#maybe i’ll sleep in my car i might be able to handle that

[wormsdyke]

ew ew ew ew bad thing happened gross beisnajajs ahhh auuuhhhheghsjswkos real life event occurred that is real life gross and ocd is going CRAZY over it

[sluttywonwoo]

instead of you [part thirty-four] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either. 

warnings: swearing, angst, smut (mdni ; 18+)

word count: 3.8k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

additional smut warnings: protected sex, public(ish) sex

“Were you able to get some rest?” Jisung asked, hand in yours as you walked through the airport together. 

“Not much,” you admitted. 

“Thankfully, I don’t think we’re doing anything today. We can just crash when we get to the hotel.”

“Okay.”

Jet lag was hitting you particularly hard. Oahu was a whole eighteen hours behind Bali, meaning you were technically in yesterday. Everyone else seemed to be handling it fine but maybe that was because they hadn’t ruined their relationship with their best friend by sleeping with his brother. 

It was midday and already hot as hell. You waited outside with the Hans while Dom filled out the paperwork for rental cars. He called Minho inside to sign a waiver that allowed him to be the driver of the other car. Minho was the only one of the four of you who was old enough to legally drive a rental car and he rubbed it in the rest of your faces with a shake of the keys once he rejoined your group. 

 “Follow us to the resort,” Dom instructed Minho. “I’ll send you the address in case you lose us.”

You climbed into the backseat with Jisung and slumped over on his shoulder. You tried to stay awake as Minho drove through the island but your eyelids were feeling heavy and the winding mountain roads weren’t helping. 

“Are we not staying in Honolulu?” you asked, watching the road signs zoom past. 

“We’ll take a day trip over there but my parents wanted to stay at Ko’Olina again because they liked it so much last time,” Jisung explained. 

“Right, I forgot that you guys have been here before.” 

“I try not to think about it.”

Your time in Hawai’i was being split between two islands: Oahu and Kauai. In Oahu, you were staying in separate hotel rooms, and in Kauai, everyone was sharing a condo again. 

It was nice to be able to have your own space but it also meant that there really wasn’t a way to avoid Jisung. You were kind of stuck with him. At least he was speaking to you again. He’d had some time to cool down so he wasn’t as angry but you could tell that he didn’t particularly want to spend time with you either. 

You were stuck at a crossroads in that respect. You weren’t sure how to mend things with him but you knew you wanted to. You just weren’t sure if he felt the same way. He had been pretty clear the night that he found out about you and Minho that he wanted nothing to do with you outside of your already agreed-upon deal. But that had been in the heat of the moment. You had tried extinguishing any flicker of hope that threatened to engulf you in order to protect yourself from being hurt again, but it was getting harder and harder to do the more time you spent with him. 

Sometimes it felt like nothing had changed. There were fleeting moments shared between just the two of you when there was no one around to pretend for that made you think your friendship might still be salvageable. But they never lasted long. They were lapses in Jisung’s judgment, when he would accidentally let his guard down, acting like you were still those kids you had been back at school, like you were still his favorite person. 

He ordered room service for the two of you and you ate in relative silence. When the tension became unbearable you turned on the TV and flipped through the channels, ultimately deciding on some show playing on The Food Network. Perfect vacation television. It was a rerun of Chopped. You could tell it was a rerun from the dated fashion choices and technology- not because you were an avid fan or anything, though you had seen your fair share of episodes by being best friends with a culinary student. Whenever you watched it together Jisung liked to play a game where he would invent his own dishes with the ingredients the contestants were given. 

“What would you make with that?” you asked, nodding at the screen, trying to lighten the mood.

He took a moment to think, mulling over the assortment of items in his mind. “Probably a salad of some kind since it’s the appetizer round. It’s a cop-out but I could make a dressing with that peanut brittle.”

You hummed in acknowledgment. “Knowing you, it would probably still taste good.”

“You have too much faith in me.”

“Or I just know you.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

-

Later that night, after you had both showered, you tried bringing up your conversation from the other day but Jisung shut you down entirely. 

“I don’t want to talk about this,” he mumbled, tossing one of the extra pillows from the bed onto the armchair a little harder than necessary. 

“But-”

“I’m just not ready yet,” he cut you off. “I... don’t want to say anything else I don’t mean. And I’m not ready to forgive you yet.”

There it was again, that stupid spark of hope struck like a match against the side of your heart. 

You nodded in understanding, biting your lip to keep from showing just how disappointed you were. 

It was a strange mix of emotions, hope and disappointment. They were complete opposites but somehow you were feeling them simultaneously. 

“O-okay,” you said shakily, watching as he climbed into bed. 

You moved to do the same even though it felt painfully awkward, how were you supposed to just go to bed after that? How did people in relationships do it? How did people just roll over and fall asleep like nothing had happened after an argument? 

As soon as you reached to pull the sheets back, fingertips brushing the fabric, your phone vibrated next to you on the bedside table. 

You glanced at the screen and saw that it was a message from Minho. He was asking you to meet him downstairs. It wasn’t that late but it was already dark and it had been a long day. What could he possibly want?

Jisung must have noticed the look on your face because he sighed and muttered “go” at you without meeting your eyes. 

“I, uh, I’ll be back. Later.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

You made sure to grab a room key on the way out and then hurried down the hall to the elevator, pressing the down button over and over again until it finally arrived at your floor. 

Minho was waiting for you in the lobby like he said he would be, leaning against a pillar with his arms crossed impatiently. To your surprise, he smiled when he saw you. 

“What’s so important you couldn’t tell me over text?” you demanded in annoyance. 

Minho’s grin faltered but didn’t fall. He just eyed you with an air of amusement. “Who said I had something to tell you?”

“Why else would you make me come down here?”

He raised an arm, dangling the key to the rental car he had driven earlier that day. “Wanna get out of here?”

-

“Where are we going?” you asked. 

“Do you trust me?”

“Not particularly.”

Minho placed his hand over his heart and winced. “You wound me.”

“Just tell me where you’re taking me!”

“But that ruins the surprise!” he argued. 

“The surprise? It’s like eleven p.m. and I’m tired! Why are you dragging me out at this hour? Jisung’s already annoyed that I came down here to meet you in the first place.”

“How does he know?”

“Who else would text me at this hour?”

“Fair point. But are you just going to stand there and interrogate me all night or are we doing this?”

You huffed in frustration. “I don’t even know what ‘this’ is!”

“Come on!”

Minho grabbed your hand before you could argue any further and dragged you out through the lobby into the parking lot. 

“So now you’re kidnapping me?” you exclaimed, tripping over your own feet.

Minho chuckled but still shot you a look of warning. “Keep your voice down! People are going to think you’re serious.”

“Yes, sir,” you deadpanned. 

“Stop trying to turn me on in public, you already have an unfair advantage.”

You weren’t sure how serious he was but you rolled your eyes anyway. You also didn’t know what he meant by the second part but you didn’t ask about that either. 

He didn’t let go of your hand until you reached the car. And even then, it seemed like he was hesitant to release you from his grasp, fingers lingering on your palm like he was afraid you’d run away the second he set you free.

But you climbed into the passenger seat and buckled your seatbelt without a second thought. A series of poor decisions had already led you here. What was a couple more?

Mostly, your curiosity is what drove you to get in the car with him. You figured you didn’t have much to lose at this point. You hadn’t spoken more than a couple of words to Minho in the last few days. You had assumed he’d want nothing to do with you after you fucked up his relationship with his brother-- then again, maybe he didn’t want anything to do with you and was only driving you somewhere where he could chew you out without anyone overhearing. Hell, maybe he was taking you out to a pier where he could push you in the water so that your body would never be found. 

No, he's too famous for that. He’d never get away with it. 

You were silent as Minho put the car in gear and backed out of the lot. As soon as he turned onto the main road he rolled the windows down, glancing over at you to make sure it didn’t bother you. 

“Is this okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.”

You watched him mess with the radio dial until a signal from a local station was picked up. Once he found something, he adjusted the volume so that you could hear the music over the sound of the rushing wind, and then he reached across the center console, hand outstretched. The gesture caught you off guard, and you were unsure whether or not you should take it. You figured it would be more awkward if you left him hanging so you looked away and slipped your fingers between his, relaxing into the familiar feeling. 

The roads were mostly empty. Everything was already closed for the night. Eventually, Minho merged onto the highway, heading east. 

“Do you know where you’re going?” you asked twenty minutes later when he still hadn’t taken an exit. You were beginning to suspect that he didn’t really have anyplace in particular in mind, that he was just taking you for a late night drive, which would have been fine. You liked long drives too. But he had made it all seem so mysterious and the anticipation was killing you. 

“Of course I do, how dare you doubt me!”

“It’s just that you don’t have a GPS on or anything!”

“I’ve been here before,” he reminded you.

“Yeah, one time three years ago.”

“That’s all I need,” he assured you. “And if you pay attention to the road signs you don’t even need to memorize the route.”

“You sound like my dad,” you mumbled. 

“Your dad must be a very talented navigator,” Minho said decisively, complimenting himself.

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, but he didn’t fail his driver’s test- what was it, four times?”

“Low blow,” he chided and shook his head. 

“You needed to be humbled.”

Comfortable silence resumed between the two of you as Minho continued driving. He got off the highway a few miles later and wove through town before finally turning onto a rocky uphill path. The radio signal weakened almost immediately, static interrupting the music that had been playing. He turned the volume down out of instinct.

“Remind me, do you get carsick?” Minho asked suddenly, like it was an afterthought that had just occurred to him. 

“Um, sometimes? Why do you ask?”

“These roads are winding,” he explained, “they might make you nauseous. Just try to look straight ahead. Don’t look at your phone.”

“I haven’t looked at my phone this entire time!”

“Well don’t start now.”

You braced yourself for the twists and turns of the road but it was difficult to anticipate where they would be with how dark it was. The headlights of the car were the only source of light on the gravel road, everything else surrounded by shadows and silhouettes of trees.

Finally, just when you were starting to feel a little lightheaded, Minho pulled into a little lot on the side of the road. 

“Are we here?” you asked, squinting in the darkness to try and make anything out.

“Yup,” Minho answered with a smile.

He turned off the car, letting the headlights dim.

“Come on!”

“We’re getting out?” you exclaimed. 

“Would you just trust me?” 

Sighing, you kicked open the passenger side door and climbed out of the car. Minho rounded the back to meet you on your side, blanket in hand. 

“Where are we?”

“Listen.”

You closed your eyes and did as you were told, waiting for any sort of clue as to where you were. In the distance, you could hear waves crashing against the shore. The salt in the air and the sound of breeze rustling through palm fronds only confirmed what you already knew. 

“You took me to the beach?”

“Follow me.”

Minho took your hand and led you along the sandy path down to the shore. You toed off your shoes and held them in your free hand as you walked. The place was practically empty. The only other signs of life were the flames from a bonfire about half a mile down the beach.  

Minho used the flashlight on his phone so you could see where you were going, keeping you steady when you tripped over your own feet in the uneven sand. 

“Careful there,” he chuckled. 

He picked a spot that wasn’t too far from the path, something that put a little more distance between you and the bonfire. 

“Is this okay?”

“Seems as good a place as any,” you said and shrugged. 

Minho laid out the blanket and motioned for you to sit on it. The sand underneath the fabric was cool, having long lost hold of the heat from the sun. It molded to the shape of your body as you chose a comfortable position. 

You could feel Minho’s presence beside you but neither of you moved closer to the other. You figured he hadn’t brought you all the way out here to sit in silence, but you didn’t want to be the one to prompt the conversation. He was the one who was so insistent on coming, he could make the first move. 

He did, after several more moments. You waited patiently, allowing him to collect his thoughts. His eyebrows were knit together, eyes downcast, as if he were having an internal argument with himself. Then, his expression softened and he met your gaze, any trace of conflict seemingly absolved.

“You look really pretty.”

You scoffed. “You can’t even see me that well.”

“Speak for yourself, I can see you perfectly.”

“It’s dark out!”

“We have the moonlight.”

“Barely.”

“I think you need to get your eyes checked,” Minho teased. 

“Did you bring me out here just to make fun of me?”

“Yeah, are you not having a good time?” Minho asked. “Do I need to up my game?”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t grant him a response, instead pulling your knees to your chest so that you could rest your chin on them. 

“Do you like it? Here, I mean?”

You nodded. “It’s nice. Quiet.”

“Mhm.”

“But why this beach? I mean, we’re on an island, the whole place is beach, but you drove me all the way out here.”

“It’s usually pretty empty, especially at night.”

“And you know that because... you’ve taken lots of girls out here?”

“If you count my mum, then yes,” he said sarcastically. “I don’t exactly frequent the island of O’ahu.” 

“So you’re saying that if you did, you’d bring girls here all of the time?”

“Oh, totally. It’s how I’d seal the deal, like all the assholes in the movies.”

“By telling them they’re the first one you’ve ever brought here?”

“Exactly. But you know I’m telling you the truth because you already slept with me.”

You shoved him with a scoff, a little harder than you intended, making Minho fall back onto the blanket. 

“Hey! What was that for?”

“You know exactly what that was for.”

He grinned sheepishly and then stretched out the arm that was closest to you. “C’mon, then. Join me.”

You shifted a bit, moving further down on the quilt so that when you laid back Minho’s arm would slot perfectly under your neck. You curled up to him, slinging your own arm across his stomach. The rhythm of his breathing along with the sounds of the waves breaking against the shore was soothing. It was the most relaxed you’d felt in a long time. You were halfway to sleep when you felt Minho murmur something into your hair. 

“What?’ you asked groggily, blinking your eyes open. 

“The stars, look.”

You repositioned yourself a bit so that you could stare straight up at the sky to see what he was talking about, gasping quietly when you did.

It wasn’t as impressive as the night skies on the boat had been, you were much closer to civilization now, but it was still better than anything you’d ever gotten to see back home. It was as if the sky was dripping with diamonds, stars hanging out of reach like they were on display at a store far out of your budget. 

“It’s gorgeous.”

“I thought you might like it,” Minho mused, “I’m glad the clouds cleared so you could see them.”

“It’s nice here even without the stars,” you assured him. “Though, they’re definitely a highlight.”

Minho turned his head to look at you, smiling. Your eyes had adjusted slightly, allowing you to see the details of his face. 

You weren’t sure who leaned in first, but the next thing you knew you were kissing him. Minho cupped your face with both hands and pressed his tongue against the seam of your lips, silently begging you to open your mouth. You did, gasping when he got impatient and nipped at your bottom lip.  

You took the initiative this time and rolled on top of him, working your hands under his t-shirt to feel him up. 

“Missed this,” Minho sighed, “missed you.”

“It’s only been like three days!” 

“Way too long, if you ask me.”

You rolled your eyes but let the comments fuel your ego anyway.

He matched your pace and dropped his hands from your face to let them roam your body. It didn’t take long for them to find your tits, fingers brushing over your nipples underneath the fabric of your shirt. You rolled your hips against his, already able to feel that he was half hard through his sweats.

Minho groaned and broke away from kissing you to catch his breath, tilting his head back and swallowing hard. His hips stuttered underneath you, encouraging you to keep going. You took over and began kissing your way down his neck. 

“Do you have a condom?” you asked breathlessly

You knew you were acting desperate but it’s because you were desperate. You were aching for him and your panties were beginning to feel uncomfortably sticky. 

“Are you sure?” Minho asked, not answering your question. 

“Yes, fuck, where are they?”

He propped himself up on his elbows and nodded down at his pocket. “I still have a few in my wallet.”

You sat up a little and brought one of your hands down to his pants, brushing your palm over his erection before fumbling for his wallet in his pocket. 

“You’re a menace,” he hissed as he kicked his head back. 

“Don’t act like you don’t love it.”

You retrieved a condom and slid the wallet back into his pocket, tearing the foil wrapper open while you tried to get his pants off at the same time. 

“Need help?”

“No, I got it,” you muttered.

You were able to get Minho’s pants down far enough to get his dick out and put the condom on him before pushing your own pajama shorts and panties to the side so you could ride him without having to take them all the way off. 

“Wait, I haven’t even fingered you or anything,” Minho interjected, putting a hand on your stomach to stop you from lowering yourself onto him. “It’ll hurt.”

“We don’t really have a lot of time,” you argued back, “I’m really wet already. You don’t need to.”

“Bullshit,” he countered in disbelief. 

You were starting to get annoyed. Why wouldn’t he just fuck you like you wanted? You could tell Minho was getting frustrated as well, confused as to why you were rushing into it.

“At least let me rub your clit a little first?” he pleaded. 

You wanted to tell him that it really was fine, that you’d just need a couple of extra seconds to adjust to his size, but he was already running a thumb over your pussy, feeling around for the spot that would make your knees buckle.  

“F-fuck,” you whispered when he found it, arching just slightly to press yourself into him further.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Minho asked, sounding entirely too pleased with himself. 

You couldn’t even deny it. “Yes.”

“Still gotta be quiet, though,” he reminded you, “don’t want to let those folks down the way know what we’re up to, huh?”

You nodded in agreement even though you had completely forgotten about the people having a bonfire on the beach. They were likely too far away to see the two of you in the dark, but you knew sound carried so you would still have to be careful. 

“Can you put it in now? Just want to feel you.” You threw in a pout at the end just for good measure, hoping that would be enough to get you what you wanted. 

Minho nodded and put a hand on either of your hips to help you. You sighed in relief as you sank down on him, finally feeling full. You were able to take him all at once but you did need more time to adjust to having him inside of you, to which Minho cockily mouthed I told you so at you.

Once the discomfort ebbed away you leaned down and pressed your chest to his, resting your head against his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around you instinctively as you started rocking yourself on his cock, trembling at just how deep he could get at this angle. 

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” you mumbled. 

He carded a hand through your hair and cocked his head to the side. “What, having sex on the beach?”

“Mhm.”

“It’s a first for me too,” Minho admitted. 

“Better make it memorable then, right?”

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

[totallyjustabunchofhocuspocus]

Fic: Something to Sink Your Teeth Into 4/?

Read on AO3

Pairing: Buck/Tommy, Vampire/Witch!AU

I was not expecting to have to delve this much into political structures, but I can't lie--it's kind of fun.

“Do we get to know why we’re kidnapping one of Gerrard’s party favors, or is this another situation where I sleep better if I don’t know?” Sal asked conversationally as they made their way to the big SUV Lucy preferred to drive.

“You don’t sleep,” Tommy retorted testily.

Sal sighed, and Tommy didn’t have to look to know he was pinching the bridge of his nose. “He got car keys? Gerrard’s got a few on his cleanup crew that’ll notice if there’s more cars than bodies.”

Damn it. That was a good point. “Fuck, I don’t know. He was talking to a friend or a roommate earlier; they might have come together, but I don’t know. Lucy, can you…?” He shifted Evan in his arms, holding him so that Lucy could rifle through his pockets. After a moment, she came up with a peeling leather keychain, on which dangled a couple of keys, one with the Jeep logo emblazoned on it. Sal snatched the keys and shot Tommy a look.

“I’ll go check where the staff was parking. If I don’t find anything, I’ll make my own way home. We are talking about this later, Tommy boy.”

“Expected nothing less,” Tommy sighed, and then frowned. “I’m taking him to the apartments, though, not the main house.” Sal looked surprised, but just nodded and loped off towards the end of the estate opposite the gardens, where presumably all of Gerrard’s victims had been told to park for the night. “You drive, Luce. I’m gonna have to handle him if he wakes up before we get home.”

Lucy’s eyebrows climbed towards her hairline, but she didn’t question him further, just hurrying along to the SUV and unlocking it with a quick chirp from the key fob. He clambered into the backseat with Evan and spent an awkward few moments trying to sort of lean him comfortably against the window in the seat before giving up with a groan and just pulling the kid back against his chest.

“I’m biting my tongue so hard I’m tasting blood, Kinard. I just want you to know that,” Lucy said from the driver’s seat, staring at him in the rearview mirror. “Also, just how much handling does one half-drained frat boy need? Not that I’m judging you. Much.”

Tommy glared at her half-heartedly, before turning his attention out the window, restlessly scanning their surroundings for any of Gerrard’s people. The SUV’s tinted windows—darkest UV blocking glass they were legally allowed to have in California, of course—should keep them safe from any prying eyes, but he didn’t fully relax until Lucy had pulled them out of Gerrard’s compound and they were out on the highway.

Evan showed no signs of waking, and Tommy took the opportunity to finally take a (metaphorical) breath and really consider just what the fuck he had done. He’d gotten the witch out of Gerrard’s territory…but now what? The kid had already proven he was dangerous. If it had been anyone else in that parlor apart from Tommy or Gerrard himself, he had no doubt Evan would have been able to escape.

He also had no doubt that Evan would not have been able to get off the estate. Against maybe a handful of younger vampires? Probably he’d have been fine. Against dozens and dozens of representatives of every coven in the greater Los Angeles metropolitan area? He might have taken a lot of them out with him, but eventually he would have been overwhelmed by sheer numbers. But the fact remained that bringing him home was dangerous. It was stupid. He'd accomplished what he’d set out to do—which was get the witch away from Gerrard. The smart thing to do would be to have Lucy drive to the nearest hospital, use the thrall to blur Evan’s memories enough that he wouldn’t be able to identify Tommy, and leave him on a bench near the ER doors.

What was he thinking?

He wasn’t, that was the problem. He’d been riding on instinct from the moment he’d watched Evan burn Gerrard’s turn to ash…and his instincts were insisting he not let the witch out of his sight.

Tommy had not survived for eight hundred fucking years by ignoring his instincts.

A faint tremor ran through Evan’s body, a small grimace twisting his face. The delicate skin of his eyelids twitched and trembled, his eyes moving restlessly back and forth as though he was dreaming. With a soft sigh, he turned further into Tommy’s chest, his forehead brushing the skin of Tommy’s neck. The kid was ice cold—especially compared to the warmth that had been radiating off him before. Well shit, of course he was. He was a few pints of blood lighter and he’d been fighting for his life with his magic. He was probably going into shock. Fuck…he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d had to worry about a human’s welfare. The only one he spent any real amount of time with was Lucy’s girlfriend—and not only did Lena decidedly not need Tommy fussing over her, she would be one of them soon enough (Lucy had already asked, and Alonzo had consented…but Lena’s mother was in the final stages of a long battle with cancer and she didn’t want to abandon her human life before her mother passed).

He twisted in his seat, searching through the multitude of things that had been tossed into the third row until he found a jacket he vaguely remembered seeing Ravi wear a few times crumpled up under some random books and an umbrella. He snatched it up and turned back to drape it over Evan, drawing another long look from Lucy in the rearview mirror. He sighed heavily.

“He’s a witch, Lucy,” he said without preamble.

Lucy did not slam on the brakes in shock. But the SUV did swerve a little. An angry horn blared behind them, and Lucy rolled her window down to stick her hand out and flip them the bird.

“Tommy, what the fuck? Are you sure?”

“He burned one of Gerrard’s turns to ash with a spell. Tried to flatten me like a pancake. And I could barely hold him in the thrall. So yeah, pretty sure.”

“What the hell is a witch doing at a vampire coven gathering?”

Tommy shrugged one shoulder, massaging his temple lightly. Sal insisted that they couldn’t get headaches anymore, but Tommy called bullshit. “Tending bar,” he said. “I don’t think he realized what kind of party he was working until it was too late.”

“His familiar let him walk into a den of vampires?” Lucy asked in disbelief. “Wait…where is the familiar?”

Another shrug. “I don’t think he has one. Like you said, no way it would have let him walk into Gerrard’s place. And there was nothing helping him when he was attacked. Even if his familiar was a damn fly, it would have tried to do something.”

“Is that—I mean, the only witch I know is Chimney, but—isn’t that…kind of weird for a witch his age?”

It was fucking bizarre is what it was. A bond with a familiar was considered part of becoming an adult among witches. Most were bonded with a familiar by fifteen or sixteen, sometimes earlier. But hardly ever later. Familiars helped witches regulate and control their power as they became fully functioning members of their covens. Granted, Tommy wasn’t exactly sure how a familiar was chosen for a witch. He would cautiously say that he and Howie were friends, but it wasn’t like they regularly traded coven secrets, and Howie had never offered up the story of how he’d come to be bonded with the wrinkly-faced bat that clung to his clothes and fluttered around his head constantly.

“It’s not normal, no,” he allowed eventually.

“Okay…okay, so I see why you took him out of Gerrard’s. No way in hell you could leave him there. But what are you planning to do with him?” she asked carefully. Too carefully.

“Lucy,” he said warningly.

“Kinard,” she replied in exactly the same tone. Then she sighed heavily. “You know we have to consider how much of an advantage this could be. You already drank from him!”

He shifted, unconsciously tightening the arm he had around Evan’s shoulders. To keep him from tipping all over the place, of course. The power of the witch’s blood still coursed through him, and would for several days…maybe even a few weeks. Tommy was already stronger and faster than anyone else in the coven, was stronger and faster than almost any other vampire in this part of California, but right now? He was fucking untouchable. Lucy was right…having access to Evan’s blood regularly would be an incredible advantage for the coven. Even if they limited who drank from him and let the younger members of the coven drink from those people regularly, the strength of the coven would increase tenfold. He knew why Lucy had to put the thought out there.

Alonzo’s coven was well-respected and well-liked. But they did not have the sheer power that was required to be politically important in their world. Tommy’s presence in the coven was the source of a lot of what political clout they did have. Even with their relatively small numbers, there weren’t many covens who were willing to anger a vampire who was close to measuring his age in millennia rather than centuries. Alonzo and Sal were decently powerful in their own right—both of them having been turned sometime during the early Renaissance—but apart from them the rest of the coven were all under two hundred years old. Most of them had been turned in the last century.

But no witch would willingly let themselves be used like that by a vampire coven.

Witch and vampire covens had an uneasy truce. In places like LA, with large populations of both, interaction was necessary to preserve the secret of their existence from the even larger human populations. That was how he’d come to know Howard Han. He and Howie had known each other for going on ten years, had spoken often in both official and unofficial capacities. He considered Howie a friend, and knew Howie felt the same. But they had never been to each other’s territory. Never been alone together. Every meeting he’d ever had with Howie had been conducted in a public place, or on carefully agreed upon and regulated neutral territory.

If the coven were to utilize Evan’s blood, they would have to force him.

Keep him locked up somewhere. Neutralize his ability to cast spells. Keep him a secret from every other witch and vampire in the city. And the worst part was, he knew Alonzo would consider it. Gerrard had been expanding his powerbase in LA for decades, and the very real possibility he would enter into a formal alliance with Ortiz had every coven not formally aligned with him on edge. The situation was becoming precarious enough that he knew Alonzo was considering if it was even worth it to stay in California anymore.

He hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d told Evan what Gerrard would do to him back at the mansion. Gerrard’s solution would be to slice out Evan’s tongue and keep him chained in the basement of his most heavily fortified property and he would do it in a heartbeat.

Tommy had done unsavory things in the name of survival before. He no longer had to kill when he hunted, but there were hundreds, if not thousands of deaths under his belt in that pursuit. And that was just the hunting. Tommy had done many cruel, vicious things—in the name of survival or revenge or protecting something he valued or just because. The idea that he could be as old as he was with clean hands and a clean conscience was laughable. He certainly didn’t care that the other members of his coven still killed when they hunted, and far more frequently than he needed to. Tommy was no stranger to cruelty. It was true, though, that in general, Alonzo’s coven refrained from the worst excesses of their kind. That was what he liked about them, what had spurred him to join, and why he stayed.

The thought of doing anything the way Gerrard would turned Tommy’s stomach.

But it was one person—one stranger—held up against safety and protection for his entire coven.

“Tommy?” Lucy said again, and he shook his head.

“I don’t have a plan, Luce,” he said. “I wasn’t thinking beyond making sure Gerrard didn’t get ahold of him.”

“Well, you need to figure that the fuck out!”

“I know! Okay? I know. Look, just…just get us to the apartments. I’ll call Alonzo as soon as you’re gone and, I dunno, I’ll just see what he has to say.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa…who said I was leaving?” She turned fully in her seat to glare at him, and he smacked the back of her headrest.

“Eyes on the road!” he snapped. “Fuck. And I said you’re leaving. Did you miss the part where I said this kid burned one of Gerrard’s turns to ash? Why do you think we’re not going back to the compound?”

“He’s thralled, it’s fine!”

“Lucy,” he said firmly. “No. I’ve never actually had someone fight me like that, I don’t know how long I can hold him.”

“So gag him,” she shrugged.

“Right, because waking up like that’s gonna inspire him to listen to me calmly and objectively.”

Another glare in the rearview mirror, this one suspicious. “Why do you need him to listen to you calmly and objectively?” she asked warily. “Tommy—we can’t let him go, you understand that right? Doesn’t matter what reason you had…and let me guess, someone caught you trying to sneak him out? It still doesn’t matter. You drank from a witch, completely unsanctioned. His coven could demand your fucking head. Even if by some miracle they accepted that you were trying to save him, the SoCal high coven has been trying to find a way to drive you and Gerrard out of LA for years. They hate having vampires as powerful as you in their territory.”

“I. Know,” he gritted out, although in truth he hadn’t been thinking anywhere near that far ahead. He’d just known he had to get Evan out of that mansion. Besides…if what he’d seen when he drank from Evan was accurate (and he still wasn’t sure it was…experiencing flashes and fragments of memories and emotions wasn’t unusual when drinking from a thralled victim, but he’d never seen anything that complete, that solid), the witch covens in the area might not respond for Evan the way Lucy thought they would.

“Okay, well, then what the fuck is the plan? Cause if you can’t answer that, we’re going to have to kill him. Tonight. Fuck, right now!”

“We’re not killing him.” The words were out of his mouth before he even realized he was going to say them. Lucy turned to look at him again, shock plain on her face. The SUV drifted in its lane and another horn blared at them. Tommy rubbed a hand down his face, taking a deep, unneeded breath. “I am very aware of just how precarious the situation is, okay? But I don’t want to kill him unless we have to.”

It was strange, actually, how very much he didn’t want to kill the witch. If his position was reversed with Lucy or Sal, he’d be questioning if Evan had somehow cast a spell on them. But his instincts were screaming at him. Screaming. He had to listen.

“Tommy,” Lucy said softly, and when he looked at her face in the mirror, she was biting her lip, a worried frown wrinkling her forehead.

Without a word, he reached forward and laid a hand on her shoulder. Blindly, she grabbed it, rubbing her cheek against his knuckles. Lucy was not his turn. He hadn’t made her. But the one who had had completely abandoned her to her new life, cutting her loose only days after she’d risen. Tommy had been the one who found her, half-feral and on the verge of being declared for extermination by the local covens. He’d been the one who helped her regain her control, herself. He hadn’t made her, but neither of them really made that distinction anymore.

“Luce, do you trust me?” he asked softly.

“You know I do. More than anyone.”

“Then trust me. I’ll figure this out.”

Lucy swallowed convulsively but gave a sharp nod. She squeezed his hand one more time, and then let it go to concentrate on driving. They spent the rest of the drive in silence, until Lucy eventually guided the SUV into the underground parking garage of the apartment building Alonzo had acquired as a coven safehouse a few years ago. They’d gone to great pains to bury its ownership under multiple shell companies and shadow investors, and even occasionally rented out units in it to preserve the fiction. At the moment, it was completely empty.

The perfect place to bring what was essentially a ticking timebomb. It wasn’t like Tommy didn’t have the funds to buy the coven a hundred more apartment buildings if this went badly and Evan ended up burning the place to the ground. The witch was still deeply unconscious, but a little bit of color had come back to his face as Tommy gathered him up again and slid out of the backseat. His breathing and heartbeat were steady enough that Tommy wasn’t worried.

Lucy insisted on following him up to one of the loft apartments they kept furnished with the basics, dithering by the door while Tommy carried Evan up to the second floor and laid him down on the bed far more gently than was strictly necessary. He hesitated briefly, then mentally threw up his hands and made quick work of removing the witch’s shoes and belt. He searched briefly through his pockets, just to remove anything that might be uncomfortable to lie on, and came up with only his wallet and a pack of gum. He debated only a few seconds before flipping the wallet open, his eyebrow climbing when the driver’s license in the first plastic sleeve read EVAN DANIELS. That was weird…the kid had said his last name was Buckley when Tommy questioned him back at the mansion.

“Hey, Sal just texted! The keys matched an old Jeep in the staff parking area…what do you want him to do with it?” Lucy called up the stairs, breaking him out of his thoughts. He looked down at Evan again and closed the wallet, setting it down on the nightstand in easy reach.

“Have him bring it here,” he called back.

“Oh, so Sal gets to stay?” Lucy grumbled but didn’t try to argue further. Tommy rested his hands on his hips, drumming his fingers on his belt as he tried to think ahead for perhaps the first time tonight.

“Hey, Josh still does a lot of hacking doesn’t he?” he asked, going to the top of the stairs and looking down at Lucy. She looked up from her phone, a distinctly unimpressed look on her face.

“His literal job for Alonzo is erasing the coven’s digital footprint and keeping our finances straight, so, uh, yeah.”

“Think he could find out some coven information discreetly?”

Lucy’s eyes narrowed. “I’m guessing we’re talking witch covens, not vampire. Ugh. I can ask…but if he thinks we’d trigger something, he’s not doing it.”

“No, yeah, no, that’s fair. Just…see if he can find out anything about an Evan Buckley.”

“That’s not a very unique name—do you have any other details, or are we just looking for what we can dig up in LA?”

Tommy thought back to the strange…vision or dream or whatever. “No, no he can’t be from California.”

Lucy’s glare turned disbelieving. “You want Josh to go fishing through coven records for a name like Buckley and the only geographical distinction is ‘not California’?”

Okay, when she said it like that…

“I think…I think he was banished,” Tommy admitted after a moment. “Probably a few years ago.”

“Banished,” Lucy repeated slowly. “A few years ago? But you said he was casting spells?”

“I know. I—I might be wrong. But there’s something weird going on here.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Lucy muttered darkly. “Fine. Evan Buckley, banished from anywhere in the United States except California…you do think he’s American, right?”

“I mean, if he’s not he does a really decent accent,” Tommy said with a shrug.

“You’re giving me ulcers, Kinard!”

He smirked at her, spreading his hands in a placating gesture. “They’ll heal. Now get out of here. See what Josh can find, if anything, and text me later.”

At that, the irritation melted off Lucy’s face, and she stabbed a finger towards him, her expression deadly serious. “Stay safe, okay?”

“You know me Luce. I’m hard to kill.”

She didn’t look entirely convinced, but she nodded, and turned to leave. Tommy watched the door close and the deadbolt engage with a solid thunk, and then he was alone. With a witch. Who he had bitten without permission and kidnapped, and who had already demonstrated a complete willingness to try and kill him. And who he absolutely was not going to be able to let go when he woke up, regardless of whether or not he particularly wanted to.

Right. What could possibly go wrong?

[killerandhealerqueen]

Hiii are you maybe still taking prompts? Wanted to know if you could write something about SCI hahah

Was thinking about BYT and ZY getting into a car accident of some sort. BYT gets away lightly but ZY is more injured. Bonus if they were arguing before it happens heh

Hello anon! My ask box is always open for prompts! And I haven't done an S.C.I. prompt in a hot minute so I'm down! Also owww...I've never done a prompt like this so we shall see what happens! (It'll be a happy ending, of course but oh my god, is it going to hurt)

‘It’s all my fault’.  That’s all Bai Yutong could keep repeating in his head over and over as he sat outside in the waiting room of the hospital, a steri-strip taped just above his eyebrow while bruises and other scrapes adorned his arms and hands.  He then placed his head in his hands and let out a heavy sigh; God, it was all his fault. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

It had been a rather normal day in the S.C.I. department, what with Wang Shao and Zhao Fu bickering over Wang Shao’s snacks, Bai Chi doing his best to stop their bickering, and Ma Han and Jiang Ling side-eying them from their desks.  Meanwhile, Bai Yutong and Zhan Yao were in Bai Yutong’s office, Bai Yutong working on paperwork while Zhan Yao sat across from him grading papers from his class that he taught at the local university.  As they were working, the door to the office opened and Bai Chi popped his head in.

         “Bai Sir, Dr. Zhan.  Sorry to disturb you, but we got a case” he stated.  Both Bai Yutong and Zhan Yao looked up at him before they nodded and put down their pens, pushing themselves to their feet before they headed out of the office and into the bullpen to listen to the case they had received. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

After getting briefed on the case, which was a case where an entire family was murdered, the youngest being only six weeks old, Bai Yutong, Zhan Yao, and the other headed out of the office, Bai Yutong and Zhan Yao getting into Bai Yutong’s car before they sped off towards the scene. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

As they headed towards the scene, Bai Yutong looked over at Zhan Yao.

         “Are you going to be able to handle this case?” he asked.  Zhan Yao frowned.

         “Why wouldn’t I be?” he replied.  Bai Yutong huffed.

         “Because I know how you get when we get cases that involve children” he explained.  Zhan Yao rolled his eyes.

         “I’ll be fine.  I’ll take breaks if I have to” he assured, only for Bai Yutong to frown.

         “Are you sure?  You could always sit this one out” he offered.  Zhan Yao huffed.

         “If I sat out every single case that involved children, I might as well quit my job” he snapped, making Bai Yutong give him a look.

         “Cat—” he started.

         “No, Bai Yutong!” Zhan Yao shouted, causing Bai Yutong to look at him in shock as he huffed.

         “When I became a cop, I knew I was going to see some horrific things.  I knew that.  If I thought I couldn’t handle it, I would have stayed an academic” he spat.  Bai Yutong was quiet before he huffed softly.

         “You should have stayed an academic” he murmured, making Zhan Yao look over at him with wide eyes.

         “What did you say?!” he exclaimed.  Bai Yutong tsked.

         “You heard me” he replied.  Zhan Yao growled.

         “No, no, say it again.  Say it to my face.  What did you say?” he demanded.  Bai Yutong huffed.

         “I said you should have stayed an academic!  You shouldn’t have gone to the academy!  You should have just moved to America like your dad wanted!  You would have been safer there!” he exclaimed.  Zhan Yao’s eyes widened before he shook his head.

         “Don’t treat me like some fragile piece of glass, Bai Yutong!” he shouted.  Bai Yutong huffed.

         “But you are!  You can’t shoot a gun, you’re susceptible to hypnotism, your stamina is absolutely shit, you can’t fucking remember to eat or sleep 95% of the god damn time unless I remind you…the only thing that’s going for you is your high intelligence!” he snapped.  At his words, Zhan Yao looked at him with wide eyes as if he had been slapped before he shook himself out of it and scoffed.

         “Well if it hadn’t been for my intelligence, half of our cases wouldn’t have gotten solved!  Without me, S.C.I. is NOTHING!” he roared, making Bai Yutong bark out a laugh as they began to speed through an intersection.

         “Oh give me a break.  We can do just fine without you” he assured.  Zhan Yao scoffed.

         “You wouldn’t last a day without me” he sneered.

         “That’s a lie” Bai Yutong retorted, making Zhan Yao raise an eyebrow.

         “Is it?” he asked.  However, before Bai Yutong could answer, a truck suddenly slammed into Zhan Yao’s side, causing both Zhan Yao and Bai Yutong to cry out as the car skidded across the pavement before it suddenly flipped and rolled a few times before it came to a stop on its hood, leaving Zhan Yao and Bai Yutong suspended.  As they hung there, thankfully still strapped to their seats, Bai Yutong let out a soft groan and slowly opened his eyes before he looked over to see Zhan Yao limp in his seat, his hair matted to his head as blood dripped down his face.

         “C-Cat?” he called out.  When Zhan Yao didn’t answer, Bai Yutong frowned before he reached out and took his hand, giving it a week squeeze.

         “Zhan Yao” he called again.  However, Zhan Yao still didn’t respond, causing Bai Yutong’s heart to drop to his stomach.

         “Zhan Yao.  Zhan Yao, please” he pleaded, but Zhan Yao didn’t answer.

         ‘Shit…I need to get us out of here’ Bai Yutong thought to himself before he released Zhan Yao’s hand and turned off the car before he unbuckled himself, making sure to protect himself with his arms on the way down so that he didn’t get any glass on his face (and boy was he grateful that he decided to wear his white leather jacket that day).  Once he was safely out of his seat, he looked over at Zhan Yao and reached out, carefully placing two fingers to his pulse point.  Thankfully, he could feel a pulse, but it was weak, causing him to take a shuddering breath.

         “Hang on, Cat.  I’ll get you out of here” he promised before he pulled his hand away and turned his attention to his car window, slowly beginning to crawl out feet first.  As he crawled out of the car, he hissed every now and then as the glass pierced his hands but he could worry about himself later; right now he had to get Zhan Yao out.  Once he was safely out of the car, he ran around to Zhan Yao’s side of the car and crawled inside, carefully placing himself directly under Zhan Yao before he reached up and cupped the back of his neck, making sure to support it before he unbuckled his belt, Zhan Yao all but dropping like dead weight onto him.  Once he was safely out of his seat, Bai Yutong carefully shimmied himself out of the car, still holding Zhan Yao protectively, just as fire and rescue arrived on scene, a few firefighters running over to them.

         “Sir!  Sir, are you alright?” one firefighter asked.  Bai Yutong glanced up at them before he nodded. 

         “I’m fine” he assured before he motioned to Zhan Yao.

         “But my partner…my partner’s hurt.  He’s bleeding” he stated.  The firefighters nodded before one of them knelt before him and held out his arms.

         “I’ll take him, sir” he stated.  Bai Yutong looked at him, then down at Zhan Yao, who was still limp in his arms, before he carefully handed Zhan Yao off to him, the firefighter taking Zhan Yao in his arms before he rushed over to the EMTs, who had taken the gurney out of the ambulance.  While they were working on Zhan Yao, the other firefighter who had run over to Bai Yutong held out his hand.

         “Sir, you need to get looked at as well” he stated, only for Bai Yutong to shake his head.

         “No, I’m fine—” he started when the firefighter gave him a look.

         “Sir, you were just in a terrible car accident, we need to take you to the hospital to make sure nothing is broken and that you don’t have a concussion or have internal bleeding” he explained.  Bai Yutong was quiet before he sighed and reached out, allowing the firefighter to help him to his feet and guide him over to the ambulance before he carefully climbed inside and sat on the bench beside the gurney Zhan Yao was strapped to.  Once they were both inside, the firefighters closed the door and as soon as the doors were closed, the ambulance took off, speeding towards the hospital while the firefighters and the police officers remained behind to process the scene. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

As they sped towards the hospital, Bai Yutong watched as the EMTs worked on Zhan Yao, making sure that his heartrate was steady and that he was still breathing while also checking to see if anything else was broken.  While they were checking him out, Bai Yutong slowly reached out and took Zhan Yao’s hand, giving it a gentle yet firm squeeze.

         ‘You’re gonna be fine, Cat.  You’re gonna be fine’ he assured, even though it sounded more like he was reassuring himself more than anything.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Once they arrived at the hospital, Zhan Yao was quickly taken out of the ambulance and rushed to the ER while Bai Yutong slowly exited the ambulance and followed behind, almost in a daze, until a nurse walked over to him and gently grasped his arm.

         “Sir, let’s get you checked out as well” she suggested.  Bai Yutong glanced over at her before he nodded weakly and allowed her to guide him over to a room to get checked out, all the while keeping his eyes on the hallway that Zhan Yao had been rushed down.

~*~*~*~*~*~

After he had been checked out and deemed “okay” (as in nothing was broken or bleeding and he was conscious), Bai Yutong headed to the waiting room and all but plopped down into one of the chairs, letting out a shuddering breath as he placed his head in his hands.  It was all his fault.  It was all his fucking fault.  He shouldn’t have fucking said anything about the case or about how Zhan Yao should have sat it out or about how Zhan Yao should have stayed an academic and gone to America…He shouldn’t have fucking said anything.  Because the last words he said to Zhan Yao before they were hit…was that they would be just fine without him.  Which was a god damn fucking lie.  It was a god damn lie.  Bai Yutong was not fine without him…and he never would be.  Because they were a pair.  They were each other’s other half.  They were soulmates.  There was no Bai Yutong without Zhan Yao.  Where one went, the other followed.  And to think that he had the audacity to say that he didn’t need Zhan Yao and that he would be fine without him?  God should have struck him dead.  He should have been the one who got t-boned, not Zhan Yao.  Zhan Yao didn’t deserve that, but he definitely did.  As he sat there, wallowing in self-hatred, Gongsun, who sometimes took shifts at the hospital, walked over and stood before him.

         “Bai Sir” he called out, making Bai Yutong look up at him with wide eyes before he shot to his feet.

         “Gongsun” he breathed before he took a deep breath.

         “How is he?” he asked.  Gongsun sighed.

         “He’s currently unconscious” he answered.  Bai Yutong frowned.

         “And his injuries?” he asked. 

         “He sustained a head wound and a broken arm on impact, along with some lacerations to the face from the glass as it entered the car when the other vehicle crashed into you” Gongsun replied.  Bai Yutong was quiet before he took a shuddering breath.

         “But is he…okay?  Will he…live?” he whispered.  Gongsun sighed.

         “He’s currently in critical condition, so I can’t answer that right now.  But have a little faith, Bai Sir.  Dr. Zhan is strong” he assured.  Bai Yutong nodded weakly before he looked at him.

         “Can I see him?” he requested.  Gongsun shook his head.

         “Not at this time.  If his condition improves and he regains consciousness, then we can allow you to see him” he stated.  Bai Yutong nodded again before he turned and walked back over to his seat, making Gongsun frown.

         “Bai Sir…you should go home.  Get some rest” he suggested, only for Bai Yutong to shake his head.

         “I’m not leaving” he declared.  Gongsun made a face before he sighed heavily and turned, heading down the hallway; he knew better than to try and talk reason into Bai Yutong when Zhan Yao was involved.  After he left, Bai Yutong continued to sit in the waiting room, just as the other members of S.C.I. came running over to him.

         “Bai Sir!” they exclaimed, making Bai Yutong glance at them as they surrounded him.

         “We heard what happened!  Are you and Dr. Zhan okay?” Zhao Fu asked.  Bai Yutong sighed.

         “I’m fine…Zhan Yao’s unconscious and in critical condition” he answered, making everyone gasp before Ma Han looked at him.

         “What do you want us to do?” she asked.  Bai Yutong was quiet for a moment before he slowly lifted his head and looked at them.

         “Figure out who’s in charge of this case and take it from them.  Then figure out who hit us.  They weren’t at the scene, so that makes it a hit and run” he declared.  The S.C.I. members nodded and turned to leave when Bai Chi paused and looked at him.

         “Sir…shouldn’t you go home?” he asked.  Bai Yutong shot him a glare.

         “Shouldn’t you be out trying to figure out who hit us?” he hissed.  Bai Chi flinched before he nodded.

      ��  “Yes sir” he replied before he and the others rushed off, Bai Yutong sighing heavily before he placed his head back in his hands.  He wasn’t leaving.

~*~*~*~*~*~

A little while later, Bao Sir came to visit and the minute he saw Bai Yutong sitting there with his head in his hands, he sighed softly before he quietly walked over and sat beside him.  Neither man said anything for a while before Bao Sir cleared his throat.

         “Take as much time as you need” he instructed, making Bai Yutong lift his head out of his hands and look at him before he dipped his head.

         “Thank you, sir” he thanked.  Bao Sir nodded before he pushed himself to his feet and walked away, not even bothering to suggest that Bai Yutong go home and leave Zhan Yao because he knew that Bai Yutong wouldn’t.  When it came to Zhan Yao…all other priorities were thrown straight out the window.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Over the next couple of days, Bai Yutong practically lived at the hospital, refusing to move from his seat in the waiting room until one day, his older sister Bai Qingtang walked over to him and grabbed him by the arm.

         “Get up” she ordered, only for Bai Yutong to shake his head.

         “I’m not leaving” he replied, making Bai Qingtang tsk.

         “Yes, you are” she declared before she released his arm and snapped her fingers, Da Ding and Xiao Ding quickly walking over before they all but yanked Bai Yutong out of his seat, much to his annoyance.

         “Jie, let go of me.  I’m not leaving Zhan Yao” he snapped, just as Bai Qingtang gave him a look.

         “Yes, you are.  There’s no point of you just sitting here waiting for something to happen.  You need to take care of yourself too, baby brother.  Because it’s not fair that only one of you is trying to get better.  Remember, when Zhan Yao recovers and gets out of the hospital…you need to be there for him.  And you can’t do that if you end up in the hospital yourself.  Got it?” she demanded.  Bai Yutong looked at her before he nodded.

         “Yes jie” he murmured.  Bai Qingtang nodded.

         “Good” she agreed before she turned and began walking through the hallways of the hospital, Bai Yutong, Xiao Ding, and Da Ding following behind her.

         “But…what about Zhan Yao—” Bai Yutong started.

         “Don’t worry, Yutong, I’ve instructed Gongsun to call me the minute Xiao Yao’s condition improves” Bai Qingtang assured, causing Bai Yutong to frown.

         “Why you?” he demanded.  Bai Qingtang glanced over at him and smirked.

         “Because I still have a car” she replied.  Bai Yutong narrowed his eyes.

         “Not funny, jie” he snapped.  Bai Qingtang smiled sadly.

         “Sorry, too soon” she apologized, Bai Yutong humming in reply as they continued out of the hospital.

~*~*~*~*~*~

After finally going home and showering and getting a good night’s rest, Bai Yutong decided that he was just going to…stay home.  Bao Sir had said it was fine anyways and to take as much time as he needed so…he was going to take that time and just sort of…spiral.  Which, you know, wasn’t exactly healthy but he knew that if he went to work, the others would just give him sad looks of pity when they thought he wasn’t looking or he would want to talk to Zhan Yao about something only to go into his office and find it empty, reminding him that he wasn’t in his office but in the hospital.  And Bai Yutong didn’t need any reminders…his brain already reminded him enough with the nightmares every night.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Then one night, after another nightmare tore him out of his sleep with a loud gasp, Bai Yutong let out a low groan and flopped back onto his bed, throwing an arm over his eyes.

         ‘Stupid brain’ he grumbled before he let out a heavy sigh.  He wasn’t much of a prayer, as he and Zhan Yao both believed in science and didn’t believe in the supernatural, but…if there was something or someone out there…who could make or help Zhan Yao get better…then a simple…pleading prayer couldn’t hurt…right?

         “If you’re…out there…and you’re listening…please…please let Zhan Yao wake up.  Please.  I can’t…lose him” he whispered.

~*~*~*~*~*~

A few days later, after he had prayed his pleading prayer, Bai Yutong was sitting on his couch, watching TV when there was a loud knock on his door, making him look over at it before he pushed himself to his feet and walked over to it, opening it to find Bai Qingtang standing outside.

         “Jie?” he greeted.  Bai Qingtang looked at him.

         “He’s awake” she replied.  At the news, Bai Yutong’s eyes widened and before Bai Qingtang could say anymore, he turned and rushed to his bedroom, quickly changing out of his pajamas and into a clean outfit before he rushed back over to her and motioned her away from the door.

         “What are we waiting for, let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” he exclaimed.

~*~*~*~*~*~

When they arrived at the hospital, Bai Yutong all but ran to Zhan Yao’s room, bursting through the door before he rushed over to Zhan Yao’s bed, Zhan Yao looking at him sleepily.

         “Mouse” he murmured.

         “Cat” Bai Yutong breathed, staring at him in awe before he walked around to the other side of the bed and reached out, gently taking his right hand in his, as his left arm was in a cast.

         “I’m sorry.  I’m sorry, Cat.  It’s my fault” he apologized.  Zhan Yao frowned.

         “What is?” he asked.  Bai Yutong sighed.

         “The accident.  You getting hurt.  It’s my fault” he answered.  Zhan Yao shook his head weakly.

         “You didn’t know that the car was going to crash into us like that.  How could you predict that?” he asked.  Bai Yutong huffed.

         “I was the one who was driving, I should have seen it” he grumbled.  Zhan Yao shook his head again.

         “Even if you had seen it in time, it would have been too late.  It’s not your fault, Yutong” he assured.  Bai Yutong was quiet before he let out a shuddering breath.

         “I’m the one who should be lying here, not you” he whispered.  At that statement, Zhan Yao’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth to argue when Bai Yutong looked at him.

         “You were right, you know.  When you told me that we wouldn’t last a day without you.  You were right.  We wouldn’t last a day.  I wouldn’t last a day…hell, maybe not even an hour” he stated before he took a deep breath.

         “I’m sorry.  I’m sorry for saying all of those horrible things and for saying that I don’t need you…because I do.  I do need you, Zhan Yao.  I need you and want you by my side, always.  I don’t want you to go anywhere.  You’re my other half, Zhan Yao.  And I can’t lose you” he confessed.  At his confession, Zhan Yao’s eyes widened again before tears began to pool in them and he let out a shuddering breath. 

         “I can’t lose you either” he whispered before he looked at him and laughed weakly.

         “I heard you, you know.  In the car.  After we rolled and came to a stop.  I heard you…calling me.  I felt your hand squeezing mine.  I wanted to reply, to squeeze your hand back but…I couldn’t.  It was dark.  And I…I was scared.  I was scared I wasn’t going to wake up…or see you again” he admitted, causing Bai Yutong to smile tearily before he gave his hand a squeeze.

         “But you’re here now.  And I’m not going anywhere” he promised.  Zhan Yao frowned.

         “But what about work?  Or the person who hit us?” he asked.  Bai Yutong shook his head.

         “Don’t worry about work or about the hit and run, the team can take care of it and themselves.  Right now, you need to focus on getting better” he stated before he smiled.

         “And Bao Sir said to take as much time as I needed before I came back so there’s no rush” he added.  Zhan Yao shook his head in disbelief.

         “You’re doing all this for me?” he whispered.  Bai Yutong gave him a fond look.

         “I’d do anything for you, Zhan Yao” he replied.  Zhan Yao was quiet before he nodded, Bai Yutong smiling in reply before he gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

         “Get some rest.  I’ll be right here when you wake up” he assured.  Zhan Yao nodded again before he shut his eyes and began breathing deeply, soon slipping off to sleep.  As he slept, Bai Yutong watched his chest rise and fall for a while, just taking him all in, before he quietly sat down in the chair beside his bed and gave his hand another squeeze.

         ‘I’m not going anywhere, Cat.  Not now…not ever’.

[ravagedarkness]

Spider-Man: Home Rebuilt, Chapter 11: No Magic

People started to file out of the building. Betty and I decided to wait a little bit until the initial group of people made their exit. We then made our way out. As we navigated through the building, Betty looked at me and frowned.

“Still want the job?” she asked. She was visibly upset about the whole thing, and I didn’t blame her. All I could do was shrug, not trusting my tongue at the moment. Anger and worry was coursing through my mind. I just wanted to go home and sleep the rest of the night off. Well, maybe just a nap – I still had to patrol tonight.

Fortunately, by the time we exited the building, Kitty was outside with her car, waiting for us. Other than a quick exchange of greetings, we didn’t say anything as we moved into the car. I let Betty have shotgun as I sat in the back. After Kitty got Betty’s address, she drove off. The ride was silent for a few minutes.

“…So... how was the press conference?” Kitty asked, breaking the silence.

“Oh, it was great,” Betty replied sarcastically. “I always wanted to find out my boss is willing to work with an ex-con just to try and take down Spider-Man.”

“Is that right?” I looked up at the rearview mirror to see Kitty giving me a look. In response, I shook my head.

“Yeah, Justin Hammer is back, and he’s somehow the head of Hammer Industries again,” I replied. “And he gave Spider-Man, you, and Craig an ultimatum. If you guys don’t submit to The Accords or just quit being vigilantes in three days, he’ll send his ‘scorpion’ after you – whatever that means.”

“Sounds like it’s going to be a good time,” Kitty commented dryly.

The car ride went quiet again until Kitty arrived outside of the building Betty lived in.

“I guess I’ll see you around Peter,” Betty said dejectedly. “…I’m sorry, I just…”

“I know,” I said reassuringly. “I know.”

Betty looked over her shoulder at me and nodded. “Good luck with your hangout with MJ tomorrow. You guys have a good night.”

“You, too, Betty,” Kitty replied as I nodded.

Betty exited the car, making sure to close the door behind her. Kitty watched her until she entered the building. She then looked at me from the rearview mirror. “So yeah, I’m not your limo driver, so I’m going to need you to get in the front seat,” she said.

“Yeah, of course.” I stepped out of the car and closed the door behind me before I stepped into the front passenger seat. After I closed the door and put my seatbelt on, Kitty drove off. “So, Scott said you’d be there. How’d you feel about the press conference?”

“I didn’t appreciate being a called a sidekick and a kitten,” she quipped as she grimaced. “Got to say, though, Justin Hammer actually sounded a bit believable, since he kept it short and didn’t spend half the time sucking his own dick like he usually does.”

“…You really don’t like being called ‘kitten’ do you?” I asked with a nervous laugh.

“The only people who can call me ‘kitten’ are my folks and the guy I’m dating, and last time I checked, he’s not my father and I’m single. But enough about me – how are you holding up?”

“I’m angry and worried at the same time,” I admitted. “I was angry since this guy even mentioned Mr. Stark’s name, and as much as I want to brush him off as all talk… well, we all remember what led to the Whiplash incident. So whatever this scorpion thing is, it might be a major threat to us in three days.”

“Whatever it is, we’ll handle it,” Kitty said calmly. “Hammer tech isn’t exactly known for their quality control.”

“Yeah, but even a blind squirrel can find a nut every now and again, and I really don’t want Justin to find that nut – especially if it puts you, Craig, and Scott in danger.”

Kitty sighed. “I’m touched you care so much, but the three of us handled major threats before, and I’m sure we’ll be able to take on whatever Hammer throws at us. You don’t have to worry about us.”

“I can’t help it.” I went silent for a moment. “I know this may sound weird but …I grown attached to you guys. Other than Mr. Stark, I never really grew close with anyone who was in the hero life. And you guys accepted me. So…”

“It’s not weird,” Kitty assured. “Peter, Craig meant it when he said it. You’re one of us. So, we’ve grown attached to you, too. All I ask is that you trust us. Whatever happens, we’ll have your back. Just don’t cast another spell to erase our memories if things get tough, okay?” I cringed. Kitty looked at me. “Still too son?”

“A little bit,” I replied. “But not undeserved.” I smiled. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. So, about that date with MJ.”

I suddenly looked at her. “It’s not a date,” I corrected a little bit too quickly. “We’re just… hanging out.”

“And doing what?” Kitty questioned. She was not buying that it wasn’t a date.

“Well… I don’t know yet. I, uh…” I cleared my throat. “I didn’t think that far.”

“So, you two are hanging out with nothing planned. You guys are just going to wing it. No Ned, no Betty, no Craig, no me, just you and MJ just seeing what the night has in store for you. Am I hearing that right?”

“Yes,” I confirmed.

“Sweetheart, that’s a date.”

“It’s not a date,” I insisted. “It’s…” I paused as I look out the window. “…It’s two friends that are spending quality time together. It’s no different from you and Craig.”

At that, Kitty scoffed. “Peter, I never had any type of romantic feelings for Craig, and while Craig had a brief crush on me years ago, we’re more like siblings and work spouses. But you still harbor feelings for MJ. And I’m pretty sure she likes you, too. So, no matter how you want to phrase it, it’s a date.” I couldn’t respond to that. I took in a deep breath to try, then huffed it out in defeat.

“I’m taking the loss on this one, huh?”

“Like a New York Jet,” she said. I cringed again. She knew I was a Jets fan, so that one hit hard. “I know what I’m about to say sounds like common sense, but remember to wear clean clothes that look good, brush your teeth before you go out, bring money for food for the both of you. And keep the Spidey suit at home. Let us handle things tomorrow night.”

“Yes, mom,” I grumbled halfheartedly.

Kitty chuckled as she made a turn. “That’s Big Sister Kitty to you.”

When Kitty dropped me off at my building, I told her I’d see her later before I made my way in and went up the stairs – the elevator was busted again. I knew there was a good chance I’d see Kitty, as well as Craig, when I went on patrol tonight. Once I got home, I texted Betty for Robbie’s e-mail address. Once I got it, I went about uploading the pictures I took from my camera’s flashcard to my computer, then to my Google Drive. Once that was done, I e-mailed the drive link to Robbie.

With that business out of the way, I went through my clothes, trying to put together an outfit for tomorrow. It took me a while, but I finally decided on an outfit – a black t-shirt under a black and white plaid collared button-up, black jeans, a pair of white sneakers that I only wore on special occasions, and a black parka that used to belong to Tony Stark. With my outfit chosen, I hung them aside in my closet before I grabbed my GED book and took some time to study subjects I was sure I knew like the back of my hand. After two hours of that, I grabbed my suit and got ready for patrol.

The next day went as normal, for the most part. Right before I went to school, I received an e-mail from Robbie with four words.

“Welcome to the circus.”

I smiled wryly before I responded with a thank you.

After that, the whole day was a blur. Class was a bit a hard for me to focus on, but I managed to pay attention. Once class was over, I made my exit, but not before Scott briefly stopped me as he started erasing the board.

“Peter,” Scott said.

“Yes, Mr. Summers?” I replied as I stopped in my tracks.

“Just be yourself tonight.”

It took me a moment to realize what he was saying. I smiled and nodded before I walked out.

I texted MJ, telling her I wouldn’t be there for my usual before asking what time she got off work. She told me that she closed at 7:00. I was happy – that meant I had time to freshen up before I changed. So, when I got home, I showered, combed my hair, and did all of the necessary stuff before I changed into the outfit I set aside. I then made my way over to Peter Pan about ten minutes early.

I walked in and walked up to the counter. MJ wasn’t there – I figured she was doing something in the back. However, on top of the counter was a plain donut along with a cup of coffee. Scribbled on the cup was the word “Loser”. My mouth went a little ajar, a bit surprised to see those things there. I wondered if MJ set those aside for me.

“I set those aside for you,” MJ said. I looked up at her as she walked up to me.

Well, mystery solved.

I was still a bit surprised at the gesture. “I… You didn’t have to…” I closed my mouth. I took in a quick breath to regain my composure. I then smiled. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Peter Parker.”

“Should I take it to go, or…?”

MJ gave me a deadpan look. “Peter, I’m still in my work uniform. I’m not hanging out in clothes I worked all day in. And even with that aside, I don’t find this outfit flattering. Turquoise green and pastel pink are not my colors.”

“I don’t think you look bad in those colors,” I blurted out without thinking. I was about to regret it.

“Is that so?” MJ replied. She leaned forward with an accusatory look. “Do you think about me in my work clothes a lot?”

Had anyone else been in the room, it would have been very obvious that I was being baited. And maybe – just may be – I would have been saved from embarrassing myself. But there was no one else. It was just me and the one woman in the world that can break through my composure with no difficulty. So, of course, I became a stuttering mess.

“I-I-I don’t know w-what you mean,” I sputtered out. “I-I d-don’t get th-those kind of thoughts about – ”

“Oh you don’t? I don’t think that’s true. You know what I think? I think you find me sexy in my work clothes.” She leaned a bit closer. “I think you asked me what time I get off so you could be alone with me in the shop. I bet you thought about getting freaky with me on top of the counter while music plays from the jukebox haven’t you?” My mouth went ajar, and I was sure my face was pink and my ears were red. Finally, MJ smirked and shook her head. “You know, I almost feel bad for messing with you like this. Almost.” She straightened herself up before she turned around and walked to the back. “I’m going to get changed. Enjoy your coffee and donut in the meantime.” I watched her as she walked away. I then picked up the donut and bit into it, trying to ignore both the visual that MJ painted in my head and how much I actually found that visual to be rather appealing.

Fact of the matter was, before The Spell and when MJ and I were together, we never really talked to each other about sex, let alone engage in it. MJ would tease me just to get a reaction out of me. But, we never did anything outside of first base – just a heavy make out session during our more needy days. Come to think of it, I never even saw MJ in her underwear. She has seen me in mine, and even then, it was only times when she was around me when I was quickly changing into our out of my suit.

With all that said, though? I’d be a huge liar if I said I never had those kinds of thoughts about her.

As I waited, I drunk my coffee and ate my donut at a steady pace in peace. By the time I was done, MJ came back out. She lifted up the bar flap and walked through the opening. As she lowered the bar flap, I got a good look at her. I knew that outfit well – her black jean pants that matched her favorite pair of Converses, her jean jacket that went over her Midtown High hoodie. It wasn’t a special outfit and yet…

“Staring kind of hard there, don’t you think?” MJ said, taking me out of my thoughts.

“Sorry, I was lost in thought,” I apologized.

She tilted her head. “What were you thinking about?”

“I was thinking…” I trailed off a bit. “…I was thinking that you look really pretty.” Internally, I cringed, not sure how she would take that.

She raised an eyebrow and grimaced. “Therefore I have value?”

I have been in this situation before. One would think I wouldn’t fall for it a second time. One would think I’d have the wherewithal to at least try and come up with a witty comeback.

One would be wrong.

I immediately started backpedaling. “N-n-n-no, I d-didn’t mean it l-like…”

“I’m just messing with you,” MJ interjected gently with a tone of amusement. I took in a breath, trying to hide my embarrassment… and failing. “You look pretty, too.” At that moment, I forgot about my embarrassment. But I still blushed at the compliment.

“Thank you,” I said in earnest. MJ froze for a bit as her face became a bit distant. I tilted my head in worry. “Are you okay, Em?”

She blinked a couple of times. “Yeah… yeah, I’m okay.” She paused for a moment. “It’s just that… I had a moment of déjà vu. Like… we had this same kind of exchange before.” She shook her head and focused back on me. “Crazy, huh?”

For a moment – just a moment – I was given a bit of optimism. Maybe this was a sign that MJ’s memories from before The Spell wasn’t completely erased. I figured that maybe I could go to Dr. Strange and…

“It happens,” I said quietly.

No, I couldn’t. I couldn’t see Dr. Strange about this. Trying to solve an issue with magic was the reason the woman I love is standing across from me without memories of the times we shared. It was the reason Ned didn’t remember we were best buds, if not brothers. It was the reason Betty didn’t know we had a bit of a friendship before.

It was also the reason Aunt May…

It was at this point I got the familiar sensation of unraveling in my chest.

No, I couldn’t think about her here.

I took in a deep breath and stood up, not wanting to scare MJ with another near-breakdown. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah, just got to hit the lights and lock up on the way out,” MJ replied.

I nodded before I beckoned her to lead the way out. She scoffed and rolled her eyes, but obliged me anyway.

[bump1nthen1ght]

Late Night Favor (Shadow Monster x Reader)

Genre: Fluff, Urban Fantasy

Warnings: Explicit content up ahead (18+ ONLY), Oral, Fingering

Word Count: 4000 Words

Summary: A couple of small good deeds leaves you with a late night visitor, looking to repay a debt.

Request: "You unknowingly rescue a shadow monster and bring it home with you, after a couple days of lurking in the shadows of your home and recuperating it shows you just how thankful it is." I had this idea forever ago but was never able to execute it. My opening idea was that a few kids are shining flashlights at something, tormenting it, and you swoop in to save it and chase the kids away. You thought they were hurting a cat or something, but find nothing and head home.

What do you think? Would you like to take it on? I'd be honored if you would 😊

A/N: *Throws this into the street to appease for the fact I haven’t updated Out of the Woods in THREE MONTHS IM SORRY*

It was the perfect weather for a lazy day inside. The pitter patter of the rain on your window had almost lulled you back to sleep during breakfast, and the thunder had provided great ambiance for reading. You hadn’t bothered changing out of your pajamas and we’re enjoying a soap opera binge on the coach when the peace was disturbed.

At first it was just the sound of clattering trash cans, not uncommon from the alley outside your window. But then it was followed by the raucous laughter of teenagers, rocks being thrown against the concrete, and a sharp hissing.

You hoist yourself up and off the couch, meandering toward the balcony, expecting to see a bunch of kids fucking around; Maybe using the cover of the fire escape to hide from the rain and smoke some weed.

Ah, memories.

But instead, you see a huddled group of boys pointing a flashlight into the pile of garbage right by the dumpster. One of them picks up a pebble and throws it into the light beam, causing another hiss and a jerk of movement. The boys laugh even louder, the one on the right nudging the one with the flashlight.

“Dude, do it again!”

Flashlight agrees, quickly moving the light into another corner as the one on the left throws a rock in the opposite direction. A shape of pitch black hisses again, deterred by the rock and scared by the brightness. Your brow furrows.

“Hey!”

The boys jump, looking in all directions.

“What are you three doing down there?” They finally look up at you, messy-haired and bleary-eyed. They shrug and ignore you, one even throwing another rock, bigger than before. There’s a sad yelp as it collides with the blackness.

You grit your teeth, grabbing your jacket off a nearby shelf and yell again.

“Fuck off! Leave the poor thing alone!”

They all laugh insufferably, the way most stuck up teenagers do.

“Or what?”

You shrug on your raincoat, picking up the baseball bat you keep strategically placed by your couch.

“Or I’ll come down and make you, jackass!”

You kick open your  fire escape, slippers already damp, and start marching down the staircases. The boys get the message and run away, still jeering and laughing. Seems you weren’t as intimidating as you’d like.

You shuffle down the fire escape, slowing down as you approach the poor creature. You lower your back and peak under the dumpster.

“It's okay, little guy, I won’t hurt ya.” You set down your bat and crouch, kissing your lips as you hold out your free hand. All you see is a hint of glowing eyes, nervously peering out, before the dark shape disappears completely, hidden by the shadow of the dumpster. You’re tempted to sit down and wait for it, hoping to check if the poor stray was injured, but the wet concrete looks unappealing. The bottom of your sweats are already drenched.

You stand up, sigh, and go back up the fire escape. You unlatch the dusty pet door on your sliding glass balcony and make sure to leave a hot thing of milk and some water just outside. You ponder going out to get cat food, but the well-timed weather report tells you to stay off the streets. Slumping back down on the couch, you keep on eye on your fire escape, hoping that whatever it was, it’s okay.

--------------

The next day is sunny, the rain clearing away any air pollution and leaving blue skies to shine down through your window, waking you up extra early. As you sit down with a cup of coffee, switching on the news before starting work, you notice the empty bowls on your balcony.

You set down the mug, walking over to the door and checking the bowls. Seems that little stray had needed the refreshment, as both were licked clean.

You refill them, making sure to add  cat food to your grocery list.

--------------

After a long day of work, you’re feeling particularly domestic and decide to bake some cookies. Your brain is sore after staring at a screen for eight hours straight, a simple task like this is the perfect thing to keep it from melting completely.

You open up your window, letting the cool night air into your kitchen as you check  on your baking cookies. Wiping flour off your pants, you turn on the radio and throw a glance to your living room.

You had set up a tiny blanket pallet right next to your pet door, the weatherman’s warning of another thunderstorm tonight having you worried for your stray. Hopefully a full belly of milk will convince them that your house is safe enough to find shelter in.

But the afternoon is beautiful, not too cold and not too hot, only the slight tang of metal in the air hinting to rain. With a ding from the oven, you take out the cookies and set them on a cooling tray on your window. The smell of cinnamon and sugar wafts over you as you take a sip of your tea, staring out into the city streets. Small puddles still speckle the pavement, catching the headlights of nearby cars and flashy billboards.

A quick sound, something hitting your balcony door, that jerks you out of your reverie. You set down your mug and slowly peek out from your kitchen, wondering if you should’ve grabbed  a kitchen knife. But it’s just your pet door, flapping back and forth in front of two, now empty, bowls. Aww, seems your stray took a step inside. Too bad you missed it.

The gurgle of your stomach convinces you to take a crack at the cookies. If they were too hot, you could just wash them down with a nice glass of milk anyway. Maybe even put on a sitcom while you snack.

You lightly tap the top cookie; Warm, but not unbearable. Steam rises as you break it open, blowing in the middle and taking a tiny bite.

Fuck, good job _____.

They’re perfectly done, just soft enough to melt in your mouth. You grab two more, holding them in between your fingers as you hold the other half in your mouth. Maybe you could bring the batch into work tomorrow, give your coworkers a nice surprise. That is if you didn't have 10 tonight. But 20 should be just enough-

Huh, that’s weird. There's only 19, including the one still dangling out of your mouth.

You could’ve sworn you baked 20.

Well whatever. Your coworkers can handle not coming back for seconds tomorrow.

--------------

“Ow! Fuck!”

You bite your lip, trying not to yell out more curse words as you rub your stubbed toe. You limp to your kitchen, fumbling for the light switch to avoid another incident. All you had wanted was a midnight sweet snack, was that so difficult? You’d thought you could navigate your apartment pretty easily in the dark, but the pain in your foot says otherwise.

The light flickers as you finally find the switch, reminding you that you’re going to need to change the bulb sometime soon. But that's a problem for another day; Right now, it’s cookie time.

You don’t bother pouring yourself a glass or getting a plate, devouring the treat in three bites and throwing back a quick swig of milk. It’s almost midnight, not like anyone’s watching-

Oh, wait.

You slowly close the fridge door, trying to make as little noise as possible so as not to wake the little stray curled up, asleep. The little ball of black was snuggled into the pallet, tossing and turning. A flash of lightning cracks outside your apartment, washing your living room with light. The ball jerks in shock, the thunder afterwards only frightening it more, forcing it to curl up even tighter.  

You take small and light steps towards the tiny bed, not wanting to approach the scared beast too quickly. The room is lit up again by another lightning strike and the little stray forces it’s body backwards and away from the window. You crouch down real low, the small bits of light helping your eyes adjust to the layout.

“How are you doing, little guy?” You whisper, mostly to yourself, tapping your fingers against your carpet. Part of you wants to pet it, but think it might be better not to. No need to startle it. “Is the lightning scary? You can come to my room if you want, I’ll protect ya.”

Midst the black, you see two little eyes, little blips of light that open with another flash of lightning. But they aren’t yellow, nor are they slitted, nor are they anything remotely animal.

They're like the headlights of a car, blinding white with no definition at all. Not even pupils. You're startled, eye’s widening as the creature lifts it’s head. A long smile runs across their face, full of razor sharp teeth.

“Oh my, that sounds delightful.” They purr, and you find yourself losing your footing and falling back on your ass. Your fingers dig into the carpet as their body slowly begins to unfurl out of a ball and stretch into a massive form, as if their whole size had been hidden away somewhere else; Like it had been literally in the shadows.

You scramble backwards, breath picking up as the creature stretches it’s long limbs, colorless eyes still locked onto you as it stands up and up. It rolls back its shoulders as it sits on its haunches, its form still towering over you even when crouched. You notice the shades of huge antlers sticking out from the side of their head, only adding to their intimidating height.

The creature still has that terrifying smile, all canines and no molars, it’s unblinking eyes still staring deep into your soul.

You’ve heard people do weird things in times of high stress, of strong emotions, good and bad. Like the wires in your brains get crossed when trying to find the right response.

“Uh, do you want a cookie?”

You think you get that now.

The creature chuckles, a soft timbre that echoes unnaturally.

“No, dearie, I have already indulged in your confections. You see,” They creature leans forward, falling to its knees to crawl towards you. If it weren’t for the overwhelming fear constricting your heart, you’d almost think it was seductive, “You’ve done so much for me these past days, I think it’d be only fair if I helped you indulge in a far-” The creature’s face looms over yours, their arms caging your sides as they lick their lips, “-sweeter treat, yes?”

Your eyes search their face, trying to find signs of trickery or malice, maybe even some demonic sense of humor.

As if I’d even know what that looks like.

“Are you-” You catch a breath, now noticing the fine musculature of their shoulders, and the definition of their arms, “Are you propositioning me, like, for sex?”

The creature laughs again, their eyes crinkling up as they throw their head back. But when they look back down at you, you can almost feel the lust radiating off their gaze, details be damned.

“Yes, lovely, I am.”

You take your eyes off their face, a little too overwhelmed to stare directly into their blistering expression. Not to mention the blinding light which has begun to put red spots into your vision.

Instead, your eyes fall upon their thick thighs, the small tail waving behind them, and how unnervingly sexy you find the way their claws are digging up your rug.

You slowly move your head, catching the creature’s eyes.

“I-uh-I guess? Yeah, yeah I guess that sounds good. Um, what was your name?”

The creature smirks, a single claw tipped finger tilting up your chin, as they whisper,

“Nocter.”

--------------

Well, this is definitely the weirdest way I’ve gotten someone into bed.

Nocter’s antlers brush against your stucco-ceiling as it pushes you down on the bed, their shining white eyes staring deep into yours. Their lack of pupils is almost unsettling, but when they run their claws down your chest and pinch your nipples, you find it hard to care. You bite your lip, fighting back an embarrassing whimper as they trace one finger around the bud, pebbling the skin.

“Aww, has it been a while, sweetling?” You roll your eyes, but let out another squeak as they flick their thumb across your other nipple, the palm of their hand pressing against your ribcage.

“M-maybe.” You mutter, digging your finger into your bed sheets as their hands dance across your skin. One pulls up the bottom of your pajama shirt as it nudges one of their legs in between your thighs, pushing their knee up against your crotch.

“Don’t worry,” They push the fabric up to your neck, laying a kiss on the center of your stomach, then your chest, and then your jugular. When they plant one on your jaw, they lean in real close, “I’ll make sure to treat you right.”

Nocter’s long tongue splays against your jaw, licking a stripe up your cheek as one of their hands moves from your chest to the waistband of your shorts. They slip a couple fingers underneath, lightly petting the area right above your crotch. They’re such a tease, and you love it.

Nocter pecks the side of your face, over and over, while their hand moves further and further down your body at an agonizing pace. Their hot breath sends goosebumps down your neck, washing over your face as they exhale with every kiss. You catch them off guard when you turn your head toward them, catching their lips-mid peck and eagerly sticking your tongue outward. They purr with delight, their thin almost-lips quickly devouring you.

A long string of saliva connects the two of you as you detach, taking the time to shimmy out of your shirt. You pull them closer, your hands digging into their shoulder muscles and fingers just brushing over the long ridges on their back. They chuckle once again, pulling their fingers out your shorts and merely digging their palm into the fabric of your crotch.

“Eager, huh?”

“Shut up,” You mumble in between kisses, “This is for me, isn’t it?”

“Ohoho,” kiss, “Someone’s showing their feisty side a little early.” kiss, “What happened to my benevolent, saintly saviour?” kiss.

You pull away from their lips, quickly latching onto the crux of their neck and taking a nip. “S’not fair.” You say, taking a deep whiff of their skin as you suck and bite. They smell like brimstone and a bonfire, not quite what you 're expecting, but not unpleasant. “You can’t tease me like that and not-” Your cut off as the pad of one Nocters fingers presses up against your entrance, the fabric only amplifying the sensation as they begin to tease it.

“Deliver?” Nocter finishes, sinfully smug. You throw them a glare. “I’m a good guest, scout’s honor.”

You roll your eyes right before they lock you into another kiss, rubbing the pads of their fingers up and down your crotch. They use their hand to push you backwards, sinking deeper into the mattress as they situate their knees under your thighs. One they pull back from the kiss, your face and lips thoroughly debauched, your legs are splayed up on their pelvis and they easily slip off your bottoms. Nocter takes a whiff of your underwear, the crotch now slightly damp, giving you a wink before they throw it over their shoulder.

You jerk your hips slightly upward, and Nocter tuts.

“Patience, sweetling.” They roll a hand down your abdomen, fingers splaying onto your stomach, nails just teasing the skin. With a kiss to your inside calf, Nocters hand ghosts across your entrance. You can’t help biting your lip, the heat and their touch sending your mind into a frenzy.

They continue a path of kisses down your leg, now pressing their finger right up against your hole. They only pause to suck on their index and middle fingers, coating them with a heavy and blue-tinted saliva. Once they’ve reached the middle of your thigh, nipping at the apex, they sink into you.

Nocter’s fingers are long, articulated and move with sure movements. They start off slow, scissoring you open, simpering as you dig your nails into your bed sheets. The pads of their fingers push against your walls, just grazing sensitive spots as they make a slow ‘come hither’ motion. Your hips jerk forward, humping into their palm. They smirk against your skin, nipping another love bite as they retract their fingers until only the tip remains. You catch your breath, holding it until they sink back into you, shoving their fingers forward with far more force.

You whimper as their fingers pull back, only to follow with quicker thrusts. Nocter’s aim is pin-point in finding the most pleasurable spots inside you, the feeling only amplified by the pinpricks of their teeth into the fat of your thigh. The tip of their tongue licks hot trails of spit tantalizingly close to your hole, which clenches around their bony fingers. The slick sound of your juices, the skin of their palm slapping against yours, is downright pornographic.

Your legs try to clamp around their shoulders, the overwhelming stimuli triggering an instant reaction, but Nocter pins your right leg down to your bed easily, never losing focus on fingering you. The tips of their claws trace the inside of your leg, the hard edge of their wrist digging into fat.  Your fingers reach to grip around something, anything to keep you grounded as the knot in your stomach grows tighter and tighter. They find their way around Nocter’s left wrist; You’re almost afraid you’ll leave bruises, before remembering how sturdy every part of their body seems to be.

You let out a whimper as the crests of an orgasm seem to overwhelm you, nearly gasping as Nocter quickly removes their fingers. In any other state of mind you might have made a comment, look down and wonder why they’ve stopped. But the heat in your belly compels you to grip their wrist tight and to throw your hips upwards. With a desperate breath, you plead,

“P-please! Please, don’t stop.”

Nocter doesn’t chuckle, doesn’t make a sly remark about your neediness or your lewd movements. They lean forward, giving another kiss right below your navel, and pet your wrist.

“Of course, dearie.”

With a wink, they lean down a lick a long stripe up your hole, giving one last kiss to your leg before plunging their tongue inside.

You didn’t think it was possible for them to reach even deeper inside you with their tongue than their fingers, but the sparks which fly in your core say otherwise. The ridges of Nocters tongue brush against your walls as they flick the appendage back and forth, the tip pressing forward with controlled motions. It doesn’t thrash back and forward haphazardly, but reaches for those sensitive spots and plays with them.

“Oh, f-fuck!” You yelp, feeling an icy-cold liquid run down your ass. From the sound of smacking lips and muffled moans, it must be Nocter’s saliva. They let out a groan, pushing their jaw forward as their eyes clenched shut. The hand on your leg pinches skin as it tightens up, the other pressing your hips down, but the pressure they apply is phantom at best. Nocter seems to revel in your pleading humps for more, meeting each movement with a thrust of their jaw, the base of their tongue stretching you open.

The two of you keep that rhythm for what feels like an eternity, but is probably only a couple of minutes. Sweat drips down your chest and off of your belly, your legs muscles on fire as you continue to push upward and into Nocter’s face. You start feeling that impending wave begin to crest again, with your limbs shaking and your throat hoarse.

“Nocter, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna-I’m so close!”

This time, Nocter doesn’t let up on their pace, reaching one hand down to deliver a hard slap on your ass and forcing a yelp out of you. Your speech devolves into slurred curses and your hands move to touch them, to find some grasp in reality. Nocter continues to suck and tongue-fuck your hole as your thighs clench around their head. Your humps are tiny and weak, your lower half barely holding itself up.

The knot gets tighter, a firecracker fuse about to blow in your abdomen. In the heat of the moment, your hands find their way to Nocter’s scalp and grab onto the base of their antlers. Their moan rumbles through you, right before you yank their head forward, their tongue hitting the deepest part of you as you shutter and-

“I’m cumming!”

Another moan vibrates against your hole as your body shudders and jolts, your hips still pressed firmly against Nocter’s face. But in the next moment, a heavy weight falls over your body, slumping you down onto the bed. Your chest heaves, eye’s fuzzy as Nocter’s tongue ‘pop’s out of you.

Your gaze wanders over your stucco ceiling, droplets of sweat rolling down your neck as you try and catch your breath. You can feel Nocter’s large hands rolling a massage into your thighs, their own heavy breathing brushing over your crotch.

A fuzzy shape of pure black comes into your vision as Nocter hovers over you, their body hovering just an inch above yours. They give you a small peck on the cheek.

“Feel good?” They whisper.

All you can do is nod, your shaky hands wandering over their back. There’s no sign of sweat on their skin, but you can feel the heat running off of it as they nuzzle into your neck.

As your fingers dance over the ride of their back, you can hear the rumble of a low purr coming from their chest, but they stay hovering over your body. You press your hands into their back, applying weak pressure to encourage them to relax.

“It seems I’ve repaid my debt.” Nocter murmurs into your ear, pushing themselves up onto their hands, pulling even farther from you as their eye’s look around your room. You keep your hands wrapped around their waist, stopping them from fully getting up. They look back to you, white eyes slightly widening.

“Would you-” You take another deep breath, “Want to stay? For the night?”

Nocter stares at you, the black void of their face almost unreadable. But when they run a claw down the side of your face, it burns with affection and longing.

“Would you want that?”

Your room is nearly pitch black, only the lights of the street peeking in between your curtains. Nocter’s body seems to absorb all light near it, their hot body like a heating pad. But their eyes are so bright, so full, so mesmerizing; Like a full moon on the dark city sky.

“Yes, I would.”

Nocter’s nods, their expression barely changing, but you think you can see a hint of a smile amidst all the black. They let their body relax, pressing their chest against yours as they sink into the sheets and nuzzle back into your neck.

You can smell the sweat coating your body and feel the way you stick to the sheets. Frankly, the both of you kind of smell.

But it doesn’t stop you from snuggling into Nocter’s body, eye’s heavy as you peacefully fall into sleep.

[seancekitsch]

Die with your Boots on: Part 3, a Vampire!Eddie Munson x Reader

part one, part two here

warnings: vampire shit, cursing, possessive eddie, steve is fed up with couples arguing, surprisingly sweet smut, maybe angst, insecurities, maybe sinister implications

Things fall into a pattern in the Harrington household. Steve goes to work, you go on job interviews (refusing to apply to Family Video and frustrating Steve to no end), and Eddie mostly just manages. He eats about three times a week, and doesn’t have to sleep during the day, but he does have to stay away from the windows.

Tonight you come bounding into the house, an excited look on your face. It’s something Steve and Eddie were getting used to seeing again. It’s clear you’ve interrupted some conversation between the two men, but Eddie greets you with a tight hug and a kiss to the forehead.

“What's got my lady so happy tonight?” Eddie asks, leading you to the kitchen island where he and Steve were.

“I got a job!” you announce to the both of them, not holding back your voice and nearly shouting.

“That's great!” Steve praises, “Where?”

“At a bar right outside of Marion! Like, thirty minutes from here?”

“Yeah, I know that area,” Eddie says, not exactly sounding like he wants to celebrate anymore.

“What's wrong, Eds?”

He sighs deeply, really wanting to be excited for you, but he knows you and you’ll fight him on this. He knows exactly the type of place youre talking about, dark and dirty, everything in the bar wet for some reason. Married truckers and cops and washed up scuzzballs that rough up the cute young bartenders or follow them out to their car when clearly all they want to do is go home and study for their college courses.

“I wanna be able to come check up on you okay? If you work night shifts, I’ll be there.”

You nod slowly, the smile dropping from your face. Steve excuses himself, something about not wanting to hear a couple fighting even when his parents are absent.

“Do you not trust me?” you ask, already leaning away from him and crossing your arms. He already knows it’ll be a scuffle when you get like this, stubborn to a fault. He loves it an equal amount to how much he absolutely hates it, especially because Eddie always lets you get your way.

“I do, Babe,’ he sighs, “I’ve done shows in little bars near Marion. I don’t wanna see those guys that hang out be gross with you.”

You narrow your eyes at him.

“I think I can handle myself just fine. I don’t need you to eat anyone who gives me a big tip.”

It’s his turn to scoff and get mad.

“What, you think I’m jealous of some slobs who don’t treat women right?”

“I think you might be a little possessive! Don’t you remember high school?”

“All six years of it?” he snarks back, putting his hands on his hips.

“I never got to go to prom because you scared off everyone that asked! I totally believe you would scare off big tippers. We need the money, Eds.”

Eddie only scoffs, muttering something about you having a better time prom night somewhere else.

He runs his tongue over one of his fangs, new and sharp. You sigh and shake your head at him. He’s impossible.

“Might do more than scare,” he says nonchalantly.

“You’re gonna fuckin eat my customers?” You ask, trying to sound angry but your gaze softens and the laugh in your tone is apparent. He won this round.

“Yeah maybe,” he replies cooly.

“If they touch you,” he adds, his eyes raking up and down your body.

You try hard to suppress the shiver going down your spine, but with Eddie’s heightened senses, you can’t get anything past him.

“Oh, did you like that?” he asks, tone immediately changes, and he steps forward, invading your space. You step back until the small of your back hits the stone counter of the kitchen.

“N-no?” you stutter, and his arms come around either side of you to lean against the counter, trapping you between him and it.

“I think you’re lying, Darling. I can smell it on you. I can hear your heart racing,” He dips his head low, whispering in your ear as he presses further against you. For either dramatics or his own selfishness, he inhales deeply as he pushes his face into the crook of your neck

“Maybe I like my guys possessive,” you admit smiling bashfully and turning your head away from him, but that’s not even half of it.

You like Eddie possessive; you like Eddie being so possessive he’d fight (or worse) for you. You liked that even when Eddie was just a friend in high school he was like your attack dog ready to get anyone who looked at you wrong. You just wished that when he scared away your prom date he would have taken you to somewhere a bit more intimate than Reefer Rick’s house and done something a little more with you than just smoked you out and set off fireworks high with you. 

 You can’t even hide the fact that him being some kind of vampire or something is fucking hot to you. His strength, the ease in which he can just carry you both onto the roof to watch the stars and do anything he wants. He has you a blushing mess, even in front of others, when he can throw you over his shoulder like you’re featherlight, when something as simple as your pulse can have him hard as a rock. He’s all over you, and you have a feeling it’s more than just the fact that he can finally say ‘I love you’ behind that.

And it's not like you haven't tried to be… intimate. The two of you try to get down to it, the most recent time he actually had your shirt off and had you writhing beneath him before he had to pull back. It's hard for him, he explained to you, because if he hasn't fed recently the urge can be for him to devour you instead of to ravish you. You notice the way his eyes glaze over and his brow furrows in frustration right before he pulls away from you, ripping himself from your grasp as if he’d been burned. You know it's not personal, but it still hurts a bit to be rejected like that. Part of you worries about his hunger, but deep in your heart of hearts you know he would never hurt you, not really.

“Well I guess it's good you chose me, huh?” he whispers, lips now ghosting over the shell of your ear. Your hands come up over his back, rubbing light circles against his shoulder blades. You practically melt into his embrace, letting him press you by the hips into the counter as he leans forward, your back arching to accommodate him.

“Uh huh,” you mutter, words failing you currently. How was he so fucking hot?

“Uh huh?” he mimics the breathiness of your voice, “That all you got? Baby, use your fuckin words. You know you got a mouth on you.”

His lips find your neck, mouthing at your pulse point teasingly before he presses more kisses down the column of your throat. He holds you close to him, enjoying the feeling of your body against his, taking extra care to press your chest against his. Eddies hands move all around you, groping at any part of you he can reach.

Eddie grabs you under your arms and hoists you up onto the counter, not gently, but then quickly settles in, his hips now between your thighs as he gets himself even closer to you.

“You like this top?” he asks, already pawing at the buttons.

“Eddie, don’t,” you warn, already knowing if you were to hesitate he wouldn’t. He would rip the buttons right off and pull the shirt apart.

He whines a little and pouts, but then gets to work; deft fingers working the buttons from their clasps quickly so he can pull the shirt from where it’s tucked into your jeans and throw it somewhere across the kitchen.

He presses kisses all over your chest and collarbones, mouthing and moaning on you and leaving a trail of spit in his wake.

“So pretty, so fucking pretty,” he groans, and you can only arch further into him, your head falling back as you flourish under his touch.

He makes his way back up, finally capturing your lips in a long awaited kiss, wet and sloppy. He licks at your lips until they part and then is quick to push his tongue into your mouth. It's imperfect and messy and so perfectly Eddie. It's exactly how you always imagined he would kiss you.

When you were just friends, he was still so tactile, always hands on you, any kiss on the forehead or cheek would be messy and smear up your makeup. Now that you think back on it though, his reasons for being all over you probably weren't so innocent.

Your hands roam his body, palms coming up over his shoulders and rubbing against his chest where you can reach, soft skin against the soft worn material of his motorhead shirt. You reach down, towards the hem of his shirt. He seems to anticipate this, and his own hands grasp your wrists and pull them away, stopping your movement. He pulls away, worry in evident in his eyes, previously dilated with lust.

“If we— can we,” Eddie stutters, his bravado and confidence fading fast, his eyes darting between you and the stairs.

“Let’s go upstairs,” you offer, sparing his nerves. He helps you off the counter, removing your hands from under his shirt as he does so and leads you towards the stairs. Almost all of the urgency of his movements has faded away.

He opens the door to the guest room- your bedroom- almost timidly and leads you to the bed, where you instantly drop onto it. Eddie chews his lip, his fangs poking out every few seconds.

“Eds, baby, whats up?” you ask, “Are you… hungry?”

You try to put it lightly, you don't want to set him off. He shakes his head, his lovely curls shaking wildly as well.

“Nah I- I had a go at the meat freezer earlier.”

You stand up to try to embrace him again but he steps back.

“Are you okay?” you ask, a slight edge in your voice. You're not mad at him, you're not, but Eddie is always at least recently direct with you. He tells you what he’s thinking, what different stimuli are doing to his new senses and experiences. If this is a vampire thing, you need to know, sooner rather than later.

He sighs and looks down at your slightly shaking hands. Maybe he shouldn't do it.

“I don't want to scare you away.”

You shake your head, ready to refute him, but he keeps going.

“I don't look like I used to. I know I wasn't exactly Eddie Van Halen before but I’m downright ugly now, sweetheart.”

Your shoulders sag, your heart breaking for him.

“Eddie you know I only said I liked Van Valen was so I could say ‘I have a crush on Eddie’ without embarrassing myself, right?”

Well shit, he didn't. He smiles a little at that.

“You've always been handsome. I promise I’ll like what I see.”

Your hand reaches out for him encouraging him to get close again. He doesn't, but he takes a step closer.

Well, don't say I didn't warn you, darling.”

He lifts up his shirt slowly, refusing to meet your gaze. You were there when it happened, so you know what to expect, just maybe not as scarring. You saw him bloodied and holey. Pale purple and white scar tissue litters his skin, one of his hips looks marred and torn like a road in need of paving. His light happy trail that leads all the way up to the bottom of his belly button is interrupted by another tear of flesh, this one darker than the others you see. Eddie sighs as he pulls the tee shirt the rest of the way over his head, and he continues to look anywhere but at you. Suddenly, it’s like the sneakers Steve had leant Eddie in the corner were the most interesting things in the world.

The scarring gets worse the closer to his neck it gets. His right nipple is entirely gone, his pectoral on that side a shredded flat panel of near white scar tissue so much paler than the rest of his skin.

Your heart is fucking broken. How had he survived this? Vampire or not, he must have been more bloodied chew toy than young man for an agonizing amount of time. Despite this, you don't find yourself missing his old body. This is the body of your boyfriend, the man you love. You can't help but love every scar. It's all part of him. 

You stand up off the bed, and enter his space. He tries to dodge your gaze, but you're nothing if not stubborn, bobbing your head until he can't escape you and he finally looks at you.

“You didn't need to hide this from me,” you whisper, as if you’d scare him if you speak louder. 

Your hands gently reach out to touch him, his cool skin a contrast to yours. His skin is still smooth, where there isn't scarring. The scars don't feel rough like you'd imagine, though; the raised texture doesn't feel much different from your own scars. You run your hands up and down his chest, careful to avoid the purpled scars as those ones look more painful. His eyes are trained on you, dark brown and wet like he's ready to cry.

“You're so strong, Eddie, thank you for trusting me with this,” you punctuate this with a kiss to the top of his marred pectoral, then another kiss right above his heart.

“You're sure you want this?” He asks, his voice wavering.

You only nod, offering him a reassuring smile and all of the silent love in your heart.

Eddie grabs you again, this time with even more force than he did in the kitchen, his hands pulling your bare waist against him. His mouth is all over you, quickly descending to your cleavage. Eddie nudges your bra away to nip at your breast, sure to leave a mark.

“All mine, all fuckin mine,” he mumbles against you, one of his fangs grazing your skin and lighting a fire in you.

What would that feel like? you think. Would it feel good for you? It’s already clear Eddie has some kind of need to taste you, one that he’s a complete gentleman about not acting on, but maybe you’d let him one day.

“All yours, baby,” you moan, loving his attention to your chest, “I want you to take me, make sure everyone knows I’m yours.”

“Fuuuck, babe you sound like a good porno. Keep saying shit like that and I’m not gonna last.”

You're both laughing as he unclasps your bra and pushes you back towards the bed, and then reconnects in a sloppy kiss as you fall over each other trying to climb up towards the pillows. You settle under him, his body between your thighs and pressing bare chests against each other.

“Do you know how long I've waited to see these?” Eddie asks, cupping your breasts in his hands.

“I’m guessing it's not recent?” you joke, hooking your fingers in his belt loops and yanking his hips into yours.

“Since that summer you came back from camp with them, sweetheart.”

About eight years, then. How long had he loved you then?

He squeezes one harshly, and you moan wantonly.

“I think I need you out of your pants too, Eds. I can't wait any longer,” you moan again, starting to buck your hips up against him or any kind of friction you can get. How many fucking nights you had spent with your hand exactly where Eddie currently was and just hoping youd get to feel the real thing one day.

“Guess I can’t leave my queen waiting, can I?” Eddie teases, and gets up quickly, fumbling with his pants at the edge of the bed. You’re just as quick to work your way out of your pants, comically raising your hips off the bed to slide them off of the curve of your ass and almost frantically kicking them away. Instantly you feel better, so ready for Eddie’s cool skin to soothe the fire in your core.

He presses back flush against you, grinding himself against your panties and whining at the contact.

“More, please,” you beg, and he obliges.

He moves quickly, shimmying out of his boxers one handedly as he tries to pry the elastic of your panties down. It’s not smooth or suave, it’s not even the most romantic, but it’s you and Eddie and that makes it perfect.

You help him the rest of the way, and then you lay back to admire him. There’s another large scar on his upper thigh, and another tattoo you didn’t know about. A blade, one that looks like the one he described three campaigns before last ever one he led. His cock is everything you imagined and more. He’s hung, not the thickest, but still girth and slightly curved downwards.

“See something you like?” he teases you again. Yes, yes you do. You’re not ashamed in your staring. He’s more perfect than the statue of fucking David.

“Uh huh,” you nod absentmindedly, distracted by finally seeing your best friend naked.

“There you go again with that shit. Words, babe,” He warns, leaning back down to cage you in between his arms.

“Fuckin handsome, Eds. Godly,” you whisper, still staring down at him instead of looking him in the eye. You don’t even realize where his eyes are.

“There we go. Fuck, you’re beautiful. How are you mine?” he sighs in disbelief, eyes going back and forth down your body to memorize every detail.

“All yours, Eddie,” you echo, already out of it and he hasn’t even fucked you yet.

“You’re sure you want this?” he asks, tilting your chin to make you look at him again, “No going back if we do this.”

He means no going back from fucking your best friend. No running from the full extent of your feelings. No going back from knowing exactly what the stakes are now that this unholy coupling is consummated.

“I’ve wanted this for so long, I think I might cry if you don’t fuck me,” You respond, more sure of this than anything in your life.

“You don’t want me to warm you up or anything? Grab a condom?” he presses, eyebrows knitting in confusion.

“Eddie, I. Will. Cry. Please fuck me,” you beg, squirming under him now for any type of friction or release.

Eddie kisses you on the forehead, the tip of your nose, your lips.

“Anything for you,” He mumbles against your lips, and then lines himself up against you. The tip of his cock bumps against your clit, and an embarrassing squeak leaves your lips. Eddie laughs, dropping his head to lean his forehead against yours as he finally pushes into you.

Eddie moans loudly as he does, not hiding any of his pleasure. You're breathing deeply, unused to the stretch. Its been since high school since youve fucked anyone, and its not like your fingers could do this.

“This okay?” he asks, noticing how you are tensed.

“Better than okay,” you hiss, breathing heavily through your nose, “Youre just big.”

“You sure do know how to stroke a guys ego, pretty thing,” he chuckles, and starts moving, slowly, glacial.

You roll your hips up into his, forcing him that much deeper.

“You’re evil,” he laughs again, and then picks up the pace. He quickly finds a rhythm, rolling into you like a tide to the shore, pressing kisses and words of love into your skin the whole time. You’re massaging your thumbs into his shoulders, holding him in place and kissing your own words of love into him.

“Wanted this forever,” you gasp, lips lazily moving across his jaw.

“Want this forever,” Eddie counters, his thrusts already starting to falter and speed up. Truthfully, it doesn’t matter if this lasts long. You’ve already been wound up since Eddie caught an attitude with you, and you’ve been dying for him to touch you like this for years.

You do want this forever, you know that, and have known that forever. Truthfully, this is exactly how you wanted prom night to end after Eddie had all but threatened the guy that asked you and got you to come smoke with him instead.

“Fuck babe, you’ve got me forever,” you promise, rocking against him to help, “I’m all yours forever.”

“Forever?” he echos, and you just nod aggressively, now starting to lose more of your composure. With each thrust you start to lose control of your moans, little whimpers and squeaks leaving your throat as he bottoms out each time.

“Fuck, those noises, I could get addicted to those alone,” he moans, more ragged and losing his own composure as well.

“Could get addicted to all this,” you manage to say, “Fuck, close.”

“Yeah babe? You're gonna come for me?”

“Uh huh,” you say again, but this time he doesn't correct you, he lets it slide, maybe because of the way you are moaning around every syllable, the way hes the only thing tethering you to this world right now.

“Gonna make you- fuck- gonna,” he stutters, and then trails off focusing all his energy on you, his hand reaching down to rub tight circles on your clit to finish the job, and it works like a charm. You practically scream his name as you tighten around you, your entire body tensing and shaking beneath him.

He fucks you through your orgasm, actually quieter than he always imagined it, but sublime and beautiful moreso than he expected. You're like an angel, a real one, a biblical one, in the way that he's almost blinded by the beauty of this moment and seeing you this vulnerable. It stirs something dangerous inside of him. He’s never wanted to bite into the artery of your neck more than this moment. Never wanted to sink his teeth into you more than right now, with you making love to him and completely falling apart at this moment.

The realization scares him as much as it triggers his own release. As much as he would love to stay buried in you forever, he hastily pulls out and paints your stomach with his come. He’s not sure it would even do anything, but he doesn't want to take any chances or jeopardize anything he has with you.

Fucking ignoring the mess, he collapses on top of you, holding you close to him, hugging you tightly.

You realize your shoulder is wet, and it's not your sweat.

“Eds?” you ask, instantly worried, “You okay?”

He nods against you, not picking up his head.

“I love you, that's all. I just love you so much.”

“I love you too Eddie. You can come hang out on my night shifts,” you concede he won the earlier argument. You like your Eddie possessive.

You fall asleep like that quickly after, with Eddie staying like that with you until the sun started to rise.

He loves you too, as much as it might scare him.

[carrdfan]

Eddie Brock/Venom x Reader

summary : Eddie grows worried due to your absence and is soon convinced by Venom to go out and check on you. Yet when he finds you and countless others bruised and hurt, there's only one suspect; and Eddie suddenly has an urge to end them.

main tags : imagine , comfort , female reader

warnings : blood mention

Eddie walked around the messy living room as the kitchen clock ticked by each passing second. Every minute that passed, he grew more and more worried about your well-being. You were only heading to the pharmacy, so why had you been gone for so long?

"Eddie." Venom suddenly called, interrupting the silence. "We should check on her."

Part of Eddie immediately agreed and wanted to leave right away, yet another part of him said that it was just his paranoia causing him to stress this much.

"I'm probably just overthinkin'," He told Venom as he continued to wander around the living room, starting to pop his knuckles as some sort of relief. "She can definitely handle herself anyways-"

"No.. I sense something unsettling from afar, she's in danger Eddie." Eddie wanted to tell Venom that he was just getting paranoid too, but from the tone of voice, he was calling it.

Eddie really didn't want to acknowledge the possibility of you being hurt, and dare God bring up the idea of death occurring to you. "Fine! Fine, let's go," Eddie said as he quickly grabbed his keys before heading out the door. He hoped both him and Venom was just exaggerating in the end.

He ran out of the apartment and into the car. The drive to the pharmacy wasn’t too far, yet within a few minutes, Eddie could sense something wasn't right either. The smell of smoke slowly filled the air, causing Eddie to panic. "Shit!" He quickly said under his breath.

Eddie soon drove up to see police cars and fire trucks circled around a part of the street. They were destroyed, buildings damaged and on fire; one being the pharmacy you ran to. Eddie felt a pit in his stomach at the sight of the event while he quickly parked and got out of the car. He greatly stressed over his biggest priority: you.

Eddie tried to take a closer look, but was stopped by officers who refused access towards everyone. There was a moment of him and the officer going back and forth as Eddie hardly kept a hold of himself, fortunately, there was a cry in the distance to distract him. "Hey!" Both turned to see you afar and slowly walking towards them. Once you caught up to both men, you quickly told the officer that Eddie was here for you before pulling Eddie aside to catch him up on what went down.

You both stood on the sidewalk as there was a moment of silence. Just being by each other was enough to calm both of you down, because while Eddie was calming himself from fear, you were still processing some bits of what just went down. You tried to say something to break the silence, but Eddie carefully placed his hands on your face. While his intention was to get a closer look to what happened to you, but he also managed to help you catch a few more breathers and collect more of yourself. 

Once he finally got a look up close though, he was hugely pissed. You were covered in small scars along with a few bandages wrapped around your arms and legs. You seemed to have taken a bit of the hit but luckily didn't get the worse of it compared to the few other victims Eddie saw. "Oh my God, Y/n. What- what happened?"

You tried to recall everything that went down even though it was a lot to take. "So.. Uh, someone decided to go rapid and attack the street," you turned around to point out the order of the events, "Some pieces from buildings were thrown and one of them almost flew on top of the pharmacy. Some believe it was some kind of explosion that cause it, while others think it was something else."

You continued to explain the rest of your story and even some of the other victims, how some witnessed pieces almost be thrown directly at them, while others had the unfortunate sight of seeing bodies be split in half or have their heads crushed in. But it was clear no one was able to get a sight of the one behind this, those who did must have been the ones killed. Eddie felt a lot of emotions come over him but the two who majorly left was anger and guilt.

Anger from the fact someone dared to cause havoc in the town. Someone dared to put your life in extreme danger. While you managed to play it off, the fact someone went far enough to cause you to have blood running down your face enraged him.

Yet he felt guilty, guilty that the harm to came your way was his fault. He should've been there for you when times called, yet he wasn't. And that's what weighed him down.

Eddie soon took a grip to both of your arms, "Y/n. Are you sure no one knows who’s behind this. No one got even a glimpse?" It was a rare sight to see Eddie so visually frustrated so you were caught by surprise. But there was no need for you to answer as Eddie took it back shortly, the pieces were already clicking together for him by the passing second. The choices already dialed down to one person, and that person made Eddie furious.

It’s uncommon for them to make a move just to retreat; they didn’t just attacked the street on pure decision. They might have known you were making an errand and proceeded to attack on that info.

This whole incident could’ve been nothing more but a major way to fuck with Eddie. And fueled him with enough rage to punch a hole in the wall, only to hold himself back was you as he wanted to show some decency.

Trying his best to keep his anger in, he let go of his grip on you and took a moment. "..Come on. Let's get you home first. I have something to handle myself and I’d prefer you be home while I’m gone." Fully agreeing, you inform the authorities of your sudden leave before you and Eddie got in his car and drove home.

In the small ride back, you couldn’t help but notice the irritation Eddie was keeping a hold of. His grip seemed a bit too tight on the steering wheel, and his breathing seem a bit too unkept. But you didn’t push yourself to ask him anything about it. 

Once you both made it home, you walked into the apartment before turning back and looking at Eddie. “Are you sure you wanna leave after what happened? It may not be safe for tonight.” Logically speaking, Eddie should be staying close with you as you would do with him if he was in your spot, but to see Eddie go run this errand made you question a few things.

Eddie couldn’t help but smile as he slowly walked up to you, "I’ll be fine, it’s better if I run and handle it now then wait till later." He soon gave you a small kiss on your forehead before stepping back and heading off, "I'll be back, and don’t leave the house for the rest of the night." Before you could respond and interrogate Eddie some more, he was already getting in the car and backing up. You decided to listen and head to your given room, yet wondering why Eddie sounded so confident in what he was doing. Maybe later on you can ask him about this incident again.

Either way, you cared for yourself and attend to your scars, time slowly went on and on until, ironically, you found yourself in Eddie’s spot for a moment or two. But with the affects of the attack, you couldn’t help but given into your sleepiness and decided dosed off to bed.

While you got some sleep, Eddie was out catching some Carnage to end this memorable night.

[smutsonian]

Mafia bucky with size kink, belly bulge, choking with vibration arm, sub space, daddy kink, creampie kink and squirting, breeding kink, maybe exhibitionism with Steve. This could lead to a part 2 as a 3 way with double vaginal penetration, no anal

that smile on her face

bucky barnes x reader

summary: mafia!bucky x reader ft. mafia!boss!steve and it’s basically just p0rn with a little bit of plot i guess.

warnings: smut, (whatevers written in the ask), violence, rumlow, not proofread, idk please tell me if I missed something.

word count: 3.1k

a/n: why was it so hard to write this fic vjhafvu im rusty with writing soz

masterlist

It was becoming too much for you. The palpable tension between the two brooding men and the looming figures of terrifying men on each side that serves as guards for both sides didn’t bring you any comfort and the fact that your boyfriend is a few feet away from you right now isn’t giving you any reassurance that this situation is under control.

 Steve, your boyfriend’s best friend, stands face to face with an unknown man wearing an eerie smile on his face but his aura is producing anything but a positive vibe while your boyfriend stands beside Steve, glaring at the strange man. You thought you remembered someone calling him Rumlow.

 You know about your boyfriend’s line of work but you never really got to witness his job with your own eyes. Life with Bucky has always been laughs and giggles, passion and love behind closed doors so you never really thought about the dangers that may come with his job. You thought you could continue to live happily and carefree with him until now. 

When you saw Rumlow turning his attention to Bucky’s louring face and smirking at the emotion he’s able to get from your boyfriend made your stomach turn. You saw Rumlow’s hand rise from his side and time seemed to stop for you when you saw a gun pointed in your boyfriend’s direction. You saw your Bucky’s jaw clenching and you couldn’t help the small whimper escaping your lips when Rumlow turns the safety off with a deafening click.

 Bucky’s eyes subtly searched your face but you weren’t looking at him. Your eyes were begging Rumlow to drop his gun and let your boyfriend be but the moment Rumlow turns to look at you, your stomach begins to feel more horrible than it already is. But you would do everything for your Bucky. You had to try.

 “P-Please don’t…” You stutter, glancing at the gun pointing towards your Bucky then looking back up at Rumlow. 

 He mockingly juts his bottom lip out, pouting at you before tilting his head to the side. “No?” He asks.

 You could only nod, ignoring Bucky who was trying his best to get your attention, for sure trying to make you stop talking to Rumlow.

 “This your girl, Barnes?” Rumlow asks, scanning your form but nobody answers him.

 Rumlow chuckles before putting the gun down, giving you a sense of relief before your breath hitches when the gun is suddenly pointed in your direction. 

 “Should I just shoot you then, little girl?” 

 Bucky’s form stiffens, as well as Steve’s and his guards, ready for an order to attack when Rumlow speaks up again.

 “Are you willing to risk your life for this motherfucker?” 

 You didn’t know if it was your nerves making you dizzy but everything went by in a flash but in slow motion at the same time. You saw Bucky side-stepping quickly towards you, his metal arm raising as if to shield you both. A bullet makes contact with his metal arm before bouncing off of it and you stare at his arm in awe before looking at him with crazed eyes. He scans you for a quick second before he rushes you both out of the place, and onto a car before caressing your face with both of his hands. The sounds of guns being fired filling your ears.

 “You shouldn’t have done that, baby girl.” His words are dark and it would’ve scared you if you didn’t know him. If he wasn’t giggling with you about a silly movie yesterday, you would’ve been frightened of him.

 When you don't answer, he tightens his grip on your face, forcing you to focus on him instead of the continuous gunfire.

 “Y-You’re arm… How did you know it would save us?” You stared at his face while your hand absentmindedly wrapped over his metal hand, caressing it gently.

 His eyes flicker to your hand on his metal ones before looking back at you with an earnest look. “I didn’t. I just know that I had to protect you.” He says, chest heaving as he finally let himself show his emotions. Something that he only does with you.

 “Y-you… You could’ve died, Bucky…” 

 “I will do anything to protect you, doll.” He presses a kiss on your forehead before the driver’s door opens and Steve crawls in, breathing heavily.

 “We gotta fucking go,” was the only thing he says before stepping on the gas.

 You did your best to ignore the blood splattered on his face and the white shirt under his black suit.

 You lay your head on Bucky’s shoulder as he hugs you extra close to him, fearing that you might slip away from him and you bask in the closeness and warmth of his body. Your brain starts to fog up, and the only words running inside it are the words your Bucky said. You snuggle closer to him, humming unknowingly in satisfaction.

 ‘I will do anything to protect you, doll.’

  Bucky Barnes watched you curling closer to him, your cheeks brushing against his arm as your eyes remained close, face finally relaxing as you go deeper into slumber. He smiled at your form, pecking the top of your head before pulling you closer to his body. 

 If someone told him that his heart would be palpitating because of a pretty little thing like you, he would’ve shot them in the head for poking jokes at him but now that you’re beside him…

 “Is she okay?” Steve’s voice cuts Bucky’s thoughts off as Steve looks at him through the rearview mirror, quickly turning back to look at him then towards his girl with worried eyes.

 “She’s resting. Calm for now.” Bucky’s jaw clenches at the thought of you producing tears for the likes of Rumlow. His heart skips a beat at the memory of that gun being pointed at you. His grip on the door handle becomes tighter while he tries his best to keep his other hand calm, the one that he’s holding you with.

 “She’ll be fine. We won’t let anything happen to her. I know you won’t. I sure as hell won’t…” Steve gives Bucky a reassuring smile, mumbling the last words under his breath. 

 The car ride was silent throughout the ride, thoughts eating up on Bucky’s mind as he thinks of Steve’s words as well as what to do with you. How to make things up for you because he’s taking the blame for you being in a very dangerous position. 

 “We’re here,” Steve states, stopping the car and getting out before quickly going over to Bucky’s side, opening the door for Bucky and a groggy you. You’re still in Bucky’s arms, already squirming into consciousness while Bucky tries to coo you back to sleep.

 “Need any help?” 

 “I got it,” Bucky answers Steve before carrying you inside the manor, Steve quietly following behind.

 Once inside, Bucky feels you squirming more and he lets you go, gently putting you down on your feet. He looks down at your face that’s looking back up at him with a blank expression. He takes note of Steve’s form leaning on the doorway.

 “Bucky…” He hears you mumble.

 “What is it, princess?” Bucky notes the way your eyes flutters at the nickname and he fights a smile that wants to force its way onto his face.

 “You almost d-died because of me,” Your sob breaks his heart and he’s suddenly on you. He’s eager to make you wipe the tears away. Eager to bring back the smile that always makes him swoon because this isn’t how he wants to see you cry. 

 “Don’t cry, princess. I’ll do anything for you even if that means getting hurt.” He continues to wipe at your tears but it was no use. You’re a broken dam right now.

 “Daddy’s here, princess. Daddy’s right here.” He whispers, not caring if Steve hears him but he takes note of the way Steve’s form stiffens by the doorway. It wasn’t hard to miss because of his broad shoulders. 

 “You trust Daddy, right, Princess?” He pulls back, caressing your face and that’s when he sees it.

 Your eyes are fogged, face wet with tears but the flow has stopped. You’re just looking at him with those foggy eyes filled with something so much intensity.

 “Yes, daddy. I trust you.” He hears you whisper and he knows you’re deep in your space right now.

 Bucky wipes your face with a cloth that’s conveniently in his pocket before walking back, away from you. You whimper at the loss of his touch but one word from him made you stop.

 “Stay.”

 Bucky feels himself grow proud at your obedience. He flicks a look at Steve before looking back at you.

 “Take your clothes off for Daddy, princess.” 

 “Steve, you fucking stay there.” He doesn’t even glance at Steve but he hears his steps stopping. You didn’t even notice his words towards Steve because you were eagerly obeying his command, stripping out of your clothes with haste.

 “Come here, princess,” Bucky motions you to come over and you do. He instantly wraps his metal hand around your throat, not clenching it at all. He just rests his hand on your throat, careful not to frighten you.

 “You trust me, princess?” He asks one more time.

 “Yes, yes I do, daddy.” You breathe out, nodding against his hold which he tightens. Bucky’s eyes flicker at how your thighs clenched together and hear the tiny moan slipping out of your mouth.

 “You like this, princess? You like my hand around your pretty little throat?” Bucky tightens his hold a little more, eyes gleaming at how his hand is covering your whole neck now. 

 “Your neck is so tiny, I can easily crush it, princess. You’re not afraid of me?” Instead of being afraid, you whine, suddenly thrusting your naked hips towards him and he chuckles at you before letting you go. 

 Bucky glances at Steve who was fixing his pants, no doubt tightening uncomfortably at the scene in front of him.

 Bucky stares at you, eyes begging for him to touch you but he ignores it before walking over to the long sofa and sitting down. He pats his lap as he calls for you which you eagerly obeyed, almost skipping your way towards his lap. You were about to straddle him when he stops you.

 He turns your body with so much ease before pulling you down, earning an “oof” from you when your back hits his hard chest. He guides your legs so they’re resting outside of his legs. He easily spreads your legs with his and he dwells at the shiver your body makes when you’re completely exposed.

 “Sit, Steve.” Bucky motions to the long sofa opposite to where the both of you are sitting and he feels you stiffening against him so he whispers soothing words in your ears. “I got you, princess.”

 Steve walks towards the sofa before awkwardly sitting. Bucky could see how much his best friend was trying to control himself but, in the end, his best friend loses his inner battle for he looks at you and then to your cunt, before looking back at you.

 “Don’t worry about Steve, princess. We can trust him. He did kill that awful man for you…” He chuckles at the way your body shivers, your stiffness has long gone now.

 “H-he did?”

 “Yes. Now let’s give Steve a little show, yeah? Show him just how fucking precious my princess is…” Bucky’s metal finger goes to your breasts, teasing each of them with equal attention. He pulls little whimpers from you here and there and he can see Steve squirming uncomfortably from across the both of you and he chuckles.

 “Don’t be shy, Steve. You can touch yourself.” Bucky’s free hand goes to your core, rubbing his fingers on your clit, making your moans grow louder.

 “But you won’t be able to touch my girl. You can just watch and you can be thankful that I’m letting you.” Bucky takes pride in how he’s able to make his best friend look so powerless when he’s the boss. Right now, Bucky is the boss though.

 “D-daddy!” You’re suddenly shaking against Bucky as you reach your first peak, your juice covering Bucky’s fingers while his other hand continues to play with your hard nipples.

 Bucky hears a groan from Steve, smirking how his friend has his hand down his pants pathetically.

 Bucky continues to play with your body, pulling a few more orgasms from you until you’re crying from all the pleasure he’s giving you. 

 Now that’s how he wants to see you cry. Only in pleasure and nothing else. Only the best for his girl.

 “Daddy, please!” You scream at Bucky, your small hands gripping his flesh hand that was on your cunt.

 “What is it, princess? Tell daddy what you want.” 

 “W-want more, daddy,” you whisper, almost shyly, and Bucky coos at your embarrassed face.

 “You need to be more specific than that, princess. Don’t be shy. You’re so fucking beautiful that you got Steve and me so fucking hard, baby.” He turns your head to the side before pressing a hungry kiss on your lips, tongue lapping every corner of your mouth before pulling away, admiring the string of saliva that connects your lips.

 “Tell daddy what you want, princess. Be more specific this time.” He whispers against your ear before nipping at it and earning another whimper from you.

 “Want your cock in me, daddy,” you finally say, begging with your hips grinding against his hard cock that’s under you. 

 He hums in approval before easily lifting you up and positioning his tip in your entrance. He looks at Steve who was looking hungrily at your slit that’s ready to take his swollen cock.

 A gaudy moan escapes from your mouth as Bucky pulls your body down his cock, your head instantly falling back to his shoulder at the feeling of his cock inside of you.

 “Fuck!” Bucky hisses at the feeling of your warm and very tight walls hugging his thick cock.

 “God, baby… You’re so fucking tight!” Bucky’s eyes shut at the feeling of your walls clenching him and he even whimpers when you start to grind against his lap, asking for more.

 He gives it to you. 

 He stares at Steve’s face as he guides your body on top of his, bouncing you on his lap while thrusting his hips into you to reach deeper inside of you.

 Bucky sees Steve’s hungry eyes staring at a certain spot as he bites his bottom lip. Bucky follows his gaze and he too, grows even more hungry, if that’s even possible, at the sight of your lower abdomen bulging out every time his cock thrusts deep inside your tight cunt.

 “Princess…” Bucky groans, stopping you from bouncing, earning a whine from you which turns into loud cries of pleasure when he starts impelling you with his cock again and again. His flesh hand goes to press on your lower abdomen to feel himself inside of you.

 The three of you groan at the scene and Bucky looks back at Steve, smirking and moaning at the same time. Seeing Steve hungrily looking at you but not being able to touch you gives him a rush. Especially when Steve is choking his own cock while he watches the both of you. Oh, Bucky loves showing people that you’re his girl.

 “D-daddy, I’m gonna—”

 “Fucking cum for me, princess.” 

 And you do. You cum with a loud cry, followed by Bucky’s loud cry as he felt your walls suffocating his cock which only gave him more motivation to pistol into you, riding your orgasm. His vibranium fingers find your clit, ignoring your tiny hands that wrapped around it.

 “Too much, daddy!”

 “Give me one more, baby! I wanna cum inside your pretty cunt,” he whispers into your ear before pressing his lips on your neck, sucking your skin with wet kisses. That seems to make you more compliant. You wanted him to cum inside you and Bucky chuckled at how your walls clenched around him at the thought.

 “Oh, you’d like that, won’t you? Want daddy to give you his cummies? Want daddy to breed you? Get you all nice and round…” 

 “Y-yes daddy!” You let out a squeal when his fingers started buzzing around your clit.

 “Yes! Cum inside of her, Buck…” Steve’s wanton voice catches both of your attention and Bucky feels your walls tighten around him when he sees you watching Steve beat his cock with his own hand, his girth swollen and ready to cum. And it’s all because of you. His girl.

 Bucky doubles his efforts, metal hand vibrating against your clit, flesh hand pressing on the bulge that his cock continues to make on your lower abdomen.

 With a few more thrust, Bucky feels his balls tightening and you must’ve felt his thick cock twitching because your walls tightened again and this time, it’s enough to make him burst his seeds into you so, with a loud grunt, Bucky pulls you down on him as his cock twitches inside you, spurting his seeds into your cunt while the head of his cock remains touching your cervix.

 With his metal fingers still vibrating against your clit, you follow him with cumming as the mixture of the feeling of him filling you up with his cum and the intense vibration of his fingers on your sensitive bud.

 Across from the both of you, Steve watches how Bucky is filling you up with his cum, and the moment Bucky’s excess cum starts slipping out from the sides of your slit, he loses it. With a whimper, Steve’s cum shoots out and his hands get covered with his thick white cum while a few lands on the floor. Steve licks his lips when he sees Bucky pulling out of you and using his metal fingers to push the fallen cum back inside of you.

 Steve, still shaking from his orgasm, watches as Bucky picks you up after covering you up with his suit jacket and walking toward the stairs. 

 He stops to look at him though.

 “Thanks for killing the bastard for her, punk.” And with a smirk, he leaves with you in his arms.

 Bucky places you on the bed before cleaning you up. His hands are gentle as he wipes his cum off your thighs and your swollen cunt before getting in beside you and wrapping you up in a blanket.

 “Thank you, daddy.” You slur before curling up beside him. He chuckles before pulling you closer to him.

 “You don’t have to worry about anything, princess. I’ll do anything for you, okay? Seems like Steve will too,” Bucky laughs but doesn’t earn a reply from you. He looks down at your face, seeing you already fast asleep with a smile on your face.

 Oh, how he loves that smile. 

 And he’ll do anything to keep that smile on his girl’s face.

 --

a/n: i just wish I did this request justice :3

taglist

General: @readermia @unlikelygalaxygiver @xoxabs88xox @anncutamarica @chaoticfiretaconerd @i-love-superhero @caffiend-queen @coconutqueen21 @jtargaryen18 @jennmurawski13 @mushyjellybeans @ninjabucky @buckstaybucky @donutloverxo @rebloggingeverything @adriannajackson @la-cey @awaywithtime @gotnofucks @empath-bunny @belovedcherry @white-wolf1940 @the-soulofdevil @mianorth @scorpiosmalfoy @rottenstyx @littlegasps

Bucky Fics: @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123

Anything Chris: @patzammit @princess-evans-addict @shadowcatsworld @notyourtypicalrose @onetwo3000 @bluemusickid @heyiamthatbitch @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @slytherinandoutasgard @chrisevanisliterallysir

Chris and seb: @harrysthiccthighss

[miekasa]

sorry if you've already answered this, but what do you think the aot character's love languages would be? we know levi's is acts of service, but anybody else?

No worries! I don’t think I’ve answered for everyone before, so I’ll take a shot at it now bc I love thinking about people's love languages 😌

LEVI Gives: acts of service

This is one is talked about a lot, but Levi shows his love most often through doing things for you, even if you haven’t asked anything of him.

He’ll go out of his way to make your life easier and/or more comfortable in any way that he sees fit, and he doesn’t expect the same in return; it truly just makes him happy to know that he could have done something for you.

It includes bigger things like assembling furniture for you, building you something completely from scratch, or cleaning your car for; and also small things like making you a cup of coffee or tea, or even just holding your bag for you after a long day.

Needs: physical touch

Classic touch-starved man who doesn’t outwardly ask for physical touch, but doesn’t back away from it when you initiate it.

After some time, he’d begin to initiate himself, he just needs to get comfortable with the idea of it first; but after he is, it’s really cute to see. Catch him on a lazy morning, and he’s especially touchy; or find him after a long day of work, and he’ll cuddle himself right into your shoulder.

It makes him happy to know that you seek him out for physical comfort, and that he can begin to do the same. Also, he loves the feeling of you playing with his hair, it’s a surefire way to get him to fall asleep.

HANGE Gives: quality time, physical touch

Hange likes spending time with you, and loves roping you into their favorite hobbies, activities, and antics. Even something as simple as a 3 minute FaceTime call to ask them a quick question is enough to put a smile on their face.

They really just like to share their interests with you, and would love it if you did the same! Hange is willing to give everything a try at least twice for you.

Also loves physical touch, maybe not even necessarily in traditionally “romantic” ways either—having their hand around your shoulder to show you something on their phone, knocking into your body while they’re laughing, clapping your hands together out of boredom—all simple touches that make Hange happy.

Needs: gifts

Hange looooves presents, and you can’t prove me wrong. To them, it’s really touching to know that you would take the time to pick out or make something that you think they would like.

They cherish any and every gift you get them, even if it’s something as tiny and routine as bringing them a coffee during a busy a day at work, Hange never takes it for granted.

(And they also go on and brag about it to anyone who will listen, “Ah did you see my baby brought me coffee for lunch? Just how I like it too, they know me so well!”)

EREN Gives: quality time, words of affirmation

Quality time for Eren can also be mistaken as him spending all of his free time annoying the hell out of you, but it’s really just him being Loving.

When he’s not annoying you, he really does just like to be in the same space as you, even if you’re doing your own things. He likes having you around because you comfort him even if you’re not directly speaking to or interacting with him.

Words of affirmation come out of him in a very matter-of-fact tone. It’s almost as if he’s not consciously trying to affirm you or flatter you.

To him, he’s just saying what he believes is an objective truth: of course he thinks you’re smart and talented and pretty and fun to be around. If those things make you feel good, then it’s a bonus, but really, he just means it like it’s a fact of the universe.

Needs: gifts, physical touch

He’s not the best at giving gifts, but he does love to receive them, and honestly, he’s very humbled and flattered whenever you give him something that you clearly put a lot of time and/or effort into.

He almost feels undeserving of it, but he loves it all the same, and he really does cherish it. Even if it’s something as generic as a pair of shoes he was talking about, it still means a lot to him that you would remember and buy them for him.

Once he gets a taste of physical touch, he doesn’t know how to let go. All sense of personal space is out of the window, and this goes hand in hand with quality time once he discovers it.

Loves it when you touch him: play with his hair, play with or hold his hands, hug him out of the blue. Also loves to touch you, though he seems to not understand the size of his body when he’s draping himself over your shoulders, or has his leg over your thigh while you’re sitting on the bus.

ARMIN Gives: gifts

To him, it’s the simplest way to express himself without embarrassing himself by potentially tripping over his words. Also, gifts can be given remotely, so he doesn’t have to sit around worrying if you’ll love it or hate it while you open it.

Though, he certainly gains a lot of confidence over time, he still likes to leave you little presents to find when he’s not around. Something as small as buying your favorite candy and putting it in your coat pocket, or leaving flowers at your place.

He’s also very thoughtful, and when he does get you a bigger gift, or something to celebrate an occasion, he always makes sure it’s perfect.

He does it to make you happy, and when you’re happy, it makes him happy.

Needs: words of affirmation

He won’t ask for it, but it’s really reassuring to hear, and it makes him feel really good, and relieved to know that the person he loves thinks highly of him.

If you told him you’re proud of him, he might… he really might malfunction a bit, but your words would stick with him. The next time he was going through something hard or even just doubting himself, he’d remember what you said to him and it would give him a little push to get through it (and maybe be nicer to himself as a consequence).

Not necessarily an affirmation, but it also flatters him to hear that you think he’s attractive. Though, be careful when and how you say this, because he’s very… easy to excite.

MIKASA Gives: words of affirmation, acts of service

Mikasa lets you know how much you mean to her, and how much you mean to everyone in your life all the time. She doesn’t want you to ever feel like you’re less than you are.

She loves hearing about your progress or achievements in work/school and is quick to tell you that she’s happy for you and proud of you.

She’ll also do anything she can to help you out, so acts of service a big thing for her. She doesn’t want you to have to go out of your way to do something she could handle for you.

That isn’t to say that she thinks you’re incapable of fending for yourself; rather, that she would like to ease your pain whenever and wherever she can.

Needs: quality time

She doesn’t realize how much she likes/needs this until you guys start spending more time together; and it’s in your absence that she finds herself missing you more than she’d anticipated.

She doesn’t even mind sitting idly by while you’re busy or doing work, so long as she gets to be by your side. It also brings her a sense of comfort to be able to take care of you during this time; having snack breaks with you, occasional tangent conversations, and reminding you to rest when necessary.

She finds that one of the simplest means of quality time is sleeping next to each other; whether it be for a nap, or going to bed, it’s a kind of intimacy she never thought she’d crave, but comes to really, really enjoy.

JEAN Gives: quality time, gifts

Just. Just let Jean tag along to whatever you’re doing like a little golden retriever and he’ll be so damn happy. It doesn’t matter what—buying makeup, going on a walk, heading to the grocery store—he just likes spending time with you.

Though he—and anyone who expresses themselves in quality time—completely understands there are moments where you need to be by yourself. But if you don’t mind him being there, then he’ll take the opportunity to be with you.

He looooves to give presents, and even though he can get kind of embarrassed by it and try to play it off as nonchalant, he’s quite thoughtful and romantic with his gifts.

Needs: quality time, physical touch

He loves doing what you’re doing, but he would also love to have you around when he’s chilling or running errands or doing whatever, too. He doesn’t care, Jean just likes talking to you, and will take any opportunity to hear you speak to him and be around him.

He shows a normal amount of physical touch and/or PDA throughout your relationship, but really casual and gentle touches by you mean the world to him. When he feels you stroking his face when you think he’s asleep, wrapping your arms around one of his habitually when you’re sleepy after a night out, putting your hands on his face when you kiss him—all those things mean the world to him.

I don’t know if this would fall into words of affirmation, but he also likes it when you tell him that you find him attractive. Call him handsome once and he’ll be thinking about it for the rest of the month. Tell him he’s pretty and you might even get him to blush.

CONNIE Gives: quality time

Similar to Eren, his quality time is most commonly expressed through a little game he likes to call “how many times can I annoy my girlfriend in the span of twenty minutes.”

You could be chilling like normal, having a casual night in and Connie will just come bursting in your room like the loudest mf on the planet, with Monopoly in his left hand, and a six pack of beers in his right.

He lives for doing stupid (borderline illegal) shit with you, and to his credit, you’ve never gotten caught. He really just likes to hang with you and make you laugh and make memories the both of you won’t ever forget.

Needs: acts of service

Help this man. No, really, literally, help him, even if he says he doesn’t need help, he’ll appreciate it in the end.

From stuff like tutoring him for a class, to packing him lunches (beyond Lunchables, but inclusive of a strawberry-kiwi CapriSun, nonetheless); it’s a love language Connie didn’t even think he would like.

He fucking loves it though and never shuts up about anything you might do for him; always thanks you a million times and puts you in a loving chokehold and pinches your cheeks in appreciation.

SASHA Gives: words of affirmation

She’s really good at comforting you, or even just making you feel good about yourself. Sasha might not even realize how much her positive outlook on you might mean, but she sure does love to tell you how much you mean to her.

Adores singing your praises and rewarding you with compliments all the time. She’s so sweet and she doesn’t even realize what she’s doing. Best girl.

Needs: gifts

Sasha loves presents in all shapes in forms: birthday presents, anniversary presents, planned presents, surprise presents. Doesn’t matter, she’s happy to receive any and all of them.

She looks at the gifts you get her with sparkles in her eyes and the widest grin on her face. It means the world to her that you would get her something she loves and she appreciates it so much.

Takes extra special care of your gifts too. If you got her one of something she collects, the ones you give her have their own little special place in her collection and she loves to show them off whenever people ask about them.

PIECK Gives: acts of service, physical touch

Pieck will do just about anything for you, and if she can’t, she’ll commission someone else to get it done for the both of you. (Someone being Porco and Reiner if this act involves lifting or carrying anything heavy).

She adores the smile on your face after she tells you she’s taken care of something you were putting off or having trouble doing; it makes her whole day to see you happy and relieved to have one less task on your to-do list.

She definitely does things because it makes her happy to see you happy, but there’s a small part of her that’s not above admitting she likes to be rewarded for it, too. Even something as small as a hug will do 😌

That’s also where the physical touch comes in: Pieck is kind of handsy, an almost unexpectedly protective kind of way. It’s equal parts of her liking to show you off and have her hands on you, and making sure nobody else thinks about doing the same.

Needs: quality time

Once she discovers the joy of having someone else to laze around with, take naps with, and do… questionable antics with, Pieck feels like she’s discovered the true meaning of life.

Adores when you ask to come along with her to run errands, or when you show interest in any of her many hobbies. She comes to find that she loves sharing them with you.

Napping together is a must, and if you think she’ll let you out of her hold just because your leg cramped or you have to use the bathroom, then think again. There’s a minimum of three one-hour naps per week with her.

PORCO Gives: acts of service, gifts

Gifts might come as a surprise for him, but he’s got a good memory, so when he sees something you’ve been talking about, he’ll just pick it up/buy it for you.

Could be anything from a new pair of house slippers, to a pair of earrings you showed him once. If he sees it and remembers you wanted it, there’s a 9/10 chance he’ll just get it. You can’t say he never did anything for you.

He approaches acts of service the same way, and usually does things he knows he can handle doing for you, like cleaning your car, cooking you dinner, or giving you a massage.

He can get kinda smug about it tho, going off about how you’re his little baby and that you need him to take care of you, as if he didn’t go out of his way to do these things, unprompted 🙄

Needs: physical touch

He’s not going out of his way to do extreme PDA, but he’s not hiding it either; if he feels like touching you, he will. But the first time you initiate it, or the first time you touch him in a gentle way, he’s such a goner.

He doesn’t even know how to process it at a first, and when he does he feels stupid and embarrassed for even liking it, but he certainly likes it that for damn sure.

He gets kinda cranky if you don’t cuddle up to him or hold his hand or poke his cheek (even though he claims it’s oh so annoying, you know he likesssss it).

[your-daily-biaswrecking]

Hello! can you do a scenario with fem!reader and father's best friend!namjoon? I totally understand if this is a concept you're uncomfortable with. All the armys are going crazy with the dilf!bts concept so I need to have this 😭

Tbh that's a hard concept (like absolutely don't do this irl y'all plss it's not okay if it's not fiction– go in the notes to read my PSA pls) so I had to write a bit of plot at the beginning just because I wanted to make it as less weird as possible lol

Namjoon wasn't the type of family friend you got to see a lot growing up. He was, however, the type of friend you got to hear about a lot. Your dad had spent his high school years being in a band that never really had its break, and Namjoon had apparently been the youngest member and your father's favourite. He kept talking about how he "raised" him, meaning he helped him get his first kiss and taught him about girls. Then your dad got your mum pregnant right after graduating, and they both decided to move to the US to find a job and start their family. Your family. And so your dad lost touch with his best friend.

He talked about him quite often, and you knew he had even visited once when you were still too young to have a memory of it. You had only ever seen a couple of pictures of them together; Namjoon looked like a very cringy 13-year-old with a terrible haircut. Not that your dad as a teenager looked any better. But that's beside the point. It doesn't matter what he looked like back then, today you probably wouldn't be able to even recognize him even if he passed you on the street.

"Did I tell you? My best friend moved here from Korea! The band kids are back together!"

Namjoon came back into your father's life at around the same time as you left it– moved away for college. And you kept getting all these updates on how great it was that they found each other again, how many things they did together and in general how happy your dad was. When you visited home for Christmas, Namjoon was away so you didn't run into him. And almost a year after he had moved there, you would finally meet him during the summer. Your father invited him for dinner one hot evening in July.

You opened the door to find him standing outside, your mother just a step behind to greet him. “Joonie! So glad you could make it. Come on in, come on in... Ah! As you know, this is our daughter.”

The man was tall and handsome, nothing like the pictures you had seen. And familiar. His eyes met yours and he smiled, making your blood run cold— you had seen that man before. Not even a week ago, staring at you at the bar while sipping his whiskey until you decided he was too hot and couldn’t be older than 30, so you walked up to him and gave him a napkin with your number and a lipstick stain of a kiss on it. He never called.

“Wow,” Namjoon said without his tone matching his words. “She has grown up so much.” And he looked you up and down again, checking you out kind of like he had done that night. Your entire face was burning, turning on your heels to get away. What the fuck kind of luck was that? He was your dad's friend? You hoped– you begged that he didn't recognize you. He wasn't saying anything, though his eyes kept on stealing looks, and so you thought you might have had a close escape. Until you run into each other in the kitchen. Alone. "Come here, young lady," he said in a deep voice that sent shivers down your spine. You already felt like you were in trouble. "Does your father know you go around giving your number to men almost twice your age?"

He was so close, eyes travelling lazily down your form with a smirk on his lips. "No," you choked. "I– I don't– You were staring at me, that's why I thought..."

"I was staring at you because I was trying to figure out if you were my best friend's daughter."

Hearing him say the words made your cheeks burn. Defeat. He had a logical excuse and all you had was that he was a little too much your type. And he sounded like he was scolding you, reminding you of your place. You lowered your head, really wanting to get out. "Please don't tell him."

Don't tell him I hit on you. Don't tell him I wanted to fuck you.

Namjoon didn't reply right away, but late that night you got a text from an unknown number. "I won't tell him anything."

He won't tell him anything. Perhaps that could be applied to what had already happened, or what would happen in the future.

You didn't text frequently, but you did nonetheless. And even though you were sure both of you would say they were simple, innocent texts, how innocent could they really be when the man already knew how you felt about him? Maybe you were crazy, but you thought he might like you too. Maybe he liked the fact that you liked him. It wasn't evident in anything he did or say, just the vibes you got from him those days he visited your house, or the way he looked at you when you were left alone for a second. The summer passed by so fast when every other day you met your father's best friend in one way or another.

When it was time for you to move back to the city where you attended college, Namjoon just so happened to be going there for some work too. And your parents were grateful that you had someone to travel with. The car ride was long and mostly silent. You had never been left alone for so long and suddenly you realised how hard it was to keep a conversation going without talking about how horny he made you feel just by being in the same, tight space with you. But the farther away you got from home, the less you cared about keeping your good reputation up.

"Where will you sleep tonight?" you asked him after he helped drop off all your stuff at your apartment late that night and was already at the door, ready to leave.

"I'll find a hotel," he told you, hand still on the door handle.

"You can stay here if you want to."

"Don't–" His plea was soft-spoken, in contrast to the intense way his eyes were piercing yours.

"Don't what?" you acted dumb. "All I'm saying is I'm sure dad would rather you stay instead of paying for a room. You're like family, anyway."

You noticed how he took in a deep breath, grip around the knob getting harder. "Don't bring him into this."

Saying that you two shouldn't mention your father was like admitting what was going on right now was beyond innocent. And even though your stomach clenched at his harsh tone, you bowed your head and whispered. "I'm sorry."

"This is so wrong," you heard him call loudly all of a sudden, making you look back at him. He was chewing on his lip desperately. "I was there when your dad got your mom pregnant. Do you know what I said? Fuck, man, how are you gonna get out of this bullshit? I shouldn’t be…"

You blinked at him, waiting to hear the end of the sentence. "Shouldn't be what?" You weren't gonna let him slip away that easily. You would push him until he had to say what he wanted to say. It was your only chance, anyway.

Namjoon sighed. He pushed the door closed and walked up to you steadily all while he was staring straight into your eyes. "Why did you give me your number that night?"

Your breathing was already getting heavier. You wouldn't back away. What was the point? He knew already. "Because you were hot. And I wanted you to fuck me."

He chewed his lip for a few seconds, watching your face as he contemplated his next words. "Why do you want me to stay over tonight?"

You gulped. He was so close, closer than ever. "Because you're hot," you whispered. Glance down on his lips. "And I want you to fuck me."

He closed his eyes momentarily before he was exhaling loudly. "Fucking– hell!"

And he instantly moved forward, one hand grabbing the back of your head as he brought your face to crush on his, mouths smashing against each other after all the times you had dreamed about it. It was so much better than you could have imagined, lips full and soft parting yours for his tongue to slip in between, making you moan. And you were trying to get closer and closer, almost tripping as you walked blindly further into the apartment. His jacket was discarded on the floor before your shirt joined it, and Namjoon was growling before attacking your neck with his teeth.

"Daddy..." The word truly slipped out of you, and he was pausing for a moment, pulling away to look at you.

"Really? You're really gonna call me daddy?" Your eyes were wide and cheeks burning, squirming away from him before he grabbed your wrist to keep you close. "Shit," he grunted, not sounding mad at all. "Alright, baby. Show daddy where your room is, need to get you in bed right away."

And you mewled at his words. You were there in no time, pulling the rest of your clothes off as Namjoon undressed too. Big and thick, he was even hotter like that, making you press your legs together as you took the sight in. And when he removed his boxers too, you got to found out his dick matched the rest of his body perfectly, long and thick and so hot it made your mouth water.

"Daddy," you whined as he started crawling over you. "You're so big. You're gonna tear me apart."

His large hand grabbed your jaw. "That's what you get for playing with big boys." And he kissed you ruthlessly again. His other hand travelling down your form until he found your pussy, fingers playing with your folds and humming in satisfaction. "So wet. Is that all for me, baby?"

"Yes, daddy," you moaned, hips trying to grind on his hand for some more friction. "I've been wet for you since I first saw you."

"Fuck. I know, baby," he breathed into your ear, two fingers slipping slowly inside you and stretching you out. "I could tell. You weren't hiding it very well, baby. How much you wanted me to ruin you. Which is why daddy's been hard for you all this time, too." Your breath was hitching as he was moving his hands slowly, not even trying to fuck you like that, just trying to get you ready for his cock. And he stopped. "Are you gonna let daddy fuck you raw, baby?"

You almost screamed. "Fuck, yes, daddy, please! Fuck me open with your cock."

Namjoon was growling as he retrieved his fingers from inside you. "What a dirty mouth! Who taught you to speak like that, you dirty, little whore? I thought you were a good girl."

Your nails were scratching his back as you whined and squirmed underneath him. "Oh, daddy, please! I need you! I'll be good for you."

And you felt the tip of his dick press against your entrance as he shushed you. "Alright then. Be a good girl for daddy and take this big cock like the good, little slut you are." And he shoved himself in you.

"O–oh my god!" you yelped. Namjoon didn't go easy on you, didn't go slow or gentle, he started pounding you fast and hard right away, truly fucking you open like you had asked him to. You were squirming underneath him but his body was so big and strong, it was caging you completely. And just to shut you up he kissed you again, tongue so deep in your mouth he was choking you. Namjoon was fucking you so hard he brought tears to your eyes, and you felt euphoric being used by him like that.

"My dirty, little cunt," he rasped after he freed your mouth. "Like taking my cock like that?" You were nodding, mewling, unable to speak. "What a good girl. Letting daddy fuck her as hard as he wants." He leaned back, grabbing your arms until he had your wrists pinned above your head and the new position gave him the ability to piston his hips against yours even faster, diving even deeper.

"Fuck, daddy, I'm gonna cum," you cried, legs shaking as they fought against his abusing thrusts between them.

"So easy," Namjoon panted with a smirk. "So easy to please you. Gonna cum cuz you've never had dick like daddy's before, huh? No one's ever fucked you this good? Those little boys your age, I bet they don't know shit about pleasing a nasty girl like you." He spat on his free hand and brought it right down on your clit, pressing on it hard. And you were moaning even louder. "There you go, baby. You can cum on daddy's dick now."

"Namjoon–" you yelped, and you felt your orgasm pop, gushing all your juices over him as he kept fucking you through it. He slowed down a bit, coming down to kiss you sloppily as you continued to whine with each thrust against your sensitive, tight walls.

"That's my good girl," he whispered, kissing you almost lovingly. "Don't worry, baby. We're not nearly done yet." And his thrusts slowly got deeper and deeper. "You really shouldn't have let me fuck you, baby. Cuz now I don't ever plan on stopping."

Masterlist | Part 2

[saintshigaraki]

HERE, IN THE MORNING LIGHT, IS WHERE WE’LL BARE OUR SOULS

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x f!reader 

words: 3.2k

excerpt: Really, how many times can you blame Ushijima for breaking your heart when you’re the one who can’t seem to stop handing it to him -- on a silver fucking platter no less. 

a/n: this is...a bit too similar to my bakugou drabble i’ll admit. but i could see a relationship with ushijima having some of the same problems. he’s not purposely cruel, but god, doesn’t that just make it so much worse?

tags: angst, mentions of alcohol, implied sex, reader is full of rage, ambiguous/open ending

in case you want to read it on ao3!

You greet Toshi at the door, as you’ve made a habit of doing when he manages to come home before you’ve fallen asleep.

(Like a well-trained dog, you think, with only the most bitter sort of amusement.) 

When you lift your hand up to cup his face, a sweet hello, love, how was your day? on your lips, he sweeps it aside (gently, of course. He's always so sickeningly gentle when he brushes you aside. You think that might just make the hollow sting of his nonchalant rejection that much worse.)

“Have you made anything for dinner?” he asks, already walking away before you have a chance to pull him down for a kiss. Your arm falls unceremoniously at your side. A deadweight, swinging. 

I think I might hate you, you want to say, so,  so badly. The words are there, right on the tip of your tongue as you stand frozen in the darkened entryway, his shadow stretches, eclipsing you, as he walks further and further away.

But these moments of sweet burning-hot rage pass as quickly as they come and soon -- too soon, maybe, or not soon enough -- you find yourself turning on your heels and shining a too-bright smile, the one that shows too many teeth and leaves an ache in your cheeks. 

“Not yet, love, but I can whip up something real quick.” 

The words taste like lead in your mouth.

(Or maybe that's just the blood from biting your tongue.)

Who knows, you muse, bitterly, bitingly. What does it matter anyway? 

You make your way towards the kitchen.

+

Later that night, after he’s finished fucking you into the mattress, he grunts out an I love you, before rolling over and promptly falling asleep. 

His cum is sticky and uncomfortable as it cools on your burning thighs. 

You stare at the lights sweeping across the ceiling from the passing cars and try to remember days when you didn’t feel as though someone had hollowed out everything that made you and filled in the empty space with barely contained rage. 

Rationally, you know you weren’t always so unhappy with Ushijima. You loved him -- you still do -- you have for years. You could barely contain your tears of joy when he asked you to marry him and you didn’t manage to contain them at all the day you officially tied the knot. 

You were so happy then. So, so, happy. 

What happened? 

(You know exactly what happened.)

You’ve made sacrifice after sacrifice for him. Moved from country to country. Left your family and friends behind more times than you can count. Because you love Toshi. Because you love him more than anything. And because he loves you, though you know he doesn’t love you more than anything. It’s a selfish gripe to have. A rather dumb one too. Of course he doesn’t love you more than volleyball. Why should he? He’s dedicated his whole life to the sport. Countless hours, countless injuries, and setbacks, and he’s persevered through it all because that's what he does. Because that sport, that court, that stupid fucking ball, is what he loves above all else. 

It’s not as if you jumped into this marriage wholly and totally blind. You’re not dumb. You knew volleyball was going to be a priority in his life,  the priority. And you thought you could handle that. You did handle it. For 5 years you’ve handled it, the constant moving, the last minute canceled plans, the weeks of him traveling that have left you all alone for near months at a time in a cold home with a cold bed. You’ve handled it all with a too-wide smile plastered painfully across your face. 

But things have -- shifted, recently. Maybe it’s the pressure of what could very well be his last Olympics coming up in these next few years, maybe it’s the fear of someone younger, better, stronger than him taking his place, or maybe, he simply doesn’t give all that much of a  fuck about you anymore. 

(You know that’s not true. Wakatoshi loves you. You know that. Which is what makes this all so much worse.)

I love you, isn’t that enough? he’d said bluntly, and maybe a bit confused, last time you brought up your concerns after the third canceled date in a row. 

His words had made you pause. Was it enough? Why isn’t it enough? Shouldn’t it be enough?

At the time, you’d thought, maybe. Maybe I can make it enough. 

A year later and you’ve come to the realization that it simply -- isn’t enough. Maybe if you were a different person, a slightly better person, it’d be enough. But you’re not. You’re you, a strange, toxic concoction of hollow fury and selfish desires (for comfort, for love, for anything more than whatever this is).

You roll over on your side to face your husband. He’s on his back, like he always is when he sleeps, completely dead to the world. 

He’s statuesque, unmovable, untouchable, even now. 

You gently brush your finger over his brow, sweeping his hair to the side, and tracing his strong jawline. You’ve done this a thousand times. You’ve memorized every curve, every freckle, every scar. You’ve mapped countless constellations across his skin. 

You don’t hate him, you realize, in the dark suffocating silence of the night. Not yet, at least. There’s still too much love for him in your heart. Still too many memories of brighter days. Sweeter days. Gentler days. 

He’s been good to you. As good as a man like him is capable of being. And you love him so, so dearly for it. 

He has tomorrow off, maybe -- maybe you should talk to him. There’s still time to salvage this. There’s still so much love for him in your heart, enough to drive out the hate. You know it. 

He has tomorrow off, you repeat to yourself. The first full day he’s taken off in a month. 

You’ll talk to him then. 

You have to. 

+

The morning light is what wakes you. The gentle rays kiss your cheeks so sweetly. 

Without fully opening your eyes, you reach towards Ushi only to be met with -- cool sheets. 

Your stomach drops painfully and it's as though he’s taken your heart in his hands and just squeezed. 

You open your eyes, wearily, tiredly, and the morning light no longer seems so sweet. It’s mocking. A cruel, bitter reminder of better days and broken promises. 

You crawl out of bed, trying to stay optimistic -- maybe he just went for a morning jog -- even though you know that on days he has off he likes to sleep in. You try desperately to give him the benefit of the doubt, because he promised and you want so badly to still be able to believe him, even after everything. 

He used to have every Saturday and Sunday free, then around three years ago it turned into every Sunday, then a year and a half ago it turned into every other Sunday, and recently -- well, it’s been a while. A long, long while. 

But he promised he’d stay home today. 

He promised, you repeat as you stumble around the apartment only to find it painfully silent, empty, and so, so cold. 

You collapse on the couch, hunched over, your head hanging pitifully into your hands. You take a deep, pathetically shaky breath. 

And then you laugh. 

You laugh so hard you nearly heave. 

Two years ago, you would’ve cried. A year ago, you would’ve screamed. 

But now? Who do you really have to blame, but yourself? How can you not laugh? How can you not laugh at just how stupid and gullible you are? 

Really, how many times can you blame Ushijima for breaking your heart when you’re the one who can’t seem to stop handing it to him -- on a silver fucking platter no less. 

This is your fault. And it has been for a long while now. 

It’s time to move on. 

+

You book a one-way flight home -- you haven’t been back in so long. Too long, you know. You stuff as much as you can into your single suitcase and pitiful carry-on bag. It’s all strangely methodical and robotic. You’re calmer than you’ve been in months. 

This is how it was always going to end. Honestly, you don’t think there was really supposed to be another option, any other way out. You don’t think this mess was ever going to be fixed. It was stupid of you to ever believe otherwise. 

By the time you’ve managed to compose yourself, get your affairs in order, and meticulously pack away as much as you can, the sun has started to dip below the horizon. 

The clock reads 9:18 PM. Your flight is in a few hours. You’ll have to get going soon. 

You pick out the nicest, most expensive bottle of red wine in your home. You were going to save it for when Ushi made the national team again but, as you’ve learned rather painfully, sometimes plans change. 

You pour yourself a glass, but in the end, can’t bring yourself to take a single sip. 

That’s how Ushi finds you, sitting at the kitchen table, toying with a glass of wine. There’s only the lone kitchen light lit in the apartment. The shadows dance around him, dark and monstrous, ready to swallow you both whole. 

Wakatoshi has never been particularly skilled at reading social cues but you can tell from the slight tilt of his head that he knows somethings wrong. You wonder if he knows exactly how wrong. 

(Not that it would really change anything if he did.)

The thud of his gym bag hitting the floor echoes too loudly in the silent apartment. 

He steps into the kitchen like he does all other things -- with purpose, with confidence. It will never not leave you in awe, even now, how sure he always is of himself. He’s a blunt force weapon, he always has been, and you can’t imagine a time where he’ll be anything but. 

He stops at the opposite end of the table. It’s the beginning of the same song and dance you two have done time and time again when he breaks his little promises. 

His big ones too. 

(You think of when he had missed your five-year anniversary dinner for a last-minute practice. He hadn’t forgotten about the reservation, he’d told you after he’d returned home to you sitting alone at the kitchen table, half-drunk and livid, but people were relying on him, is what he’d said, and there’s always next year.)

This routine is comforting, if only in the cruelest way. 

We can put on a show, just this last time, you think. For old time’s sake. 

Your eyes fall back down to your glass as you speak. “You said you’d stay home today.”

You look back up just in time to see him opening his mouth. No doubt getting ready to cycle through the same set of excuses he’s been using for the past four years. 

A teammate called. 

I needed the extra practice. 

There’s a skill I need to perfect. 

The Olympics are 4 years away...3 years away...2 years away....you know that, love.

And, of course, no matter his reason, his excuse, he always makes sure to add, I’ll stay home next Sunday, I promise. 

He doesn’t intend for that last part to be cruel, you’re sure of it, but God, if that doesn’t make it so much worse. 

You cut him off before he can even start. “You promised.”

His brows furrow at your exhausted, weary tone. “There was a team meeting today, I’m sorry I forgot to mention it to you. It went on longer than I expected it would. We can still go out to dinner if you’d like.” 

You give him a sad sort of smile. You’re too tired to give him any other. “I don’t think I’ll have time for that, love.”

Ushijima’s left brow twitches, as it always does when he doesn’t quite understand what’s going on. 

He takes a step forward, around the table. “What do you mean? Are you going out tonight?” 

You shake your head softly. “No, Toshi.”

You can’t help but wish more than anything, that it didn’t have to come to this, because you have loved him so much, so deeply, and you think that for it to end like this is a disservice to you both. 

His jaw clenches, no doubt already trying to contain his frustration. He’s probably tired after his long day. An argument over something like this is probably the last thing he wants. A good wife would care more. A good wife might’ve persevered, smiled through her husband's little lies and shattered promises. A good wife might’ve tried harder. A good wife might’ve dug her heels in, instead of letting go completely. 

But you’re not a good wife. Not now, at least. For all you know, you never were. You’ve always been just a bit too bitter, too selfish, too flawed. Not willing enough to throw yourself on the metaphorical altar for him. 

He’s close enough now that he can see the suitcase at your side. It stops him dead in his tracks. 

“What’s going on?” His tone is hard, demanding, but you know him too well to miss the fear that pulls at the corner of his eyes. 

Ushijima Wakatoshi is a lot of things. But he’s certainly not dumb. He has to know what’s going on. He has to have known that, eventually, this was what was going to happen. 

You stand up slowly, bracing your palms against the rough wood of the tabletop. 

“I-” you let out a harsh, mean breath. You hate that you’re doing this. But you’d hate yourself more if you didn’t. And you know you’d grow to hate him too, eventually, if you stay. You’re burning up here in this home, each broken promise and cold night add fuel to the already raging fire. You’ll be nothing but ashes soon enough. “I can’t do this anymore, Wakatoshi.” 

His pretty olive eyes narrow. The look he gives you is practically glacial. His fury has always been so, so cold. A stark contrast to your burning rage. 

He takes a deep breath. “I don’t understand.” His words are slow, methodical, and too even.

They crack open something violent inside your chest, something with teeth. Something mean and ugly and so, so sad. 

Too many years of biting your tongue have culminated into this moment. It’s time to strip yourself to the bone, to the ugly marrow. No matter how painful or awful. 

Don’t you two deserve that, at least? Don’t you two deserve to part ways having seen the worst of each other? 

“Of course you don’t understand, Ushijima,” you spit out, caustic and cruel. “How can you?” The laugh you let out is ripped from the very bottom of your heart, mean and poisonous. “Or more accurately, why would you? Why would you even bother understanding? It’s not like my unhappiness has ever really meant anything to you before-”

He cuts in sharply. “You know that’s not true.”

“No,”  you hiss. “I don’t. How can I? I’ve been miserable for years now, left to beg for scraps of your attention like a fucking dog. I’ve reduced myself to this pathetic creature. I-” tears cloud your vision, far faster than you can blink them away. “I don’t even recognize myself anymore, Ushijima. I’m so--I’m so angry all the time and if I stay here that’s going to be all that’s left of me.”

It’s silent after your outburst and in the air is something awful and too great. You’re both teetering on the edge of something terrifying. 

“If you stay with me, you mean,” he says, finally, and far too soft for a man like him. All signs of his previous fury have fled and in his eyes is a painful sort of vulnerability.

Your anger dissipates with his, mostly because you’re so fucking tired of being angry. 

Is it really his fault, anyway? What exactly were you expecting of him, when you took his last name? Were you really wanting him to change something so fundamental, so ingrained in his soul, just for you? How unfair of you, you realize now, how cruel. 

“Toshi.” You’re exhausted. And so sick of being second best. “This is more my fault than it is yours. I thought I could handle what being married to you would entail but I was,” -- you laugh, far less biting than before-- “very wrong.” You close your eyes, unable to look at him. “And now I suppose we’re both paying the price for it.” 

“I love you,” he says, bluntly. “And you love me.”

You’re finally able to meet his eyes again. You take in the planes of his face, the subtle pain etched into every corner, a brutal, beautiful reflection of the years you’ve spent by his side. 

“I do love you, Ushijima. More than anything.” 

“Then why are you doing this?” 

You swallow hard. “Sometimes, that just isn’t enough, Toshi. Relationships require more than love. They require work, and compromise, and some semblance of care and dedication, and you just-- you just don’t have the time for that right now, and I understand that. But I can’t keep doing this to myself. I deserve-” you stop and give yourself a moment to choose your words carefully, lovingly because you’re desperate for him to just understand. “We deserve better, don’t you think?”

He shakes his head, his hair falls in his eyes. You sweep it aside, a force of habit after all these years, something you’ve done a million and one times. Before you can jerk your arm back he grips it in his large hand. His fingers wrap around your wrist, unyielding. 

“I need you,” Toshi says, uncharacteristically desperate. You can feel the heat radiating off his chest. It's a twisted sort of comfort. Knowing this may very well be the last time you’ll be in this position. 

You smile, sweetly and a bit sadly. “No, you don’t, Ushi. You need volleyball. You need the thrill of the game and the taste of victory but you don’t need me. You’ve never needed me. And that’s okay.” You lift your other hand up to brush the stray tear that’s fallen from his eye. He nuzzles into your palm before you can move it, clinging to you like some sort of lifeline. “It’ll be okay, Toshi, we’ve just reached the end of our road. That’s all.”

He raises a shaky hand to trace the dried tracks of tears on your cheek, it’s startling to see him so uncomposed. “Please,” he nearly begs, “don’t do this.”

In your heart, there’s an odd brew of grief and rage and pain and love so mean you know you’ll feel the ache of it for years to come. 

You think of all the shattered promises he’s left at your feet, you think of the gentle way he’s held you through the years, you think of his string of nonchalant rejection, you think of yourself, bright and burning. 

Your mind spins from it and all you can do is rest your head against his chest and close your eyes.

a/n pt 2: there is some untapped potential in the fed up housewife genre and i am determined to unearth it. also i love ushi i promise i think he’d be a great husband under most circumstances

[jenomark]

➔Pairing: Jeno x Reader (Female) ➔Other Members/ Characters: -.- ➔Genre: Smut (with a plot!) ➔Warnings: Sexual tension & Penetration. ➔Word count: 2,470

➔Summary: You haven't called your ex-boyfriend in two years, but he's the first person you call when you're in a bit of trouble. He comes when you call, thus sparking a night neither of you will be able to move on from.

Anon request #1: can I request an ex to lovers scenario with jeno where his ex and him decided to stay as friends and since always they had a huge tension and after 2 years they got really flirty or smth, thanks💖

Anon request #2: hi, I want to request a drabble about sex with jeno, thank you!!

Jeno looked at his buzzing cell phone and blinked lazily. He hadn't seen your number come up since you broke up with him, which had to have been two years ago. He had managed to stay friends with you over those two years, but you were never friendly enough to call each other at three in the morning. Still, Jeno picked up the call to hear static at the other end of the line, wondering if he would still feel the same when he heard the sound of your voice.

"Hello?"

There was more static. When he thought you might have pocket dialed him, and he was getting ready to hang up, he heard your voice. Time seemed to slow down in those moments.

"Jeno?" you said. "I don't have good service out here. I'm scared, Jeno."

Feeling his heart race, Jeno asked, "Where are you? What is going on?"

"Off the highway. My car broke down." you said. "Can you come get me?"

Jeno sprang out of bed immediately, tearing the covers from his naked body. He got dressed while keeping you on the phone with him, so that you weren't scared. He drove to where you were, pulling over to the side of the road. When you saw him, you got out of your car and stood awkwardly, wringing your hands together.

"I know I shouldn't have called you first," you started to say. "But i-"

"-It's okay." he said, meaning it.

Jeno was bone tired, but being in front of you made him more alert. Though you broke his heart, he was still so careful with yours. Jeno came over to your car to look at it, pulling up the hood like he had any idea what he was truly doing. You watched his muscles as he fiddled around with stuff, your eyes slightly glazing over.

"I don't know much about cars." he said, shutting the hood. "I'll call someone to come pick this up. Until then, I will drive you back home. It's too late for us to be waiting out here."

You nodded and followed him back to his car. He made the call quickly before setting his cell phone down in the cup holder. There was so much gratitude for him in the silence, but you couldn't seem to get any of your thoughts out. You were still thinking about his muscles, about how handsome he looked at nearly four in the morning.

"It's done," he said. "They'll pick your car up soon. You can figure out what to do about it tomorrow."

"Thank you." you said.

It had started to rain. A few droplets hit the front of his windshield before a whole sheet of rain came down, hitting the top of his roof as hard as rocks. He could barely see out of the windshield, so he decided to wait for the storm to pass. It was awkward inside of the car, and too quiet.

You cleared your throat. "Are you seeing anyone?"

Jeno looked over at you, his eyebrows raised in surprise. Seeing his expression, you realized what an invasive question it was. You tried backtracking, but you were sputtering your words enough to make Jeno laugh.

"Relax," he said. "I'm not seeing anyone."

You didn't know what you were thinking. Maybe you were too tired to think straight. Maybe it was the sound of the rain. Maybe it was the way he looked at you in the darkness of the car. You reached over and touched the hand that rested on the steering wheel until he looked you in your eyes.

"You got Lasik eye surgery." you said. "You used to look so cute in your glasses."

For Jeno, it was easy. There has always been sexual tension between you. Touching the top of your hand felt natural. He leaned over, grabbed your chin and kissed you. You made out, completely unaware that the rain had stopped. When everything slowed down, you were straddling Jeno in his seat, and his hands were on your ass. You parted, your eyes staying on his lips until he spoke.

"I should get you home." he said.

"You should come home with me." you said, surprising yourself more than him.

Jeno laughed and eased your body off of his. "I want that more than you know, but I don't think it's a good idea. I could never control myself around you. "

Jeno drove you home, the only sound in the car coming from the windshield wipers noisily wiping away droplets of rain. You followed the blades swiping left to right, your brain in a funk.

Breaking up with Jeno was one of your top ten mistakes. You weren't as wise as you are now. You didn't know what you had when you let it go. You had carried his hurt with you everywhere you went for two years. Though you remained as friends, there was always weird tension whenever you met up with each other. His group of friends didn't trust you, and your group of friends always took your side, even though each of them was in love with Jeno. Your shared friends didn't get into the middle of it, and you and Jeno spent 24 months skating around unspoken apologies.

"We never had a chance to talk alone." you said, finally getting the bravery to speak out. “There are a lot of things left unsaid.”

Jeno pulled up in front of your house. You weren't surprised he knew where you had moved to, because you had been dropping hints for months. You had always hoped Jeno would roll up one day and give you another chance you didn't quite think you deserved.

"We don't have to talk about it now. "It's early in the morning and we both could use some sleep," he said.

You hummed in agreement, looking out of the rain soaked window at your lonely, dark house. You looked up at the sky and wanted the sun to come up, to cast a pretty glow over you and soften the experience of sitting with your ex in his car.

"You're like my knight in shining armor." you said. "I owe you a lot."

You had your hand on the door handle. You wanted to lean over and kiss him the way he kissed you, but your bravery only went so far. Jeno seemed to be thinking a similar thing. His eyes fell to your lips. Before either of you could act, he unlocked his doors.

"Get some sleep." he said, rubbing his arms as if he were cold. "I'll check in tomorrow to see how you're doing. I don't want them overcharging you for their services. If you want, I can go with you to make sure they don't."

"Okay." was all you could say. You got out of the car, tapped on his window as a way to say thank you and walked up the pathway to your house. You touched your fingers to your lips and remembered the way he tasted.

Jeno stayed there idling while you put your lock into the door and turned the handle. Once you were safely inside, you didn't wait to see if he had driven away.

You walked into your home, not caring enough to flick lights on. You weren’t as tired as before. Making out with Jeno had felt like an IV of caffeine had slipped into your bloodstream. Your body felt swollen in places, your heart most of all. You walked through the rooms, taking off your bra underneath your t-shirt and flinging it across the back of your couch. Your foot was on the first step of your stairs when you heard a soft rapping sound on your front door. Backtracking, you walked back to the door and flung it open, crossing one of your arms against your chest to hide yourself.

“Hi,” Jeno said.

He stood rooted to the spot, his eyes darting frantically around your face. You had no time to greet him back before he stepped over the threshold and took your lips against his. You moved your arm and let him smash his hard chest against your free breasts. Your nipples were aroused and you knew he could feel them against the thin material of his t-shirt. You threw your arms around his neck and clung to him, savoring the taste and feel of him.

“I know I said no but....” he said, between kisses. “It was very hard to watch you walk away from me just now.”

You kissed him and bit down on his lip, pulling it lightly with your teeth before letting go. “Take me to bed.” you said. “Or the floor...the couch..i don’t care, Jeno, just take me.”

Jeno picked you up into his arms. He shut your front door and locked it behind him without ever taking himself away from your lips. He was strong enough to carry you upstairs without struggling, which made you even more aroused than you already felt.

“To the left.” you whispered against his mouth.

It was strange having him in your new bedroom, yet, there was something familiar about seeing him amongst your possessions. He felt like he belonged. Jeno set you down on your bed and let out a groan of approval when you wouldn’t let go of his neck. You tried to trap him with your thighs, but he had pinned your arms above your head, which made you release him. Your body relaxed, half hanging off of your bed. Your stomach was bare where your shirt had ridden up, so Jeno leaned down to kiss it. He pushed it all the way up to expose your bare breasts and take them in your mouth one at a time. He was really going at it, feeling them and teasing them, when you put a stop to things and slipped out from underneath him.

“Can you give me a moment?” you asked, your face growing hot. “ I just need a second.”

Jeno sighed but agreed. He sat on the edge of your bed and watched you slink into your bathroom. You tried your best to freshen up, to get the 5 a.m stink off of you. Your mind was frantic and thinking of a million things that could go wrong. You realized that you were extremely nervous. The door to the bathroom slowly opened to reveal Jeno standing there with his hands in his pockets, and all of those thoughts faded like ghosts into the foreground.

“What are you doing?” he asked, crooking his finger. “Get over here.”

It was much easier than you thought it would be. It was like two friends getting together after a long time, friends that knew each other’s bodies inside and out. You tore off your shirt, not caring whether your armpits were sweating anymore. He met your breasts and moaned in appreciation as his mouth got back to business. On the bed, he rolled on top of you, laying kisses all down your body. You lifted your head up and let him nip at your neck. You took your hands and placed them underneath his t-shirt to touch his abs.

“Well,” you breathed. “This has changed.”

Jeno could only laugh. He took off his shirt and let you admire his body, which had definitely changed since the last time you took him to bed. You touched the hardness of his chest, down to the smoothness of tummy leading down to his cock, which you remembered in every detail. You sidled underneath him and let your tongue taste the salt on his skin. You bit down on his shoulder and looked him in the eyes.

Your body had changed, too. You were softer in a lot of places, which Jeno loved. He wanted to touch and savor all of you. There was an overeagerness to him that stifled any remaining awkwardness there could have been. He bit down on your shoulder in response, scraping his teeth against your skin before he met your mouth. His tongue wound its way around yours for a few seconds, just relishing the feeling of them together.

Once all the clothes were removed, a desperation started to change the atmosphere. Things were no longer silly. He didn’t laugh. You didn’t go anywhere but in his arms. The rain on the window was quiet but present. The sun was seeping into your skin where you lay underneath him. There was a moment where he grabbed your face between his hands and held you there, his thumb brushing across your cheek. He kissed you sweetly, his lips full.

When Jeno entered you, it was like all the memories of your sex life came flooding back. You would always miss him inside of you when he wasn’t there, miss the full feeling that came when he penetrated you for the very first time. You had missed the sounds his throat made whenever he concentrated on pleasuring you. You hadn’t forgotten how skilled his fingers were at fondling you, or how each stroke never failed to make you lose all thought. He fucked your body like it meant something in the morning glow. He didn’t slow down for anything, not even when he felt your fingernails digging into his back.

He had let you take control. You moved on top of him and sank down onto his cock, holding onto his arms as you did. With your hands pressed against his chest, you moved. You rode Jeno wildly, bucking against his pelvis with abandon. He tugged on your hair when you tilted your chin towards the ceiling. He gripped your waist. He smacked your ass. He did everything in his power to bring you back to him every time you slipped away. Your eyes eventually found him again. You moved lower and rode him, your sweaty body gliding against his. He held you, his thick arm around your neck as he felt your walls contract, as you came around his cock.

You wanted to cry out, wanted to bring the room down around you. You kept fucking him, wanting to coax the cum from his cock, to feel the warmth moving downwards with gravity. You wanted to keep it going forever, but it wasn’t meant to be. It had been a long time since you two had made love, and your bodies were too excited to hold back.

You knew there would be a talk somewhere in the future, when he was ready. As Jeno screwed up his face in orgasm, as you felt the warmth of his cum, you were a little too happy to prolong that conversation. You wanted him in your life for a long time but, for now, you would take him any way you could get him.

[koqabear]

hit me with your killshot, baby (C.YJ)

Summary:

It was a small, quiet town you had decided to move into. One that you could help with any healing or magical needs. What you didn’t expect, however, was to face a demon too powerful for your own good. The worst part? Seems like he’s gotten attached.

Yeonjun x reader/ demon!yeonjun x witch!reader

Genre: fantasy, enemies to ?? thriller(?), angst if you squint me thinks

Word count: 3.0K

Warnings: general physical fighting/violence, mentions of scars, burns, bones breaking, knives, blood, fire, descriptions of pain (let me know if I should add anything!)

a/n: This might get another part if it gets a good response <3 Writing fantasy is rlly fun for me as well, I’m so glad that this is the story that got me out of my writers block lmao

comments and reblogs are always welcome and much appreciated, hope you guys enjoy! <3

Disclaimer!! Absolutely nothing about this story is accurate or real, anything and everything that mc the witch does is made up!

It was about three in the morning when you got the call.

“Hello?” You said, eyes squinted as you had just been woken up from your sleep. The line remained silent for a moment, leaving you to wonder if this was a scam caller. You spoke again, only to hear hasty footsteps becoming louder, presumably running towards the phone.

“Hello?!” The voice called out, the loud exclamation causing you to jolt awake. “Oh my god, oh my god!” Their exasperated voice rang through your line, and you stood to get properly dressed, already anticipating their request.

“Where do you live?” You asked sharply, grabbing the keys to your car and waiting for their answer. They stuttered out their address, the sounds of the rain coming into your ear. They were now outside.

“Please come quick, this spirit has been bothering me for weeks now, I could have sworn they were harmless-“ they cried into the phone, only to get cut off by your stern command.

“Leave your home. I’ll be there in about ten minutes.”

They agreed, their voice quiet and shaky, and you hung up, beginning to drive to your new task.

It was no secret your town had a problem with the supernatural. That was the whole reason you lived here.

‘The town witch’ was what they called you. You remember moving to this small town the moment you turned eighteen, the rumors of the paranormal town beckoning you to help. With potions and incantations by your side, you were the best damn thing this place had ever gotten. But that was six years ago, and you were young and naive. The scars and burns that riddled your body only served to prove your progress, marking your place in this town permanently.

You sighed, your grip on your steering wheel weak. You were, after all, the only help these people had. Late night calls like this were beginning to become much too common recently, leading you to wonder if something, or someone, new was beginning to pester this poor town.

You arrived at the house, the thunderstorm only helping to provide a stereotypical atmosphere for you to work in. You got out your car, pulling your coat tightly against your body, the wind around you strong enough to hinder your footsteps.

The two story home before you rattled in protest, the front door swinging open the moment you got close enough. You felt your heart begin to race, beginning to question if this was truly worth it. It seems that whatever had been pestering the homeowner was no small ghost. Walking inside, you were met with the dark and empty home, the hardwood floor beneath you creaking in protest as you carefully walked around, the house seemingly calming the moment you entered.

You breathed in slowly, attempting to steady your mind as you surveyed the house, recalling what the homeowner told you before hanging up. This had been going on for a while, but it seems that it only recently became too much for them. Whatever was in this home really liked the attention.

Before you were able to take another step forward, you were thrown off your feet, slamming into the wall to your left, the many picture frames and decorations falling before you with a loud crash. The door slammed shut, and you covered your head, bracing yourself as you felt the glass shards begin to be directed towards you.

It’s here, and it’s angry.

Just as the chaos around you finally dulled down, you were met with the sight of the trophy shelf in front of you beginning to shake, your eyes widening as you began to run. You muttered a quick incantation to help shield you, the dull sounds of impact that began to pound against your shield only serving to make you run faster.

The hallway in front of you suddenly seemed never-ending, it’s violet wallpaper becoming harder to see the more you ran. Was the house layout always like this? The hallway suddenly ended, leading you to an open room, quickly recognizing it as the living room. The lights suddenly flickered on, disturbing your concentration as you noticed a shadow walk past one of the doorways.

Seemingly knowing you perfectly, the spirit took this small wavering to throw a book in your direction, narrowly missing your face as you ducked to the side, only to get knocked to your knees as you felt a kick to your back, your disturbed concentration causing your spell to be broken.

You turned around in a haste, summoning your shield once more as you unsheathed the knife you had in your coat pockets.

“Show yourself!” You barked out, standing up as you surveyed the room. “I know you’re here.”

Silence.

The howling wind outside stopped, the flickering lights suddenly still at the sound of your voice. You gripped the handle of the knife harder, trying to not let the exhaustion seep into you. The lights began to slowly dim, a lit ember flickering in front of you, only to be followed by many more, swirling into a raging fire directly in front of you. You jumped back at the heat, the familiar sight making you frown in anticipation.

“You look tired,” the voice said, as smooth and elegant as you first remembered it, “Maybe I could fix that.”

Standing in front of you was no other than Yeonjun. Clad in black, his dark eyes stared into yours as he towered over you, his platform boots shining underneath the dull lights, his hair slicked back and pushed away from his face save for a few strands that hung to frame his face.

“Yeonjun.” You said, a feeling of anger stirring inside you the longer you stared at him

“It’s so nice to hear my name come from you again,” he sighed, taking a step toward you, only for you to step back in retaliation.

Yeonjun was none other than the first demon you tried to expel when you first came here. You had fought with every single potion and spell you spent years perfecting, only to leave hospitalized and unsure that he would return. However, as the years passed and no sign of him appeared, you had assumed that you had succeeded in your battle against him, any signs of hauntings or poltergeists disappearing after that day.

“You,” you snapped, everything finally piecing everything together. “You’re behind everything that’s been happening recently, aren’t you?” You took another step back as he began to laugh, throwing his head back as if you had just told him the funniest thing in the world. Slowly, he calmed himself down, his eyes playful as he took his sweet time responding to you.

“Maybe, why?” He said, beginning to walk towards you slowly. You held your ground, concentrating on keeping your shield steady, they grip on your knife tightening. He stopped centimeters away from it, the aura of the shield humming as his clothes grazed the perimeter, shocks emitting on impact.

“I missed you, you know,” He muttered, head leaning towards you teasingly as he stood just far enough to not be blasted away from your shield. “It wasn’t fun hopping from town to town, trying to mess with other witches that resided there. They were just too…”

“Weak.”

You were barely given a moment before the sight of Yeonjun’s bright eyes filled your vision, the feeling of a scorching heat overtaking your senses.

Yeonjun had trapped you in a ring of fire.

A pretty small one, too.

Slightly panicked, you looked around for any place you could escape, the memories of the last time you got so close to Yeonjun warning you to get as far from him as you could, only to find that it was just you and him, trapped in a space that wouldn’t even allow you to shift backwards.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, his voice taunting as he waited for your next move, “Claustrophobic?”

The weapon in your hand began to heat up, your mind working its hardest to form a plan that would work and let you come out alive. You already knew what this fire around you would do; It wasn’t a simple flame, and the scar on your chest that throbbed painfully in this demonic presence was enough proof of that.

The moment you had healed from your first encounter with Yeonjun, you had put all of the knowledge you had acquired from experience and older, more experienced witches into putting a weapon that would help you with violent demonic problems like him. It had taken you weeks of pure isolation and meditation to engrave the correct energy into the weapon, afraid to make any mistake that could lead to something drastic. By the time you were finished putting the last few touches on the weapon, (a protective incation; the words engraving themselves in fine print letter by letter as you poured the last of your energy into it,) you could barely stand, landing yourself at the house of a medic that specialized with witches.

“You’re lucky that you managed to come out of this with just drained energy,” He had told you one day, standing next to your cot and handing you a homemade medicine; its taste was horrendous, but it did the job.

“I’ve dealt with witches, succeeding or not, that had come out in a much worse condition. You’re very powerful, that much I can tell.” He confessed, his face sobering as he remembered why it was that you were there, “Whatever it is that you’re dealing with, I wish you luck.”

And now here you stand, the results of all your hard work and patience vibrating the more you concentrate on defeating the demon in front of you.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to try and hurt me with that,” Yeonjun laughed, watching the way your grip tightened the moment he landed his eyes on it, your knuckles turning white with the force, “You know your little knife can’t hurt me, right?”

While it was true that regular knives were nothing more but toys to him, you knew that what you were holding was not a regular knife.

But he didn’t.

You remained silent as you stared at him, quirking a brow to silently challenge him. He scoffed, rolling his eyes at your demeanor.

“Giving me the silent treatment now?” He said, pausing for a moment before looking back at you, “Fine. You think you can hurt me with that little kitchen knife?” With a single movement of his hands, the fire dwindled, going down until it was no more,

“Go ahead. Give it your best shot.”

You suppressed a smile.

Yeonjun was a lot of things. Strong, powerful, smart, hell, he was a bit attractive too.

But above all, he was cocky.

Slowly, and as subtly as you could, you adjusted your stance, your eyes never leaving his, ready to let your shield down to attack him.

“No games?”

His lips quirked up, his hands coming up to his sides to show you his full vulnerability.

“Fair and square. Here, I’ll even let you make the first move.” His pitch black eyes twinkled with his signature playfulness, his thoughts displaying to you loud and clear;

I thought you were smarter than this.

You fought the urge to scoff, and instead surveyed him for a moment, stepping back to give yourself a bit more room. He watched intently, his body language open and relaxed, clearly not threatened by you.

You lunged forward.

Before Yeonjun could move away, you swung your knife towards him, your stomach sinking as you missed your target, his neck, and sliced at his face instead. His head turned to the side, a hiss emitting from him as he turned back to you, the slash on his cheek burning into his skin, going deeper into his face as he began to bleed.

Except that wasn’t blood that came out of his face.

A thin liquid, pure black and mixed with the poison of your blade, trickled down his face. Slowly, he brought up a hand to his cheek, touching tentatively at his wound, observing the black substance that poured out of him, before turning back to you.

“Come on, you little vixen,” he groaned, the nickname that he called you from your first meeting rolling off his tongue smoothly, “Not the face!”

Cocky bastard.

But now that your first move was over, Yeonjun took a minute to crack his neck, the black liquid trailing down to his neck as he slowly rolled his head back, pausing for a second before straightening up, smiling at you sweetly.

“My turn.”

Right as you were going to activate your shield once more, Yeonjun ran to you, landing a solid punch to your stomach, sending you flying to the wall behind you, the wind being knocked out of you on impact as you crumbled to the floor. Looking up, you saw him lunge at you once more, mumbling your incantation for your shield, successfully knocking him back at the last second. Tumbling backward, Yeonjun layed on the floor as you slowly got back up, using the wall behind you as support, the wild and unhinged sound of Yeonjun’s laugh echoing off the walls.

“Oh, my little vixen,” he began, sitting up as he watched you regain your composure. “I missed this. I must admit, you have gotten stronger.” Standing back up slowly, you felt the room slowly heat up. You shifted, knowing what it was that he was about to do next.

“It’s exciting.”

Running towards him, you did your best to avoid the trail of fire that was now after you, ready to swing your knife at him as you got closer. Just as you were close enough to him, you swung towards his neck once more, the predictable movement allowing Yeonjun to step aside, only to get a kick to his chest, successfully knocking him down and allowing you to dive down, the fire that was about to pierce the center of your back flying instead to the wall in front of you, the loud boom barely covering Yeonjun’s scream as you dug your knife into his shoulder.

“Fuck!”

You towered over him, straddling his waist and putting as much weight as you could to keep him down. His hands immediately reached up to clasp over yours, attempting to pull the weapon out, only to have you retaliate by digging it into his skin more, his cursing filling up your ears as he struggled against you.

Your jaw clenched and you felt yourself begin to sweat, the same ring of fire from before beginning to enclose around you slowly with no signs of stopping. Your hands began to burn underneath Yeonjun’s touch, obviously his doing as he seemed to concentrate on attempting to scare you off with the same fire that landed you on the brink of death from your first encounter.

But you refused.

You refused to allow the demon to live any longer, to continue to terrorize innocent and defenseless people in your town, or in this world at all. And now that you had him under your grip, your hands struggling to successfully behead him, you weren’t going to let a little bit of pain scare you away.

Your hands began to numb under the heat of his skin, popping noises emitting from under his iron grip. He was attempting to break your hands, to render them useless, but with the adrenaline coursing through your veins, you pushed on, biting back your own groans of pain and trying to concentrate on your current task, and nothing else.

“Come on my vixen, give it up,” he said, his voice laced with pain and false confidence that he attempted to use in order to make you believe that he remained unaffected. But as your knife inched towards his neck, piercing through his skin and emitting a loud sizzling sound, you knew that it was all a bluff by the way he winced, a low grunt of pain escaping him.

“I really don’t want to hurt you, you know,” he confessed, the ring of fire snapping angrily at your legs, the heat making you want to faint from overexertion. But you continued to push on, much to Yeonjun’s annoyance. “Fine, you asked for it.”

He screwed his eyes shut, the ring of fire slightly calming down, along with his iron grip on your hands. Just as you were about to take this chance and behead him, you felt something coming.

You turned around.

A ball of pitch black fire, resembling a pure void, flew towards you.

It all happened so fast. Throwing you off of him, Yeonjun staggered away from you, watching silently as the void of black washed over you, your screams of agony causing him to look away, the slightest bit of pity washing over him.

This was it, wasn’t it?

You couldn’t move as this void of fire washed over you, a feeling as though every bone in your body was being broken and you were being turned inside out coarsed through your system, your screams ripping through your throat, the wish for death appearing in your heart.

But right as you felt as though you were going to black out, it stopped.

And Yeonjun stood over you.

He watched as you lay there, completely paralyzed with pain. It took a bit before you began to breathe again, your chest barely rising, the air flowing into you causing you pain. Slowly, you opened your eyes, Yeonjun’s face inches from yours, the dark liquid from his wounds dripping onto you.

“I almost feel sorry,” he whispered, his lips grazing yours. You tried to hold on, to finish your job, but the very effort of having to breathe exhausted you beyond belief. Slowly, he pressed his lips to yours, the kiss more of a half hearted apology as he lingered there for a second, his lips still against yours. His mind reeled at the feeling, and he pulled away, a soft smile on his face as he slowly brought his hand down, hesitating before caressing your exhausted face slowly, spreading his own blood on your face.

He grinned.

“I look forward to our next battle.”

And he was gone.

Tears pricked at your eyes, and you collapsed.

[btssunnyboy]

Unbelievable - Choi San

He was always rude to you, embarrassing you in front of everyone. So why is he mad that someone better made you an offer?

Warning - Profanity, mention of caffeine, San is mean as fuck, Yandere towards the end, He makes a threat.

Word Count - 3,362 idk if they will be a part 2!

BTS , NCT , ATEEZ — request open.

__________________________________________

Good god, your blood was boiling the moment you saw his door crack open. You could feel your fingernails digging into your palms as you tried to remain calm. The last thing you needed to do was lose your temper and give this man another opportunity to ridicule in front of your co-workers. But judging by that horrendous look on his face you already have a gut feeling that all taht hard work to keep your anger in check is going to fly right through the window. Taking the deepest breath you could take and plastering on that fake smile, you gladly greeted the man that makes your life a living hell.

“These numbers are definitely not to my liking and I refused to be the laughing stock at the board meeting tomorrow.” He huffed heavily as he practically threw the binder down onto your desk. The heavy plastic slamming against the steel desk with a loud thud that echoed through the big hallway. The wind from the fall making papers that previously occupied your desk go flying in every single direction. You could feel your anger bubble up in your chest at the mere disrespect that this man was giving you, and it was driving you insane.

“With all do respect sir, it’s already twelve thirty, and I highly doubt I’ll be able to go over all of these documents by seven thirty in the morning.” You resisted their urge to grit your teeth as you wanted to appear somehow considerate of his complications. Truth be told you didn’t want to do another all nighter when you barely pulled through from the other night. “Besides, I looked over the revenue and margin growths three times before I sent them to your office.”

He scoffed loudly as he licked one of his fingers and then continued to rummage through the papers that were bonded together. His long finger skimmed over the lines multiple times and he flipped each page within a minute. Those piercing eyes stayed locked in on every single number that crossed the page. “Ah, right here it states that we made a profit revenue of fifty million last year, but then it states that this year we’ve only grossed sixty five million. And that’s definitely less than the fifty percent revenue growth that we expected.”

“So, sixty five is not as bad as you’re making it out to be, besides multiple people double checked.” You spoke tiredly as you started packing up your briefcase. Different papers getting stacked together and even crumpled because of the rapid pace that you were going. No matter what happens tonight you were leaving before the clock strikes one in the morning. As you were packing up your eyes met his furious ones and it felt like your world was crumbling down. “Mr. Choi, I’m being honest, your accounting department checked all of these numbers multiple times and I looked over them as much as I could.”

“I know for a fact that we had a fifty percent increase in revenue, now look over these damn numbers again. Or you’ll be kissing this cushy office job goodbye in the morning.” He harshly slammed the binder closed and stalked over to his office door. The audacity of that stupid man, how dare he even threaten you with this job. But as much as you wanted to spit in his face and tell him to shove it you really needed this job, this really well paying job.

You poked your cheek with your tongue out of agitation and roughly grabbed your purse. The bottle of caffeine pills made a clicking sound as you unscrewed the cap within a second. Without a drink of water you downed the pill and grabbed the ugly binder. This was going to be a long night, and these numbers were not going to supposedly fix themselves.

Your fingers tapped the keys on the keyboard rapidly as you searched each collaboration revenue. All of these numbers were lining up, no matter what you searched. Out of the six collaborations Choi enterprise only grossed sixty five million, but for some reason he just won’t listen. All you wanted to do at this point was slump forward and go to sleep, but with that anger that Mr.Choi has you’re scared he might kill you in your sleep. But as the long hours went on and on, you could feel yourself slipping. Your eyelids felt like a ton, and your head was suddenly too heavy for your neck to hold. Before you knew you were out like a light.

—

You’d shoot the person who was jabbing their finger into side if you could. Their bony finger feeling a knife stabbing your rib cage with immense pressure. “Please wake up, y/n, if he notices you’re asleep, who knows what he’ll do!” The jabbing didn’t cease one bit, in fact they just jabbed even harder.

“Okay! I’m up!” You groggily scoffed as your vision was trying to focus on the object in front of you. The figure was simply a mush of different colors all moving in different directions. The harsh lights in the office are in no way making the situation any better. You could make out their hand moving from left to right to try and grab your attention. “Hongjoong?”

“What are you, blind? Of course it’s me, but please I’m begging you get up and go freshen up in the bathroom.” He sighed sadly as he helped your wobbly stance straighten up. His soft hands wrapping around your waist and pulling you close. The soft scent of his cologne filling your nose as you clung to him. “Do you still carry extra clothes in your car?”

“Thankfully yes, but what time is it?” You question as you rubbed your eyes, trying to make all the colors of the world blend back together to form one coherent thing. “Oh god, is it past seven thirty, oh shit! He’s gonna kill me!”

“Calm down, it's only six thirty, but he always gets here at seven. So please go wipe that old makeup off and I’ll get your other clothes.” Hongjoong smiled slightly at you before his eyes shifted towards the oh so famous brown binder. “Did that dick make you go over more numbers the whole night?”

“God yes and it was terrible, but I looked over all six collaborations and I kid you not it all equals sixty five.” You could hear a pin drop on the silence that coated the room. It was beginning to feel suffocating and you physically felt your chest growing heavy with dread. “There were only six right, because that’s all the forms I received.”

“Maybe i'm just thinking of something else, because maybe just maybe -“

“Stop wasting time! Is there more than six?” You panicked as you shoved him away and pulled the rolling chair back to your side. Before your fingers could even reach the keys, Hongjoong’s were there in a second. They tapped rapidly and skimmed through all your emails at a neck breaking pace. “Oh my god I never refreshed the email.”

“We don’t have time to sit here and panic, we have three pages of numbers to go through.” Hongjoong tried to make the situation less tense by offering a helping hand, but he knew that if these numbers weren’t corrected all hell would break loose. And no one wanted to see what Choi San was like when he more than ticked off. He’d probably be past the point of furious if ever saw these unfinished numbers.

—

San’s eyes were narrowed as he eyed the unfamiliar man at your desk. Where the hell were you? He didn’t pay a shit ton of money for you to be everywhere and not in that chair looking pretty. But at this moment he couldn’t control himself as the words flew from his mouth. “What the hell is this?”

That look, that gorgeous look of fear that made his blood rush and his heart pound. Was etched across the unknown man's face and he was basking in the glory of it. San cocked his eyebrow slightly as he leaned forwards on his palms. “Did I suddenly grow two heads or some shit, no? Then answer my question, what the hell is this.”

“I’m so sorry Mr.Choi, but I didn’t notice that there were seven collaborations. I only had six in my email. And Mr.Kim was only helping me scrunch the numbers.”

“You mean to tell me that these numbers aren’t finished! And this meeting is in less than an hour?” His demeanor was calm but the sheer venom in his voice was enough to bring you to your knees. He poked his cheek with his tongue and gave a mean smile in your direction. “I mean it, l/n you’re on thin ice. But if those numbers aren’t corrected then you’re fired.”

“Yes sir.” You gulped as you watched him take heavy steps towards his office. You were in deep shit now. San rubbed his chin as he tried to remain calm and not fire you on the spot. Out of all the times you could have missed up, you decided now was the perfect time. Messing up these numbers would make other investors think that this company cannot handle the responsibility of simply matching numbers. This mistake could completely tank the company and put everyone here out of a job.

Fifty five minutes have passed and investors from other companies are already showing up at the doors. And here he was sitting at the head of the table empty handed, and it was all your fault. It was your fault for not refreshing that damn email, for not paying closer attention to the numbers, for simply not giving it your all. And now it’s going to be your fault that the entire company crumbles and falls straight into the depths below.

“So San, when is this meeting going to officially begin?” Questioned one of the many associates as he leaned back against the velvet chair. A smile bright on his face as if he didn’t care to wait a moment or two for it to begin. But, on the other hand, the leader of the meeting was so furious he could start foaming at the mouth. Because guess what crucial piece of information still wasn’t on his desk.

“We will begin momentarily if my secretary would get her head out of her ass and bring them those god damn numbers.” San spoke with a soft smile on his face. The look he gave the men was a completely different tone from the words he just spoke. Those words help fury and degradation but his smile was so bright it could light up a room or cause someone’s heart to flutter out of their chest. But at this moment all of those men knew at this moment San was anything, but happy.

The sound of the doorknob being yanked on caught everyone’s attention. Their heads jolted towards the cause of the noise as they watched you fiddled with the dozens of papers in her hand. Your smile was uneasy as you tried to reorganize them on your way towards the head of the table. They watched your clammy hands shake with fear as San ripped the paper from your hands. Judging by the way you quickly held your pointed and middle finger they could only guess what happened.

“Why the hell are you still standing here? Do I need to draw you a picture and make it clear that you’re done here?” San scolded as he shoved you a bit and forced you to walk to the door. Fumbling over your own two feet and almost hitting the floor head on at one point. But he didn’t care, because all he wanted to do right now was get this meeting over with. With a final shove and a quick slam of the glass door, he swiftly turned back around to be met with very difficult to decipher expressions.

“Well now that all distractions are gone, let’s get down to business.”

—

Your face was flushed and you could feel your hands start to shake. From the mere interaction with the stupid CEO. The vivid picture of his icy eyes and cold stare were burned into your brain, as his words pounded in your skull without mercy. The man practically belittled you, in a room full of successful CEOs who now probably think you’re a joke.

“Hey, don't worry yourself sick. It was an honest mistake.” Hongjoong consoled you as he eyed your shaken form. The tearful eyes and the constant bouncing of your leg was a dead giveaway of the way you felt at this moment. And he wanted nothing more than to just say everything will be okay, that everything is going to be just fine. But he can’t, because who knows what the jerk will do you do considering your almost costed him a deal.

“Do you think he’ll fire me?” The question hung in the air with such heaviness that it was almost hard to breathe. The thought of losing this job was sending you into a whirlwind of erratic emotions. If this job is gone, there goes the ability to afford your car, hell there goes the ability to afford the damn apartment you’re living in at this moment. You’ll lose eveything, if you’re cut off.

“He better not, and trust me if he ever does, I would be more than happy to have you on my team.” A new man smiled brightly in your direction as he made his way over to your desk. He wasn’t an unfamiliar face around the office as he and Mr.Choi have done business deals of many kinds in the past. “It would truly be an honor to have someone like you working at Jeon Marketing.”

A small smile took over your face as you eyed the man in front of you. Mr.Jeon was an extremely well known CEO in this business, and he’s not too much older than Mr.Choi. You’re genuinely surprised these men are allies in this type of business, if anything you thought they’d be enemies. “Thank you for such kind words, but trust me your opinion on me may change soon.”

“Nonsense, I’ve seen the way you handle situations at this company, especially time crunched ones. I can tell just by looking at your face you stayed up hours just to make sure his numbers were perfect.” Mr Jeon stated as he leaned forward on the desk and clapped his hand together. “And truth be told I wouldn’t mind having such a beautiful face be the face of my company.”

His compliment left you stumped as you eyed his face. The tone he held was lighthearted because he knew this stressful situation needed a little laughter, but you knew from the look on his face he was being serious. About both of his statements. Before you could form a response, he long fingers were reaching into his jacket pocket. “I promise, if you ever need anything. I’m just a call away.”

“His top rival and best friend just offered you a sweet ass deal, are you gonna take it?”

You truly didn’t know the answer to that. I mean on one hand you have your secretary job here, and it pays well. The boss may be a pain in the ass, but it’s the only thing keeping you afloat. And you know that these two companies are neck and neck right now for the top spot, so it’s hard to decipher just how much he’s willing to pay you. But would there be any harm in simply asking the man?

“I’m not gonna lie and say it doesn’t intrigue me, but at the same time I don’t wanna leave you all alone.” You mumbled as you tapped away at the computer keys. Just trying to find any small amount of information about his company. But only mere surface information popped up in the search box. “Would it be a bad thing if I did leave?”

“Sometimes trying something new is good thing, but it really all depends on how you feel. And I have a friend that works there and she told me she makes over 250k a year.” Hongjoong shrugged his shoulders as he stood up to leave. His soft eyes giving a sense of comfort as he started to walk away. “I promise whatever option you pick, you’ll be fine.”

A heavy huff of air passed through your lips as you tried to think of the right answer. If he was right you’d make just a little bit more working for him and he genuinely seems like a nicer boss in general. So the real question is what’s keeping you tied to this job? The only perk about this job is working with Hongjoong and he’s the main reason why you’ve stuck around this long. The men from before were now exiting San’s offer with bright smiles on their faces, and you could only conclude that those numbers truly were the right ones. But just as your eyes leave their smiles you’re met with someone who has the complete opposite expression.

He briskly walked towards you and hastily cleared his throat. The stone cold expression he was supporting made a shiver go down your spine. Without a second thought he grabbed your hand and hauled you off in the direction of his office, with his nails piercing the skin of your wrist. Within a second he shoved you into his office and slammed the door behind him.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” His stern voice echoed in the office. Bouncing off the walls left and right and continuing to bounce inside your skull. The fingernails that were pressing into your skin felt like sharp needles protruding into you. You could have sworn you saw blood pass through his fingers. “Answer me!”

“I’m sorry! But I don’t understand what you’re talking about.” You panicked as you tried to yank your arm away from his hardened grasp. Those eyes of his start to terrify you the longer you stay in his touch. But he wasn’t letting you get away if anything the more you struggled against him the tighter his hold got.

“I saw that dumb fucker hand you his card, and for some unknown reason you took it. So what that’s it, you’re just gonna fucking leave after everything I’ve done for you?” He spat words at you left and right. Not bothering to back up any of his claims. He speaks as if he’s given you pure gold to walk but in reality all he’s given you is eggshells. You have to be careful around you, you’re never treated well, and he wants to sit up on his throne and act as if he’s treated you like royalty?

“If anything you’ve given me shit! You’re treating me like crap any chance you get, I made one mistake and your response to that is belittling me in front of other people!” You shouted back with just as much venom as he has done to you. With a final yank from your arm, you relaxed yourself from his grip. Tired of his antics you looked him dead in the eyes and spoke. “And so what if I take his offer, he’d be a better boss than you ever were!”

“I mean it, L/n, you take that deal and I’ll make your life a living hell.” He threatened as he got closer and closer. His minty breath fanned your face slightly as he harshly grabbed your chin. “Trust me, this is one bet you’ll regret taking if you leave.”

“I’ll take that damn bet any day.” You tried to push his chest back but he was stronger than you. What surprised you the most was the cackle-like laugh that passed through his lips. A wide smile taking over his face and that somehow made the situation more sinister.

“I warned you, Y/n.”

[etherrreal]

“5:00am”

Pairing: ushijima x reader Genre: fluff Summary: looking back, you’re not sure what made you think that jogging with ushijima would end in anything but complete and utter disaster, but it’s too late to go back now WC: 5k Warnings: brief mentions of non-serious injury, a little blood, implied smut, too many paragraphs about ushijima’s hands A/N: first fic gang! this was supposed to be like 500 words but as the blog title suggests, i’m a liar -Dawn

You’re not sure what possesses you to go jogging with Ushijima at the ungodly hour of 5AM –and on a Saturday, no less– but here you are, tugging a windbreaker over your tank top and leggings while he waits for you by the door.

Most of it, you’re sure, is just because you miss him. The two of you have been so busy lately –you with your new job, him with the whole professional volleyball thing– so this is the first weekend in a while that you’ll actually be spending together.

It’s only natural that you want to spend as much time as possible with your boyfriend before your respective commitments are back to pulling you both in opposite directions, as they have more times than you’d like to admit in the past four months you’ve been dating.

Or maybe 5AM-you, lacking caffeine, sleep, and any sense of real judgment, is just losing your mind.

Ushijima certainly seems to think so, if the look he gives you when you volunteer to accompany him on his routine morning jog is any indication. He’s far from the most expressive person you’ve ever dated, but you’ve been with him long enough to register the surprise on his features; the way his pretty olive eyes widen a fraction and the way he pauses to watch you, like he’s trying to gauge how serious you are.

“What?” you ask as you join him by the door, removing your slippers.

He raises an eyebrow at you. “You hate running.”

“Running? Absolutely. Jogging, however, I think I can handle, especially if it’s with my handsome boyfriend who I haven’t spent nearly enough time with lately.”

With your slippers out of the way, you move to reach for your sneakers next. A quick glance in his direction confirms that he’s still giving you that same bewildered look, a crease forming between his eyebrows. It makes you falter as you pick up your sneakers, wondering if you’ve made a mistake.

Now that you think about it, he does usually jog on his own. The two of you are no strangers to working out together –if him doing push-ups with you perched comfortably on his back counts as working out– but you’ve never actually joined him on a morning run before.

Is this something he prefers to do alone? Are you overstepping his boundaries by inviting yourself along before checking to see if it was okay? Suddenly, you find yourself wishing you would’ve asked first.

“Do you...not want me to go with you? Because if you’d prefer to go alone, that’s totally fine, I’ll just–”

He catches your wrist before you can put your sneakers back down, and the rest of your sentence is lost somewhere between the fingertips he presses against your skin and the other hand he uses to lift yours.

It’s almost criminal, you think, the way a single touch from him is enough to completely derail your train of thought, whatever you were babbling about suddenly the furthest thing from your mind. You think you shouldn’t be as phased by it by now, not after all the time you’ve spent together, but no such luck.

Really, it’s his hands that are the problem, now that you think about it. His hands, steady and calloused and strong, but still so undeniably gentle and patient when it comes to you.

It’s hard to pick your favorite feature of Ushijima’s when he looks the way he does –all tanned skin, broad shoulders, and chiseled abs– but his hands are pretty high up on your list. They have been from the moment you met him at Iwaizumi’s housewarming party last year.

You had obviously seen him before, though you never actually spoke to him until the party. It was mostly during high school volleyball matches between Aoba Johsai and Shiratorizawa, courtesy of your childhood friendship with Oikawa and Iwaizumi.

You remember spotting Ushijima and thinking he looked so serious and unapproachable, even more imposing than he did in the photos of him featured in that Monthly Volleyball magazine you used to watch Oikawa vandalize with ridiculous-looking mustaches and devil horns.

When you saw Ushijima at Iwaizumi’s party, he still looked serious, not to mention larger and even more intimidating in person, but his hands were warm and kinder than you were expecting, careful in the way they wrapped around yours when he introduced himself. It was only hours later when those same hands reached for yours again to help you off the couch that you realized you spent the whole night with him.

Now, months later, you’re standing with him in his stupidly expensive apartment, half-panicked that you might’ve overestimated his desire to spend time with you. But Ushijima’s hands are still steady and warm against your skin, even now, reassuring in a way you don’t think you’ll ever get tired of.

“I’d love it if you joined me,” he says, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your hand, and if you weren’t smiling before, then you definitely are now.

You pull on his hand to tug him down towards you, a request that he silently obliges. You perch on your toes to reach him and deliver a chaste kiss to his lips, smiling against his mouth. When you pull away to look at him, you find him smiling, too, in that soft and subtle way of his that you’re so glad he’s chosen to share with you.

“Just promise me you’ll be careful,” he adds. “We’ll be running for a while, and I don’t want you to get hurt. You’re clumsier than most.”

Sadly, he’s not wrong. You are pretty clumsy, almost cartoonishly so. He’s watched you bang your leg on his dining room table practically every time you pass it, heard you curse to yourself after accidentally knocking down every item in his shower. At this point, holding your arm in his is as natural to him as breathing, just so he’s there to keep you from tripping over your own two feet.

And while you definitely appreciate the concern, you don’t think it’s entirely necessary, at least not for this. Sure, you have a bad habit of falling on your ass more often than not, but you’re also able to do so without sustaining any major injuries. You’re confident this time will be no different.

Besides, it’s just one jog. You’ll survive, even if your muscles might hate you for it later. Still, you know he worries about you, which is why you reach up to give him another quick kiss.

“Deal,” you assure him once you pull away. Then, you grin, voice taking on a more teasing edge as you look up at him. “As long as you promise not to be embarrassed when I leave you in the dust. You know, since I’m just so naturally athletic.”

Ushijima’s never been the best at detecting sarcasm, but with you, like so many other things, it’s different. He can tell you’re joking by the way you giggle and wink at him, and when he huffs out a quiet laugh, you smile and sit down to put on your sneakers.

He surprises you when he kneels to tie them for you before you get the chance to do it yourself.

“Careful, Wakatoshi,” you warn him, not for the first time. “If you keep being so sweet to me, you’ll never be able to get rid of me. You might just be stuck with me forever.”

“That’s fine,” he says, like he’s already considered the consequences before and has chosen to accept them. “You’re the only one I can imagine being with for that long, anyway.”

He moves on to tie the laces on your second sneaker, taking zero responsibility for the way his words make your heart flutter in your chest. He always does this: says stupidly romantic things with barely any prompting and absolutely no consideration or even awareness of the effect they have on you.

His voice doesn’t change when he says them, either. He uses the same blunt tone he always does, like it’s a simple fact, like he’s asking you to pass him his phone charger instead of alluding to a potential future with you.

It just makes you fall that much more in love with him.

Not that you’ve actually told him yet. You’re still waiting for the right moment. You wonder if maybe this might be it, but then he stands up and turns away from you to open the door and the opportunity is gone.

Maybe that’s for the best. This morning, you decide that you can handle jogging with your pro-athlete boyfriend or confessing your love for him, not both. The latter will just have to wait for dinner tonight, assuming you make it back in one piece and your legs don’t just fall off from the sudden exercise.

You stand up and follow him out the door.

Ushijima insists you both take the time to stretch before you actually start running, so you spend a few minutes doing so in the empty lobby. You pretend to struggle with a few of them, just so you’ll have an excuse to have his hands on you.

You’re almost positive he sees through your little ruse, if the amused look he gives you is any indication, but he doesn’t complain, guiding his hands over your body to help you bend and stretch like he can’t see the grin on your face.

Once you’re all warmed up, you’re ready to start jogging. You follow behind him as he leads you along his usual path down the block, the streets noticeably empty, save for the occasional passing car.

You know the only reason you’re able to keep up with him is because he’s slowing down for you, but you don’t let it bother you. He’s a professional athlete, after all, and you’re the kind of person who doesn’t even like to run to catch the bus, so it’s to be expected. Still, you give it your all, remembering to keep your breathing steady just like he taught you.

And you have to admit, your aversion to any sort of cardio aside, jogging with Ushijima is actually kind of fun.

For the first five minutes, at least.

Then it all goes to shit.

You’re not sure how it happens, either. One moment, everything is great. Sure, you’re already feeling a little sweaty, and maybe your lungs are screaming at you just a tiny bit –the price of inactivity, and all that– but you power through it because, in the words of so many great orators before you, mama ain’t raise no bitch.

But then you trip on something –a pothole in the street, your own foot, who the hell knows– and suddenly you’re wiping out for the entire world –or maybe just your boyfriend and that one stray cat you passed, which is still pretty embarrassing– to see.

Ushijima’s quite a few feet ahead of you now, because as much as he tried to slow down for you in the beginning, you figure he just can’t help but speed up a bit. He’s not the type to do anything half-assed, not even a casual morning jog. You’re almost grateful for it in a way, because it means he doesn’t actually see you trip and stumble like a baby deer learning to walk for the first time.

He does, however, hear the yelp that escapes your throat, making him glance over his shoulder just in time to see you fall forward. He runs back towards you, but he’s too far to reach you in time, and your knees hit the pavement hard, your hands shooting out to catch yourself as best as you can.

You don’t even have to look to know that the skin on both your knees and your palms is scraped up. There’s also a shooting pain that starts at your ankle and darts right up your leg, reassuring you that you most definitely stepped on it wrong.

Ushijima is by your side in an instant, normally stoic face scrunched up with worry. He helps you twist yourself into a more comfortable position on the sidewalk, though it does little to ease your embarrassment or your annoyance with your own incoordination.

“I’m okay,” you try to reassure him, but that’s not entirely the truth. Your palms are stinging and your ankle is throbbing, not to mention the fact that your knees currently resemble a cat’s scratching post. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

The look he gives you is doubtful, and you know for a fact he doesn’t believe you at all. “You’re bleeding.”

And holy crap, you are. It shouldn’t be a surprise to you, since you felt the entire thing, but the sight of the blood on your knees and palms still stuns you a bit.

“Come on.” He wraps his arms around you, pulling you up with ease you would normally marvel at if it didn’t make you feel so pathetic. “We’re going back. I’ll be able to treat your wounds and take a better look at your ankle.”

“Whaa– but we’ve barely even started jogging!” you protest, pouting despite the stinging of your cuts. “I told you that I’m fine, Toshi. I can still walk–”

You try to put pressure on the ankle you rolled and immediately wince. You almost stumble forward again, but this time Ushijima is there to catch you, holding you against him with his arms around your waist.

“No, you can’t. You need to treat your injuries, so stop being stubborn and let me help you. We’re going back.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, eyebrows drawing together in frustration –mostly at yourself– but stubborn as you are, you know he’s right. There’s no arguing your way out of this one, not that he would listen to you in the first place. He’s always been protective of you, which means he won’t be budging on this.

You heave a defeated sigh but nod at him anyway, relenting. He helps you hobble along with your arm around his shoulders and his arm around your waist for a few steps before he seems to think better of it.

In one fluid motion, he’s picking you up in his arms, holding you bridal style against his chest. And while normally his arms are one of your favorite places to be, the fact that he has to carry you like this all because you’re an idiot who can’t watch where you’re going is doing nothing to ease your already damaged pride.

You try to convince him to put you down and let you walk on your own, but unsurprisingly, he doesn’t agree. Your face, which is already warm with embarrassment, just seems to heat up even more. Your mortification only increases when you spot his apartment building a few streets later.

God, the two of you were running for what, maybe five minutes? Six? And now you’re already back home? Talk about embarrassing. And right after you promised him to be careful, too.

The fact that the pothole –which you are now deciding to blame for your fall, because you don’t think your ego can handle anything else– had the audacity to trip you and then not immediately swallow you whole to save you this embarrassment is honestly disrespectful, at this point.

Ushijima was right earlier. You do hate running. And you hate yourself even more for believing that jogging at any hour –least of all 5AM– would end in anything other than complete and utter disaster.

Your only consolation is that it’s so early, chances are that no one else saw you trip and almost eat shit in the middle of the street. It’s the little victories that count, you suppose, though you might just have to burn this outfit later to rid yourself of the reminder. You’re not sure how you’re ever going to live this one down.

Thankfully, the universe seems to take some pity on you, since you don’t pass any of Ushijima’s neighbors in the lobby. He maneuvers you into the apartment, managing to close the door behind him and remove his sneakers without putting you down.

When he does finally let you go, it’s to place you delicately on his bed. He disappears from the room and returns a moment later with a first aid kit and an ice pack, while you flop defeatedly onto your back against his pillows, pouting.

“I can’t believe I actually fell.” You groan, throwing an arm over your eyes. You feel the bed dip beneath his weight as he sits beside you, but you still don’t move. “The one time I willingly decide to run, and this is what happens. We didn’t even make it past the supermarket!”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. It could’ve happened to anyone,” he says, opening the first aid kit. His voice is as straightforward as ever, but you know he’s trying to comfort you in his own way. “Besides, it could’ve been a lot worse.”

“Worse than twisting my ankle and making a fool of myself five minutes in?” You shift to prop yourself up on your elbows and raise an eyebrow at him. “How?”

“You could’ve twisted your ankle and made a fool of yourself two minutes in instead.”

The bluntness of his response makes you snort, cracking a half-smile as you push yourself to sit up fully. “Good point.”

You watch as he gets to work, mesmerized by how careful he is with you. He takes your palms in his hands, wiping away the blood gently and cleaning the small scratches it reveals. The scrapes on your knees, which he moves to next, sting more, but he moves slowly enough that it doesn’t overwhelm you. He’s always taken such good care of you, and this time is no different.

After all of your scrapes are covered, he examines your ankle, which is unsurprisingly the worst of your injuries. When he helps you tug your sneaker and sock off, you can both see it’s already swelling.

It’s not broken, he assures you, but it is lightly sprained. You’ll need to rest and compress it until you’re ready to walk on it again, but the ice should help with the swelling. He lifts your ankle on top of a few pillows to keep it elevated, covering it with the ice pack.

He moves higher up on the bed to sit beside you against the headboard, searching your face for any signs of discomfort. “How does that feel?”

“It still hurts, but it’s not as bad as before,” you answer. “Honestly, I think my pride is more damaged than anything else.”

You lean back against the pillows propped up on his headboard and sigh, unable to stop the guilty frown tugging at your lips. As grateful as you are for his help, you also feel really bad that he had to stop and take care of you at all.

If you hadn’t insisted on joining him on his run, then none of this would’ve happened. You would still have two normal-sized ankles, and he would be able to finish his run without having to worry about you and your chronic clumsiness.

“I’m sorry I ruined our jog,” you find yourself apologizing, fiddling with the hem of your shirt guiltily. “It was supposed to be cute and fun, but all I did was screw it up. I’m sorry you had to come back to take care of me.”

Ushijima shakes his head. “Taking care of you isn’t a burden. There’s no need for you to apologize.”

His hands reach for yours, large enough to engulf your own as he turns them over. His eyes follow the path his fingertips trace lightly over the band-aids covering the scratches on your palms. “If I hadn’t gone on ahead of you–”

You press a hand against his chest to stop him, his eyes flickering back up to meet your own.

As endearing as his concern is, he’s not the one at fault here. You don’t think anyone is, really, except for maybe that damned pothole you may or may not have tripped on. More importantly, you don’t want him to blame himself for this.

“Nuh-uh, nope, none of that. I’m the one who tripped, remember? It’s not your fault I suck at running. Or any kind of physical activity, actually.”

You pause, tilting your head thoughtfully as you mull over your own words. He watches the mischievous smile he’s learned to love appear on your face, hears the teasing edge seeping into your tone as you lower your voice just a bit.

“Except maybe the one that involves you railing me into the mattress,” you add with a smirk, playful and just shameless enough in a way that never fails to draw him in even more. “That one, I don’t mind, for obvious reasons.”

He sighs, though your words don’t surprise him. “I really wish you wouldn’t word it that way.”

“Too late~”

You’re practically singing as you grin at him, grabbing his chin and bringing his face closer to yours.

He mutters something about you having a one track mind, but you don’t miss the amusement in his eyes or the fond little smile he casts in your direction. He doesn’t stop you from pulling him in either, allowing you to rest your other hand on the side of his face.

“Thank you for taking such good care of me, Wakatoshi.”

You meet him halfway for a loving kiss that you hope is enough to express your gratitude, one he doesn’t hesitate to return. When you break apart, he rests his forehead against yours.

And right when you think you can’t possibly love him anymore, he promises quietly, sincerely, “Always.”

As usual, he gives you no time to recover. He kisses you on the forehead and then stands up, announcing that there’s something else he needs to go grab before leaving the room.

Honestly, you’re hoping it’s food. You’re starving, and after all of this morning’s excitement* (see also: trauma), there’s nothing more you want than to cuddle up alongside your boyfriend while enjoying a plate of your favorite breakfast food.

To your surprise –and slight disappointment– when Ushijima returns, it’s not with food or anything else to treat your injuries, but rather with a set of keys. He sits beside you again, opening his palm to offer them to you.

“Well, those aren’t pancakes.” You take the keys anyway, twirling the ring around one of your fingers before raising an eyebrow at him. “Are these what I think they are?”

“The keys to my apartment,” he confirms. “I want you to move in with me.”

Your eyes widen. It’s not the last thing you expected him to ask you when he offered you the keys, but it’s definitely not the first one either.

When he first held them out to you, you thought maybe he was just giving you a copy of your own to hold onto, just in case you ever needed them. You’ve thought about offering him the same a few times before, just so he could let himself into your own apartment whenever he comes over instead of you having to get up and open the door for him.

But that’s not what’s happening here. It looks like Ushijima’s chosen to skip the exchanging apartment keys step entirely in favor of just straight up asking you to move in with him. And while part of you is thrilled by it, your heart hammering in your chest with excitement at the prospect of getting to wake up next to him every day, of getting to come home to him, there’s another part of you that’s wondering if maybe you’re moving too fast.

It’s not that you don’t trust him, or that you doubt how much he cares for you, because you don’t. Your previous partners couldn’t even spell commitment, much less agree to it, but Ushijima’s not like them.

He told you, not too long after the first few times you went out together, that he doesn’t believe in dating casually or wasting his time. If he’s with someone, it’s because he sees a future with them. Hearing that was a bit intimidating at first, but it was also extraordinarily refreshing.

Asking you to move in with him, you know, is just another step towards that future. And while the idea excites you, making you feel more secure and adored than in any of your past relationships, there’s a part of you that’s still a bit hesitant.

After all, what sets you and Ushijima apart –more than your senses of humor, more than your completely different levels of athletic ability, as evidenced by the ice pack and bandages you’re currently sporting– is the fact that you, unlike him, often get caught up in the “what-if’s” of a situation. Whenever you have to make a decision, you psych yourself out by imagining every little thing that could possibly go wrong.

He calls your name, tearing you from your thoughts. He’s looking at you like he already knows what you’re thinking, like he can see the tangle of anxiety you feel nestling into your bones. Maybe that’s why he reaches out to take the hand that’s not holding his keys, lacing your fingers together.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “You haven’t said anything.”

“I know, I know, I’m just...processing.” You give his hand a quick squeeze, moving the keys around in your other palm. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

“Since my last away game.” He answers right away like he doesn’t have to think about it, like he just knows. Not for the first time, you find yourself envying his conviction. “I went straight to your apartment from the airport, and you were already there, waiting. I realized how much I liked the idea of getting to come home to you, and vice versa. I’ve been waiting for the right time to ask you to move in since then.”

“Wakatoshi, that was last month. You’ve known since back then?” You stare at him with wide, wondering eyes, your cheeks already warming at the implication, growing even warmer when he nods. “And you don’t think it’s too soon? You’re not the least bit hesitant about living with me?”

“Hesitation is only necessary for those who are unsure of their desires. I know what I want, and that’s you, if you’ll have me.”

If you’ll have me. He says it like it’s easy. Like he’s already yours, to love and to be loved by.

And he is, you realize. He has been for a while, just like you have. You knew you were in love with him this morning, and you’ve known it for weeks before that, too. You just weren’t sure when or how to bring it up, but now you are.

“I’d like that. I like you– wait, that’s not right.” You release his hand, and he stares at you in confusion, the corner of his mouth curving downward. You’re quick to smooth it away with your thumb, your eyes earnest and full of affection as you correct yourself, “I love you, Wakatoshi.”

The confusion in his eyes quickly transforms into surprise. You’re not sure what stuns him more: your confession itself, or the confident, doubtless way you say it. You smile at him and take his face into your hands, careful to move his keys so they don’t scratch him.

“I’ve known it for a while. I just wasn’t sure when to bring it up, but now I am. I don’t expect you to say it back unless you’re ready, but–”

“I love you,” he says confidently, unwaveringly, and now it’s your turn to be stunned.

You blink, taken aback for a few seconds before your lips begin curving into a goofy smile. “Really?”

He hums affirmatively, and after that you can’t do anything besides kiss him. He’s quick to return the gesture, moving his mouth against yours and winding one arm around your waist to pull you closer. He pulls back from you right when you’re about to deepen the kiss. You try to pout, but it’s hard to do so when you feel as giddy and over the moon as you do now.

“Does this mean you’ll be moving in with me?”

“Of course.” You beam at him. “I’d love to move in with you, Wakatoshi.”

He smiles, his arm moving up to wrap around your shoulders, and your own smile grows brighter as you lean into him, cuddling against his side and resting your head against his chest. Things between you are quiet for a few moments, both of you basking in the comfortable silence.

You’re shifting his keys in your hand when a thought occurs to you, and you can’t help the laugh that escapes your chest.

“So this is why you let me go running with you this morning,” you tease. “You knew that if I did injure myself, that would just make it harder for me to leave, so I’d have no choice but to say yes to moving in. How sneaky of you.”

“You volunteered to join me–”

“I know, Toshi, I’m just kidding.” You grin, tilting your head to look up at him. “So, what do you say we go make some breakfast in your kitchen? I’m starving.”

“Our kitchen now,” he corrects, and your heart flutters in your chest for what must be the tenth time in the hour or so you’ve been awake this morning. It can’t be healthy for you. “And I’ll be the one making breakfast. You stay here and rest that ankle.”

He kisses your forehead and stands up to head into the kitchen. You frown at the loss of his warmth, but another look at the keys in your hand has you smiling again.

Maybe jogging isn’t so bad after all.

Written by: Dawn