#okay deep dark feelings is dramatic

[miraeism]

bruh

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ IN YOUR ARMS (I’M WARMEST) — GETO SUGURU.

contents. it’s a bit of a prequel to this drabble about the shower scene, but can be read as a stand alone, post hidden inventory arc, depressed suguru :(, small spoon suguru bc he deserves to be held, reverse comfort, established relationships, healing suguru agenda !! i’m passionate about this agenda !!!!!!!

usually, instead of you sneaking into suguru’s room, it’s the other way around. usually, he slips under your sheets and curls around your body, your combined giggles seeping into the sheets as he sneaks in a few hours of sleep with you in his arms before he inevitably has to leave before he’s caught.

tonight is different, though—suguru hasn’t come to your room to sleep with you in more than a few days. you don’t even think he even sleeps anymore, if the dark circles under his eyes are of any hint.

so you do the only thing you can think of: sneak into his room.

“hey, are you asleep?” you poke his shoulder—he’s had his back facing the door since you stepped in, and he’s made no move to face you.

“yes,” is all he says.

“wow,” you roll your eyes, “i’m risking a lot of wrath with yaga to be here, y’know. least you could do is face me.”

“you should sleep,” he mumbles, “you have a mission tomorrow.”

“it’ll be easy,” you say wave off, “i’ll be back before lunch time. we can eat together,” you offer.

suguru has hardly been eating—you notice this instantly. if you’d just get one chance to sit and have a meal with him, you’d force a few bites into him, but it’s been a busy week. for all of you. you haven’t properly seen satoru in what feels like ages—the newest missions he’s been assigned have been much more complex, much more difficult for anyone else but him to handle.

he hasn’t known rest since that day.

suguru is alone more now, on missions and once he’s returned. the gap between him and everyone else feels like it gets wider and wider every day. he’s become more distant, in more ways than one.

“you shouldn’t say that. you never know what happens on a mission,” he says seriously. “be careful.”

the last part, barely, just barely, sounds like a plead.

you sigh, wrapping yourself around his back and pulling him against your chest, slipping a hand under his shirt and rubbing slow circles into his bare skin. he likes the feeling, it’s always soothed him.

“i’m always careful,” you murmur, “i’ll bring you soba on my way back. will you eat for me, sugu? just for me,” you pout theatrically.

suguru is always weak to your dramatics—it’s your appeal. he finds it cute, always gives you a chuckle as he caves and gives you exactly what you want.

this time, he doesn’t offer you so much as a hum.

“if i’m hungry,” he mumbles.

“baby,” you sigh, nose burying into his hair. the strands are slightly knotted—something that suguru never lets happen with his hair. “you need to start looking after yourself more. i’m getting worried about you.”

“you don’t need to worry about me,” he mutters, “you should go and sleep.”

deep down, you know he’s gently telling you to leave. suguru is asking you to leave—but you know if you leave, something might change. something irreversible. so you wrap your arms tighter around him, pull him closer as hold his body against yours.

“i always worry about you. and you should sleep too,” you say simply, “we can sleep together.”

he’s silent.

so you let him stay like that, rubbing over his abs slowly and tracing the skin, writing your name with the tip of your finger lightly so he knows he’s yours even when he acts like he’s alone. you press a kiss to his head, and because he’s still your suguru, he melts just the slightest bit against you.

progress.

“hey,” you whisper, chin resting on his shoulder. you watch his head turn slightly as he looks at you from the corner of his eyes.

“what?” he sighs.

“i’ll take care of you, so you don’t have to, okay?” you promise gently. if suguru can’t find it in him to look after himself, he doesn’t need to—not when you’re here. “we’ll start slow, yeah? tomorrow you’ll shower. and then i’ll feed you.”

“you don’t have to—”

“shh,” you hiss, reaching over to press a finger to his lips, “i’ll bring your favorite, and then i’ll feed you like the princess you are. it’ll be nice, trust me.”

“but—”

“i’ll even give you a kiss for every bite. how does that sound?”

he sighs, hand resting on top of yours as you stay rubbing circles into his skin.

“good,” he whispers, “sounds good.”

“i love you, baby,” you kiss his head again, “i’m sorry i haven’t been here all week.”

“it’s not your fault,” he insists, “it’s…it’s been busy for us all. i don’t mind—”

“i’ll make more time for you,” you say firmly, “i promise. okay?”

you’re not sure if you imagine it, but you think his exhale might be a little shaky. and then he nods against you, leaning back so his body is pressing into yours even further. you wrap your arms tighter around him and pull the sheets until they’re under his chin, making sure he’s covered all the way.

it’s cold in his room at night—you can’t always make it warmer, but you can try to share your heat.

“okay,” he says after a while, “i’ll shower tomorrow.”

“good,” you nod, “i’ll handle the rest. now get some sleep, yeah?”

he nods—but even as you slowly doze off, sleep doesn’t come to him. but it’s not so lonely to stay up tonight, and the bed doesn’t feel stiff under his back. his hand is still on top of yours, finger tracing lightly over your knuckles.

“i love you too,” he mumbles—you don’t hear it, but he still wants to say it.

it’s a start.

i should just write a progressive series of suguru slowly healing and then we can have teacher suguru bc imagine him writing on a chalkboard with chalk. yeah. it’s okay if you moan at the idea i did too. i won’t judge !!

[satorusugurugurl]

The Full Moon

Summary: You finally convince your werewolf fiancé to let you see his true form. One that he normally keeps hidden away from you due to the fact, he is so unbearably horny in his true form.

Pairing: Werewolf!Gojo Satoru X AFAB!Reader

Warnings: Primal play, ABO, werewolf, knotting, dirty, talk, oral, (female receiving) loud smex,, sex, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink

Word Count: 3.1K

A/N: Kinktober day nine! Werewolf! I not too familiar with monster smex so think of him as like a wolf man hybrid! I hope you guys enjoy! I've had a really shitty week so this might be my best work! But I put my whole heart into it! 💚💚💚

“We shouldn't be doing this.” Satoru sighed as he watched you eagerly peek out the window. “I usually go home during the full moon.”

Annoyance crept up your spine like a autumn chill. “Toru, we've been over this.” you showed him your left hand, the engagement ring on you ring finger glitter. “I'm going to be your wife soon. I don't want you running off locking yourself in a pent house during a full moon. I'm going to be your wife. I’ll be there to help you.”

“Ughh!” He flopped dramatically back against the bed. “I hate that you have to see me like this.”

“Gojo Satoru.” you stood across the room, crawling on the bed with him. “I love you, every part of you.” Cerulean eyes narrowed as a silent warning. “Even the furry parts.”

“Oh my god, I don't turn into a giant wolf like the movies. I just grow some claws—and sharp teeth—and I get a little—and I mean a LITTLE hairy.”

You giggled, grinning softly as he wrapped his arms around you, yanking you onto his chest. He exhaled deeply through his nose the air moving your hair. His grip was tight, allowing you to feel the anxiety creeping through his body. You knew he was nervous, but deep down inside of the deepest parts if you, you knew it would be okay.

Satoru was a werewolf. Something you hadn't entirely believed at first. But when you saw his steel door barricaded apartment, you knew he was telling the truth. But he wasn't the type to go out killing people every fool moon, he mostly got—horny, maybe went after a few cats, but he never hurt anyone.

Which brings you to tonight. By some great other world, sleep power you were able to talk him into steam with you tonight. That way you could see all that happens when he transforms and everything else. You needed to know these things. It totally wasn’t to see how feral he became when he was under the influence of the moonlight.

“Satoru I love you no matter what. Hairy or not.” He smiled oh so lovingly at you as you stood up walking towards the window. “So would it be okay if I open the window?”

There was a hesitation in his eyes, but with a deep breath, he slowly nodded his head. “Yeah it’s fine, But if this gets too intense for you to handle, you need to tell me. It might take me a while to snap out of it, but I promise you I’m going to protect you.”

“I know, I just want you to know I love you no matter what.”

Without another word, you open the blackout curtains, allowing the moon to spill in through the window to flood the room. Nothing Really special happened at first. Satoru Just stared at the moonlight outside not saying much..but After a minute or two you could see his body trembling. You hadn’t been anticipating it to happen so fast. And seeing it in person was a bit of a shock.

His entire body shook his fingers dug into the sheets underneath him. “Toru?” You hesitantly, asked to stepping closer. “Are you okay? Do you need to stop? I can close the blinds and we can enjoy a nice quiet evening.” When he didn’t say anything, just curling himself in weird towards his body, as if he was in an immense amount of pain eared back out the window.. “Fuck maybe this is a bad idea. I guess you might be in for a long night Toru.”

The guilt didn’t even have a chance to fester within your stomach as you heard a growl from behind you. it was deep, dark and full of need. And That sound alone had you squirming.

“Oh sweetheart,” your shifted your weight from one leg to the other as a shiver ran down your spine at the voice came beside you, ‘You’re in for a long night.” Turning your head, you came face to face with Gojo as you stared into his glowing blue eyes.

“Toru,” you gasped out, reaching for him, “are you okay—” Before your hand could touch him, he grabbed your wrist, pinning you against the wall. The sudden action had you hissing through gritted teeth as you stared up at your werewolf boyfriend.

“You know what.” he licked his bottom lip, revealing sharp canines as thick hair covered his chest as he transformed into a werewolf. He learned in gently taking your bottom lip between his teeth and tugging at it gently, “You smell even better.” he tightened his grip on your wrists, careful not to hurt you as his sharp claws dug into your skin. “I can smell everything about you, and do you know what that means.” He leaned in closer to you, his face inches away from yours, “I can smell your arousal.”

Shivering, you whined, rolling your hips against nothing as you felt that same arousal coating your panties. “Mhmm fuck, you look so fucking sexy.” Your boyfriend tilted his head as a pure animalistic growl rose in his chest.

“Is this why you wanted me to stay?” Using his free hand, Gojo grabbed both sides of your face forcing you to look directly into his slitted pupils, “You wanted to fuck me when I’m like—.” Another growl sounded, sending heat to pool between your thighs, “A lunar-driven werewolf.”

You didn’t fight him because he had hit the nail in the head with the hammer. You did want to see him in his proper form because you were getting married. But there was also a different reason, a more selfish reason, why you wanted him to stay. You were so desperate to see him like this. Thinking about him and his apartment, horny and hopeless, had been your muse for your masturbation sessions for months.

“There’s no denying it, Sweetheart, I can smell your arousal.”

You scoffed, trying to play it off cool, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He laughed cocking an eyebrow up at your very blatant lie.

“You are such a liar.”

“N-No, I’m not!”

He rolled his eyes dramatically, shaking his head back and forth, “Please, you’re just gonna stand there looking up at me and not beg me to fuck you right here against the wall like a whole animal.” His teeth grazed over your neck. The sharpness of his fangs suddenly made you realize he was a predator.

“I guess I can’t deny that,” you whispered, watching his knee inch closer to your spread legs. “I would be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it!”

“Thought about it?” He bowed, laughing, “Oh, Sweetheart, I’m going to need you to elaborate on that.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” he narrowed his gaze, rolling his eyes as he grabbed your face.

“You think I’m lying to you?” He leaned in closer, “I can smell that so sweet slick that’s coating your panties,” he pushed your legs further apart, allowing him to slide his knee between them, “You need me just as bad as I need you. I need to be inside you to breed you, make you mine, in every way I can. I need to mark you up. Make sure no other pathetic male in this city looks at you.”

“Fuck you’re so territorial!” you shoved at him. Still, all your efforts were useless against his sturdy frame, “ I want that! I want you to lose control. I want you to make me mine in every way you possibly can! Please, Toru! I nee—” he cut you off by slamming his lips against yours causing your eyes to shut with desire.

There was no hesitation in your movements as you melted into the kiss. Years of adoration and love were poured into that shared kiss. Then, there was something deeper, more profound in that kiss. It was a hunger you had never sensed within your fiancé before. It was strange and foreign, but you liked it. Feeling him loose and slowly losing control over himself had you snaking your arms around his neck, pulling him down closer to you. Gojo loved feeling you growing more submissive with every presence of his lips against yours. His teeth nipped at your bottom lip before he shoved his tongue in your mouth, not giving you much of a chance to allow him entry.

He tasted fucking fantastic, like strawberries and cream, and that taste alone went straight to your pussy. He must have sensed your growing arousal as he pressed his knee against your pajama-cladded core. Moaning softly into his mouth, you raked your hands through his soft white hair as your tongues battled against each other, twisting and exploring every single inch. You were so lost in the kiss that you found yourself grinding down on his thigh, desperate for more than just kissing. You wanted him to give him to the beast deep within his soul.

Gojo pulled away the saliva, connecting your lips before he smirked. “Mate,” his eyes wandered down to your hips, watching as you shamelessly rocked against him, “Whose the horny beast now? Look at you letting into your desires, letting go into carnal desire.” Your fiance reached up, grabbing a handful of your hair and “Giving in to her alpha.” A chittering, rumbling growl rose in the back of his throat as he pulled your head back by your hair, causing a mewl of pleasure to spill out of your mouth, “And I fully intend to give everything to you, my sweet little omega.”

He tugged at your hair again, allowing him access to your neck, “T-Toru,” you whispered as he kissed and sucked on your neck so hard you knew you were going to have marks littering your pretty skin. He traced his tongue over the marks he had left behind, causing goosebumps to rise under his touch, “f-fuck.” you gritted through your teeth, feeling your body going limp under his talented touch.

“Nuh-uh.” he teased, whispering against your collarbone, “Be a good girl and stand up.” All you could do was nod, letting him know you understood. He grabbed both sides of your hips, “Stand up straight for me.” you obeyed his commands, standing up straight for him, “Spread your legs.”

You spread them to him, allowing him access to you. He licked his lips, dropping to his knees, ripping your shorts down with his sweats. The entire time those glowing animalistic eyes of his focused on the pretty cunt between your legs. Long-clawed nails hooked on either side of your lace panties before he ripped them off.

“Oh fuck, that's my sweet omega.” He leaned down, resting his nose against your mound, “Now be still, I’m going to get you off first..”

He pressed his tongue against your folds, lapping at them quickly with no hesitations. You screamed in pleasure as your legs started shaking. Gojo gripped your hips, holding you up straight up and completely still. But even under his robust and sturdy touch, you felt weak. His tongue lapped at your folds before he took your labia into his mouth, sucking greedily at them.

Reaching down, you grabbed a handful of his longer tufts of white hair. Every lap, kiss, and suck caused you to buck against his mouth, eager for more. Gojo seemed as enthusiastic as you were, losing to the inner beat inside of him. He was desperate to taste all of you, to feel you cum against his tongue. From the speed and roughness, he wasn't going to let up until his mouth and chin were covered in your slick. This was one of the many reasons he avoided you during the full moon: he couldn’t keep his hands, fingers, and mouth off of you.

“T-Toru!” Mewls and whimpers filled the bedroom, accompanied by the snarls and grills of the werewolf who was eating you out, “Toru, I-I’m close,” he only growled in response, taking one of his hands off your ass, trailing it between your legs. He thrust two fingers inside of you, your walls instantly clamping down on them as you let out some form of a moan, “Oh fuck, holy fuck.”

Pulling away for a split second, Gojo smirked, his lips glistening with your juices, all while his glowing blue eyes bore into yours, “Oh, Sweetheart, this is anything from holy.” His mouth instantly found your clit sucking and tugging at the bundle of nerves with his teeth.

“Ahh!!!” You shouted in ecstasy as he pumped his fingers deeper and faster inside of you. You tighten your grip on his hair as your orgasm begins building deep within your core, “I-I’m gonna cum, oh fuck Toru,” biting down on your bottom lip, your thighs began shaking and clamping down on his head, “Ah fuck, oh fuck me, fuck, fuck, fuck!” He increased the speed of his movements, pushing you, tumbling over the edge, “Satoru!!” You screamed as your body pulsated and trembled under his mouth and touch.

Gojo growled, like the werewolf he was, as he pumped his fingers faster, working you through your orgasm and drawing it out. It isn't until you think you'll pass out from the endorphins running through your system that Gojo finally stands. His eyes returned to his normal eyes for a split second before his lips curled back from his teeth as his sweats fell room around his rankles.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” He questions, pulling his massive cock out of his black boxers, “Are you going to finally submit your Alpha. Give in to those fantasies that I’ve been plaguing your mind?” Your mouth was suddenly dry as you forgot to speak and breathe, “Answer me, baby girl.” You nodded in response, only to hand him reach up and tug on your hair, pulling you close to his face, “That's not an answer.” He began rubbing the head of his cock against your wetness, teasing you, “Tell me, do you want me to fuck you like you have always imagined that omega?”

“Yes!” You finally managed to gasp out as he reached his hand up to tug gently on your hair, sending electricity through every nerve of your body, “I want you to fuck me senseless!”

“What's the magic word?” He barely pushed against your opening, sending your hips rocking towards him.

“Please! Please fuck me, alpha!”

That was all he needed to hear as he slid his cock between your wet lips. Your pussy twitched and stretched around him as he filled you inch by inch with his massive cock as groaned against your neck, continuing to push inside of you until he was completely seated inside your wet throbbing cunt to the end.

“God, you feel so fucking good. You.” He lifted you by the thighs, “Your pussy feels so good swallowing my cock like that, clutching around it.” Gojo smirked up at you as you looked down at him, moaning loudly, “You like that Omega? You like feeling my knotted cock deep inside of you?”

“Y-Yes, alpha!”

“Good girl,” he smirked against your skin, continuing to pound into you; every thrust sent shock waves to all of your nerves, “You take my cock soo good,” he growled, biting down on your ear, “You’re my little cock slut aren’t you?”

“Yes!”

He continued thrusting in you, fucking you against the wall of your shared bedroom. Not caring if the neighbors heard or if he knocked down every picture and art you meticulously placed on the wall. All that mattered to him at this moment was knotting you and marking you up with his teeth, so no other werewolf came near you. You were his, and he was yours.

So he fucked you like no other man or beast had fucked you before. It was fast, hard, and fan-fucking-tastic. His massive knotted cock hit your sweet spot with every single thrust. And with each drag out, the head of his cock brushed against the spongy bundle of nerves. Every single brush pushed you closer to the second orgasm that had begun to build inside of you.

Your finger slammed against the wall behind you as you’re right hand dug into the muscles in his back while wrapping your legs around his waist, “Fuck me, Satoru, fuck me, please!” Gojo snapped his hips faster fucking you harder against the wall, all while his head buried in the crook of your neck, nipping ad sucking at your pulse, “Yes, just like that!”

“You like that, sweetheart,” as he increased his speed, rocking faster and harder, your back rubbed up and down the metal, “take it,” he bit down hard into your shoulder, hard enough to draw blood, “You fucking love this, don’t you mate?”

You did love it; it was everything you had ever dreamed of, but it was ten times better! This was like every fantasy book you had ever read, and you were living your best dream!

“I do, God, I fucking love it!” you began rocking harder against Satoru feeling the coil in your lower stomach tighten, “I-I’m gonna cum Toru!” you cried out as he bit harder into your flesh.

“Yeah cum, cum all over my cock, Sweetheart,” was whimpering and whining like a dog in heat. One that had been so overcome by lust that he was losing himself in the pleasure, “Cum for me.”

The coil snapped, and you came for him hard. You let out a scream digging your heels into his ass while you dug your fingers into his back. Waves of pleasure washed every inch of your body as he continued fucking you, drawing your orgasm. With two more thrusts, he followed you right over the edge, his come spurting inside of you, coating your walls. You tighten your grip on him as he milks himself inside of you.

As the waves died, you were gasping for air, resting your head against his, “Oh my God, Toru. You’re never staying in that apartment alone ever again.” He chuffed, almost purring as he carried you towards the bed. You were most certain if he had a tail, he would be wagging it.

“Fine by me.” He growled as light from the shimmering moon outside highlighted the curves and muscles on his body as he forced your thighs apart. “Now, what do you say you let the big bad wolf in?”

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree @msniks @lana18918

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@candy-s72

[freedomfireflies]

Uppercut*

Summary: The fourth part to Knockout*

The one where Harry is fighting everyone. Even you.

Word Count: 9.1k (I mean at this point it's just tradition)

Content Warning: 18+, angst, smut, exhibitionism

The halls of the subway station are quiet. Empty. A light flickers overhead, casting odd shadows across the concrete floor that lead you toward him.

The hooded figure sits on a lone bench, face downcast toward the ground. His leg is bouncing anxiously, a nervous habit you’d recognize anywhere. His fingers are curled around the seat below, as if holding himself back. Keeping himself still.

And then, he looks up.

Those soft green eyes find yours, and suddenly, everything is okay. Your limbs no longer ache from the strenuous shift at the diner, your heart no longer feels weary. You feel energized and alive, and you’ve never been happier to see his face.

Harry smiles when he recognizes you, instantly leaping up as you approach, and pulling you into his arms.

He hugs you. Pulls you directly into his chest and keeps you there as you laugh and whisper your hello.

“Hi,” he whispers back, lips nestling into the crown of your head. He releases a deep sigh. “Missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too.” You cling to his sweatshirt and allow your eyes to flutter shut. Indulging in the scent of him. The warmth. Stability. “Are you all right?”

“Better now. Are you?”

“Mhm.” You nod but refuse to let him go. “Was a little surprised to get your note, though.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs before finally pulling away. Allowing himself a good look at your face that makes his dimple pop free. “Figured it was the safest way. Don’t wanna risk somebody seeing us out there. And I thought maybe this could be our thing.”

“Our thing?”

He chuckles to himself and brings his palm to your cheek. Cradling it gently while running his thumb back and forth along the soft skin. “Yeah. Meeting up in the dark subway in the early morning hours. Sneaking around, trying not to get caught. Forbidden love and all that.”

Love. There’s that word again, and it makes your head spin. Dizzy in the best and worst way possible.

“How romantic of you,” you tease instead, reaching up to squeeze his wrist. “All right. This can be our thing.”

“Good.” He dips down and kisses you now. Slow and hard, exactly the way you like it. Keeping you against his lips for far longer than he should, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. “Might steal you away every night.”

With a soft grin of your own, you kiss him back. “You better.”

After allowing you enough time to catch your breath, he leads you back over to his bench. Curling up beside you while simultaneously tucking you into his side. Hiding you away from the rest of the world, and the few stragglers that are entering and exiting the subway. 

“Did you have a good day?” he asks, mouth ghosting across your temple as he speaks.

You nod, keeping yourself snug under his arm. “Mhm. Wasn’t as busy as it usually is.”

“Yeah? You make anything good?”

“Snickerdoodle cookies.”

He gasps, rather dramatically, and it makes you laugh. “Cherry, you know those are my favorite.”

“Oh, really?”

“Really, really.” He kisses your cheek almost absentmindedly before continuing. “Especially the way you make ‘em. Told you that, didn’t I?”

“Maybe. Don’t know if I was really listening, though.”

“No? You don’t listen when I talk, sweet girl?”

You smirk. “Sometimes I get a little distracted.”

“With what, baby?”

“Your…mouth,” you admit somewhat sheepishly. “Sometimes I just like to watch your lips move. And then I forget to listen to what’s coming out of them.”

He laughs now, and the sound is infectious. Bouncing around the concrete walls until you giggle. “Is that right?”

“It’s not my fault,” you pout playfully, reaching up to brush your thumb along the pretty, pink fibers at your disposal. They’re healing nicely from the last fight, and you feel relieved. “You have such a pretty face.”

He hums against your finger before pressing into it, leaving a soft kiss. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

“So do you,” he whispers, dropping his voice into something soft and seductive. “See your face in mind every time I close my eyes.”

And it shouldn’t make your stomach flutter the way it does, but you find yourself biting back a sigh as you scoot impossibly closer. “You’re silly.”

“Am I?” Another kiss to your thumb before he moves down your hand and toward your wrist. Leaving a trail of them in his wake. “What if m’being serious?”

Your breath catches and you watch his mouth move closer and closer. “Then you’re seriously silly.”

His lips twitch up. “If I am, it’s because that’s what you make me.” Another collection of gentle kisses along the inside of your arm. “Think about you every hour…of every goddamn day.”

You feel lost on him. Drowning in his aurora, and this hypnotic haze he’s lured you into. Unaffected by the people around you, or the way this might look. 

All you really notice…is him.

“And believe me, sweet girl,” he continues in a huskier murmur, “the things I think about are anything but silly.”

Your pulse skips from somewhere beneath your chest while a whimper bleeds from your throat. You brace yourself against his stronger frame as his kisses reach the sleeve of your uniform, just beneath your shoulder.

He only stops once to meet your eye. “D’you wanna know what I think about, baby?”

Your first instinct is to nod, but you catch yourself just in time. Forcing yourself to finally say the one thing you’ve been meaning to all evening. “I wanna know what you’re gonna do about Jesse.”

He leans back, and the devious expression falls away.

“I don’t want him to hurt you, Harry,” you rush to explain, allowing him to drop your arm only so you can take hold of his. “I’m worried about you.”

“Please,” he snorts. “Jesse can’t fucking hurt me. Couldn’t hurt me even when he was in the fucking ring with me.”

Your eyebrow cocks up. “…what?”

A nonchalant shrug, almost like he doesn’t realize what he’s said. Or he doesn’t care. “Few years ago, back when he wasn’t such a little shit. He was one of the fighters."

And suddenly…it hits you. Slaps you across the face and leaves a permanent palm print. “How many years ago?”

He seems to realize around the same time you do, eyes softening as he rolls his shoulders back. “Three or four, I think.”

You feel the blood drain from your face. Feel your hands grow shaky and your heart begin to wrench. “He was…he was fighting. When he was with me.”

Not exactly a question. Rather a conclusive statement you both stumble onto as the picture becomes clearer.

There were a lot of things about Jesse you never learned. His anger always being his biggest question mark.

You saw the subtle scars that were occasionally smeared along his knuckles or painted across his back. But his excuse was always a vague, mumbled explanation of, “Oh, just this buddy of mine at the gym. We like to box sometimes. I’m fine.”

And that was that.

You figured what he did at the gym was his own business. And you had no reason to believe it was anything more than a few rounds with a friend. Had no reason to believe it was something bigger. That he was lying to you.

And perhaps, in some ways, he wasn’t lying. He was boxing, just not at the local gym. And certainly not for free.

“Cherry,” Harry calls to you now, reaching out to intertwine his fingers with yours. Tugging your hands onto his lap to recapture your attention. “Baby—”

“I’m okay,” you whisper, a bit airier than you mean to before clearing your throat. “I’m fine. I always knew he was doing something, I just…this makes sense.”

He’s unconvinced, frowning to himself before squeezing your palms. “You might not have known him very well, but I do. Okay, I know this side of him, and I know that he’s nothing more than a bunch of empty threats and a checkbook. And I’m not gonna let him hurt me. Or you. Never you.”

And even though your stomach is turning, you believe him. “I know. But what if…what if he tries to do something? To you, during your fights? What if…what if he sends somebody after you?”

To your surprise, he smirks. “Come on, do you really think I’m scared of some hitman? I know you haven’t seen very many of my fights, but believe me, baby, I can handle it.”

You, however, don't smile. “Harry, I’m serious.”

“I thought I was serious.”

“Harry.” You pout again and tug on his hands. “You didn’t see how angry he was—”

“I did,” he argues, the smug grin slipping away. “I know exactly how fucking mad he was, and all because I lost him a couple of fights. And I don’t give a shit because he’s nothing but a fucking rat.”

“Yeah. But he’s a rat that’s threatening to hurt you.”

The darkened expression returns, and his frown makes you want to cry. He’s far too beautiful to look so anguished. “I don’t care. I told you, he can’t hurt me—”

“But he can hurt me,” you interrupt, and his jaw snaps shut. “By hurting you, he hurts me. I mean, just the way he looked at you. The way he talked about you, it just…it…God, it made my fucking skin crawl, Harry.”

The crasser language that slips from your tongue seems to entertain him and disappoint him all in the same moment.

“Okay,” he mumbles in a lower volume, almost as though hoping to talk you down. “Okay, I know—”

“No, you don’t know,” you argue. “You…you don’t want him to hurt me, and yet he is. And he doesn’t have to, okay? You just have to win, and he doesn’t care. As long as you win.”

The frown seems to get deeper. “Cherry…it’s not just about winning. He’s put a fucking price on my head and expects me to pay it. And I told you, I’m tired of playing his fucking games.”

You squeeze his hands a bit harder, desperate to understand. “Is that why you threw the fights?” you ask gently. “To piss him off?”

Another shrug. Angrier. “Not exactly. I just figured he’d drop me if I wasn’t doing the one thing he wanted me to.”

Your eyes flick between his. “But it’s not that easy.”

“No,” he agrees. “Because he’s a fucking weasel that thinks he can use you to get what he wants from me. And I won’t let him.”

Your heart drops into your toes as the two of you grow quiet. Undeterred by the sounds of the subway entering and exiting the station, the screeching lines and opening doors. You’re immersed in your own little bubble here with him, unable to hear anything past the pounding in your ears. 

“So what do we do?” you dare to ask.

He sighs again before bringing your entangled hands to his mouth. Kissing your fingers as he thinks. “I don’t know,” he admits quietly, and it looks like he wants to say more…but he stops.

So, you finish for him. “Let’s leave.”

“What?”

You nod quicky and glance toward the tracks. “Let’s leave. Let’s just get on the train and go somewhere. Start a new life. No more Jesse, no more fights, no more threats. We can just leave.”

A hint of a smile is all you’re afforded before he chuckles and kisses your hands once more. “And I thought I was the silly one.”

“No, I mean it,” you insist. “We could, we could leave, we could start over. We could be happy. Just you and me. And a bunch of pies.”

There’s a gentle beat before his brows begin to furrow. “Cherry,” he mumbles, and you feel your heart sink.

You knew it was a long shot. Knew there was really no logic behind the suggestion, only the need to take action. And for just a moment, you liked the picture you were painting. Of you and him in a sweet little house somewhere out in the country. Working your typical 9 to 5 jobs before coming home to make dinner together.

Perhaps it's a little old fashioned and a bit mundane, but it looks so beautiful compared to what you have now. And you imagine any life would be exciting with him at the center of it.

“I know,” you finally whisper, allowing your shoulders to slump. “But…I had to try.”

His amused grin returns before he tugs you closer in order to kiss you. And it’s quick and playful and everything you’ve ever needed. An almost perfect fix for this ache in your chest.

“And I love that,” he tells you, and the second use of the forbidden word leaves you breathless. Even more so than the kisses. “But m’gonna be okay, sweet girl. I won’t let him hurt us.”

And you want to believe him. Want to be sure that Jesse is nothing more than a footnote in this new chapter you’ve opened together. 

But something doesn’t feel right. 

Because there’s this look in his eye. The same look you saw that night in the ring. Animalistic and unrelenting. Like he could split somebody in half and never think twice about it.

“And how are you gonna do that?” you whisper, reaching out to tangle your fingers in the hoodie on his chest. “Huh? Are you just gonna beat him up until he changes his mind?”

“Maybe.” He’s smiling, but there’s something serious in the way he speaks, and your stomach wrenches. “What? He’s used to getting the shit beat out of him.”

“Harry—”

“Cherry.” He leans forward and presses his lips to your cheek. “Don’t have to worry, okay? I’ll be all right.”

You’re ready to argue with him, another excuse already locked and loaded, but before you can fire it, he brings his hand to your temple. Sweeping his thumb along your forehead with a much softer expression.

“You know, you get the cutest little wrinkle when you frown,” he tells you, brushing his finger down the space between your eyebrows. “Right…here.”

You bite the inside of your lip to keep from giggling. “Oh, do I?”

“Mhm.” He smooths his touch along your skin before moving to your jaw. Tracing the line almost reverently. “There’s a lot of things about you that are cute.”

“Is that right?”

He nods once before he’s dropping both hands to your hips in order to lead you over to his lap. Placing your knees on either side of his waist and holding you there while you squeal.

And he doesn’t seem to care about anything else but you. Not the people walking by or the chilly gust of wind that dances through the station. He gazes up at you and brushes a bit of hair behind your ear. Taking in the details of your face as if memorizing every inch of you. 

“I think you’re beautiful, Cher,” he tells you, and not for the first time. “And I think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You wrap your arms around his shoulders as you settle, finding stability in more ways than one. “Well, I think you’re being silly again.”

“Yeah?” He smirks as you dip down to brush your nose with his. “Then maybe I need to prove to you just how much I mean it.”

One of his large hands slides from your hip to your ass, squeezing you just over your uniform. And you laugh as you playfully swat at his chest, although you can’t deny there’s a part of you desperately searching for more.

Ever since the other night, you’ve felt rather insatiable. Distracted by the memory of him in your hand – of the weight and the feel. You see his body when you close your eyes, see the tattoos, and ridges, and lines. The curve of his spine and his hips and his thighs. 

And you’re reminded again of exactly how thrilling it was when you feel him beneath you. A gentle, subtle graze of something hard as you’re rocked over his lap. And it makes your breath catch.

“Harry,” you whisper, just loud enough for him to hear.

His lashes flutter closed before he ghosts his lips along the edge of your cheek. “What, baby?”

Another pull to your hips makes you sigh, fingers tangling in the curls at the nape of his neck. “This isn’t fair.”

“Why?”

“Because…” You stumble over a whine before bracing yourself against his chest. “Because we can’t. Not here.”

“Not here?” he repeats, almost teasingly. “Why not here? Don’t want them to watch, sweet girl?”

You don’t have the strength to shake your head.

“Don’t want them to watch you grind yourself against my lap, like my desperate little bunny?” He grins and it’s so very devious. “Don’t want them to see just how needy you really get for me?”

And maybe…there’s a small part of you that does.

Common sense evades you now as you pant, “I do. I do, Harry, please.”

He’s amused by this. At your determination to take whatever he'll give. Soft, gentle hands slipping their way beneath the hem of your uniform, stroking and groping as though playing with you. Taunting you with the idea of more only to take it away with a kiss.

“Do you trust me?” he asks you now, eyes flicking to yours.

It’s the easiest answer you’ve given all night. “Yes. Yes, I do. Always.”

He smiles, filled with relief before he’s nodding his chin at you. “Okay, baby. Turn around for me, yeah?”

A bit confused, you rearrange yourself over his lap. Settling down with your back against his chest while his hands sneak around your waist to keep you still.

Those beautiful fingers land on your thighs, just above the hem of your dress. They toy with the fabric almost absentmindedly and you whimper beneath a strained breath as you wait.

“Shh,” he coos, resting his lips along the shell of your ear. “I’ve got you. Told you I’ll always take care of you, didn’t I?”

You nod as your head falls back onto his shoulder. Unable to hold itself up any longer while he does this to you.

Your attention lands on the train just a few hundred feet in front of you as it slowly begins to roll down the tracks before taking off. A gust of wind follows, sweeping across your cheek, and sending a chill down your spine.

Your small shiver makes him smirk. “Relax, Cherry. You’re all right.”

There are only three other people in the station, all scattered about on opposite ends, checking their phones, and reading their newspapers. None of them close enough to see what he’s really doing to you, and you imagine even if they could, they wouldn’t care. 

Yet the idea that any one of them could look up and glance over is thrilling. Worsening the ache between your thighs as Harry’s thumb finally slips beneath the hem.

“Breathe,” he instructs gently, instructing you to take a deep breath which you shakily do. “If you want me to stop, you tell me, yes?”

You bite back a whine. “I don’t want you to stop. Promise.”

“But if you do,” he insists, slowing the stroking of his hand until you nearly wilt, “you tell me. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you agree quickly. “Yes, I understand, I promise.”

Satisfied, he continues. Slipping his touch further up your legs while making sure the edge of your dress doesn’t move. Keeping you covered while he does this, offering you just an ounce of privacy. And you’re so grateful for him. 

He crawls higher and higher until he finds the soft lace of your underwear. Tracing the band almost lazily, running up and down the curve of your thigh without ever giving in.

“Harry,” you sigh, reaching for his wrist to compel him. “Harry, please—”

“Shh,” he hushes again, nudging his nose against your cheek. “Said I’ve got you, and I do. M’gonna make it better, baby, I promise. Just wanna play with you first. Wanna feel you.”

You’re tempted to argue that he’s nowhere close to actually feeling you yet, but you realize then that he means more than that. He wants to take in every inch of your skin at his disposal. Wants to feel the softness of your hip, the goosebumps along your thighs. Wants to learn you, study you, memorize you. Simply exist with you in his arms.

You unwind in his embrace, allowing him to indulge in you exactly the way he wants. But the coil in your stomach grows tighter at the tender implication, making your desperation for him that much stronger. 

Finally – finally – he moves closer. Brushing the tips of his fingers down the front of you, just over your covered clit and down.

He does it again. Over and over, albeit idly, while effectively worsening your need, making you whimper.

He only grins. “S’that bad, baby, huh?”

And you don’t need to answer for him to know that it is. He can feel it. Can feel exactly how anxious you are to be touched as he continues his soft strokes.

Then…he hooks his finger around the band and pulls.

The brisk morning air instantly finds the inside of your warm thighs, and you gasp. Squirming over his lap until he has to use one hand to hold you still. Shushing you once again while squeezing the top of your leg soothingly.

“I know,” he murmurs, allowing you no more than a few seconds to adjust before brushing his thumb down your pussy. “But I need you to stay quiet for me, okay? Can you do that, sweet girl?”

You nod, thankful that your outburst didn’t draw too much attention from the others in the station. But it seems that was only the start as Harry continues his playful flicks and pulls. Attempting to unravel you as quickly as possible, despite your muffled whimpers for mercy.

He starts with your clit. Circling it a few times with his large digits until he can really wind you up. Slow touches that turn fast, his lips trailing from your cheek and to your neck.

He kisses you as he does this. Nips at your skin, tugs it between his teeth, soothes it with his tongue. Marking you – claiming you. In more ways than one.

“Oh, Cherry,” he hums after a moment, and your insides wrench. “You’re all wet, baby. S’it that bad? S’it hurt that bad?”

You’d like to nod, but you don’t have the capacity. Only enough strength to squeeze his wrist and whisper, “Harry—”

“Mm. I know. Gonna let me have some?” 

You finally convince your head to move up and down while he chuckles and brings his other hand into play. One, large digit slipping between your folds and down to where your arousal has collected while the others continue stroking your clit.

And it’s almost too much. This screaming in your head for more. To be filled and fixed by the only man who can help you. 

And it’s not his cock, but his finger does feel beautiful. Pushing in to your tightness while your walls are quick to draw him in.

It’s ecstasy. Pure, unadulterated bliss. Happening right in the middle of this dimly lit subway station and the people who might see.

And yet…you’ve never felt safer. Never felt more alive and in control of your own experience. Even if it’s slightly dangerous and perhaps not something you previously would have considered. With Harry it feels…different. Destined. Because you know he means it when he says he’ll take care of you. After all, he always does.

When he reaches his knuckle, you keen, releasing a strangled groan that’s much too loud.

He takes the hand on your clit away in order to smack it against your mouth. Keeping you quiet until you finish.

“Baby,” he warns, but it’s sympathetic, “gotta try for me, okay? Gotta try to stay quiet.”

You nod again as you swallow the rest of your noises. But he keeps his palm against your lips, wet fingertips stroking your cheek. Painting you with your own arousal.

He begins to pump you slowly. Retracting almost all the way only to ease back in. It’s a steady pace he sets, but it’s addictive. Keeping you on the brink without ever actually offering you what you really need. Never scratching that itch.

“Harry,” you try, the sound of his name muffled by his hand. 

But he understands, nevertheless, kissing just below your ear before finally lowering his arm. “What? What do you need?”

More, more, more. One, singular word that’s ringing between your ears, loud and insistent. “Please…”

He hums. “Please,” he repeats. “Please…what?”

“Need…need—”

“Need? What do you need? Need me?”

“Yes,” you nearly gasp. “Yes, Harry, please. Hurts…”

And it does hurt. You’ve never felt an emptiness like this. Never felt so hollow and depraved. But he’s the only one who can fix it, and your eyelids grow heavy as you push yourself further back into his chest.

The tip of a second finger begins to tease your opening before he’s pushing both in. And it’s almost too easy, the sound of your arousal being pulled in and out rather loud. And so very lewd. Too much eroticism for you to handle, and it feels as though your limbs have turned to jelly as you slump in his hold.

“Okay, baby,” he whispers, tugging your earlobe between his teeth. “Gonna come for me, yeah? Just give me one. Just need to feel you around my fingers one time.”

And it’s an easy instruction. You can already feel the seams of your sanity coming loose as he returns to your clit and pinches it between his fingers.

The combination of pleasure from both of his hands is almost cruel, and it makes your heart wrench. Because it’s so close, you can taste it. Can swallow it whole, and you’ve never felt so insatiable. The urge to just have him rather prevalent and undeniable. You imagine if you could, you’d wrap yourself around him and never let go.

And you don’t think he’d really mind.

Your hips buck up the moment he curls his touch, a soft sigh fighting its way between your parted lips. 

And you’re so enamored by him. So endlessly addicted to the man doing this to you, and you can feel the way your orgasm barrels closer. The way he teases you with the thought of release, dangling it directly in front of you.

“There you go,” he breathes, and you can feel him against your back. The groan that sits in his chest as he works you closer. “So good, yeah? Love the way you squeeze me.”

As if at the mention, you feel yourself clench around his large digits. Pussy fluttering until he’s dropping his mouth to your shoulder in order to stifle his own sounds.

“S’fucking tight,” he mumbles before repeating the action again. “God, you’re so tight, sweet girl. I’d fucking ruin you, wouldn’t I?”

You nod fervently, the image of his cock painting itself behind your eyelids. The length, the girth, the way it looks between his thighs. He would, he’d ruin you. In the best possible way. And you’d thank him for it. 

You can feel him beneath you, just below your ass. And he’s glorious. Cursing to himself whenever you squirm over his cock, taunting him about the same way he’s taunting you.

It’s clear he’s losing the battle for control. Whispers of, “Oh, my sweet girl. My fucking girl. Aren’t you? Never knew how good he had it, did he?”

He doesn’t need to say Jesse’s name for you to know exactly who he’s referring to, and your stomach lands in your throat. 

You don’t want to imagine him when you’re with Harry. And you don’t think Harry does, either. But he grits the insinuation out through clenched teeth before settling into a faster rhythm.

“Could fucking kill him,” Harry seethes. “Could pull his heart out of his goddamn chest just for fucking looking at you.” 

He presses hard into your clit until you’re forced to bite your tongue. Drinking down your whimpers and cries as one of the men across the station folds his paper and begins to stand.

You pray he doesn’t look over, pulse thumping wildly against your ribcage. And yet, at the same time, you want him to know. Want them all to know what your stranger is doing to you. To watch you fall apart by his hand until you’re nothing but a pile of pants and sighs.

“For touching you,” he continues in your ear, a disdained hiss that makes your eyes roll back. “For putting his fucking hands on what’s mine.”

You squeeze his wrist so hard, you’re sure you’ll leave a bruise. But it doesn’t seem to matter because he goes faster. Harder. Plunging his fingers in and out of your cunt at an unrelenting pace. Needing you to cum more than he’s ever needed anything else.

“Come on,” he urges, kissing down your neck with a faint grumble. “God, come on, Cherry. Come for me. Let me feel you, just one more time.”

You’re almost there. Can feel the beginnings of your orgasm brightening the edges of your vision. You need far more than he’s giving you and yet, at the same time, you’ve never felt so satisfied.

“Show me how good you are,” he murmurs. “Show me how good you’re gonna be for me, taking my cock. All laid out in my bed. Tears down your pretty, little face.”

And you can see it so clearly. Sweaty bodies writhing together, tangled in the sheets. The way he holds you to the mattress, using his weight to keep you good, keep you open. His hard thrusts, his strong thighs. His hands pinning yours just above your head, his hips slamming into yours.

You clamp down around his fingers once more and he’s mesmerized. Sliding all the way to the knuckle and holding them there to feel every flutter of your pussy around him.

“Shit, that’s it.” His arm flexes from beside you, and you wish he wasn’t wearing that goddamn hoodie so you could see every pull of his muscles. “Know you’re close. Gonna get you there, baby, I swear.”

And you know he will. He almost has, and maybe there’s a small part of you that doesn’t want this to end. Wants to keep feeling this indescribable rush as he sits with you until the sun comes up. 

With all the frantic fumbling, the hem of your dress has slowly begun to ride up. Revealing the disappearance of his hands and the tops of your thighs until there’s no question about what’s really happening underneath.

And maybe you should readjust yourself, but you don’t. Can’t. You’re almost there and all clarity seems to fly right out the window as you decide that you don’t care. Onlookers be damned. If they see, they see. 

This is what gets you there. This realization that people can watch him touch you. Even if nobody is looking right at this moment, they could. And it’s wrong, and it’s strange, and it’s so not like you.

Yet you’ve never felt more at ease.

The moment it takes hold of you, he zeroes in. Fucking his fingers into your cunt rather mercilessly while the other hand returns to your mouth. Already anticipating your noises.

You moan against his palm while he tugs you impossibly closer to his chest. Attempting to shield you from everybody else as you experience the come down. 

“Shh,” he repeats for a third time, the soothing tone a stark contrast to the unrelenting movement of his fingers. “Don’t want them to hear you, sweet girl. Wanna keep you to myself. Cause your noises are mine, yeah, Cherry? They belong to me?”

Posed as a question, but you both know it’s not. You’ve never belonged to anybody the way you belong to him. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

So, you allow yourself to whimper against his hand through every second of it. Riding out his thrusts until your stomach nearly caves in. Until you have no further strength to hold yourself upright or keep yourself composed. 

“There you go,” he coos. “Just like that. Want it all, baby. Every fucking drop.”

You give it to him. Give him everything you have, everything he asks for. And the soft grunts in your ear nearly bring you to the edge for a second time, but he’s pulling away just before you can find out. 

Your exhale is strained when he finally lowers his arm, but he remedies this by wrapping it around your middle and straightening the hem of your uniform. 

“How’s that, hm?” He tucks his chin just over your shoulder. “Feel better? Y’gave me a lot tonight, sweet girl. M’so proud of you. You were so good for me.”

You offer a lazy smile at his tender praise.

Soft strokes are circled around your thigh as you both sit in the new silence. Indulging in these few moments you have left.

And just the idea of having to leave him nearly crushes you.

He’s rather addicting, you realize. This man – this stranger – that comes to your diner and sits in your booth asking for pies. Even without knowing much about who he is, you’re so endlessly drawn to him. Hypnotized by his charm and his face and his past. The scars that litteried his hands and body.

And now, after everything else…he’s the only one you truly feel safe with. Comfortable. It doesn’t matter if he’s nothing but question marks, he’s…Harry. He’s your Harry. And you don’t ever want that to change.

You watch his fingers brush at your skin, and your heart feels so full. It’s never felt like this with anybody else. Not during the sex, not during the tender moments. You thought you felt that way with Jesse, but it pales in comparison to how you feel now.

However, the fleeting memory of Jesse sours your smile as you’re forced to remember the reality of this delicate moment. 

Even when Harry was touching you, he was so angry. He is so angry. You know he’ll never be able to tame that demon that lives within his heart, but you aren’t sure there’s enough room for both.

You want to believe him when he says he’ll figure it out. But it’s becoming much too clear that he believes the only way to fix it…is to hurt Jesse.

And therefore get himself hurt in the process.

There’s so much more that you don’t understand. So much more that he clearly doesn’t want you to, and you’re devastated. You feel helpless. Because you want to protect him the same way he wants to protect you. You want to keep him from making these rash decisions just because he thinks they’ll protect you.

Because you don’t want to have to lose him or let him go. You want to take him away from all of this and make him happy. Find a way to keep him safe.

You want to find another way.

“Harry?” you venture timidly.

He hums.

“Why did you tell me not to tell Owen where I was going?”

There’s a brief beat before he sighs rather heavily and tightens his hold on you. “When I drove by the diner earlier, I saw Jesse.”

Your eyes widen.

“He was talking to Owen, and my guess is that he was looking for you.” Another pause. “Does Owen know where you live?”

You glance down at his fingers before tangling them with yours. Playing with them as though to prolong your answer. “…yes.”

He sucks in a sharp inhale. “Fuck.”

The heavy sound makes your chest ache, and you quickly sit up in order to glance back and see him. “Jesse would never do that.”

“You don’t know that,” he nearly scoffs. “He’s a fucking baby when he doesn’t get his way, and if he thinks you’re still seeing me—”

“Well, he won’t,” you retort. “He won’t know. We’ll meet down here, and we’ll figure out what to do. And it’ll be okay.”

His eyes flick between yours, and even in the soft light, that gentle green is breathtaking. “I think you have more faith in him than you should.”

Your stomach sinks.

“And I think you have the wrong faith in me, too,” he whispers, reaching out to cup your chin. “M’not sure I’m who you think I am.”

The implication makes you frown. “You’re exactly who I think you are. You’re kind, and you’re smart, and you’re strong. You take care of me, you protect me. I know you, Har.”

His expression falls ever-so-slightly. “Not as much as I should—”

“Harry—”

“You want to save him, and I want to fucking kill him,” he says. “You think he’s worth saving. You think I’m worth saving, and I’m not. We’re not—”

“Stop,” you nearly gasp, surging forward to take his cheeks between your palms. “You are always worth saving. Why do you think I’m trying so hard to keep you?”

He nuzzles his face into your palm before releasing a deep breath. “Because you’re good. You’re so good, Cherry. And I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve you.”

You tighten your hold. “Stop saying that. You deserve me and I deserve you. Okay, we’ll figure this out. We’re fine. Everything is gonna be fine.”

You know he wants to argue. Has about a hundred excuses and arguments ready for use, but he bites his tongue. Allowing you to have this victory as you dip down and kiss him.

“I just want to keep you safe,” he says, and you understand more than he’ll ever know.

“But I am safe,” you argue, reaching down to tug his hoodie pleadingly. “As long as I’m with you, I’m safe.”

His sigh is gentle as he squeezes your chin. “I know. Just wanna figure some things out first, yeah? Make sure I can take care of you.”

You say nothing as his thumb sweeps across your parted lips, but you’re gutted. Touched by the thought, yet empty without him.

This is how you leave each other. After Harry helps you to your feet and makes sure you’re steady. And it’s quiet as you say your goodbyes. As he holds you against his heart until he has to physically take himself away. Leaving you with a lingering kiss that you feel all the way down in your toes.

“Tomorrow?” he makes you promise before you can slip away.

You smile, but it doesn’t reach very far. “Tomorrow,” you agree. “Right here.”

“Right here. Find me.”

“Always.”

And with that…he drops your hand and walks away.

However, the image of him follows you all the way home. The way his features fell, the way his voice cracked. The anguish so prevalent in his insistence, and the unmistakable rage behind his eyes.

He’s unrelenting. He doesn’t see a way out that keeps him safe. He’d rather risk his life in order to protect yours. And you don’t want to understand it, but you do. Because a part of you wants to do the same for him.

Jesse made his instructions clear. And it should be easy. It should be so easy for Harry to do the one thing he knows he can. To win.

But he won’t. He won’t win as long as Jesse’s his sponsor. And if he won’t win…

You know he can. Saw it happen just the other night. The way he threw his opponent onto the mat and held him down until he could hardly breathe. He’d been losing – he’d been throwing the fight – until he saw you. And once he saw you…the fight was over.

This is what Jesse wanted, and you know it. He wants you to be the reason Harry changes his mind, but it’s clear now that you’re the reason he won’t.

He’ll never change his mind as long as he’s convinced he’s protecting you. As long as he’s sure that his pain is proper payment for your comfort. 

And it ruins you. It ruins you this idea that you can’t help him. That he’ll allow himself to be beaten to the brink of death in order to keep you safe. To keep you untouched and unscathed.

Jesse’s threat is real. Frighteningly real, and there’s this ache in your stomach that can’t be mended with kisses and kind words. You can’t convince him, you can’t change his mind, and you can’t find another way.

There’s only one.

It taunts you as you go about your night. It wakes you the next morning. Follows you all the way to work. 

Perhaps the only way to solve the problem is to take yourself out of the equation. To force Harry’s hand exactly the way Jesse wants. To show him that it’s okay to save himself. That he doesn’t have to put you first.

But in order to truly take yourself out…you have to take yourself from him. And the thought of removing yourself from his life nearly wrecks you. It’s violent and unthinkable, causing a hitch in your breath before you’ve even decided. 

You can’t imagine a world without him in it. You don’t want to. You’re so irrevocably happy with him, and you imagine he feels the same for you.

But if you ever lost him…if your selfishness took him from you, you don’t know what you’d do. And it’s exactly the way he feels for you, but you realize then that you’d rather push him away than lose him forever. 

You’d rather have his life than his love.

Your shift goes by far too fast, and when you finally clock out and head for the subway station, your insides are in knots. 

You don’t want to do this. You don’t want to have to do this, but it’s the only exit you see. Right alongside the memories of each of Harry’s bruises and cuts. Reminding you of how much worse it could really get.

And when you step up to the subway and see his shadow just across the way…the decision finds you.

A grin splits his face as he strides toward you, instantly wrapping you in his arms and pulling you back into his chest. Exactly the way he left you the night before.

“Hi,” he murmurs, lips burying into your hair as though he hasn’t been able to breathe without you.

“Hi,” you whisper back, throat already growing dry. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

“Don’t be, sweet girl.” He leans back in order to study you, fingers stroking across your cheek rather affectionately. “Owen didn’t give you trouble, did he?”

“No. No, it wasn’t him—”

“Jesse?” The sound of his name is sharp, and it makes your eyelashes flutter.

“No.” Your voice has gone quiet. Far too quiet, and his brows pinch together. “No, I just…I have something I have to do. And I’m not sure that I can.”

He steps closer. “Then let me help, yeah? We can do it together.”

You want to cry.

Your shift in demeanor doesn’t go unnoticed, and he quickly reaches for your hand in order to drag you toward the bench just behind him. 

“Okay, all right,” he murmurs as he brings you to sit. “Talk to me, sweet girl. Let me help, what can I do?”

You stumble over a breath and glance down at your lap. If you look at him, you’ll never do it. “I…I…”

You can’t force the words out. Can’t find what you really want to say – can’t even believe you’re saying it at all.

But you have to. You have to protect him; you have to do what he won’t.

He dips down in order to recapture your attention. “Deep breath, baby, okay? Just talk to me. I just wanna help.”

It hurts the way he speaks to you. Hurts the way he’s still trying to help. The way he cradles your face in his hand in order to comfort you.

“I…” You swallow thickly and revel in the feel of his touch for the last time. “I think…I think we should take a break.”

His head tilts, but he appears unfazed. Perhaps he doesn’t understand or perhaps he didn’t really hear you. “What?”

And you almost hate him for making you repeat it. “I want to take a break. I don’t…I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

Now he hears you, but he it’s obvious that he doesn’t understand. Leaning back as his features twist together. “Cherry…”

And suddenly, you feel unsure. Consumed by the idea that you're making a huge mistake. Maybe there's another way, maybe...maybe you just didn't look hard enough.

Because what if letting him go does more harm than good? What if he can't find another way without you? What if you can't live without him?

But then Jesse's threat rings in your ear. The taunt that he'd kill him himself if he didn't do things differently. If he didn't listen.

If you couldn't convince him

And the moment you imagine Harry lying on the ground– dead – you realize that this is truly the only way.

You raise your eyes to his, and it’s the hardest thing you’ve ever done. “I’m sorry.”

But it appears your apology falls on deaf ears. He merely frowns, regarding you almost suspiciously. “He got to you, didn’t he? He’s making you say this.”

“No…no, he just—”

“He what? S’this about what he said? S’this about what I said? Because I meant it. I’ll fucking kill him—”

“No, Harry, I just…I think you were right. I think we’re never gonna agree on how to handle this and…and maybe there’s a reason.”

He considers this before rejecting it with a soft scoff. “We don’t have to agree. I told you, I can handle him—”

“I don’t think you can,” you argue. “And I think it’s better if we just quit while we’re ahead.”

It’s bullshit. All of it. A bunch of empty lies that chip away at your happiness.

The frown deepens. “Cherry…I don’t understand—”

“No, you don’t. You don’t understand, and…and I don’t think you ever will.” You force the tears back. “We’re not the same people, Harry. It was never going to work.”

This is what crushes him. This confirmation of your differences and of the very thing he feared. That you’d reject him for being who he is.

You nearly take it all back when you see his expression soften. 

“Cherry,” he tries again, “if…if I did something, I—”

“You did a lot of things,” you tell him. Deciding that the only way you’ll get through this is if you fight him at every turn. “But I can’t. I can’t keep doing this.”

His shoulders visibly droop. “I know, I…I’m just trying to make it better.”

You didn’t think it could get worse. And you want to comfort him. Want to help him understand, make him see. Have this unshakable need fix the desolate expression on his face. Kiss it away, make it better.

But you don't.

“I know,” you echo instead, offering a just hint of kindness as you place your hand on his knee. “But this is how we make it better. By letting go. And saying goodbye.”

He glances down at his leg as though your touch stings, and you retract your arm almost instantly. “You want me to say goodbye?”

No. Never. “Yes. I think it’s for the best.”

He nods once and his eyes become unfocused. As though he’s lost. Completely checked out of his own body, and it sends the knife directly into your heart.

Then, he lifts his head, and regains a moment of clarity. “I love you.”

The knife twists and the first sob breaks free. “Harry—”

“I love you, Cherry. I don’t want to say goodbye. I don’t want to take a fucking break, I…” He stops, and you can see the torment painted so perfectly across his face. “I love you. I can’t do this without you.”

And you know he won’t. You know he’ll do everything he can to bring you back. To change your mind, remind you where you belong. He’ll never let you go.

So, you do the one thing you don’t want to.

“I don’t love you,” you whisper. “I love…him.”

You’ve never seen him look so miserable.

It’s like you’ve slapped him. He leans back so fast, you’re dizzy. Putting a violent distance between your bodies until you nearly lose your breath.

He takes in a quiet inhale that’s more like a gasp, and you want to change your mind. You want to throw yourself into his arms and apologize and tell him you love him and go back to how things were only 24-hours ago. You want to pretend you never saw that look on his face.

But you can’t. You have. You said it and for all he knows, you mean it.

“You love him,” he repeats, and it’s the ugliest thing you’ve ever heard. “You…no. No, you don’t love him, you…how can you love him? How…how?”

“I…I talked to him,” you lie, reaching up to swipe your knuckles across your cheek. “He’s…he’s my Jesse. He’s…I’ve always loved him. I just…I didn’t realize.”

He scoffs again, but it’s riddled with disdain and desperation. “Your Jesse.”

“Yes, my Jesse.” You don’t think your heart has ever broken this bad. “I’ve always loved him. I always will. And he…he explained, and I believe him. I’m choosing to believe him—”

“Oh, fuck that,” he nearly growls, springing onto his feet until he’s towering over you. “No, he…him? After everything he did to you, you fucking…you love him? You want to be with him?”

“Harry—”

“No. How can you…” He steels himself, and another tear falls from your eye. “You can’t love him. You can’t, I know you. Okay, I saw how you looked at him and I saw how you looked at me, and it’s not the same. You don’t love him, you’re just…you’re scared.”

He’s right, you are.

“I’m not scared, Harry, I just…I know what’s best for me,” you murmur. “And he’s what’s best.”

It tastes vile in your mouth. All of it, every lie, every false feeling, and you feel sick.

He steps back, and a part of you almost hopes he simply walks away so you won’t have to keep doing this to him. To yourself.

But maybe this is your punishment. To watch the way you ruin him as you do it. 

“You can do better than him and you know it,” he nearly sneers, but it’s sad the way he speaks. “And it doesn’t have to be me, but…fuck, you have to do better than him. You deserve so much better than him, Cherry, and I don’t…I can’t believe you don’t see that.”

Your fingers twitch on your lap, anxious to reach for him. “I’m sorry.”

He only shakes his head and looks away. “Don’t be. S’my fucking fault for thinking I could do better."

“Harry—”

“No, it’s fine,” he says, but you know, undoubtedly, that he doesn’t mean it. “If you love him, then you fucking love him. I’m never gonna be able to change that.”

You feel as though you’re being ripped apart from the inside out. You’ve never experienced a pain like this before, and you imagine it’s still only a fraction of the pain he puts himself through in that ring. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you whisper, and it’s enough to draw his attention back. “I never want to hurt you, Harry. I really do care about you, I just…”

He looks gutted. “You just care about him more.”

You wonder if he really believes you. You wonder if that small pull of his brows is because he’s hurt or because he knows what you’re really doing.

Either way, he steps back, and takes himself from you. Putting the first few feet of the eventual thousand between you. “It’s fine,” he murmurs once more. “I just want you to be happy, Cher. And if you’re happy with him, then…”

He can’t finish the thought. Can’t force the words between his gritted teeth, and you understand.

“Thank you,” you exhale, and your pulse begins to race. Because you know what comes next, and you aren’t quite sure you’re prepared. “And…I hope you figure everything out.”

“Yeah,” he snorts, but there’s something dark in the way he speaks. Something you’re almost afraid to recognize. “I will.”

It’s ominous, but you suppose that’s all you deserve. “Right.”

He moves back even further, and you nearly collapse. 

“Harry?”

He pauses, hands disappearing into his pockets as though to shield himself from you.

“Thank you,” you call quietly. “For…for everything.”

His lashes flutter, and even despite the affliction written between the lines of his face, you realize he’s never looked so beautiful. “Don’t have to thank me, sweet girl. I’ve only ever wanted to make you happy.”

And all you can do is look down at your lap in order to shield him from the influx of tears that break free.

A moment passes of your soft hiccups and trembling hands before you hear his shoes shuffle across the concrete. He’s walking away. He’s leaving you behind. He’s saying goodbye. For good. You’ll never see him again, and he’ll never sit in that booth again, and he’ll never be your stranger ever again—

Two hands find your face. Lifting your head until you’re forced to look up and see him.

He’s here.

And he’s tugging you up onto your feet until he can hold you against his chest and really look at you. Thumbs sweeping just beneath your eyes to catch each falling tear.

Then…he kisses you.

You’ve kissed him before. Many times, in fact, but it’s never been like this. It’s never been this…heavy. Never carried the kind of meaning it does right now as he keeps you against his lips for as long as you’ll allow. 

Because this is the last kiss.

You don’t want to let go. Don’t want to let him let you go. But he does all too soon and you’ve never felt so alone.

“I love you,” he whispers. “And I’m so sorry I couldn’t be who you need.”

And you want to scream. Want to tell him that he is. That he’s all you’ve ever wanted.

But he’s already removing his hands from your face before you can.

And you’re forced to watch as the man that you love turns around…and walks away.

For the last time.

Next Part:

~ Outlawed*

Previous Part:

~ Reckless*

~ Full Knockout Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @iguessyourejustwhatineeded @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @lovebittenbyevans @caynonmoondreams @amberbambridge @percysaidnever @prettydelilah @ripesinner @fairytale07 @hannah9921 @mitochondrialeva-blog1 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @buckybarnessimpp @lomlhstyles @be-with-me-so-happily @daphnesutton @ribbonknives @stylesfever @slutforcoffein @rainycowbride @harringtonhundreds @kaybee87 @youcan-nolonger-run @tobesocoldasyou @cherryshouse @char112244 @harryscowgirl @hsbabygirl @mypolicemanharryyy @snwells @hermionelove @cherryluvhobi @becauseheartsgetbroken-hs @kittenhere @nominsgirl @lovrave

[0omillo0]

Hyunjin x reader

comfort ♡ the reader is exhausted but keeps telling hyunjin that she is fine, until she faints.

warnings: nothing, hyunjin being a drama queen

for @hannamoon143

You were running on fumes. Lately, it felt like the world was spinning a little too fast, the weight of everything pressing down hard. But you kept it hidden, pasting on a smile and giving Hyunjin a reassuring nod whenever he asked if you were okay. He could be a little too intuitive sometimes, and you didn’t want him to worry about you. After all, he had his own busy schedule, his own pressures.

Tonight, though, you felt especially drained. It was as if the air around you was too thick to breathe, and no matter how hard you tried, the tightness in your chest wouldn’t let up.

Hyunjin appeared in the doorway, tilting his head as he watched you with that curious, concerned look he’d been wearing so often lately. “Are you… sure you’re okay, Y/N?” His voice was soft, but you could hear the edge of worry underneath.

“Of course,” you said quickly, flashing him a smile you hoped looked convincing. “I’m just… tired. It’s been a long day.”

He raised an eyebrow, folding his arms. “You’ve said that every day this week.”

“I know. I just… I’ll be fine,” you said, waving a hand as if to brush it all away. But the wave of dizziness that hit you just then made you grip the edge of the table for balance.

Hyunjin’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure?” He took a step closer. “Because I know when you’re not telling me something. What’s going on?”

You let out a shaky breath, giving a small, helpless shrug. “I just… I don’t want you to worry.”

His gaze softened, but his tone was firm. “Too late for that, babe. I’m already worried.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the world around you started to blur, the edges of your vision going dark. Before you could stop it, everything went black.

When you opened your eyes, you found yourself lying on the couch, with Hyunjin’s face hovering above you, wide-eyed with panic.

“Oh my God, you’re awake! Are you okay? Are you breathing? Do I need to call an ambulance?” he exclaimed, his voice high with worry as he waved his hands dramatically.

“Hyunjin…” you murmured, struggling to sit up, but he immediately held you down.

“No, stay down! You fainted! Like, actually fainted!” His voice was a mix of alarm and pure distress. “Do you know how terrifying that was? One second you were standing, and the next, you were just… gone!” He clutched his chest, taking in a deep breath as if he’d barely survived the ordeal.

You managed a weak smile. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Scare me?” He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head in disbelief. “You think fainting right in front of me doesn’t scare me? You could’ve hit your head! Or… or… worse!” His eyes widened even further. “Do you want some water? Or a blanket? Or an entire medical team?!”

“Hyunjin,” you laughed softly, though you could feel your heart racing a bit from the embarrassment. “I just… I think I just pushed myself a little too hard.”

“A little?” he echoed, sounding incredulous. “Babe, this isn’t just ‘a little too hard.’” His voice softened, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand as he held it tightly. “You should’ve told me.”

“I didn’t want you to worry about me,” you admitted, looking down. “You’re already so busy, and I thought I could handle it.”

He let out a frustrated sigh, lifting your chin so you’d meet his eyes. “Listen, I don’t care how busy I am. If you need me, I’m here. Always.”

You looked away, feeling the emotions rising up, but he cupped your face, pulling your gaze back to him. “Hey,” he said gently. “I mean it. You’re my person, okay? You don’t have to do this alone. I wish you’d tell me what’s going on. Whatever it is, we’ll get through it together.”

You bit your lip, finally letting the tears slip down your cheeks. “I just… I feel like I’m failing, Hyunjin. I’m exhausted all the time, and it feels like I’m always one step behind. No matter how much I do, it’s never enough.”

He listened, his expression softening as he leaned closer, brushing a tear off your cheek with his thumb. “Oh, Y/N… why didn’t you tell me you felt this way?” His voice was a gentle whisper. “You’re not failing. You’re doing so much, and you’re amazing at everything you do. Don’t let yourself forget that.”

You shook your head, a soft laugh escaping despite your tears. “You’re just saying that because you’re my boyfriend.”

He shook his head emphatically. “No, I’m saying that because it’s true! I see you work so hard, and I see how much you care about everything you do. You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

“I just feel like it’s not enough. Like… if I don’t keep pushing myself, I’ll fall behind,” you confessed, voice barely above a whisper.

He pulled you into a hug, wrapping his arms tightly around you as he rested his chin on your head. “Then lean on me. You don’t have to do everything on your own. Just… let me be here for you.”

You stayed like that for a while, Hyunjin holding you as the weight of your worries seemed to melt away. His hand stroked gently down your back, and he hummed a quiet tune, one you recognized from his playlist.

After a moment, he pulled back slightly, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Alright, new plan: tonight, you’re doing absolutely nothing. I’ll take care of everything, and you’re going to relax.”

“But—”

“Nope. No ‘buts.’” He raised a finger to his lips, signaling you to stay quiet. “Doctor’s orders,” he said, puffing out his chest and winking.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his theatrics, even as he threw a dramatic hand to his forehead. “In fact, I’m not sure I can leave you alone. What if you faint again? I’d never recover!”

You rolled your eyes, smiling despite yourself. “Fine. I’ll rest… if it’ll make you feel better.”

He nodded, looking relieved. “Good. But I’m not leaving you alone tonight. You’re stuck with me.” He gave you a playful nudge and then got up, grabbing his phone. “Let’s see… I’m thinking snacks, movies, and maybe an emergency blanket fort. You’ll thank me later.”

With a sigh, you gave in, feeling lighter already. As he bustled around, grabbing pillows and snacks, you watched him, your heart swelling with gratitude. He might be a bit of a drama queen, but he cared for you in ways that made every worry seem smaller.

Hyunjin returned, arms full of snacks, a mischievous smile on his face. “Now, the real question is: cheesy romance movie or hilarious rom-com?”

You laughed, feeling a genuine smile spread across your face. “You pick.”

He settled beside you, putting an arm around your shoulders. “Rom-com it is. And hey, if you start feeling overwhelmed again… you come to me, alright?”

You nodded, leaning into his side as the movie began. “Thank you, Hyunjin. For everything.”

He squeezed your hand, resting his head against yours. “Always, Y/N. I’ll always be here.”

In that moment, you felt lighter than you had in weeks, wrapped in the warmth of Hyunjin’s presence and knowing that, no matter what, he was by your side. And as the night wore on, filled with his laughter and comforting touch, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t have to face the world alone.

[lev1hei1chou]

Gossip Girl

Gojo x reader Genre: Fluff Synopsis: Gojo judges people at a party Masterlist

"Do you think he actually believes that comb-over is fooling anyone?" Gojo whispered, leaning down to your ear, his breath tickling your neck.

You giggled, trying to stifle the sound with your hand. "I know, right? It's like the hair is trying to escape his head."

Gojo snorted, straightening up and taking a sip of his drink. "And look at her over there," he continued, nodding towards a woman in a neon pink dress that hugged her in all the wrong places. "I swear, Barbie called and she wants her dress back."

You nearly choked on your drink, doubling over in laughter. "Stop it! You're going to get us caught," you managed between breaths, wiping away tears of mirth.

Gojo grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Hey, we're just here to observe the high society in its natural habitat. Think of it as research."

"Research, huh?" you replied, raising an eyebrow. "And what exactly are we researching?"

He looked thoughtful for a moment, then flashed you a brilliant smile. "The limits of human taste and the fascinating ways people choose to ignore them."

You nudged him playfully. "You're terrible, you know that?"

"I try," he said with a wink. "But seriously, look at that guy over there. Is he wearing socks with sandals?"

You turned to see a middle-aged man obliviously chatting away, indeed sporting the offensive footwear combination. "Oh my god," you whispered. "I thought that was just a myth."

"Nope, living proof right there," Gojo said, shaking his head in mock despair. "It's like witnessing a rare bird."

"A rare, fashion-challenged bird," you agreed, trying to keep a straight face.

As the evening wore on, the two of you continued your undercover mission, providing commentary on everything from questionable dance moves to over-the-top makeup choices. Gojo was in his element, his quick wit and sharp observations making you laugh harder than you had in weeks.

"Okay, new game," he announced suddenly. "Who do you think has the most scandalous secret here?"

You scanned the room thoughtfully. "Hmm, I'd say Mrs. Hikaru over there," you said, pointing discreetly to an older woman with a suspiciously young man hanging on her arm. "She looks like she's hiding something."

Gojo followed your gaze and nodded sagely. "Good choice. I'm going with Mr. Moustache over there," he said, indicating a man with a magnificent handlebar moustache. "No one grows a moustache like that without hiding some deep, dark secrets."

"Or a penchant for 19th-century fashion," you added, smirking.

Gojo laughed, then turned serious for a moment, looking at you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "You know, I'm really glad we're here together. Makes this whole thing bearable."

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words. "Me too," you admitted, smiling up at him. "It's way more fun with you."

He grinned, slipping an arm around your shoulders. "Of course it is. Who else could provide such witty banter?"

You leaned into him, feeling content and happy. "Well, you do have a gift," you teased.

"I know, right?" he said, pretending to be smug. "But don't sell yourself short. You're a pretty amazing partner in crime."

"Partner in crime, huh?" you repeated, liking the sound of it. "I think I can live with that."

"Good," Gojo said, giving you a quick squeeze. "Because I don't plan on letting you go anytime soon."

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his, and for a moment, the noisy party faded away. It was just the two of you, in your own little world.

Then the moment was broken by a loud crash from across the room, where someone had knocked over a table full of drinks.

Gojo sighed dramatically. "And the award for the most graceful exit goes to..."

"That guy," you finished, both of you dissolving into laughter again.

[wqnwoos]

“i seriously don’t know how to tell you this,” your friend says, somehow looking anything but serious. “it’s about vernon.”

you glance between seungkwan, who’s sat himself directly in front of where you’re playing with vernon’s carpet, and vernon himself, who’s just gotten up to make popcorn. “alright,” you reply, mirroring seungkwan’s hushed tone. “what’s up? is everything okay?”

“well, no, actually.” seungkwan has a flair for dramatics. “it isn’t my place to say this, but i’m going to say it, because it’s been literally almost two years, and neither of you are saying it. and so by this time, it’s like, my moral duty. like, i owe it. to society.”

“kwan,” you say, wrinkling your nose, “i love you very much, but what the fuck are you talking about?”

“you’re in love with him. vernon.”

the statement in itself doesn’t shock you. seungkwan is smart; you’d honestly be more surprised if he hadn’t known your deep, dark secret. what’s surprising is that he’s bringing it up, when vernon is literally just a few feet away, bopping his head to some invisible tune or the hum of the microwave.

“no comment,” you whisper, finally, adding in a hiss: “and also shut up. he’s right there!”

“___, please,” seungkwan begs. and there is madness in those eyes; he looks borderline frantic. “i can’t be the third wheel for any longer. like i physically can’t take it.”

you reach for his knee to pat it soothingly, eyeing him with a wary expression. “i still don’t know what you’re talking about. but it’ll be okay, kwannie. i believe in you!”

he groans, miserably, but continues, still speaking in rapid-fire whispers. “i’m saying vernon has feelings for you. like, more than friends.”

“…you mean, like… best friends?”

seungkwan collapses. throws himself backwards onto the carpeted floor with a long, drawn-out groan — you’re used to seungkwan’s dramatics, but this is top tier for him. you’re honestly kind of impressed with how long he keeps the groan going. it’s injected with very emotive frustration, and you can respect that.

seungkwan sits up with abrupt suddenness, grabbing you by the cheeks. his eyes meet yours with ferocious intensity; yours meet his with a confused blink. “you,” your friend says, very seriously, “are fucking stupid.”

you don’t even get the chance to muster a response, simply sitting dumbfounded on the carpet as seungkwan gets up. “i’m leaving,” he announces loudly over the beeping of the microwave. “jeonghan hyung called. i have to feed doljjongie.”

vernon sticks his head out the kitchen, brows furrowed. “you mean the rock?”

“yes.” and with that, seungkwan points at you, mouthing a verocious say something, before turning on his heel and marching straight out the apartment.

“yo,” vernon says, glancing at the front door with bemusement as he rejoins you, armed with a bowl of warm, buttery popcorn. “what happened to him?”

your mind is still reeling from two minutes ago (“vernon has feelings for you. like, more than friends.”) and so when vernon squishes against you, as he always does, you choke up. can’t answer his question, determinedly staring at the screen in front of you both.

you only offer a lame little shrug in response to his question, sneaking glances at vernon from the corner of your eye. you’re stupidly in love with him: the way he always eats three pieces of popcorn at a time, knocks you on the side of your knee with his when he wants your attention, brushes his overgrown hair out of his eyes with the back of his hand.

you used to think it felt like the world was coloured rose when you looked at him. a swooping, butterfly-inducing, fluttery feeling — but now, you’ve realised that’s not it. with vernon, you see the world exactly as it is, bright and grim, but maybe a little softer round the edges. a little less daunting, because he’s always on your side.

even from a distance, seungkwan is the one to buzz you out of your reverie. your phone vibrates and lights up with a text from him —

[9:36pm] seungkwan: say something!!!!!!

you let out the smallest sigh, and vernon catches it, eyes flicking to your phone and back to your expression. he nods, once, eyebrows raised, “everything good?”

“just seungkwan,” you say. and without any build-up, you blurt out, “vernon, do you ever think about dating?”

his brows furrow and his lips twist in their characteristic vernon way. “dating?” he pauses, meeting your eyes. “that’s a random question. do you think about it?”

all the time. “do you?”

“i mean. yeah, i guess so,” he answers slowly, uncertainly. “sometimes.”

again, without warning, you’re changing the subject, speaking rapidly before you can think it through. “seungkwan didn’t leave to feed doljjongie.”

the movie is long forgotten by now, vernon shifting more to face you. “i mean, i figured,” he starts, half-amused, half-concerned. “it’s a rock. you’re acting weird. are you okay?”

“seungkwan left because he didn’t want to be a third wheel.”

you watch as bafflement appears on vernon’s face. “third wheel? but — we’re not — we aren’t dating.”

you swallow, suddenly wondering how you’ve found yourself in this situation. “yeah, well. i guess he thinks we should be.”

there’s a heavy silence that settles in the room, then. vernon doesn’t move away, his eyes falling to your twisting hands, watching as you start picking mercilessly at your nails.

“don’t do that,” he says quietly, taking your hands in his, separating them. he squeezes, ever so gently, just enough to make you look at him — when your eyes meet, his grip tightens ever so slightly, and you watch his throat bob as he swallows.

“what do you think?” he asks, after a moment that feels like forever.

you blink at him. “what?”

“seungkwan thinks we should date.” he hesitates. “i think we should date. what do you think?”

when you breathe out this time, you’re smiling, unable to bite it back. “i think i have to agree with the majority.”

the smile you get in return is practically divine.

an / one day i will figure out how to write another trope for vernon. today is not that day. neither is tomorrow.

also my taglist is currently not working and i have no idea why 😭 will try and tag in the replies but if i miss anyone i’m so sorry! (edit - taglist is not working at all!! sorry <3)

edit #3 I THINK I GOT IT

perm taglist: @n4mj00nvq @eoieopda @som1ig @glowunderthemoon @wondering-out-loud @graybaeismytae @hannyoontify @sahazzy @dokyeomin @icyminghao @smilehui @nicholasluvbot @lvlystars @immabecreepin @hanniehaee @kokoiinuts @astrozuya @doublasting @yepimthatonequirkyteenager @qaramu @weird-bookworm @phenomenalgirl9 @lightnjng @strnsvt @onlyyjeonghan @athanasiasakura

[nicolinocolino]

@wolfstarmicrofic | May prompt #3: love confession | word count: 882

“I dare us—“

Remus’s stomach swoops.

“—to drink this,” Sirius punctuates by setting a delicate glass vial of clear liquid onto the table between them.

“Veritaserum?” Remus asks. Dizziness overtakes him.

A spontaneous game of truth or dare in the Gryffindor common room ended moments ago with Lily daring James to go to bed. It earned laughs all around, although James took it as a euphemism instead of his right cue to leave her alone. It left him with a mouth hexed shut.

Now, with the stragglers headed to their dorms, Sirius and Remus are the only two left.

Sirius looks smug. “Brewed it myself.”

“Why?”

“Just to see if I could.”

They lock eyes with a long, dangerously charged glare.

“Okay,” Remus agrees, his rare Gryffindor courage taking over.

Sirius throws him a wicked grin that has him second guessing.

Remus drinks the potion first, just a sip to coat his tongue, then passes it to Sirius who does not break eye contact when pressing the vial to his lips.

“Is it working?” Sirius asks.

“Yes.” The truth leaves Remus immediately. This will be tricky.

Sirius leans forward, elbows on his knees, chin in his hands. Ringed fingers cradle his face. “You go first,” he decides.

Remus swallows. He’s strung up like a kite. “All right. Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Why did you really brew the Veritaserum?”

“To move this along.” Sirius waves his hand dramatically in the air between them.

“This?”

“Us.”

Remus notices the first hitch he thinks he’s ever seen in Sirius Black’s throat, as if Sirius himself is startled by how reckless the truth feels coming up with no control.

“Truth or dare?” Sirius continues before Remus can respond.

“Dare,” Remus chooses, afraid.

“Really?” Sirius questions him. He sounds annoyed. “Fine then. I dare you to kiss me.”

The space between them shrinks. Sirius, on the opposite couch, still has his chin in his hands. His smile is sly and his movements coltish, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. Having fun, even.

Remus does not move.

“What? Don’t want to?”

“No, I want to,” Remus confesses, then groans. “Don’t do that, Pads.”

“Do what?”

“Cheat.”

Sirius rolls his eyes. “Are you going to play or not, Moony?”

Remus stands up, crosses the distance, and sits next to Sirius on the opposite couch. He can feel his heart beat behind his teeth it’s so fervid; his hand shakes as he gently cups Sirius’s cheek. It’s difficult to think of anything more anxiety inducing than the moments before his transformation every full moon, but this comes awfully close.

“Well, Moons?” Sirius repeats in a whisper. His grey eyes bounce between Remus’s, wide and hopeful.

“Yes, I’ll play.” Remus tucks a strand of Sirius’s hair behind his ear and leans in.

Their lips barely meet before Sirius responds with earnest, smile blooming. Remus’s fingers drift back to comb through curls, tugging slightly. It’s rapacious. Sirius gasps and laughs. Remus can’t do this for much longer before the point of no return will ruin him forever.

“Truth or dare?” Remus pants, pulling away with a wild expression.

“Truth,” Sirius chooses. His lips are shiny, eyes dark. Remus wants to devour him.

“Am I a good kisser?”

“Yes. That was the best kiss of my life.”

Remus has to put some space between them soon before that point of no return opens up like a black chasm and becomes an inescapable void. He gets up quickly, awkwardly, and goes back to the opposite couch. The fire in the fireplace gives a sharp, crackled pop.

Sirius looks disappointed, rejected, almost angry. “Truth or dare?” He snaps.

“Dare,” Remus chooses again.

Sirius sets his jaw tight, exasperated. “I dare you to tell me how you really feel about me.”

Remus takes a deep breath. “I’m in love with you,” he whispers, the truth ringing in his ears after he says it. He hides his hot face in his hands and lets out a strangled, muffled scream. “You clever git. That’s cheating. Merlin, you really are bold tonight.” He risks a peek through his fingers at Sirius opposite him. Face unreadable, the weak flames of the fireplace dancing golden and scarlet across his face.

“Now ask me,” Sirius says softly.

“What?”

“Ask me,” he repeats. “The same.”

“Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

Remus hesitates. “How do you really feel about me?”

“I’m in love with you too,” Sirius is saying, already halfway off the couch, approaching Remus, tucking in next to him on his knees and grabbing his face with force, kissing him for the second time that night.

Love and hunger and relief and joy. And a little bit of panic. They pull at each other, kiss like they can’t get enough.

Remus breaks away. “For how long?” Veritaserum still coursing through them, he will milk the powerful truth potion for all it’s worth.

Sirius does not let their lips be apart for very long. “Moons,” he says through an open mouth. “It’s been all year.”

Remus melts.

“And you?” Sirius continues. “How long?”

“I don’t know. I don’t remember,” Remus confesses.

Sirius slides a hand down Remus’s chest. He feels how heavy and quick it beats under his palm.

“It’s been so long, I don’t remember,” Remus repeats.

It must be the truth.

[sprintingowl]

What Non DnD TTRPGs Feel Like

Okay, quick thread about what playing different non DnD ttrpgs feels like.

--

Pathfinder

This is DnD. It feels like DnD. It's like going to a slightly different church. Some of the words used during the service are different, but at the end of it the pulpit turns out to be a mimic and you cast Entangle and summon your direwolf.

--

Fate

This is Rule Of Cool with additional rules. The GM has powers to one-up you or lead you into temptation, but you have powers to one-up the GM, and all these powers use the same kind of token that you ultimately shuffle back and forth.

--

Savage Worlds

Handwave-style DnD (positive connotation.)

The GM has a lot of freedom to pick genre and setting, and the gameplay is sleeker, rule-of-cool-ier without losing meaningful combat or character building.

--

Call Of Cthulhu

You may not be an old librarian, but you sure are built like one. Most acts of violence can flatten you in a couple of hits, but violence doesn't happen often. It's the punctuation mark at the end of a long sentence. Atmosphere and pacing rule over this land.

--

World Of Darkness

This is a game about getting deep into your character's headspace. It's about figuring out who they are and roleplaying them passionately. Your backstory choices and powers have a huge affect on how you interact with the world around you.

--

Warhammer Fantasy / Dark Heresy

You are Scrumbles McGrumbles, a walking heap of morbidity and washed-up soldiering. You are trying to find your place in a world that's having an even worse day than you are. Your best friend is a ratcatcher. Together you will be heroes.

--

OSR (Mork Borg, Mausritter, Into The Odd, Dungeon Crawl Classics, Labyrinth Lord, Cairn, tons more)

DnD boiled down to two components: GMing + Making A Guy. GMing is made as easy as possible and PCs are somewhat disposable, so the story is the hijinks you get into together.

--

Powered By The Apocalypse (Masks, Nahual, Monsterhearts, Pasion De Las Pasiones, tons more)

The goal is to get into trouble and stir up drama. Succeeding on a roll with no consequences is rare, but when you fail you fail forward into even bigger, messier drama.

--

Blades In The Dark

You go on missions and then return to your base. The missions are about choices as much as about rolls, and you build your base together to make yourselves more powerful as a squad.

--

Trophy

Your goal is to lose. Specifically, it's to lose in a dramatic and harrowing fashion that sticks with everyone at the table. Think movies like Annihilation, but as oneshot games.

--

Golden Sky Stories

You like everyone at the table with you. When someone does something adorable, you can award them exp. The highlight of the session is someone getting flustered and/or speaking in a squeaky voice.

--

Ryuutama

You are going on a journey and helping other people along the way. Important choices include packing lunch, wearing appropriate clothing, and completely filling your canteen. Combat is a cozy, pastel color jrpg.

--

The Indie

There are so, so many games that are just completely their own thing, and that I can't squeeze into a single thread. If you discover you like game mechanics and you want to Get Weird with seeing what they can do, there is an entire scene here waiting to welcome you.

--

Stuff I Missed

There's lots of stuff I haven't played, or didn't remember in the moment, or absolutely love but it would take a whole thread to explain why I love it. I will do more game recommendations in the future, but you can also comment systems you like below!

[louisaskywalkerani]

Beneath Your Touch

Pairing : Anakin Skywalker x f!Reader

synopsis : Basically, its your first time. Thats all.

CW : 18+, smut! minors DNI. vaginal fingering | p in v | unprotected sex

an : So, here’s the thing—this is about two people who can't keep their hands off each other (shocking, I know). It’s messy, a little awkward, and honestly, way too intense, but hey, what else would you expect? Anyway, hope you didn’t fall asleep halfway through. Or maybe you did? Who knows. Let me know what you think, or don’t.

As you hear the door creaking open, you jolt up in bed, blinking at the sound. Your mind races—who could it be this early? Only one person comes to mind. It’s Anakin. You rub your eyes groggily, swing your feet to the cold floor, and shuffle to the door. 

You open it a crack, just enough to peek through. There he stands, his dark Jedi robes sweeping the ground, looking like something out of a dramatic holodrama. His brows are furrowed, lips set in a deep frown, and his whole posture screams exhaustion. It’s kind of unsettling, seeing him like this when he’s usually so confident, practically oozing swagger. 

"Ani..." you whisper, still half-asleep but feeling that familiar rush of affection. "You’re back."

He locks eyes with you, his gaze filled with so much emotion it makes your stomach flip. "Hey, angel," he murmurs, stepping closer. "Sorry for waking you up so early. I just... I couldn’t wait any longer."

Your heart skips a beat, and you don’t even try to hide the smile creeping up. "It’s okay, come in." You grab his hand and pull him inside, shutting the door behind him. "How was the mission?"

He lets out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his messy hair. "Intense. Lots of fighting, lots of stress." He pauses, his blue eyes finding yours again, this time burning with something deeper. "But I’m here now. And I missed you so fucking much."

Before you can even respond, he’s pulling you into a crushing hug. You melt against him, inhaling his familiar scent, that mix of something warm and earthy that’s just so him. "I missed you too," you mumble into his chest. "So much."

You stay like that, wrapped up in each other, and it feels like time stops for a moment. But then you start noticing how every inch of him feels pressed up against you, and your body reacts almost immediately. That familiar warmth starts pooling between your legs, and you find yourself pressing closer, like you can’t get enough of him.

Anakin seems to catch on quickly—of course, he does. His hands start roaming over your body, squeezing and caressing like he’s memorizing every curve all over again. "Fuck, I want you so bad," he groans, his lips finding your neck and nipping at your skin. You can’t help but shiver because damn, he knows exactly what he’s doing.

"I want to make you feel good, baby. Let me worship this beautiful body of yours," he whispers, his voice low and breathy, and you have to bite back a sarcastic Oh, please do, because really, you’re not about to ruin the moment.

He trails soft, teasing kisses along your jaw and down your neck, making you shudder. His large hands slide under your thin nightgown, palming your breasts and brushing his thumbs over your nipples. They harden instantly, and you gasp as he tweaks them gently, sending a shockwave straight to your core.

"Ani..." you whimper, your voice coming out breathy as you arch into his touch. "Please..."

He chuckles against your skin, the sound rumbling through you and making you shiver even more. "Please what, angel? Tell me what you want," he teases, like he doesn’t already know exactly what you’re craving.

You flush a little, suddenly feeling shy despite how desperately you’ve been wanting this. "I... I want you to touch me more. Everywhere," you whisper, meeting his eyes with a half-pleading, half-smoldering look. "I’ve been thinking about your hands on me the whole time you were gone."

Anakin’s grin widens, turning wicked. "Oh, have you now?" he purrs, giving your nipples a firmer pinch that has you gasping. "Don’t worry, I’m going to touch you so good." 

He doesn’t waste any more time, pushing your nightgown up and over your head, tossing it aside without a second thought. You shiver under his heated gaze, feeling exposed but *so* aroused it doesn’t even matter. His eyes rake over your body like he’s savoring every inch.

"Fucking perfect," he growls, his hands gliding down your sides to your hips. He hooks his fingers into your panties, dragging them down your legs agonizingly slowly, his mouth following the path. It’s the kind of thing that would make you roll your eyes if it weren’t so hot.

He settles between your thighs, parting your folds with his fingers, and you’re already squirming, hips lifting in anticipation. "Ani, please..." you beg, rocking your hips as if that’ll make him move faster. "I need it. I need you."

He just grins like the smug bastard he can be and swipes his tongue over your clit, making you cry out and fist his hair. "Shh, just relax, baby," he coos, circling the sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue like he’s got all the time in the world. "Let me take care of you."

And as much as you want to retort with something sarcastic, you’re too busy being completely undone by the way his mouth feels on you, the pleasure building higher with every flick of his tongue.

He works you open with long, slow licks, occasionally dipping his tongue inside your tight entrance. And wow, the taste of you seems to explode on his tongue because he groans like he’s just tasted the best dessert ever. It’s almost embarrassing how good he is at this—like, did he take a course or something? He grips your thighs, spreading you wider as he delves deeper, gently tongue fucking you, and you can’t help but think, Of course, he’s amazing at this too. Typical.

"That's it, angel," he murmurs against your slick folds. "Let me in. Gonna make you feel so good." His voice is all low and raspy, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. 

You writhe beneath him, hands fisting the sheets because you genuinely can't handle this. Your brain is short-circuiting, and it's like you’re experiencing this for the first time (well, okay, you kind of are, but still). The intense sensations are so overwhelming it almost feels unfair. Anakin's down there like he’s got nowhere else to be, licking and sucking until you're a complete mess, your hips practically bucking against his face on their own. 

"Ani, I... I'm gonna-“ you gasp out, that familiar tingling deep in your core making itself known. And, of course, he just doubles down, sucking on your clit like he’s trying to win some kind of award. 

Two fingers slip inside your tight heat, curling just right to stroke your g-spot, and that’s it—you’re done. You come with a sharp cry, your back arching off the bed as your walls clench around his fingers. It’s intense and overwhelming, like he just flipped a switch inside you. 

He doesn’t even stop—no, he keeps going, licking at you through your orgasm like he’s trying to make you see stars. By the time he’s done, you’re trembling all over, the overstimulation making you so sensitive you could scream. He presses these soft, tender kisses to your inner thighs before crawling up your body with this stupidly proud grin on his face.

"You did so well, baby," he says, capturing your lips in a deep kiss. You can taste yourself on his tongue, and it’s kind of hot but also kind of mortifying. "Now I’m going to make you come on my cock," he adds, like it’s the most casual thing in the world.

He positions himself at your entrance, the thick head nudging against your slick folds, and you suddenly freeze up, feeling a wave of nerves. "Wait, Ani-“

He stops immediately, looking down at you with genuine concern. It’s almost sweet, really. "What’s wrong, angel?"

"I just… It’s my first time..." you admit softly, feeling a little vulnerable and pretty much embarrassed.

His eyes widen, and you can see the realization dawn on his face. “Fuck baby, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize..." He cups your cheek, stroking your skin with his thumb. "We don’t have to do this if you’re not ready. I would never hurt you." 

And for a moment, it’s almost enough to make you forget he was just eating you out like he was starving a second ago.

"No, I want to," you assure him, reaching down to stroke his length. The nerves are there, sure, but the trust is too. "I trust you, Ani. I want my first time to be with you." And there it is—you said it out loud, hoping it doesn’t sound as awkward as it feels in your head.

He looks relieved, like he was holding his breath. "Okay, we'll go slow. If anything hurts, we stop, alright?" He’s all serious, like this is a contract negotiation, but honestly, it’s kind of sweet.

You nod, heart pounding in your chest, a mix of anticipation and nerves making your skin tingle. Anakin kisses you deeply, like he’s trying to pour every ounce of love and devotion he has into it. It’s a little overwhelming, but in a good way. Then he starts to push inside, slow and careful, and you kind of appreciate that he’s taking his time. 

You tense up as he breaches your entrance, a sharp sting making you gasp. It’s not unbearable, but it definitely doesn’t feel amazing either. Anakin immediately stops, his forehead pressed to yours, whispering, "Breathe, baby. You're doing so good." 

You take a deep breath, trying to relax. It’s almost funny how you’re practically giving yourself a pep talk in your head, like Come on, body, get it together. He resumes his slow advance, inch by inch sliding deeper inside you, and when he finally bottoms out, he stays still. It’s like he’s letting you take your time to adjust, which is nice, but also, who knew this would be so... full?

"How do you feel, angel?" he asks softly, brushing a stray piece of hair off your face. You can tell he’s genuinely concerned, and it’s oddly comforting.

"Full," you whisper, marveling at the sensation. It’s not something you can easily describe, but it’s a lot. "You’re... really big." The words slip out before you can stop them, and you can’t help but cringe a little at how cliché it sounds. 

He chuckles against your neck, clearly amused. "You’re taking me so well. So tight and perfect." His voice is low and husky, and you can’t decide if you want to roll your eyes or melt into him.

He starts to move, pulling out slowly before easing back in, setting a gentle rhythm. It’s almost annoyingly sweet how careful he’s being. Like, I get it—you’re trying to be nice. But as the slow, steady thrusts start to build up, the sparks of pleasure begin to spread through your body, and okay, maybe the slow pace is a good thing after all.

You cling to him, your nails digging into his back as you instinctively rock your hips to meet his. The feelings are overwhelming, so much more intense than you expected. You’re teetering right on the edge, and you can barely think straight. 

"Ani, I think... I think I’m gonna..." you pant, your walls starting to flutter around him. It’s kind of hilarious how fast this is happening, but also, it’s not like you’re going to stop it.

"That’s it, baby. Come for me. I’ve got you," he encourages, and you can hear the strain in his voice, like he’s barely holding on himself.

With a final, deep thrust, you shatter, your vision going white as ecstasy crashes over you. You feel like you’re floating for a second, everything going hazy. Anakin follows right after, spilling himself deep inside you with a guttural moan that’s almost enough to send you over the edge again.

And just like that, it's over. You're both a sweaty, panting mess, tangled up together, and you can’t help but think, Well, that was definitely worth the hype.

[frudoo]

reader convincing slasher 141 to let her help when they kidnap and torture someone. she wants to be the victim that escaped or found a why to escape but in reality she's leading the other victim(s) into a trap to be caught. its all to see the look on their face and get praise from the 141 I love all your writing and hope you stay safe.

You are so sweet! I'm glad you're enjoying the series!! <3

Warnings: Dark!Fic/DDDNE. Suggestive content. Mentions of bad people. MDNI.

“No. Absolutely not,” John crosses his arms, stern voice booming throughout the dining room.

     “Why not?” You huff, setting down your fork to focus your full attention on the guys.

     “Jus’ cuz y’live with it doesn’t mean we want y’involved,” Simon grunts, unimpressed.

     “Ah dunno, hen,” Johnny frowns, crystal blue eyes boring into yours. “Wha’ if one of us mistakes ye fer one o’them?”

     “Do you really think that would happen?” You challenge, cocking an eyebrow.

     None of them seem sold on the idea, but you’re not giving up. There’s a need for vengeance hidden deep inside of you that’s just begging to burst out, and although you can’t stomach anything the boys actually do, just knowing that you’ll be helping them scrape the scum off the face of the earth is enough. There’s only one of your husbands that hasn’t voiced his opinion—the very one who can’t resist your charms.

     “Kyle,” you puff your lips out into a pout, batting your eyelashes at him. “Please, baby, just let me help you all out?”

     His eyes widen and he throws his hands up in surrender, shaking his head vigorously.

     “Uh-uh, don’t put tha’ on me, dove.”

     You groan dramatically, standing from your place at the table. 

     “I’m thinking about practicing abstinence.”

     Long story short, they took a chance, and now you’re covered in blood and dirt, wearing nothing but an old nightgown and leading a group of horrified victims into the barn with the promise of hidden escape routes just inside. It surprises you how gullible each of them are, and you almost feel bad for leading them straight to their death. You have to remind yourself that these are rapists, abusers, and cons getting what they deserve. You have to remind yourself that your lovers would never do this to someone undeserving of only the worst fates.

     “No, it’s okay! I-I’m just- hey, you’re fine,” you coo to the sobbing woman who refuses to let go of your arm.

     Eventually you just have to shove her down and slam the barn doors shut, locking her along with every other piece of walking garbage inside. You pass John on his way towards the very building you’re leaving, yelping when he pulls you right into his burly arms.

     “Clever girl. Shoulda never doubted you,” he murmurs, lifting his mask to press a hot, lingering kiss to your lips.

     “Get it over with. I need to wash the fucking bitch’s germs off of my skin.”

     John laughs, giving your ass a tight squeeze before replacing his mask over his face. 

     “Hope you were jokin’ about that whole ‘abstinence’ thing,” he hums, pointing his pinky finger up to a window on the second floor of the barnhouse, where your remaining three lovers have been watching the whole thing play out, hands down their trousers. 

     “They look hungry.”

[redocity]

kinda emergency request. Okay so I’m super sick right now but I also had a lot to get done this week so I pushed through and ended up collapsing. It was a whole thing and I went to the hospital for a few days. I hadn’t eaten cause I was nauseous or slept because I was in pain. Any way would it be possible to get a Evan Buckley x reader on that. Sorry it’s a lot I know! But thank you!

PUSH THROUGH — E.BUCKLEY

Being sick and being a firefighter were two things that should never exist at the same time. when you push yourself a little too hard and end up collapsing, buck gets more than a little worried.

WARNINGS: gn!reader, sick reader, mentions of nausea and wanting to throw up, reader faints

evan buckley x reader || hurt/comfort || 3.0k || requests open!

a/n: i hope you’re alright and get better soon!

₊ ⊹ masterlist!!

Being a firefighter was hard. It consisted of long and physically taxing workdays, a lot of mental scarring, and most prominently, a lack of regular breaks.

Some days were okay, slow days where you only had three or four calls in a 12 hour shift, but on days like today, where you had spent a grand total of 35 minutes in the station in the last six hours —with the first 20 of those being before your shift even started— being a firefighter felt like you were living through your own personal hell.

“Hey—” Buck nudges you with his elbow, and you blink your eyes shortly before turning your gaze to him with a small hum, breaking yourself out of your dissociation of staring blankly across the lounge room.

“I’ve been calling your name for like a whole minute, are you okay?” Buck’s eyebrows furrow in an obvious concern for your well being, a dark line forming at the top of the bridge of his nose that you fight the urge to smooth out with the pad of your thumb.

You might have an unprofessional friendship with Buck, but even you knew what boundaries were unsafe to cross.

“Mhm, I’m fine,” Your voice is distant even to yourself, like there’s a layer of cotton coating the inside of your ears.

“You’re not though,” Buck presses the back of his hand against your forehead to feel for a temperature, and you swat it away lightly with a small shake of your head, something that does nothing in disproving Buck’s theory. “You’re all quiet and warm, and I can see your hands shaking,”

You clasp your hands together at the last part, interlocking your fingers and holding them securely in your lap so that they can’t move without your consent anymore. “I’m fine,”

He sighs at your continued dismissal. It was obvious that you weren’t okay, so why would you keep trying to pretend like you were? “Have you eaten anything yet? Maybe you should eat something, you know, replenish all of those nutrients or whatever,”

“Okay Dr Buckley, no need to treat me like a five year old,” You roll your eyes with a short laugh, and a small smile etches it’s way onto Buck’s face at the flicker of your usual personality shining through despite your current condition. “I’m not hungry right now—” Buck opens his mouth to argue, but you hold up your hand before he can get a word out. “—But, i’ll see about getting something after our next call okay?”

He lets out a short breath through his nose as he concedes defeat, leaning back against the lounge sofa dramatically. “Fine, but I will make sure of that,”

You hope he doesn’t.

You’d tried to make yourself a piece of dry, bland toast this morning to quell the growing ache in your stomach from how little you’d fed yourself over the last two days, but it ended up with you feeling so sick that you had to take almost ten minutes of your morning doing deep breathing exercises so that you wouldn’t throw it back up again. You didn’t fancy a round two of that.

“Yes sir,” You exaggerate your response through a mock salute, and he gives you a short laugh and a pat of his hand on your lower thigh, squeezing it lightly.

You take the end in the conversation to relax against the back of the sofa, but as soon as the back of your head meets the top of the cushion the alarm rings out and you curse your own downfall.

Buck gives your leg another pat as he stands, holding out his hand for you to take so he can help you to your feet, something which, although you would keep to yourself to stop him from worrying about you even more, you were grateful for in the wake of your staticed vision in the first few second of you standing upright.

—

It wasn’t the worst call in the world, some driver going 10 over the speed limit managed to swerve off the road, over a patch of grass, and land right into somebodies six foot hedge lining their yard. All you had to do was winch the car out and check that the driver didn’t have any injures. It took less than half an hour.

But by the time you climbed back into the truck you felt like you had absolutely no energy left whatsoever, your shoulders slumped and your head limply resting backwards against the headrest in fatigue.

You were just absolutely exhausted, probably not helped by the rough nights you’d been having because of the phantom pains that seemed to plague you whenever you moved so much as an inch.

You considered asking to stay at the station for the next call, or just asking to stay at the station for the rest of your shift entirely at this point. You weren’t sure you’d have the physical capacities to be of any help at all, and if you were to tag along you’d just be a nuisance to everybody else as they tried to do their jobs.

You didn’t have to make that decision yourself, your body made it for you.

Buck had been extra attentive to you on the call, and that didn’t end once the truck parked in the station, he climbed down the truck’s side ladders before you, turning to hold out his hand so you’d have an extra balance point if you needed it whilst climbing down, but instead he was met with your clouded gaze, literally watching the moment your consciousness seems to slip away from your body as your foot misses one of the steps and causes to stumble forward.

He catches your weight in his arms before you can hit the floor, a panicked “Cap!” echoing through the engine bay as he lowers you to lie on the floor with your head resting on his thighs, all colour drained from your face as your eyes flicker underneath your eyelids.

Hen and Chimney are at your side before Bobby is, but he’s not far behind as the rest of the team circle you in concern.

“What happened?” Hen furrows her eyebrows as she watches Chimney check your heart rate, tightening a blood pressure cuff around your arm.

“I don’t know they just collapsed—” Buck’s voice mirrors his expression it’s panic.

“105/70, alright, lay them down on the floor, Eddie, put your jacket underneath their feet,” Hen removes the blood pressure cuff as Buck and Eddie rush to follow her instructions, and her and Chimney share a nod as they both confirm you’re not in any medical danger.

“Are they okay?” Buck hesitates to lie your head on the concrete floor, so his leaves his hand as a barrier between you and the floor.

“They’re fine, it’s just hypotension, do you know if they’ve eaten or drank anything today?” Hen puts a comforting hand on Buck’s shoulder to help calm his panic as the adrenaline from your collapse slowly dissipates.

“I asked if they were hungry earlier and they said they’d eat something later,” Buck presses his lips into a line, feeling mildly guilty about not pushing you to eat something earlier when he had the chance to.

Your head twitches in his hand before he has the time to drill himself into a spiral over it, and soon enough you’re squeezing your eyes shut tighter before flickering them open.

“There you are, welcome back to the land of the living,” Chimney rubs your shoulder with his hand as you wake, and promptly pushes you back to lying flat when you try to sit up. “No, stay there, you’ll only pass out again if you sit up too quickly,”

“What happened?” You squint your eyes under the harsh overhead lights, covering them with the back of your hand.

“You collapsed on the way out of the truck, gave us all a scare there for a moment,” Bobby crosses his arms as he steps into your line of sight, tone carrying reprimand but his expression laced in concern.

“Right… sorry,”

“Don’t apologise,” Bobby shakes his head shortly, “When was the last time you ate?”

“Uh…” You don’t know whether it’s the fact that you’ve just fainted, or the weird angle you’re currently at that’s making you slower than usual. “This morning,”

“It’s almost 4pm—” Buck’s voice announces you of his presence like he hasn’t been protecting your head from the concrete for the last five minutes with his hand, and you crane your head backwards to look up at him.

“I felt sick, I didn’t want to throw up everywhere that’s gross,” You groan slightly as your neck begins to ache. “Can I sit up now?”

“Slowly,” Hen takes your hand as she carefully pulls you to sit upright, and Buck remains on his knees behind you in case you need to lie back down again. “How are you feeling? Still lightheaded?”

“A little,” You rub the knuckle of your thumb over your forehead in an attempt to alleviate some of the tension lingering there, and Hen hums.

“Alright, it’s time for you to eat,” Buck places both of his hands on your shoulders as he stands, squeezing them softly before extending a hand out to help you back onto your feet, which you take without complaint.

“Okay,”

You let Buck lead you up to the open lounge with mild guilt written across your face. Guilt and embarrassment at the fact that you’d passed out in front of everyone.

“Okay, so we’ve got tomato and onion pasta bake, left over macaroni and cheese, uh…” Buck rifles through the fridge for what’s left of different Bobby creations over the last few days. “Ooh there’s lasagna in here, I might have to keep that for myself,”

He knows it’s not the funniest thing he’s ever said, but when he turns back to check on you, the way you’re sat blankly staring at the table doesn’t spell anything good.

“Hey,” Buck abandons his fridge endeavours with a small sigh, walking over to put his hand on your shoulder. “Are you alright? Really?”

You barely so much as acknowledge him, giving him a small hum as you rest your forehead on the palms of your hands. “I think I should go home…”

Your tone causes the worry to flood back into his features. “You have to eat something…”

“I don’t know if I can stomach it right now,” You close your eyes momentarily, slumping forward so your entire upper body weight is resting against your hands. “I still feel sick,”

He can’t really argue with you about that. Nauseousness was a pain in the ass. But that didn’t mean you didn’t need something in your body to help whatever deficit you were going through right now.

He takes a moment to think through his options, biting the inside of his cheek. “Uh… What about a protein shake? I’m pretty sure I left a few packets here somewhere—” Buck leaves your side to look through some of the kitchenette cupboards for protein shake packets he’d stoad hidden from the team.

“Ah,” He makes a sound of triumph as he retrieves them, holding them up above his head as he’s crouched behind the kitchen island so you can see them. “We have…” He turns the packets in his hand one by one. “Chocolate, banana, vanilla, strawberry, and… blueberry, take your pick,”

You give him a look that tells him you’d rather not have any of them, and a worry line forms in his forehead once more. “Come on… It’s like a milkshake, and you can drink it as slow as you want,” He walks back over to you slowly, the packets held out in his hands towards you so you can choose one. “Please? You’re starting to worry me for real now,”

You begrudgingly take one of the packets from his hands with a small sigh. His concern was appreciated, but it was also mildly daunting. You didn’t like the way his face furrowed when he was concerned about you, it didn’t suit him like smiling did.

“Thank you,” He takes the packet back from you once you’ve chosen which one you want, leaving the others discarded on the table as he prepares the drink for you. “Drink this and then go home and get some rest okay? I’ll drop by your apartment after the shift is over to check on you, and if you still feel really bad then we should go to the hospital,” His words are spoken unevenly as the exertion from shaking the drink canister reaches his vocal chords.

“I don’t need to go to the hospital Buck, I’m fine, i’ve just got the flu or something and pushed myself too hard,” You shake your head adamantly at his suggestion, and he mirrors it himself as he pours the drink into a glass and puts it on the table in front of you.

“Some people go to the hospital when they’ve got the flu and don’t push themselves too hard,” He points at the glass once it’s on the table. “Drink it,”

You oblige with a roll of your eyes, your first sip barely even considered one as you try and force yourself to swallow it through the invisible blockade in your throat.

“And maybe try and take a nap or something? You look exhausted,”

“Oh thanks, that makes me feel so much better,” a your voice is dripping with sarcasm, and it leaves a small smile on Buck’s face.

“You know what I mean,” He shakes his head lightly as he stashes away the remaining protein shake packets. “How much sleep did you get last night anyway?”

He asks you the question right as you go to take another sip of the shake, and you force yourself to swallow it uncomfortably to answer him. “Maybe like three hours? I had a really bad migraine and my lower back was hurting,”

Buck sighs loudly as he pulls out a chair to sit behind you, and he opens his mouth to say something, but you beat him to it.

“I know I know, that’s not good, i’ll work on it okay?”

“That’s all I can ask,” He gives you a small smile with a shrug of his shoulders.

—

You didn’t have to think about complying to Buck’s suggestion of going home, and after a long hour of trying to digest the protein shake in front of you, that’s exactly what you did.

The station felt remarkably quieter without you there, but that was arguably because everyone was still shrouded in a combined worry for your well being that left them more solemn than usual, their usual banter getting lost in the process.

Once the shift was over, Buck kept his word in heading straight to your apartment, knocking the door with no answer.

He questions whether he got the number right at first, but he’s been to your apartment enough times to know that he hasn’t just stumbled to the wrong door. And the longer it stays shut in his face the more worried he gets.

So he tries the door handle, and it opens, meaning you’d left your apartment unlocked.

He calls your name a few times as he walks in, a small rush of adrenaline making its way through his veins at the slight possibility that something could’ve happened in the few hours since you’d been home alone.

A small breath of relief escapes him as he finds you.

You were circled up into yourself on your couch, TV left on standby as you slept in what Buck assumed to be an extremely deep sleep.

How you manage to make that tiny sofa look like the most comfortable place in the world he doesn’t know, but you seem to be more than happy wedged into the corner with a decorative pillow clutched tightly against your chest.

It’s a welcome sight after everything you’d been through today, and Buck rifles around to find a blanket to throw over you before taking a seat on the other end of the couch and settling in for an evening of watching random movies on your TV until you woke up.

Even if that meant him staying overnight.

[doveypink]

unexpected surprise [satoru gojo]

summary: satoru seeks your help in raising a child. word count: 0.7k warnings: gn!reader, established relationship, fluff/crack, dad!gojo (to megs and tsumiki). a/n: it’s my birthday! as per tradition, i like to write something for myself (as if i don’t always…). i have a longer gojo fic in the works, so take this until then!

“So what do you think?”

Satoru grins at you, his pearly white teeth blinding your eyes.

“It’s… something,” you reply, unsure of how to translate the thoughts running through your mind.

You sense Gojo’s impatience, giving him a lopsided smile when his eyes narrow. You poke his cheek—right in the dimple, which makes him smile wider—and you sigh.

“It’s a lot of responsibility to raise a kid,” you say firmly.

“I know,” he says with confidence. “Do you think I’m not responsible?”

“You have to be serious about this,” you assert, carefully stepping around his prior question. “This isn’t a joke. You can’t use your powers to save you if you fuck up. This is a little human we’re talking about.”

“I know,” he insists, whining a bit. “Come on, I wouldn’t ask you for help if I didn’t think we could do this.”

You tap your foot a few times, considering your boyfriend’s suggestion for a moment. Then, softly: “Okay.”

“Okay?”

You nod.

“Okay!” Satoru repeats with a cheer, scooping you up in his arms. You groan, but you can’t help smiling a bit. He sets you down and puts his hands on his hips. “Well, I hope you’re ready to meet him.”

Your boyfriend turns around, walking to the door of his apartment. You freeze, staring at the man with wide eyes. “Wait, what—?”

“Surprise!”

Gojo interrupts you to swing the door open. Standing outside the apartment is a little boy, no older than six years old. His scowl is partially obscured by the mess of dark hair on his head. You stare at the boy, mouth agape, while your boyfriend beams at you.

“Ta-da! Introducing… Megumi Fushiguro!” Satoru waves his arms around dramatically, presenting the child to you in the manner that a game show host announces that a player has won a new car.

Your eye twitches in irritation at Gojo, but you push it aside for the time being. You kneel down to Megumi’s height, holding out your hand and telling him your name. The boy reluctantly shakes your hand before dropping it back at his side. He seems deeply disinterested in the situation.

With a gulp, you ask, “Hey, so… How long have you been standing out here?”

“What time is it?”

You glance at your watch. “15:47.”

The boy pauses. “Two hours.”

A gasp escapes your mouth. This time, you can’t help the glare you point at Gojo. “Satoru, what is your problem?” You hiss.

“What? What did I do?” Your boyfriend asks cluelessly.

You continue to glare at him as you usher the small boy inside to sit on the couch. “Are you hungry? I’ll get you a snack,” you say quickly. Rushing to the fridge, you find a cup of applesauce and hand it to Megumi. He takes it wordlessly, tearing the lid off the container and helping himself.

Next to you, Gojo pouts. “But that’s my applesauce…”

A slow turn of your head shuts him up. You drag your boyfriend into his bedroom, hissing at the man. “You’re doing a terrible job of convincing me that you can be that boy’s legal guardian.”

“We are his guardians. This is a joint operation,” Gojo corrects you.

“I literally just agreed to this!” You shriek.

“Well… I may have told the higher-ups that you already said yes.” Your boyfriend scratches his head, casually shrugging his shoulders. “I guess it’s a good thing you did, huh?”

It takes everything in you to withhold from grabbing him by the shoulders and flinging him out the window. You take a deep breath, willing yourself to be calm, and speak.

“Satoru. I will help you raise this boy. But you have to promise you won’t pull any last-minute surprises on me again.”

“I promise,” your boyfriend grins, kissing your nose. For the briefest of moments, you feel relieved. Then he continues: “But there is one little thing I forgot to mention…”

The door to the walk-in closet swings open behind you. You yelp, jumping into Gojo’s arms. A little girl, maybe a year or so older than Megumi, nervously peeks her head out. She waves, smiling sheepishly.

Your boyfriend repeats his act from earlier, introducing the girl with a sparkling grin and a goofy voice: “Introducing… Megumi’s big sister, Tsumiki Fushiguro!”

You drag a hand down your face. Parenthood is not for the weak.

[brunchable]

POV: You're sucked into your fanfic - Part One

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Fanfic Writer Reader.

Themes: Comedy - Chaotic Reader. Action scenes.

Summary: Waking up in a forest straight out of her own fanfic was not on Y/N's to-do list, especially not when she’s suddenly the villain about to fight Bucky Barnes. Decked out in an impractical gothic outfit, complete with a corset she can barely breathe in, Y/N realizes she’s written herself into a showdown she’s destined to lose. But instead of following the plot, she’s fangirling while getting her butt kicked by her fictional crush—and making things even worse with every sarcastic comment. Bucky thinks she’s insane. Y/N thinks she’s in heaven. What could possibly go wrong?

A/N: Isn't this anyone's dream? LOL to live your favorite fanfic LMAO.

You yawn as you type away on your laptop, the dim light of your screen the only illumination in the room. It’s late—way too late—and your bed calls to you, but you’re deep in the middle of a new scene for your latest Bucky Barnes fanfic. This one is different. This one is more intense, more dramatic. You smirk at the screen as you write your villainess character, who’s about to have a showdown with none other than Bucky.

“I’ll finish this tomorrow,” you tell yourself, half-heartedly knowing that you won’t. You glance at the clock and wince at the time. Ugh, work in the morning... okay, just five more minutes.

But even as you type that last line, exhaustion takes over, and your eyelids droop heavily. Before you know it, your fingers still on the keyboard, your head hits the pillow, and the world fades to black.

× × × ×

You wake up with a start, a cold breeze biting at your skin. Sitting up abruptly, you blink against the sudden brightness of your surroundings. Trees? The smell of wet earth? Slowly, you stand, your heart racing as you take in the unfamiliar scene around you.

Wait... This looks familiar. Too familiar.

The clearing. The night. The ominous, misty forest that surrounds you. No way...

The scene clicks in your head. This is the exact setting of your fanfic. The one where your villainess has her big moment—where she’s supposed to face Bucky in an epic, final showdown.

“Okay... maybe I’m dreaming. Maybe I’m still asleep,” you mumble to yourself, rubbing your eyes. But the cold wind is sharp, the sounds of the forest too real. You frown and glance down at yourself.

Your stomach drops.

You’re not wearing your usual pajamas. Instead, you’re decked out in a gothic nightmare of an outfit. Long black cloak, intricately laced corset, and leather boots that look cool in theory but are so tight you can barely walk. You tug at the uncomfortable collar of your dress, feeling more like a cosplayer gone wrong than a terrifying villain.

“Oh no. No, no, no...” You spin around, trying to figure out what’s happening. “This can’t be happening. I did not just wake up in my own fanfic!”

But before you can even begin to comprehend your situation, a voice cuts through the trees. A voice you know all too well.

“Give it up, villain. You’re not going to win.”

Your breath hitches, and you freeze. Slowly, you turn around to see none other than Bucky Barnes, in all his intimidating glory, walking out from the shadows, his metal arm gleaming under the moonlight.

Holy crap, he’s real. He’s actually real.

But there’s one problem. He’s looking at you like you’re his enemy.

“Well?” Bucky’s deep voice breaks through your panicked thoughts. “Aren’t you going to say something?”

Your mind goes blank. All those hours spent imagining this very moment, and now that it’s happening, all you can do is stand there, gawking like an idiot.

“I, uh... look, Bucky—” you start, but then it hits you. You’re the villain in this story. The bad guy. He has no idea you’re just a fanfic writer who’s been plopped into this nightmare.

You quickly glance around for an escape route. But there’s nothing except more trees, mist, and darkness. No way out. And then you remember what comes next in the story. The fight scene. A scene you wrote yourself... with the villain—you—losing.

Oh god. I am so screwed.

Trying to think fast, you wave your hands in surrender. “Wait, wait, wait! We don’t have to do this. Can we just, like, talk about this?”

Bucky’s eyes narrow, suspicion clear on his face. He takes a step closer, hand twitching toward his gun. “Nice try. I know your tricks.”

You cringe. Of course he wouldn’t believe you—you wrote him to be suspicious of every word the villain said!

“I’m serious!” you squeak, trying to keep the panic out of your voice. “You don’t want to fight me. I, uh... I surrender! Yeah, I totally surrender.”

But Bucky doesn’t back down. In fact, he steps even closer, and now you can see the lethal determination in his eyes. “Surrender, huh? Sounds like a trap.”

You mentally slap yourself for writing him to be this distrustful. Why did I make him so paranoid?!

“Okay, okay, I get it,” you ramble, desperately searching for a way out. “You’re probably thinking I’m trying to pull a fast one on you, but I swear, I’m not evil. Not really. It’s... complicated.”

Bucky doesn’t look convinced, and honestly, you wouldn’t be either if you were him. He raises his metal arm threateningly, ready to fight, and you know you’re out of time.

In one last-ditch effort, you blurt out, “Wait! I love you!”

That stops him in his tracks. His brow furrows in confusion. “What?”

You slap a hand over your mouth, mortified. Did I just say that out loud?

“Yes! I mean—no! I mean...” You fumble for words, feeling your face flush. “What I meant was, you’re amazing. You’re... everything. I’ve, um, admired you for so long, and I really don’t want to fight you. I’m just... a huge fan?”

Bucky stares at you like you’ve lost your mind. “A fan?”

You nod furiously, praying this works. “Yes! A huge fan. Of your work. Uh, your missions? And, you know, your... metal arm? It’s so shiny and, uh... powerful.”

He stares at you for a long moment, clearly baffled by your bizarre behavior. “This is a trick, isn’t it?”

You groan internally. Of course he’d think that. You wrote him to be impossible to convince!

Meanwhile, Bucky’s stance shifts, preparing for a fight. You realize with growing dread that if you don’t come up with something fast, you’re going to get your butt kicked by your fictional crush.

And it’s all your fault.

× × × × 

Without warning, Bucky lunges forward, and you yelp, instinctively trying to duck, but the heavy corset makes it hard to move.

“Wait! I’m serious! We can talk this out—oof!” You squeak as Bucky’s metal arm knocks you flat on your back.

“Oh my God,” you wheeze, lying on the ground, staring up at the stars. I’m getting my butt kicked by Bucky Barnes. This is the best and worst day of my life.

Before you can even get your bearings, Bucky grabs you by the arm and flips you up like you weigh nothing. You manage to stand, but just barely, wobbling in your ridiculous boots.

“Oh my God, he’s strong,” you whisper in awe, dazed. “This is like, the hottest thing ever—wait, no, focus!”

Bucky, looking at you with complete disbelief, narrows his eyes. “What is wrong with you?”

You try to explain, but then he sweeps your legs out from under you, and down you go again. This time you land face-first in the dirt.

“Hnggh... I deserved that,” you mumble into the ground. “I wrote this. I brought this on myself.”

You roll over, still fangirling, despite the pain. “Wow, even in pain, you’re gorgeous.”

Bucky looms over you, looking more confused than ever. “Are you hitting on me while I’m kicking your ass?”

“Yes,” you wheeze, still on the ground, clutching your ribs. “I regret nothing.”

Bucky sighs heavily, and for a split second, you think you catch a flash of amusement in his eyes. “You’re insane.”

You grin up at him, despite the dirt smeared across your face and the throbbing ache in your back. “I’ve been told that before.”

He shakes his head, clearly still trying to make sense of the situation, but you can tell he’s holding back laughter now. You’ve confused him, at least. That’s something.

“So... are you gonna help me up?” you ask hopefully, extending a hand.

Bucky stares down at you for a long moment, then mutters, “You’re not even a good villain.”

“Don’t remind me.” You groan dramatically. “It’s harder than it looks.”

With a roll of his eyes, he finally relents and pulls you to your feet again—though not without a little extra force that nearly sends you stumbling again.

You clutch your chest, still a bit winded, but can’t help the goofy smile on your face. I just got beat up by Bucky Barnes. And it was glorious.

× × × ×

You’re still catching your breath from being unceremoniously flipped, kicked, and restrained when Bucky wraps his metal arm around your waist and hauls you up against him, keeping a firm grip on you. He pulls out a pair of cuffs—the same cuffs you wrote about, of course—and slaps them onto your wrists.

“W-What are you doing?” you sputter, still in awe at how close you are to him now. You stare at his arm holding you in place, feeling your heart race like a schoolgirl with a crush. “Oh my god, am I being arrested? By Bucky Barnes? This is... this is a dream come true.”

Bucky looks at you, eyebrows furrowed. “Stop talking.”

“No, seriously. Where are you taking me?” you ask, wiggling in his grip but mostly just to make yourself more comfortable because—holy hell, his muscles are everywhere. You’re about to pass out from sheer fangirl euphoria. “Is it to a secret Hydra base? Are you throwing me in the trunk of a car? Wait, is there gonna be an interrogation? Do you have a secret lair? Because if there’s a lair, I’d love a tour.”

He tightens his grip, hoisting you up with one hand as if you’re nothing more than a grocery bag. You flail your legs a bit but quickly stop, realizing how cool this actually is.

“I’m not telling you anything,” Bucky says gruffly, dragging you through the trees.

“Oh! Is this like one of those slow-burn captor-captive situations?” you say, eyes wide with excitement. “Are we going to have a moment of shared vulnerability? Will we bond over our tragic backstories? Because, listen, I wrote an entire chapter about this, and let me tell you, it’s steamy.”

Bucky stops dead in his tracks, clearly regretting every life decision that brought him here. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

You grin, too giddy to care about the situation. “Oh, you’re gonna find out. I’m a lot.”

He lets out a long, frustrated sigh and continues dragging you through the forest like you’re a troublesome cat being hauled to the vet. You stumble along behind him, your boots still making it difficult to walk, but you’re too caught up in your own fantasies to care.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you gasp, pretending to be serious for a second. “Are you taking me to the Avengers? Am I about to meet Steve Rogers? Oh my god, if this is a prison transfer situation, I’ll take it. Honestly, throw me in a cell, just tell me Captain America’s on the other side of the bars.”

Bucky groans audibly, muttering under his breath. “You’re literally the worst villain I’ve ever met.”

“Oh, thank you!” You beam, still being pulled along like a rag doll. “I tried to make my villain complex, you know? With layers. You’ll see. There’s more to me than just an evil laugh and a cool outfit. I have depth! Trauma! A tragic backstory, even!”

Bucky finally stops and spins you around, looking you dead in the eyes. “Shut. Up.”

You blink up at him, biting your lip to suppress a fangirl squeal. “Wow, even when you’re angry, you’re hot.”

For a second, you think Bucky might actually lose his patience with you, but instead, he just rolls his eyes and resumes dragging you through the forest.

“You’re taking me to the Avengers, aren’t you? You can tell me! I won’t spoil it for anyone,” you whisper conspiratorially. “I mean, you know, since I’m totally going to escape and wreak havoc... right after I meet everyone and maybe take a group photo.”

Bucky doesn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, he hoists you up over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and starts walking faster. Your head bounces a little with each step, but you can’t help but notice how strong he is.

“Is this the part where I pretend to hate being manhandled, or...?”

Another groan from Bucky. He’s definitely considering just leaving you tied to a tree at this point.

You sigh dramatically as you dangle over his shoulder. “You know, I could help you with your characterization. Maybe throw in some emotional depth, give you some really meaningful dialogue in your next big scene. Maybe a nice brooding monologue... You’re into those, right?”

“Where I’m taking you,” Bucky says, his tone clipped, “there won’t be any brooding. Or talking.”

You perk up. “Oh! Silent treatment? Broody captor vibes? I love it.”

You can practically feel the exhaustion radiating off him as he mutters, “I need a vacation.”

With a smirk, you reply, “I’m free this weekend.”

[svtiddiess]

Curiosity Killed The Cat Gets You Laid?

Synopsis: It's Halloween night, and you're wandering through the woods you were always warned to stay far away from, searching for vampires. They say curiosity killed the cat, but no one mentioned it could also get you laid.

Pairing: vampire!Jeonghan x afab!reader x vampire!Wonwoo

Genre: suggestive, one shot, vampire! au, supernatural! au

Rating: suggestive/mature

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: blood, injuries, vampires, dry humping, lemme me know if I missed anything!

Note: Happy Halloween! This is my first attempt at a vampire fic so please be nice.

Thank you so much to Indi @wongyuseokie for the amazing banner! She ate for real.

Click here to join my taglist!

Reblogs are appreciated ♡

.ᐟMinors/blank/no age indicator blogs will be blocked.ᐟ

October 31st, Halloween, the one day you look forward to all year. In this small, sleepy town where nothing ever happens, Halloween is the rare time when everything feels alive. It's ironic, really, that a holiday meant to honour the dead and the supernatural is the only time the town truly comes to life.

Although plenty of celebrations and parties are happening around town, your mind is elsewhere: vampires. Rumours about the woods on the edge of town have been swirling for years. Some say it's home to secret gold mines; others claim there's a hidden graveyard for those who have sinned way beyond redemption, and many point to the string of murders that have occurred there. But what really grabs your attention is the rumour that vampires live there.

You've been told time and time again never to step foot into the woods, but hey, you can't stop curiosity now, can you? And that's why here you are on Halloween night, making your way through the woods you've been told to stay far away from. You chose tonight for this journey because Halloween is when vampires are supposedly most active—at least, that's what the internet said. You're really hoping it wasn't wrong.

The crunch of leaves and the distant hooting of owls greet you as you step into the woods. A chill runs down your spine as you take in your surroundings—the darkness wrapping around the trees gives the forest an eerie, foreboding feel. The shadows twist into strange shapes, making you glance over your shoulder and double-check your surroundings more often than usual.

You mentally curse yourself for not bringing a proper flashlight; your phone flashlight does the bare minimum to light the surroundings. After several minutes of walking, you stop in your tracks. You could swear you've passed this same tree four times already—or is it a different one? Damn, you might be lost.

'This might've been a stupid idea,' you think.

In too deep to back out now, you proceed to go further into the woods, a very bad idea, but your stubbornness overpowers your voice of reason a lot of the time. A sudden howl piercing through the sky stops you in your tracks. Wolves? No, that can't be. You must’ve misheard—it was probably just the wind, you tell yourself. But then, another howl echoes through the woods. Okay, wolves. Definitely wolves.

Quickening your pace, you decide to retrace your steps, hoping that will eventually lead you back to society. As you try to find your way out of the woods, you hear footsteps, multiple footsteps, heading toward you. Not wanting to risk a run-in with wolves, you take off running.

Unfortunately for you, you were never much of an athlete, so you end up tripping over a rock and falling, cutting your palm on the jagged ground. Cursing out loud, you pick yourself up and observe the cut; it was fairly deep, and blood continuously started to pour out of it, staining your hand. You frown and squeeze your hand, hoping to stop the blood from flowing.

Okay, now you definitely need to get out of the woods. If the wolves don’t get you, the inevitable infection from your wound will (though you’re being a bit dramatic). Frowning, you continue to head to where you think you came from.

Stumbling aimlessly through the eerie forest, you suddenly come upon a massive mansion. It looks like something straight out of the Victorian era, with towering spires, gothic architecture, and plenty of decay to match. Your small flashlight barely does it justice, making it hard to fully appreciate the mansion's haunting beauty.

Could this be it…? Remembering the whole reason you ventured into the woods, you head inside the mansion. You're determined to encounter at least one vampire tonight.

The heavy wooden doors groan as you push them open. You take a deep breath as you absorb the sight of the eerie mansion. Inside is a stark contrast to the exterior; it feels much more cohesive, with relatively recent furniture and a sense that the place isn’t falling apart.

The air stilled. It became quiet, too quiet. The only sound you can hear is the beating of your own heartbeat ringing in your ears. Gulping, you shakily make your way towards what you assume is the fireplace. It was dark, perfectly in line with the gothic theme that enveloped the entire building.

Above you hung a large portrait of two men, hauntingly beautiful, with pale, almost white skin and dark maroon eyes that seemed to pierce through you. Their jet-black hair framed their faces perfectly. They wore white blouses that you assume are from the Victorian era, adorned with very expensive jewellery. One man was slightly shorter than the other, but his looks would put any model to shame; his longer hair framed his face beautifully, making you think, "a fallen angel". The taller man had shorter hair and more sharper features, yet he appeared just as ethereal. His mesmerising eyes seemed to draw you in, almost as if they were sucking your soul. Another striking feature was their lips, a deep red, almost as rich as their eyes.

"Damn, if these guys are the vampires, then I wouldn't mind getting my blood sucked by them," you muse out loud.

"Oh really now?" A voice purred next to your ear. You whip your head around to see who it is, only to be greeted with nothing.

"W-Who was that?!" You shout, cursing under your breath as your voice comes out shakier than you'd like.

"I’m sure you already know who, bunny," a voice whispers from behind. You spin around, but there's only darkness.

"I-I know how to fight!" You yell, trying to sound confident.

"Ooh, a fighter. I like that," a deeper voice purrs, this time right next to you.

Suddenly, your phone is snatched from your hand, plunging you into complete darkness. Panicking, you throw punches into the air, hoping to hit something—anything—but you freeze when a hand catches your fist.

"She really is a fighter, Wonwoo," the first voice chuckles; even his laughter seems to have a surreal feel to it. You hear another low chuckle from behind, which you assume is Wonwoo.

Wonwoo then wraps his arms around your waist, plunges his nose into the crook of your neck, and takes a long whiff.

"You smell absolutely divine, doll," he moans; you can't help but shiver at his actions.

Suddenly, the room flickers to life with candlelight, making the already creepy mansion even more eerie. You can now see the man standing before you, and you gasp; it's the same man from the portrait, the one with the longer hair.

He gently uncurls your injured fist, running his tongue slowly along the wound, and lets out a moan. Your breath catches at the sight, and you can't help but shiver at his actions.

"She likes that, Jeonghan," chuckles Wonwoo. You blush at Wonwoo's words, embarrassed cause it's true.

"You want this just as bad, don't you, bunny?" Jeonghan purrs before licking another stripe up your palm, causing you to let out a soft whimper.

"Don't even try and deny it, doll; we can hear your heartbeat," whispers Wonwoo before licking the shell of your ear.

You gulp, your mouth dry as sandpaper, and your heartbeat thunders in your ears. Sure, you came into the woods hoping to encounter vampires, but now that they're standing right before you, you're unsure what to do. They're so alluring, their very presence making your head spin.

Wonwoo leans down, gently nipping at the skin of your neck, making your heart lurch. You can feel him smirk against your skin.

"It has been a while since we had a blood servant," he mumbles against your skin. Jeonghan hums, a small smirk painting his face.

"What do you say, bunny? Want to become our blood servant?" Jeonghan purrs.

You open and close your mouth like a fish out of water, completely at a loss for words. Yes? No? If you say yes, are you doomed to serve them until death? If you say no, will they kill you on the spot? Your mind races, spinning with uncertainty. Maybe coming out here wasn't such a good idea after all.

"Looks like our little bunny is unsure," snickers Jeonghan.

"How about we give you a taste, then?" Wonwoo whispers before sinking his teeth into your neck.

You gasp and freeze, paralysed by the sudden sharp prick. You brace yourself for intense pain, but instead, you're flooded with overwhelming pleasure. It feels as though every nerve in your body is igniting, sending wave after wave of pleasure through you. Your arousal soaks your panties, and you can already feel it sticking to your skin. You've never experienced anything like this before—nothing even close. You close your eyes, savouring the sensation as your head spins. It feels like you're floating.

"I can smell your arousal from here, bunny. Does it feel good?" Smirks Jeonghan, you can only whimper in response.

"Barely drunk from you, and you're already dripping," Wonwoo chuckles against your neck.

He spins you around to face him, and you instinctively lick your lips as you take him in. Deep maroon eyes with a piercing gaze, skin so pale it's almost white, making his blood-stained lips stand out even more. He looks at you with a smirk.

He cups your cheeks and presses his lips to yours, letting you taste your own blood—metallic and tangy. You melt into the kiss, already addicted to the way his lips feel against yours. Desperate for more, you press up against Wonwoo and start grinding against him. You can feel Wonwoo smirk into the kiss; Jeonghan chuckles at your actions.

"If you become our blood servant, I can guarantee you pleasure beyond what you've ever felt, bunny," hums Jeonghan.

Pulling away from the kiss, you turn toward Jeonghan; your mind clouded with thoughts of them and nothing else. Any sense of reason is long gone. Without a second thought, you agree—you'd say yes to anything at this point.

"Good choice, bunny," smirks Jeonghan before effortlessly carrying you. You gasp and wrap your arms and legs around him.

He sinks his teeth into your neck and starts drinking your blood. You let out a moan at the euphoric feeling washing over your body. Maybe it's because you're already lightheaded from the first time, but this feels ten times more intense. It's as if you've died and gone to heaven, but what's happening is far from heavenly.

Your whole body trembles, and you feel like you have just had an orgasm. You whine out Jeonghan's name as you feel him squeeze your ass. He detaches his lips from your neck and runs his tongue over the bite mark; you shiver at his actions.

Panting, you glance down at the vampire. His pupils are blown wide, lips stained with blood, and a smirk curling on his face. You catch a glimpse of his sharp canines as he watches you.

"We're lucky to have caught such a pretty blood servant," smirks Wonwoo, causing Jeonghan to chuckle.

"Let's take care of the aching between your thighs," hums Jeonghan. "I bet you want to be filled up with our cocks, right bunny?"

"I bet she can take both of us at once," chuckles Wonwoo, causing you to clench around nothing.

"Let's find out, shall we?" Jeonghan smirks before heading toward what you assume is their bedroom.

And that's how, on Halloween night, you became a blood servant—bound to serve the two vampires for the rest of your life.

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[shybluebirdninja]

Sleep Striker

Summary: You discover that Bucky sleepwalks—and it’s not the calm, peaceful kind of sleepwalking. You wake up to find him in full-on combat mode with the couch.

Pairing            : Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

Note                : fluff

The night was supposed to be peaceful. You’d spent the entire evening watching Netflix with Bucky, eating popcorn, and joking around like any normal couple. By the time you both hit the sack, you were expecting nothing but a quiet night’s sleep, maybe punctuated by Bucky’s usual snores.

But no.

Around 2 AM, you woke up to the sound of something crashing in the living room. Your heart leapt into your throat, thinking for a second that maybe someone had broken in. Instinctively, you reached for the baseball bat you kept beside the bed (Bucky insisted on keeping a knife there, but you’d settled on a less dramatic weapon). Slowly, you tiptoed toward the door, already mentally preparing yourself for some horror-movie showdown with a burglar.

But what you found was so much worse.

There, in the dim glow of the living room lamp, was Bucky Barnes—your sweet, grumpy, 100-year-old boyfriend—throwing punches at thin air like he was in the middle of a battle.

“What the hell…” you whispered, blinking in disbelief.

Bucky, still completely asleep, ducked and weaved as if he were dodging invisible enemies, his fists flying through the air with lethal precision. His face was set in that intense, focused expression he wore when he was in full-on Winter Soldier mode, and for a moment, you couldn’t help but feel a mix of fear and… laughter? This was ridiculous. Your boyfriend was sleep-fighting in the living room.

You set the bat down carefully, still trying to process the situation, when Bucky suddenly spun around and landed a full-force punch on the couch.

The couch.

It made a sad thud as the cushions absorbed the blow, but Bucky didn’t stop. He kicked out at the coffee table next, sending it skidding a few inches across the floor.

“Bucky!” you hissed, trying to keep your voice low but urgent. “Hey, babe, wake up!”

He didn’t hear you. Instead, he crouched low, as if he were avoiding gunfire, and rolled behind the armchair, his metal arm glinting faintly in the darkness. You bit your lip, trying so hard not to laugh, but it was impossible. This was like watching an overgrown toddler reenact an action movie in his sleep.

“Okay,” you whispered to yourself, “how the hell do I handle this?”

You’d heard about sleepwalkers before, and you were pretty sure you weren’t supposed to wake them up. But you couldn’t just let Bucky wage war against your furniture all night. The man had already drop-kicked the coffee table, and at this rate, he’d be suplexing the bookshelf by sunrise.

You crept a little closer, careful not to startle him. “Bucky, babe, it’s just me. You’re, uh, safe. There’s no Hydra agents in the apartment, I promise.”

He didn’t respond. Instead, he launched himself toward the couch again, this time pulling off a move that looked like it came straight out of a Captain America fight scene. He tackled the poor couch as if it had personally offended him, his arms wrapping around the back cushions in a chokehold.

“Bucky, stop! The couch isn’t the enemy!” you half-whispered, half-yelled, trying to stifle your laughter. “Oh my god, you’re gonna kill the couch…”

He grunted, still deep in his dream, and threw a wild punch that just barely missed the coffee table. You winced at the near miss. That could’ve been bad. Like, broken furniture and a pissed-off Bucky kind of bad.

At this point, you realized you had to do something before your apartment looked like it had been hit by a tornado. Slowly, cautiously, you approached Bucky like you were approaching a wild animal—because, let’s be real, that’s kind of what he was right now.

“Bucky…” you said softly, reaching out a hand. “Come back to bed, babe. You don’t have to fight the couch anymore. You won. It’s dead.”

He hesitated for a moment, his muscles twitching like he was on the verge of launching another attack. But instead of another round of couch-punching, he slowly stood up, blinking groggily as if he was coming out of a fog.

You let out a breath of relief. “Thank God.”

But your relief was short-lived. Because as soon as Bucky turned around, he spotted the kitchen chairs—lined up perfectly in a row by the table—and apparently, in his half-asleep mind, they were the next Hydra targets.

“No,” you groaned, as Bucky lunged toward the chairs. “Not the chairs! I like those chairs!”

He grabbed one, flipping it over like it was an enemy combatant, and before you could stop him, he had another chair in a headlock. You stood there, watching in sheer disbelief as Bucky Barnes—the most feared assassin in the world—battled a set of IKEA furniture like it was the final boss fight of his life.

“Bucky, babe, please!” you shouted, a mix of panic and laughter bubbling out. “I can’t explain this to the landlord!”

Finally, in a last-ditch effort, you ran over and grabbed his arm—his metal arm, because that seemed like the safer bet. “Bucky, it’s me! You’re sleepwalking!”

At first, he didn’t respond. His eyes were still glazed over, lost in whatever dream battlefield he was trapped in. But then, slowly, he blinked. His metal arm relaxed under your grip, and he looked down at you, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“...What the hell?” he muttered, blinking again.

You let out the biggest sigh of relief. “Oh my god, thank you. I thought you were gonna destroy the whole apartment.”

Bucky glanced around, still looking dazed. “What… what happened?”

“You, uh… kinda went to war with the furniture,” you said, biting your lip to keep from laughing again. “You were sleepwalking.”

His eyes widened. “I did what?”

“You attacked the couch. And the coffee table. And, um, the chairs,” you explained, gesturing to the wreckage around the living room. “It was… a lot.”

Bucky groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “Shit. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No, no,” you reassured him quickly. “I’m fine. But the couch… not so much.”

He looked over at the couch, which was now sagging slightly from the multiple punches it had taken. “Damn,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Guess I really went at it, huh?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Babe, you suplexed the couch. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Bucky winced. “Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” you interrupted, grinning up at him. “It was kind of… impressive, honestly. I mean, you took out an entire living room while asleep. That’s some next-level stuff.”

He gave you a sheepish look, still clearly embarrassed. “I’ll fix it in the morning.”

“You better,” you teased. “But for now, can we please go back to bed before you decide to fight the fridge or something?”

Bucky let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll… I’ll stay away from the appliances.”

You wrapped an arm around his waist, guiding him back toward the bedroom. “Good idea, soldier. Let’s just stick to sleeping from now on.”

As you both crawled back into bed, you couldn’t help but steal one last glance at the wrecked living room, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Bucky?” you whispered, snuggling up next to him.

“Yeah?”

“If you ever get the urge to fight the couch again, maybe, like, wake me up first?”

He groaned, pulling the covers over his head. “Don’t remind me.”

You giggled, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “Goodnight, Super Soldier Sleepwalker.”

“Goodnight,” he muttered, already halfway back to sleep.

But this time, thankfully, without the couch-wrestling.