your water. “There’s a chance we are meeting up before he leaves.”

“Go girl!” she cheers, making you laugh.

You chat a bit more before both of you head to bed. All the alcohol got you quite tired so it feels nice to sink into the mattress and finally sleep it all off.

Even though you haven’t seen Professor Styles since Wednesday and you’ve had an amazing time with Niall, you still dream about the professor that evening. Something very similar to your story. A chapter two, maybe.

Harry can’t help but growl when he walks out of his bedroom in the morning on Sunday and see a trail of clothes on the floor leading to the guest bedroom. He stops in his tracks as he stares down at the discarded pieces, taking a good look at them, realizing that there are no women’s clothes among them, only the ones he saw his friend leave the house, though that doesn’t mean he came back on his own.

Picking up the clothes he throws them into the hamper in the bathroom before heading into the kitchen to make some coffee and breakfast. Last night Niall begged him to come with him and some of his buddies to the bar, but he was adamant to stay at home, knowing well that place is always packed with students from campus. Though he likes to think of himself as a well-liked teacher, getting drunk with his students is not something he is fine with doing.

Especially not after the week he just had.

When he walked into his office on Thursday and saw your paper on his desk his life flashed in front of his eyes upon noticing what laid next to it. He panicked, almost threw up and then ended up destroying the printed version even though he still has the file on his computer. He thought about deleting it as well, and he did, but only from his work computer. It’s still very much there on his laptop that’s now in his bedroom.

He knows that you know that he kept the document. Not only that, but you saw his markings, making it obvious that he did more than just reading. Damn, he wanted to jump out the window when he realized the trouble he brought on himself. But he couldn’t help himself.

At first he was furious when he saw what kind of work you uploaded as your assignment. Reading the first few lines it became clear that this wasn’t your story you’ve started working on this semester and he wanted to write you an email instantly, but then he kept reading. And then he read it again. And again. And by the fourth time he was rock hard.

He went to take a cold shower, but it did not help. He ended up jerking off in the shower, thinking about the scene from your story and he didn’t even think about someone else instead of you. He saw your face clearly as he made himself come and he came harder than ever probably. He hated himself for that.

And then there was your face when he confronted you about the mistake. How lost you looked, how innocent, he could barely believe those lines that got him hard came from you. But when you mentioned not getting punished, he almost lost his fucking mind.

He wanted to punish you, but not in a way that was acceptable within the school’s walls. He pictured you across his lap in that tiny skirt you wrote about, baring your ass for him as he slaps his hand against it several times, making you whimper and moan until you’re so wet he just needs to fuck you senseless.

The eggs start sizzling in the pan in front of him and it snaps him out of his dirty thoughts. It’s been occurring quite often, catching himself thinking about the things you want him to do to you and the things he came up with. The list is still unfinished.

The door of the guest bedroom opens and he hears a set of lazily dragged feet tapping on the floor before the bathroom door opens and closes. Harry grabs two plates as he divides the eggs just when the toasts pop up in the toaster. By the time Niall emerges from the bathroom, his breakfast is already waiting for him on the kitchen island.

“Thank you, Mother. You always take great care of me,” he jokes in a hoarse tone as he climbs up to the stool.

“How is the hangover after thirty?” Harry bites back, only earning a grimace from his friend as he joins him on the stool next to him.

“You should have come, we had a blast!” he groans as he digs into the food. “So many pretty young girls, amazing!”

“And that’s exactly the reason why I didn’t go, I told you. I probably teach half of them.”

“I’m sure they would love to fulfill their fantasy of hooking up with their teacher,” Niall laughs, still not taking it as seriously as Harry does. Harry wants to snap at him, but the first thing that pops into his mind is your specific fantasy he had the luck to read about.

“Aren’t you a little too old for these young girls?” he grumbles at last, stuffing his mouth with eggs.

“I apparently was not for the one I danced with, because she was very much okay to have my tongue down his throat!” he cackles, clearly proud of himself.

“Then how come you came home alone?” Harry rolls his eyes.

“Her friend drank too much and they had to take him home. But don’t worry, I got her number.”

“And what? You’ll just meet up with her for a quick round?”

“That is exactly what I plan to do.”

“Is she planning the same thing?”

“For your information, yes. I was honest with her, told her I’m not looking for anything serious, just a bit of fun and she was completely on board with that. Very mature of her, she could have easily told me to fuck off for looking for just some fucking.”

Niall finishes his food and loads the dishes into the dishwasher before pouring himself some more coffee while Harry is still eating. Harry glances up at his friend and for a moment he sees the same guy he befriended all this time ago.

The two of them have been long time friends, having gone to the same high school. Niall was always the wilder one out of them, but it was part of the balance. Harry was there to ground him when he was going off the charts. Niall was a great enthusiast of women even when he couldn’t even grow a beard. He always had at least two girls he was after and never backed out of a challenge. Though through the years he has definitely matured and even had a few serious relationships, he can still get back to the groove so easily when he has no one tying him down.

“I thought I would invite her over this afternoon, if it’s alright by you.”

Harry freezes, the fork dropping from his hand as he looks up at his friend.

“Absolutely not?!”

“What? Why? Come on, man. You wouldn’t say no if you saw her! Damn, she looked so fine, smooth skin, sweet scent, she moved so good on the dance floor, I can’t miss out on her!”

“What if she is my student, Niall? You can’t bring her here!”

“Chill, I’m pretty sure she is not your student, she is studying math, probably has nothing to do with the English department,” Niall scoffs, downing his second cup of coffee before putting the mug into the dishwasher as well.

“You can’t know that for sure.”

“There’s a great chance. Come on, are you really gonna be a cockblock?”

“Why can’t you go after women your age that don’t go to the school I teach at?” Harry growls shaking his head, already knowing he won’t say no to his friend. Niall would annoy him until he changes his mind and he is not in the mood to put up with the pestering. “She can come over but I won’t be here, just in case.”

“Bro, I owe you, big time!” Niall chuckles, patting his back as he walks past him.

“You already owe me for letting you stay here. You earn three times as much as I do and yet you didn’t bother booking a hotel room. You could bring anyone there, you know that?”

“But it’s so amazing being with my best buddy, just like in college, remember?” Niall chuckles before disappearing in the bathroom. A few moments later Harry hears the water running. Sighing he puts his own dishes into the dishwasher before cleaning up in the kitchen and retreating into his room, trying to ignore the feeling in his guts that something will definitely go off the rails soon.

Niall’s guest is set to come over around six. Harry made dinner plans with Nina Alvarez from the university, they’ve been spending more time together since her divorce a couple of months ago, though it’s strictly friendly on Harry’s side.

Now he is just trying to squeeze in some work before he is forced out of his own home so his friend could have a nice fuck. It really is like college all over again, when he and Niall shared a dorm room the first year.

His nose buried in a stack of essays for his International Literature class, he is working through the lines relentlessly, marking everything that’s out of place or nonsense before scribbling a point and grade on them.

When he has come across the third paper that had the eerily similar bullshit in it, he realizes he needs to take a break.

“Wankers,” he growls, putting those three in one stack so he can question the students about it. Other teachers would just simply fail them, but Harry is not trying to chase anyone out of school. He would rather have them redo it and get maybe a grade lower because of their fuck-up instead of just giving them an F without a word.

He turns to his computer, answering an email quickly before he checks some of the assignments handed in online. He got a notification of a late upload and it takes him to the page for his Creative Writing class and without skipping a beat, his eyes snap down to your name in the list.

Now everyone has their assignment attached, except you, since he has deleted yours out of the system, afraid that someone else might see it and get the both of you into trouble. You for sending it in and him for not reporting it. But as he hovers the cursor above your name he thinks about the downloaded document that’s buried deep on his computer.

He pulls up the folder he saved it into and opens up the menu where he has the chance to delete it. He brings the cursor above it and his finger lingers on the touchpad, so close to clicking on it, but instead of getting rid of the cursed document, he ends up opening it.

His adrenaline rises again as his eyes scan over the first page, knowing the words all too well. The thought of you creeps into his mind, your innocent, pretty face as you sit at his lecture and take notes, occasionally answering questions. The way you often tug your hair behind your ears so it doesn’t fall into your face when you’re writing, the curve of your nose that dips into your cupid’s bow and then your soft lips.

He would be lying if he said he didn’t find you attractive. You definitely caught his attention the first time you walked into his class, but that was supposed to be it. You are not the first pretty girl to sit through his rambling about writing and fiction and he knew he would forget about you easily. But then you pulled this stupid stunt and he hasn’t been able to think about anything else than the dirty fantasy of yours you let him in on accidentally.

Before he could stop himself, he starts rereading the story again, feeling himself hardening in his sweatpants by the time he reaches the end of the first page.

“Fuck,” he adjusts himself, mouth going dry when he gets to the part where you go into detail how you touch his hard cock for the first time, what it feels like under your touch and how wet it makes you to think about that you got him so hard.

The adjusting turns into gentle squeezing, he palms himself as he devours the story as if it was his first time reading and before he could realize it, he pulls his cock out of his pants and underwear, his erection weighing into his palm, begging for relief as he starts stroking himself. He wants to believe that your writing only gets him so worked up because it’s been too long since the last time he was with anyone. He is not a fan of casual hookups, so ever since he broke up with his previous girlfriend over six months ago, it’s been only his hands and porn that got him off time to time.

But deep down he knows that it’s you.

He is reading your story with growing hunger, his hand jerking him off relentlessly as he pushes himself closer to his relief, picturing everything just as you wrote, seeing it all happen like a movie in front of his eyes. When he almost moans out loud at the part where you go on and on about clenching your walls around him as he fucks into you on the tiny sofa he has in his office, he reminds himself that he is not alone and the last thing he needs is Niall busting him jerking off like a teenager. Also, side note, he hasn’t been able to look at that sofa since he has read your story.

His climax reaches him when you come in the story, the way you describe how the sensation sets you on fire has him in a chokehold every time he reads it. He pushes himself away from the desk just in time so his cum doesn’t get on any of the essays he discarded to pleasure himself. He tugs on his twitching dick a few more times, his hand and sweatpants on his thighs covered in his sticky, hot cum, his chest heaving as he comes down from his high.

When the fog of his pleasure disappears he takes a look at himself and a wave of shame washes over him. He knows it’s fucked up and he knows that it’s gonna get even worse when he has to face you again, knowing that you saw the print on his desk in his office, but he just can’t control himself. It’s like you live rent free in his head in your stupid school girl uniform that makes him hard in a heartbeat.

He cleans himself up and changes his pants, hoping Niall won’t notice that it’s a different one than the one he wore in the morning. Checking the time he sees that it’s five, so he’ll have to leave soon if he doesn’t want to run into Niall’s guest.

Walking out of his room he hears his friend talking on the phone in the guest bedroom. Though he is here on vacation, he still has some business to do and he’s been making calls a few times every day, it’s probably one of those again.

Locking himself up in the bathroom Harry washes his face, the cold water sobering him up from his little jerk-party in his room. When he stares at his reflection in the mirror he tries to figure out who this guy is that’s looking back at him, because he knows for a fact that the man he believed himself to be would never do what he just did minutes ago.

On his way back to his bedroom he hears the doorbell ring and he stops, checking the time again. It’s only five fifteen, so it can’t be Niall’s girl. His friend is still talking in his room, evidently arguing with someone so Harry thinks it’s probably just his neighbor.

He usually checks out who’s at the door through the peephole, but he is so all over the place that he just walks up to the door and swings it open. A mistake that a moment later gives him a heart attack.

Because it’s not his neighbor, not even Jehovah’s Witnesses though he wishes they were standing there. Anything would be better than the sight of him.

You’re standing there, dressed in a simple, black dress, a bottle of wine in your hands and at first you seem just as surprised to see him as he is. But you snap out of it faster than he is, a coy smile tugging on your lips as you let out a chuckle.

“Well, this is one hell of a plot twist, don’t you think, Professor Styles?”

NEXT PART

Thank you for reading! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed!

[mypoisonedvine]

𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙮 𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙡 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐𝘐) || sub!bucky barnes x dominatrix!reader

(𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐)

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 || your newest client asks you to give him a real challenge, and you’re happy to oblige.  

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 || 6.3k

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 || smut but no actual sex (lots of handjob stuff though and some brief oral m receiving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, more cnc (because of the overstimulation), bondage, edging, impact play (riding crop), brief cock torture (she just hits him with the crop a couple times), implied “kink as trauma response” (this is gonna be a theme throughout the whole fic), forced to break a rule/doomed to fail/impossible challenge (idk how to warn for this but yeah), forced voyeurism?, thigh riding (reader rides bucky’s thigh), some degradation/dumbification, brief/implied dacryphilia, a bit of angst/feelings

new parts posted on thursdays!  join the taglist here

“Can’t,” he sighed, “can’t come again.”

He looked so painfully adorable when he begged like that, his brow glistening with sweat as he jerked under your touch.  “Aw, poor baby,” you pouted, twisting your hand when it stroked over the head of his cock, “yes you can.  I know you can.  Just gimme one more.”

“F-fuck,” he whimpered, “Mistress, please— just stop, please, I can’t… can’t take any more…”

“I know you can, sweetheart— I know you can be my good boy and keep coming for me.  Tell me your color.”

“Yellow,” he whispered.

“Think you’re almost done?” you pressed, smiling when he nodded breathlessly.  “Yeah, there’s my good boy— gonna come again for your Mistress?”

“Yes,” he breathed, baring his teeth as his hips bucked wildly to try to avoid further sensation, “y-yes, one more, just one more, I’m gonna— fuck, gonna come, just don’t stop… fuck, it hurts.”

“I know, but you’re being so good for me,” you purred.  “You like it when I milk your pretty cock, don’t you?  Even though it hurts?”

He winced but nodded.  “C-coming, Mistress, fuck, I’m coming…!”

Since it was his fifth of the evening, he could only give you one thick drop of come that gathered at his slit before running down over your hand which finally slowed to a stop.

You both sighed with relief as you pulled your hand away and leaned back, admiring how beautiful he looked as he caught his breath, covered in come and sweat.

"Good job," you praised with a chuckle, "I hope I didn't go too hard on you."

"N-no, that was… that was really good," he sighed, slumping back onto the bed.  "Can I use your shower before I go?"

"Yeah, totally," you nodded.

After a long pause, you gave him a confused look.  

"I thought you were gonna shower?" you reminded him.

"Oh… I guess I have to get up for that," he sighed, making you laugh.

"Rest a bit longer.  You've had a… challenging afternoon."

He nodded a little and you got up from the bed to go wash your hands and freshen up a little, smiling at your own appearance in the mirror— sometimes you forgot how you looked when you did this, but there was an undeniable aura of power around you… especially after a session like that.

This was only your third week with James, and already the dynamic felt so natural between you— and yet, so fresh compared to your other clients.  Normally it took longer for a newbie to get comfortable with you, yet most of them had had multiple doms before and here was James, totally inexperienced and taking it all like a champ.  There was an air of innocence about him, you figured, in contrast to this undeniable strength and intensity that you caught glimpses of from time to time.

Sometimes, it felt like he was chasing an innocence he lost a long time ago.  Whatever it was that drew him to this, you were happy to help him along the way.

It was probably a little dangerous to enjoy sessions with a client so much; even though you often pretended that everything was about your pleasure and not theirs, obviously since they were the paying customer it was the complete opposite in reality.  But there was an equity to the dynamic with you and Bucky, he served you with a real dedication rather than for his own gain.  And you, meanwhile, had rediscovered the fun in this career that had originally drawn you to it in the first place.  It was less like a science now, more like an art— you let yourself go with your instincts and do whatever felt right in the moment, and both of you benefitted for it.  

“Come on, get up and clean yourself off,” you encouraged— gently, of course— as you left the bathroom and returned to find James laying sprawled out on the bed.

“I know you said falling asleep here was a one-time courtesy,” he remembered with a smile, “but I could use it now a lot more than I needed it then.”

Honestly, you didn’t see him smile that often.  It was pleasant; you hoped to see it again.  He did get up, though, and take the washcloth you handed him to wipe off the come that had gotten all over him.  “What are you thinking for next week?” you asked as you leaned against the wall.  “Any special requests?”

“We can discuss all that over the phone,” he decided.  You still didn’t understand fully why he didn’t like to discuss future scenes in person; it was like he wanted the in-person interactions to be as ‘in character’ (if you will) as possible.

“Alright, just keep me updated,” you requested with a shrug.

You got changed while he took his shower, and when he emerged to the living room he seemed surprised to see you sitting on your own couch.  After a moment, you realized it was the fact that you were in normal clothes that threw him off.  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in jeans before… or pants of any kind.”

You looked down at your outfit with a smile, glad it was at least still professional and not sweats and a t-shirt or something.  “Yeah, I guess you haven’t.  First time for everything, right?”

“Yeah, had a lot of first times with you,” he chuckled.  “Most significantly less mundane than this.”

A brief silence filled the room but it wasn’t exactly awkward, at least not for you.

“Well, I’ll see you next week,” he decided as he grabbed his jacket from your chair and slipped it on.  You’d been spending most of this session trying to forget how good he looked in the leather motorcycle cut, so that was out the window now as you tried to keep from visibly biting your lip while he walked towards the door.

Damn, he was fine.  But there were more pressing matters at hand.  Like preparing yourself and your apartment for your next appointment.  This guy wanted to get slapped around until he cried… shouldn't be too difficult, but your arms would probably be sore tomorrow.

Opposite of last week, I really want you to edge me tonight, as long as possible.

Don't go easy on me, make me hold it in.  I need a challenge this week.

-J

It was odd how emails from James made your week.

He seemed to prefer to communicate his desire with you this way; maybe it was easier for him, and you couldn’t really blame him for that.  The nice part was that you didn’t have to temper your reactions, if you had any, since you were always alone when you got his messages.  You might be old hat at it now, but you could remember a time that you had to hide a grimace when a client told you to your face what he wanted.  Not that you would shame them for it or anything (unless, you know, they paid you to), but you didn’t enjoy everything you did with these men.

Did you enjoy everything you did with James?  Yes, but you were pretending not to— for your own sake.

You dressed a bit differently for today’s session, more conservatively… not that it was especially conservative by any other person’s standards.  But it left your legs and chest covered, somewhat in the spirit of ‘mean corporate businesswoman’ aesthetically.  For some reason you felt like using a riding crop required wearing pants.

James certainly didn’t seem to mind, with the way he nervously cleared his throat after you opened the door.

“Good to see you again,” you greeted formally, “please, come in.”

He stepped past you, still looking at you and not at what was in front of him, meaning he ended up slamming himself gut-first into your kitchen island.

“Oh!  Are you alright?” you smiled when you noticed. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” he nodded, rubbing his stomach for a second but recovering quickly.  “I told you I can take a lot of pain,” he joked.

“Well, we’re going to put that to the test today,” you promised cryptically.  “You must’ve seen the crop on the table.”

He nodded again.  “Yeah....”

“Are you looking forward to it?”

“Yes,” he answered, a bit too quickly.

“Then let’s get you tied up, James.”

Straddling his lap, you realized the rope was a bit too tight when you saw it digging into his skin; maybe he wouldn’t mind that, but you did, so you pushed the rope back through itself to loosen it slightly.

“How long did it take you to learn all these knots?” he asked casually, watching your fingers nimbly work the ropes around his wrists.

“Not too long,” you shrugged, “I’ve only been doing this a few years… but I knew them before that.”

“Boating school?  Boy Scouts?” he suggested jokingly.

“Just a hobby,” you decided, dodging the covert question about your past.  “Were you a Boy Scout?”

“Do I look like a Boy Scout?” he countered with a scoff.

“Not anymore,” you shrugged, “but I bet you did once.  You’re sorta innocent, you know.”

He swallowed dryly, and you raised an eyebrow as you glanced from the knot you were tightening to his face, which looked a bit flustered.  “R-really?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, leaning back on your heels to look at him straight-on.  “Are you surprised to hear that?”

He nodded quickly, and you laughed.

“Aw, you thought you were so kinky, huh?  So dirty,” you purred, running your hand up his leg until he tugged slightly on the newly-tied ropes— a subtle way to get him to test them for you.  “But you’re really not.  You’re just my sweet, innocent boy.”

He whined— really, properly whined— and you dug your nails into his skin until he hissed instead.

“I don’t think you believe me,” you noticed, leaning back to reach for the crop behind you.  “You think you’re so filthy and perverted, right?  Are you a pervert, James?”

“Yes,” he breathed, shivering as you let the crop slide gently over his skin— his abs, his hips, his legs which were already quivering so adorably.  “Yes, Mistress.”

“And how’s that?”

“I think about… getting hurt,” he admitted weakly, “when I touch myself.  And I touch myself all the fucking time.”

“Yeah?  How many times a day do you stroke that pretty cock, James?”

“Twice every morning,” he blurted out, “after that it depends.”

You didn’t let yourself show your surprise at that number.  “Depends on what?”

When he hesitated, you hit him sharply on the thigh and he winced.  “Depends on what I… what I end up thinking about.  Sometimes… sometimes something reminds me, and I have to get off.”

Something told you not to press on what it was that he needed to be reminded of, and why it made him want to jerk off so bad.  Something told you he wasn’t ready to tell that story yet.  “Did you touch yourself today already?” you asked instead.

“No, no ma’am,” he shook his head, voice wavering as you brushed the crop over his chest, “it’s… it’s different with you.”

“Yeah, I bet it is,” you smirked, hitting him on the stomach quickly.  “I bet you’re finally satisfied, right?  Nothing’s ever worked for you before.”

“Yes,” he moaned, crying out slightly when you hit him on the arm (flesh— you were too afraid what sound the metal one would make) much harder than before.  “The nights I see you, I… I can sleep.”

“You sleep better?”

“No, I just… sleep.”

You tried not to react to that, moving to a new question instead.  “Do you want me to hit you again?  Or do you want me to stroke your cock for you?”

An obvious choice to some, surely, but he seemed to really struggle with it.

“Which one do you think you deserve?” you asked instead.

“Hit me more,” he decided.

Instantly, you struck him once on the face and again on the shoulder, then moved down to his legs for three in a row in spite of the way his body jerked away instinctively.  

“Fuck,” he sobbed, “don’t stop— I need more…”

You focused on his legs, on the inside of his thigh where he seemed the most sensitive.  His twisted joy turned to true fear, though, when you brushed the end of the crop over his balls.  “Do you want me to hit you here?” you challenged.

“I… I don’t know,” he stammered.

“Let’s make a deal, James,” you offered, “wherever I hit you, I’m gonna kiss it to make it better.”

“Then hit me wherever you want,” he nodded, almost smiling at you.  He cried through his teeth when you whipped his shaft with the crop— not especially hard, in fact quite delicately, though the second was harder.  And the third, though not much more aggressive, was right on the sensitive tip; his eyes shot open and his hips jerked away.

“So good, such a good boy,” you whispered proudly, putting the crop aside to lean in and kiss his cheek where you’d hit him before, his shoulder, his arm.

You worked your way down carefully as he breathed heavily beneath you, whimpering slightly when you kissed his thighs and notably ignored his flexing, leaking cock.  “Please,” he whimpered.

“Shh, be patient,” you soothed, “be my good boy.”

“Your good boy,” he repeated, trying to restrain himself but already bucking up into the air again, “fuck, wanna be your good boy, Mistress.”

“Are you already close, pet, just from getting hurt?” you asked in a faux pout.  “You’re not gonna come if I give your pretty cock some kisses, right?”

“I— I won’t come,” he promised.  “Not until I get permission.”

“Baby, it’s gonna be a long fuckin’ time before you get permission,” you promised with a toothy grin.  “Look down at me, honey, I want you to see this.”

He hesitated for a second but obeyed, looking down at you with an expression that was full of awe as you gripped his cock and gave gentle, teasing kisses up his shaft.  It bobbed in your hands with each one, and he let out the most beautiful sigh when you kissed the tip carefully.

A wide lick made him jerk beneath you.  “F-Fuck,” he stammered.

“You said you wouldn’t come,” you reminded him.  “Can I keep going?  Are you gonna be a good boy?”

“Don’t stop, please,” he breathed, “I’ll be good.”

Taking the head between your lips, you suckled gently as he shivered and moaned.  You weren’t sure you’d ever been with anybody— on or off the clock— who was so sensitive.  And you loved it, honestly; who could resist those precious noises he made?

As much as part of you wanted to go nuts and really push him to the edge, you tried to be gentle and careful so as not to make it impossible for him to hold back.  But even then, when you gently grasped his balls in one of your hands and squeezed them, he apparently couldn’t take anymore.

"S-stop," he hissed, and you pulled back, sitting up.

"You were close?" you asked, and he nodded a little.  "Oh, what a good boy."

He whimpered briefly.  "Yes, your good boy, Mistress…"

Your fingers trailed delicately up the underside of his cock, making him shiver violently.  "I know you want to come, but you want to be good even more.  You're such a sweet little pet."

It seemed like the praises did more to keep him on the edge than the touches, so you kept both going; wrapping your fingers around the ridge of his head, you gave the most gentle and subtle strokes, and leaned in to whisper against his ear.

“Is this why you wanted me to edge you today, James?  So you could show me how good you can be?” 

“I-I don’t know,” he blurted out, rocking his hips as best he could while restrained, “I just wanted to… I just wanted you to make me wait.”

“Well, you don’t need to worry about that,” you laughed slightly, “I can make you wait all day.  Is that what you want?”

“No, that’s— not that long, I can’t wait that long,” he shuddered.

“Mm, that sounds like your problem, not mine,” you smirked.  “Not sure why I asked what you want, honestly… cause I don’t fucking care.”

His choked-out whine was too perfect to ignore.

“Oh, what a pathetic little moan that was, poor baby,” you cooed mockingly, “are you regretting it now?  You’re probably wondering what you got yourself into, ‘cause you’re worried Mistress is never gonna let you come.”

“No, I don’t regret it,” he denied weakly, “whatever you want— do whatever you want to me, just… give me what I deserve, please.”

You stopped touching him completely and he straight-up sobbed.  “You don’t deserve anything from me, James.  You don’t deserve me at all.”

He told you before that he liked when you rapidly cycled between soft and mean.  Kept him on his toes, apparently.  Honestly, you felt a little guilty talking to him that way sometimes, but his cock leaking enough pre-cum to soak the bedsheets beneath him was a sign you were doing something right.  “I know!” he cried.  “I know, fuck, I’m sorry, but I need you.  I fucking need you, Mistress, please— you know I’ll do anything.”

“I’m feeling generous today,” you shrugged, “so I won’t ask you for much.  Just beg me a little more.”

“Please, pleasepleaseplease,” he rushed, “touch me.  Anywhere, whatever you want, I just need to feel you.  I know I… fuck, I know I don’t deserve it, but let me try to— to earn it.  Please.”

You knew if he had it his way, he wouldn’t do much talking at all.  But you couldn’t just let him have it his way, now could you?  It was better to make him just the right amount of nervous, just the slightest hair uncomfortable, by making him talk to you.  And, of course, you liked the way his deep and rough voice got all whiny and needy like this.

One finger under his chin guided him to look up at you, those pretty blue eyes watery and sparkling and wide with misplaced innocence.

“Tell me who you belong to, James,” you instructed darkly.

“You, Mistress,” he whispered, “I’m yours, I— oh fuck…”

Unshockingly, he was reduced to only moans again when you started stroking his cock, the slick precum making every movement smoother.  “All mine, huh?  My little toy?” you confirmed, but he could only nod and swallow thickly.

You sped up quickly, getting faster and faster until you were really, properly jerking him off and he was biting hard on his lip.  Just when he seemed to really fall into it, get almost comfortable, you had to stop.

"Oh, fuck—" he gasped, bucking his hips up to try to chase your hand when you pulled away, but it was no use with him tied up.  You watched his cock bob in the air and smiled.

“Did you think it was going to be that easy?” you smirked.

Shaking his head, you tilted yours to look at him, reaching up to trace your fingers over his chest.  

“Don’t lie, baby, you thought I was gonna let you come, didn’t you?  You’re so sweet, James, and so, so stupid.”

He gasped, and for a second you thought you might’ve gone too far, but it shifted to a moan quickly and you realized he was having the time of his life.

“Just my dumb, brainless little toy,” you continued with a snarl, watching him tug at the ropes as his eyes fluttered shut.  “It’s okay, James, it’s okay… you don’t need to think, I don’t want your mind.  It’s useless.  I want this pretty cock, that’s all I want from you.”

“It’s all yours, Mistress,” he promised, cheeks burning bright red and eyes forced shut.  “All of it, I swear.”

“I know,” you cooed, holding his face gently to soothe him a bit.  But then your other hand wrapped around his cock and he was anything but soothed.  “Shh, shh, don’t make any sounds, you’re just a toy and toys need to stay quiet.”

You missed his noises, actually, but he looked so cute biting his lip and struggling to suppress them.  His cock was so swollen in your hand that you honestly wondered if it was somehow getting bigger.  Was that even possible?  Your mouth was watering regardless.

“I’m gonna give you a little break,” you promised gently, “but I’ll be honest, pretty boy… I don’t think you’re gonna like it one bit.”

The look he gave you beautifully balanced fear with anticipation, and you stopped stroking him to reach over towards the bedside drawer and pull out a vibrator.

“Your Mistress is feeling a little.... self-indulgent today,” you winked.  “And since I, unlike you, don’t need to hold myself back from coming, I think I might as well get myself off if I want to.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed dryly, watching you closely as you stood up off the bed and started to carefully undress yourself.  It was a lot more fun to get naked when you were wearing something that didn’t actually show much skin— the button-up seemed to really get him going, his tongue mindlessly darting out to lick his lips as you opened one button at a time.

Once it was off your shoulders and on the floor, and he could see the almost-transparent bra you had on, you moved to opening your trousers as well.  Just to be mean, you faced the other way as you pushed them down over your ass; you heard his breath catch and you smirked to yourself, spinning to face him again in just the matching, dark red bra and panty set.

“What do you think, do you like this better than the black ones?” you asked coyly.

“I like you naked better than both,” he answered, and you grinned.

“I’m gonna let that backtalk slide just once because it’s not worth my time to go over there and slap you for it,” you decided.  “But don’t test me, James.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he answered dutifully, sounding a bit out of breath as he watched you climb back onto the bed, positioning yourself carefully.

You faced him straight-on and laid your legs over his, meaning your lace-covered pussy was in full view and only inches from his leaking cock— the damn thing looked sore by now, purple at the tip and just as desperate for attention as the rest of him.

When you pulled the fabric aside to show him your cunt, he hissed and looked away.

“Look at me, James, keep your eyes open,” you demanded, seeing how totally wrecked he looked when he turned his head back to you and stared down at your body with half-lidded eyes.  “Look at how fucking soaked my pussy is.  You remember how it feels to be inside it, don’t you?”

He swallowed, sighed, and finally (just barely) nodded.

“You remember how hot and wet and tight it is, don’t you?”

“Y-yes,” he choked.

“Well, that memory’s all you’ve got to work with, sweet boy, because I don’t think I’m ever gonna let you fuck this pussy again.”

He really, properly sobbed, tears streaming down his cheeks, and those arms flexed against the ropes defiantly.  “N-no, please—” 

“I’m gonna make myself come with this,” you promised, interrupting him as you grabbed the vibe, “and I want you to remember how it feels when I come around you, okay?  

Turning it on, you wasted no time pressing it to your clit, moving the end of the toy in slow circles and keeping a close eye on him as he watched you.  Your intention had always been to give him a show, but the embarrassing thing was how little of it was an act.  Ironically, even though you’d been edging him this whole time, having to touch him that way without any pleasure for yourself was almost as torturous.  You’d soaked through your panties by the time you had him tied up, to be totally honest.  So, giving into it and letting yourself feel good was a breeze.

“Think about when I was riding you, James,” you instructed, your own voice clearly affected by your pleasure now.  “Think about how good it would feel if I let you come inside me.”

“Oh, god,” he cried, leaning his head back.

“Think about my pussy milking every fucking drop of come out of you.  You know I wouldn’t let you stop until I was completely full of your come, I bet you’d like that.  I bet you’d like to eat your come out of me, you sick little pervert.”

“Fuck!” he yelped, tugging at the ropes harder now— for a second you thought he might really break them and jump you.  And for a second, you knew you’d let him.  It made your walls clench as you imagined facing the consequences of driving a man to the brink of insanity until he couldn’t help but fuck you like an animal.  It was a good thing he didn’t see you bite your lip as you imagined that.

“You know what I’m thinking about?” you taunted.  

“God, don’t tell me,” he sighed through his teeth, but obviously you ignored him.

“I’m thinking about what a good boy you are for me,” you cooed, your hips starting to rock up against where you held the end of the vibrator; you pressed it down harder onto your clit and moaned instantly.  “Yeah, I’m thinking about how pretty you look when you’re all desperate and needy and fucking pathetic—”

“Oh—” he choked.

“My dumb litlte whore, that’s all you are, James,” you groaned.  “I know you wish you could touch me, it’s all you can think about, right?  That pretty head of yours would be completely empty if it weren’t for thoughts of me and how badly you want me.  Right?”

“Yes,” he whispered huskily.

A shiver ran up your spine when the vibrator bumped into a more sensitive part of you, and you did it again and again until you thought you might lose it a bit faster than you meant to.  “This toy feels really good,” you informed him in a purr, gasping when you slipped the vibrating body of it into your pussy, “but it doesn’t feel as good inside me as you do.”

His eyes fell shut but he still winced a bit every time you made a sound; he couldn’t run from this, no matter how hard he tried.

“Oh James,” you moaned loudly, fucking yourself with the vibe for a moment before you pulled it back out to focus even harder on your clit, “I’m gonna come.  I’m so, so close… I can feel it getting stronger, I think I might make a mess on these sheets.  And the only way I’m ever gonna let you come is if you watch me do it.  So open your fucking eyes.”

He blinked quickly as he opened them, gaze scanning your whole body before settling on your cunt; you were sure he could see it pulsing as you got closer and closer, you knew he was imagining how it would feel.  You only spared a brief glimpse at his cock, bobbing between his legs, and wished you could just slip it in you now and come while it stretched you out. 

But that wasn’t what he was here for, sadly, and you were sure you were the only being truly denied of your desires, despite how it probably seemed from the outside.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, numbness starting to tingle in your legs as your orgasm built up quicker than even you expected.  “I’m coming— James, I’m coming, oh, fuck… right there— yes!”

A gush of heat warmed your cunt at the same time that shocks ran up your spine and down your limbs; you could feel your legs shaking, and you knew he could, too.  

It got so intense for a second that you had to pull the vibrator away, though you didn’t stop coming until a few moments later, eyes falling shut without you meaning for them to.

You actually laughed a bit, breathlessly, as you turned the vibe off and set it aside, although you weren’t sure exactly what was supposed to be funny about this per se.  When you opened your eyes, you saw James looking down and looking positively defeated.  But he looked tense, too, and you sat up on your wobbly legs to get closer to his face.  

“Relax, James,” you told him firmly as you examined him.

“I— I can’t,” he whispered. 

“Why not?”

“I’ll come.”

Nothing could fight your wide grin anymore, not when you heard that.  “Oh, baby… are you about to come without even being touched?  Is that how much you liked watching Mistress come?”

He nodded, ever so slightly, and you laughed.  Not quite a mocking laugh, moreso impressed.  Prideful, even.  You leaned in to give a wet kiss to his neck, licking over his pulse as he shivered violently.

“That’s my good boy,” you whispered against his skin.  He whined and you cooed soothingly right away, “oh I know, I know.  It’s so unfair, isn’t it?  Mistress gets to come and you don’t…”

“Please,” he stammered, “I’m so close, let me come, please.”

“But I don’t wanna see you come, baby— I wanna see you cry.”

You started to slide your hand down his chest and he jumped up to attention as he tried to squirm away.  “No, please, don’t— don’t touch my cock, not if I can’t come.”

“You can hold it in, can’t you?” you pouted.

“No, I can’t, I can’t,” he sobbed, watching fearfully as your hand moved down to his stomach and over his hips.  

“But I thought you were my good boy,” you frowned, suddenly wrapping your hand tight around his cock as he choked on a gasp.

“Mistress!” he sobbed.  “Please, don’t—  don’t move your hand, I’ll come.”

"Never fucking tell me what to do," you instructed firmly, just barely stroking as he cried weakly.  "I'm gonna touch you however I want and you're not gonna come because you're my good boy, right?"

"No, Mistress, I can't stop it, I'm gonna come— stop, please…"

"You'd better not fucking come," you hissed through your teeth, speeding up your movements and watching his eyes shoot wide open, "you'd better hold it in until I'm done with you."

"I'm trying— please slow down, can't take it—"

You shook your head, tutting disapprovingly.  "No, baby, I tell you what you can take."

"Oh— oh god, Mistress, please, please stop, please, I c-can't— fuck!"

You pulled your hand away the second his cock started to flex but it was too late: come was shooting from his swollen tip and painting his chest and stomach.  You didn't even wait until he was done to backhand him across the face.

"I'm sorry!" he yelled.  "I'm so sorry, I couldn't help it…"

You softened slightly when you heard his broken voice, saw the desperation and fear on his face— it was real, more real than the fake ‘no’s and the encouraging pleas for mercy.  "Baby, it's okay, you tried so hard," you soothed instantly.

Hope filled his eyes just as much as tears as he looked up at you.  "Am I still your good boy?"

"Always," you smiled, caressing his face where it was already turning red from your slap.  

You reached down and caressed his cock with the back of your fingers, watching it flex weakly.  

“Let’s get you cleaned up, alright?”

His lip twitched, almost like a wince.  “Do we… do we have to stop?”

You quickly glanced at the clock.  “Um, no,” you mumbled, “we still have time.  Just tell me what you want.”

“I wanna watch you come again…” he admitted softly.  “Is… is that okay?”

Although you weren’t sure what you’d been expecting, you were still surprised.  “Yeah, sure.”

“But… but closer this time,” he added, “not so far away.”

You were literally laying on top of him, how did that count as far away? 

“I wanna see your face,” he clarified.

“Okay,” you nodded, deciding to indulge him.  It was sort of like aftercare, except that this wasn’t exactly the ‘after’ part yet.

On your knees beside where he was leaning back against the headboard, you slipped your hand down into the lace panties again, finding your clit still swollen but not too sensitive.  A little gasp fell from your lips when you touched it, rubbing it carefully with two fingers while he looked up at your face.  

You felt slightly exposed when he watched you this close, and you didn’t know where to look to avoid direct eye contact.  Looking at his lips was just a little too tempting, so that wouldn’t work.

“My hands are a little tired,” you explained, “they might cramp up.  Maybe I could use your thigh…”

“O-okay,” he nodded, and you removed your fingers from your panties to sit down on the thick muscle of his leg.  You felt him tense up under you slightly, and you carefully began to rock your hips until your clit rubbed just right against the inside of your underwear.  Surely he could feel how wet you were— actually, you both could hear it, almost a wet clicking-like noise as the soaked lace slid against your skin.

The dynamic shifted slightly, not that you minded it, as he watched you ride him carefully.  Just as he couldn’t hide much from you when he was naked and tied up and baring his soul to you in the kinkiest way possible, you couldn’t hide your pleasure from him when he was looking at your face so up-close.  You let your hands carefully roam his body, narrowly avoiding the trails of cooling come he’d left on his stomach and chest, until you found his strong shoulders and held onto them for balance.

“Fuck,” you mumbled to yourself, biting your lip as your sore clit throbbed against his hard, muscular thigh.  

“Will you… could you kiss me?” he requested quietly, and your heart broke a little bit.  You shook your head, and he nodded in understanding.

“I’ll kiss you here,” you offered instead, whispering against his skin before you pressed your lips to his forehead, then his cheek, then his jaw.  “Is that better, James?”

“It helps,” he agreed in a sigh.  

“I’m close,” you warned quietly, pressing your cheek to his and weaving one hand into his hair.  “I’m gonna come again, on your thigh.”

“Let me touch you,” he begged, “just a little, please…”

You nodded, about to reach forward to untie one of his hands, but he snapped the ropes and you had totally forgotten he could do that.  He quickly ran his touch all over your body, calloused hands and bound wrists in stark contrast to your soft skin.  The metal one was a little cold but it didn’t bother you; the other was almost too hot, and it was like being warmed and cooled all at once.

He ran his fingers down your spine, he gripped one of your shoulders, he rubbed your legs: he did everything he must have been wishing he could do this whole time, even gasping as he ran one hand up your chest and over a cup of your bra.  Just as you sensed that he was about to ask if he could touch you there, you nodded and felt his metal hand tug down the red lace and grab your breast— thankfully not very hard, though he did give your nipple a quick pinch which made you gasp.

Burying his face in the crook of your neck, he finally settled his hands on holding your hips, just tight enough to slightly guide your movements as you rocked faster and more desperately.  “Please come,” he begged weakly, “Mistress, please… use me.”

It sort of hit you all at once then, like a punch to the gut.  Except, you know, a lot more fun than getting punched in the gut.

“James,” you gasped, legs quivering where they straddled his as a new patch of slick soaked the lace (and presumably his thigh as well).  He held you tight, kept you moving through it while your fingers tangled in his hair and your mouth fell slack for another, louder moan.

The way his lips moved over your skin, laving your collarbones and pulse point and the innermost corner of your jaw, was positively worshipful; reverent.  “Mistress,” he whispered, almost sounding like praise but tinted with awe.  Your movements slowed down to a stop and the two of you breathed a sigh together, unintentionally.  “Thank you,” he mumbled.

“What for?” you asked, blinking quickly and looking down at him, coming back to reality (though you weren’t quite sure where else it was that you had just been).

“I dunno, everything,” he decided.

“Don’t thank me,” you smiled.  “Keep paying me, though.”

He laughed a little, glancing away.  “Yeah, and I’ll pay you back for these ropes… sorry."

"No, hey, don't be sorry," you dismissed, getting up off of his leg and standing up to go grab a towel for him.  "I'm just sorry we still haven't found anything strong enough to hold you."

"It's fine, they're strong enough to make me stop myself when I want to do something I shouldn't, that's all that really matters."

You nodded to yourself as you dampened the towel and came back to wipe him off.

"I can do that for myself," he reminded you, sounding a bit embarrassed, but you thought it was sweet. 

“You just focus on getting those ropes off of yourself,” you decided with a little smile.

[softjakehoon]

My Roommate Who Uses an XL Condom pt. 1

pairing: Jay/Reader

includes: slight edging, deep throat, cum in mouth, rough sex, breeding kink, roommate sex

warning: this is a written smut, if you don’t like reading stuff like this, scroll down for your sake please it’s not that complicated, thank you. 

also, this was inspired by a manga called "Joushi no Asoko wa XL size" and it's the part about the xl condom thingy, which would be on the second part though. and of course, our y'n being a product reviewer. the rest are based on my imagination.

----

You've been searching for a part-time job for a couple of hours now, but most of the jobs available are full-time shifts. You're in your fourth year in college and you're pretty much occupied with all of the school works and activities that's why you resigned from your previous customer service job. You have no choice but to choose a job that will allow you to manage your own time. It's not like you wanted to do this out of boredom. You have to support yourself to afford your tuition fees and daily expenses. Your parents are both senior citizens so you had to work right after you turned 18.

"Product reviewer? No way, this sounds too good to be true."

One-week deadline per product.

Flexible work schedule. 

Salary offer $1000 per review.

You didn't hesitate to submit your application. You have to get this job or you won't be able to pay rent. You don't even have anything to eat for this week. You sighed at your current situation. You went to the shower room to clean up before going to bed. 

---

You woke up around 8 am, starving. You went to the kitchen to find something to eat. You were surprised to see the fridge full of actual food to eat. 

"Am I dreaming? How is the fridge full of food when it was empty last night?" You grabbed a tub of marinated beef and began cooking. 

"Fuck, when was the last time I ate meat? I've only been eating ramen and junk food lately. No wonder I feel like shit." You laughed at your own misery. You were cut off by the sound of the door opening. You don't remember inviting anyone over to your apartment. You don't have a roommate as well so you started to feel nervous. 

"Who is it?" You shouted while chewing on the meat you wrapped with lettuce. 

You turned your head around to see a man around your age wearing all black and a frown on his face. 

"Who are you?" He asked you back. 

"I asked you a question first. Why do you have a key to my apartment?" This time, you went to speak to him up close. You're near-sighted so you wanted to see him up close. 

"I'm Jay. I moved in last night. Are you my roommate?" He kept his cold expression. 

He's handsome as fuck, but cold as hell. You thought to yourself. Too bad. 

"Oh, that must be why the fridge is full this morning. Fuck, sorry I cooked the beef bulgogi just now. I will pay you back once I get paid from my job." You looked down from embarrassment. 

"That's alright." He didn't even bother to ask your name and went to his room. You didn't want to bug him about it since you still owe him a tub of beef so you just shrugged your shoulder and finished your breakfast. 

While eating, you checked on your email for updates. 

"Holy fuck." Your jaw dropped upon reading an email. It was from the company you applied to last night. You got the job, and you're starting today. 

You signed the contract immediately and submitted all the needed requirements. Your first product will arrive in the afternoon so you couldn't help but be excited while washing the dishes. 

After doing the dishes, you decided to do the laundry. You've been going braless in the apartment when you were still alone but you have a male roommate now so you can't do that anymore. You needed to wash them. 

"Fuck, I ran out of shorts as well? What have I been doing all this time to forget doing my laundry?"

You decided to wear an oversized almost see-through white shirt and black underwear. 

While you were putting your clothes in the front load washing machine, you heard him pretending to cough. 

You dropped the clothes upon hearing that and looked around to see him piercing you with his eyes staring straight at your body. 

"What do you think are you doing?" He said, raising his eyebrows. 

"I'm doing my laundry. Are you blind?" You looked to your side, afraid of meeting his eyes. 

He stood in front of you, "I'm not. In fact I'm very much pleased of what I'm seeing right now." You gulped when he touched your chin and forced you to look into his eyes. 

"What are you doing?" You're starting to get nervous, or turned on. You don't know anymore. Is it because you haven't had sex for so long now? Fuck, you know you can't have sex with your roommate. You know damn well how it would end since your ex was also your roommate before. 

"I'm making you look at my face. Ever since we met you've been avoiding my gaze." He smirked at you, turning you on even more. 

"T-that's because you look scary, dude. Geez, get your hands off me or I will punch your face so I won't have any reason to look at it." You tried to push him away only for him to corner you on the wall with his arms locking you in. 

"Don't call me that. Or I will kiss you right now." You knew he wasn't bluffing. But for some reason, you wanted to kiss him as well. So you called him that. 

"Stop playing around, dude. Can't you see I'm busy doing someth-" You were cut off by his lips on yours. It stayed still for a short moment as if he was trying to see how you would react. But when he sensed you closing your eyes, he began to move his lips along with yours.

It was a sweet and passionate kiss as if he knew you all his life. It felt so good, you couldn't help but pull his hair, making the kiss deeper. His right hand holding your face along with your jaw, his left hand holding your waist, keeping you close to his body. You could feel your core starting to get wet from the heat that you're feeling, making you rub your thighs together. Taking the hint, Jay placed his knee in the middle and closed the distance between your body. You're now grinding on his thighs, desperately looking for friction and release. 

"Are we just gonna kiss all day or are you going to fuck me?" You pulled away from the kiss and chased your breath.

"I thought you said you're busy." He smirked again. 

"Well now I'm not." You kissed him again, this time with so much lust and desire. Jay is incredibly handsome, he's tall and has a nice body as well. Normally, you don't hang out with guys like him because you know they're always into pretty girls, but you don't want to think about it for now. 

"Relax, baby. I'll get you nice and ready first." He grabbed your breasts as soon as he removed your shirt, sucking on your nipples while his right hand palming your core. 

"I guess I don't even need to. You're soaking wet already. Is this all for me, babe?" He removed your last piece of clothing and slipped two fingers inside you. 

"Fuck, Jay. Shut up already and put it in.” You can't help but moan as he slips his fingers in and out of you.

“Stop bossing me around, brat.” There was a sudden change in his aura, his fingers thrusting in and out of you now roughly. 

“Damn it, I wanna cum on your cock, please. Fuck me already.” You begged. You’re about to reach your climax under his touch. All of a sudden, he removed his fingers making you bite your lips in frustration.

“What the hell? Why did you sto-” You were cut off when he grabbed a fistful of your hair, pushing you down on your knees. He immediately removed his belt and tied your hands with it. You stared at him with your puppy eyes while waiting for him to remove his clothes.

He pumped his cock a couple of times before squeezing your cheeks, a sign for you to open your mouth. You were taken aback by the size of his cock in your tiny mouth. You can’t even touch him to support yourself, so he was holding you by your hair and fucking your mouth as he wants. 

“See, this is what your mouth is for. It’s not for you to talk back, or be a brat. This mouth is meant for my cock.” Tears pooled in your eyes as the tip of his dick hits your throat every time he would thrust. You were able to get rid of your gag reflex, thanks to your ex.

“Fuck, how are you so good at this? I fucking love your mouth. You’ve got no gag reflex? Fucking insane, ahh.” He’s growling at this point. You can tell he’s close as the veins in his dick are getting more prominent and it’s twitching inside your mouth.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” After a couple of thrusts, he came down your throat. You gladly swallowed his cum, making sure nothing goes to waste.

“Shit, brat. You better remember how I taste.” He said, untying your hands from his belt. He helped you to stand, kissing you while placing you on top of the counter. 

He took no time in aligning himself into your core. He gathered your wetness using the tip of his dick and finally pushed it in. You can definitely feel the stretch but the pleasure goes beyond the pain at this point. You were moaning softly against his ear. 

“Fuck, you feel so tight around me.” His thrust getting steady and rougher each time.

“You feel so good, Jay. I’m gonna cum.” You’re finally getting the release he denied you earlier.

“That’s right, cum on my cock.” You moaned in response. Your walls tightening around him even more, making him meet his nearing climax for the second time.

“Cum with me, Jay. Come inside me, please.” You were on birth control anyway. You were on an injectable contraceptive and it’s still in effect ‘til now. You will probably need to ask him if he’s fucking around later on but you really wanted to have his cum inside you. Hearing you beg for his cum was music to his ears. After easing you from your high with a couple of thrusts, he came right after. You felt his dick twitch inside you, his cum spreading heat in your walls. He pulled out seconds after, making his cum leak out of you.

Jay swore he took a mental image of it in his mind. You looked so hot, all fucked out because of him. You, on the other hand, waited for him to help you get off the counter.

Which he didn’t do. He put on his clothes and went straight to the bathroom to clean himself. 

“What a jerk. Did he just leave me here after all that?” You tried not to feel too disappointed. Still, it made you feel angry. He could’ve at least helped you. “I’m never having sex with you again, asshole.” You said just enough for him to hear you in the bathroom.

Author’s note: Jay’s point of view will be on the second part. He’s a gentleman pls.